Disclaimer: All characters contained within this site were created by Paramount with the exception of Drayen Trayik, Delon Bray, Leyton Q. Hael, and other miscellaneous characters. They are mine and the stories are mine, too! But everything else (sadly) belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended.
Warning: The pieces of fan fiction contained on this Web site depict two women in a loving and sexual relationship. So if you are a minor or offended by lesbianism or sex or both, then go find reading material elsewhere. Consider this fair warning. . . .
Codes: STV, J/7, NC-17
Thanks: Thanks to my exalted beta reader, Jan.
Summary: Voyager's crew is back in the Alpha Quadrant and everything seems like business as usual. But is it? Note: This is not a continuation of Veracity.
Completion date: 07/05/02
Comments: Send to nomdeplume@comcast.net
Advantage Point
PART I
After all the fanfare and commendations, after all the interrogations and pardons, after the short-lived reprieve and reassignments, nothing much had really changed. The time the crew of Voyager spent in the Delta Quadrant turned out to be nothing more than the longest deep space mission in Starfleet history.
Captain Janeway, glancing around the bridge, recognized the homogeny of time. Tuvok was at tactical, Harry at ops, Tom at the conn, and Chakotay beside her in the other command chair. All of them enmeshed in their tasks, working together to re-dock Voyager in another slip at the space station. "Yup, circumstances and situations could vary, alter, reoccur, or never occur, and time still gets its way," she thought.
Swiveling in her chair, she crossed her legs and stared intently at the wide viewscreen as though she could maneuver Voyager with the sheer force of her will. With the official portion of their latest mission over, she had decided to dock Voyager in a more concealed slip. This event marked the end of the first half of her first mission since being reinstated as Voyager's commanding officer. But this undertaking was twofold--the expedition to the space station near Quadra Sigma III to negotiate rights to a toranium mine, in advance of a more surreptitious exchange.
The first part of the operation had already been accomplished. She and the Federation representative, Envoy Hael had proved formidable partners in the negotiations. And now, two weeks later, the Federation had exclusive rights to the deep vein of toranium running through Quadra Sigma III and in exchange the colonists would receive three, large volume OH generators. Janeway hoped the exchange would prove mutually beneficial. A small, private smile graced her lips. "I know it has been beneficial for me," she mused, thinking of the Envoy again.
"We're in," Tom called out just as the mooring clamps closed around Voyager's hull with a metallic-sounding shudder.
"Good job, Tom. Everyone," she complimented.
With Voyager docked, Janeway stood with the goal of retiring to her ready room and completing this month's department reports. But before she could make her intentions known, the doors to the bridge opened. Turning to see who had entered, she spotted Seven coming down the stairs. Janeway tracked her until suddenly she was standing directly in front of her.
"Captain, the stellar cartography reports for five parsecs around Quadra Sigma III."
"Thank you, Seven," Janeway said pleasantly, taking the offered PADD. "You didn't have to bring them. I would have been happy to review them in Astrometrics."
"I--," Seven began and then let off. "It is not a problem, Captain. I was on my way to Engineering."
Turning to leave, Seven glanced at Chakotay, the two exchanging looks midstream. It was impossible to tell what passed between them, but it definitely riled the Captain's sense of curiosity. "Things are going well, I take it?" she asked quietly.
Chakotay leaned towards her, but his eyes remained on his console. "Yes, if I do say so myself."
She trawled for a little more information. "Seven is adjusting to the new scope of your relationship?"
This time he looked at her. "For the most part," he paused. "There are bumpy spots along every road."
"Oh?"
"Mmm . . . yes. She is great when we are alone, but sometimes when we are with other people, she regresses to, uh, Borg-like behaviors."
"Regresses?" she repeated sharply.
"Yeah," he confirmed with a slight nod of his head.
"Maybe 'regresses' isn't the right term," she offered tactfully. "It's not like she is reverting to a child-like state."
"That might be preferable," he mumbled, looking away.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Commander?"
He noticed the puzzled look she wore. "Maybe she is uncomfortable . . . in crowds."
The Captain smiled lightly at him and patted his arm comfortingly before getting up. "Well, I have reports to go over. . . . I'll be in my ready room."
ΩΩΩΩ
Sitting at her desk with a cup of coffee, she tried to concentrate on the department reports, but she kept coming back to her conversation with the Commander. "Did he really think that Seven could ever just stop being Borg?" she considered the question silently. Why was it even necessary? Surely he could see how Seven's background added to her individuality, added even to the very beauty of the young woman. Personally, she enjoyed Seven's distinctiveness and Admiral Janeway had upended time for her.
She thought of the Admiral, remembering how the woman seemed so like herself, indistinguishable from her in demeanor and posture, but yet so very different. It was apparent to the Captain that the Admiral had suffered a thousand losses, missed a thousand chances, and denied a thousand opportunities. She could never fulfill the longing of those lost moments, and the grief of that realization was never as apparent as it was when she looked at Seven of Nine for the first time after having watched her die.
Kathryn remembered that moment vividly. She and the Doctor were comparing her DNA to the Admiral's. Seven strode into the sick bay to deliver a report and she was caught in the Admiral's suddenly vibrant gaze. It was as though her world gravitated on Seven's face. You could feel the Admiral's joy--it was evident and evocative of a woman who had endured an existence of self-inflicted yearning and regret.
The Captain grasped the handle of her favorite mug and sniffed at the contents. "But I'm not that Kathryn Janeway," she said aloud, contemplating how different her life must be from the Admiral's. After all, at some point after passing by the transwarp hub, the Admiral had fallen in love with Seven. Her own feelings for the young woman were clearly not the same. "Mentor, advisor, friend? Certainly. Lover? Certainly . . . not."
Lost in thought, it wasn't until the chime sounded a second time that she heard it and remembered the appointment she had scheduled with a certain Astrometrics officer, who she had just been speculating wildly about. The chime sounding a third time made her jump nervously and she steadied herself by grabbing up a PADD and pretending to read it. "Come."
Seven stalked into the ready room and came to an immediate halt in front of the desk. Crossing her hands behind her back, she waited for the Captain to address her.
Looking up slowly from the PADD, Janeway took in the long line of Seven's body, her eyes finally coming to rest on the ex-drone's face. With a small shrug of her shoulders, she pushed aside all surreptitious thoughts of the young woman, which might have precipitated her natural tendency to flush with embarrassment. "Seven, thank you for coming."
"You are welcome, Captain," Seven responded with a small, inquisitive tilt of her head.
"I asked you here to discuss . . . the mission."
"I understood the negotiations were complete."
"Not quite," she responded, trying to reorder her thoughts. "Before I go into that though, I wanted to. . . ." she broke off. How could she bring up the subject, out-of-the-blue as it was? "Ah, I was just thinking about my first boyfriend."
Seven arched her eyebrow, giving the Captain a quizzical look. "Boyfriend?"
"Well," she reconsidered, "not boyfriend so much as first crush. His name was Timothy. I was six and he was eight, and oh, he was very sophisticated. . . . I adored him. . . . He was tall and all that wavy brown hair. Who could have resisted?"
Seven looked startled. "Captain?"
"Anyway, I followed him around the neighborhood, joining all the teams he joined and playing all the games he played," she paused and took a breath. "I played hard for him so that his team would win and he would be pleased with me."
"I take it, he was not."
"You would be correct. Apparently, I embarrassed him. Too competitive, I suppose. Regardless, I realized that I couldn't please someone like that and I had to be me, so to speak, and they would either accept me or not." She lifted her brows and eyed Seven, looking for a glimmer of understanding. "So, is there anything you'd like to discuss?"
Seven shifted uncomfortably. "Captain, I assumed you requested my presence to discuss an assignment."
Janeway paused for a moment, scrupulously inspecting her Astrometrics officer. "Dumb story, Janeway. What the hell was the point?" she asked herself. Recovering quickly, she came back to the real topic at hand. "Yes," she chuckled. "All right, the assignment. . . . Are you familiar with the Tox Uthat?"
Seven tilted her head to the side. "A palm-size crystal capable of stopping the nucleic reaction within a star. A Quantum phase inhibitor. Destroyed on Risa approximately 12 years ago--Stardate 43745.2."
"That's the one; however, apparently it was not destroyed. Unimatrix 6 has contacted Starfleet. Under the assumption that we would be willing to do some mutually beneficial trading, they are willing to deliver the device into our hands. Intelligence has it that the Pygorians are also trying to obtain the device, so we must be quick."
Seven rocked back on her heels. "Unimatrix 6? Am I to assume this is why I am being involved?"
Janeway smirked at Seven's no-nonsense response. "Yes, I can't think of anyone more appropriate to help the Federation moderate terms with a rogue group of disbanded Borg. Can you?"
Seven shuffled her feet and sighed. "No, Captain."
"However, if you would prefer not to accompany me on this mission, I certainly understand," she baited her, knowing well that Seven would never allow her to meet with the Borg without her being there.
"When do we leave?"
The Captain smiled earnestly. "Monday. 0700." Glancing down at her desk, she took in all the reports she still had to read over before her shift ended. When she looked back up, she was surprised to see Seven still standing in front of her. She grinned crookedly. "If there's nothing else, Seven, you're dismissed."
Seven, who was still contemplating a way to ask Janeway about her reason for telling her about her first crush, was caught off guard by the direct dismissal. Unclasping her hands, she pivoted towards the exit and just as she left, the Captain's head shifted back up and her eyes followed Seven out the door.
ΩΩΩΩ
Kathryn watched as Leyton stepped up to the line on the floor. Before throwing the dart in his hand, he struck a pose and tossed her a cocky grin. "Just throw it!" she barked, exasperation seeping out. But if the truth were known, this arrogance was yet another thing she liked about him--that and the distinguished lines of silver running through his dark hair.
Leyton Q. Hael was the primary negotiator and representative of a coalition of the Federation that sought the advance rights to assets located in isolated areas of the quadrant. Chief Envoy of Remote Region Resources was an imposing title for an imposing figure of a man. But Hael was more than just a protracted title. Conservative by nature but opinionated in his beliefs, he possessed a strong, educated, mind, idealistic aims, compassionate intent . . . "And he is certainly tall," she mused, running her eyes up his muscular frame. In every way, he seemed to be the companion Kathryn had longed to find. And yet there was something intangible about him. There were moments he seemed every bit the hallucination, a wonderful figment of her incredible imagination. She clamped down hard on the feeling she had that he might actually be a little too perfect. "Sabotaging myself again," she thought.
He threw the final dart, hitting the mark, and the scoreboard lit up, signaling the win. "Game, point, match, Player Two," the computer announced.
"Awe. . . ," Janeway protested disappointedly.
Leyton winked at her, his brown eyes sparkling playfully. "Don't worry, Katie, I'll give you the opportunity to even up the score. I know how you hate to lose."
"I do hate to lose, but we've tied up the board long enough. I think we can let some of the youngsters play now," she said, gesturing to the four crewmen who had been waiting anxiously for their Captain and the Envoy to retire from the dartboard. "How about you just get us a couple of ales and meet me over there," she said, gesturing to a table. He started to head for the bar, but she caught him by the arm and tugged him back. "And then we can discuss playing a round of Velocity. Now there's something I'm really good at."
Returning from the bar, he placed two bottles of Yridian ale and a glass with a lime in it on the table. "Didn't know if you take it straight."
She grinned lopsidedly at him as he sat opposite her. "Since you went to the trouble to bring the accompaniments. . . ."
"I thought so," he teased.
"Lots of people here tonight," she commented. "There's a bar just like this one on--"
His pinky finger tapping against the neck of the bottle caught her attention, and suddenly she knew why everything about Leyton felt peculiar. He reminded her of a certain holocharacter of which she had grown a little too fond. Her cheeks colored self-consciously and she had to remind herself that Leyton was a real person.
"Katie?" She glanced at him. Even his choosing to call her Katie, and the way he said it, reminded her of Michael O'Sullivan.
"Katie?" he said again, placing his hand on her arm.
She jumped at the contact. "Yeah?"
He raised his eyebrows. "You were saying?"
She concentrated on the sharp, deep-set features of his face, which was quite different from Michael's. "Oh, yes, I was just commenting that the bar is awfully busy . . . it seems that places like these always become the hub of activity on every space station."
"Not much else to do," he commented mildly, taking a large swallow of the ale.
"True."
He put down the bottle and inspected her. "Can I ask you something, Katie?"
Janeway regarded her companion with a look of complete astonishment. "O--okay," she stammered. "All right."
"A moment ago, you were just staring at me like I was a phantom . . . may I ask you what you were thinking?"
Relief flooded her features. "You remind me a bit of someone I used to know."
"Really?" he asked with a flirtatious smile. "And who would that be?"
"A bartender I knew in the Delta Quadrant." She smiled guilefully and took another drink.
"A bartender," he considered. "Did you like this bartender?"
"Well, let's just say, he was one of my weaker moments."
He smiled, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. "You know, I was a bartender."
"I didn't know that." But her mind mumbled that she did indeed know it.
"Uh, huh, it was during my 'I fancy myself a poet' period.
"A poet?" she asked hesitantly, almost afraid to see where this line of questioning would take her.
"Yeah, just as I was finishing up a degree in interspecies relations. I worked at the local pub. Served drinks. Brooded. Quoted Basai Masters. Brooded." He chuckled self-reprovingly. "You know, poet stuff."
"And you gave it all up for the Federation. How noble," she teased.
Grinning, he shook his head. "Well, not exactly. One night there was a really bad thunderstorm. I mean, lightening was striking everywhere when I closed up for the night. Ran home being pelted by raindrops. Felt more like a meteor shower. The next day, when I came to work, the place was gone."
"Gone?" she asked incredulously.
"Yup. Nothing left but the stone front, the barstools, and the cement slab they were bolted to. Everything else had burned to the ground. . . ."
"Lightening need only strike once, I suppose," she remarked lightly.
ΩΩΩΩ
"You really didn't have to escort me all the way back to Voyager," the Captain threw over her shoulder as she pressed in the code to the door to her quarters.
"I don't mind if it means I can spend just a little longer with you," Leyton responded sincerely.
She blessed him with a knee-weakening smile. "Would you like to come in?"
He looked ambivalent for an instant. "Maybe just for a minute."
"All right then," she said, leading the way. Once inside, she pulled off her overcoat and threw it over the arm of the couch. "Can I offer you anything?"
"No. . . . Actually, Katie, I really can only stay for a minute. Tomorrow, I have an early meeting to attend, and well, I'm not completely prepared," he explained.
"Well, I certainly understand duty interfering with enjoyment," she replied agreeably.
His dark brows rose on his forehead inquisitively, hopefully. "Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"
She turned and looked at him, her gaze softly scrutinizing. When she didn't answer, he put his hands in the pockets of his suit coat and looked down at his feet.
She moved closer towards him. Reaching out, she touched his arm. "Yes, Leyton, of course, I enjoyed myself. . . . Didn't you?"
He lifted his eyes and found hers looking up at him, and although, he didn't know exactly how she would respond, he grasped the point of her chin and guided her lips to his. The kiss was quick, soft, and reverent.
Kathryn smiled gently in return. "I guess that answers my question."
Leyton stared at her mouth for a second longer, before he managed to rip his eyes away. "I did have a good time," he acknowledged, turning to leave. "Thank you."
"I'll see you tomorrow."
He turned and smiled broadly. "Yes, until tomorrow. Sleep well, Katie."
"You, too," she responded quietly as he left.
After the door closed behind him, Kathryn simply stared at it. She couldn't quite understand it, but there was something elusive about him, something that left her feeling mindful and yet peculiarly content. But why would that be? She searched for reasons, but couldn't find any. She wondered briefly if he snored. Experience told her that he didn't.
She shrugged her shoulders and proceeded into the bathroom where she slipped into her nightgown. Confronting her reflection in the mirror, she asked, "What's your problem . . .? Are you really so suggestible?" Picking up the brush, she ran it through her hair. "So he's a little like Michael. . . . You liked Michael."
She sighed loudly as she padded over to her bed and pulled back the covers. "He's thoroughly attractive, utterly charming, and exceedingly successful," she consoled herself with those thoughts. Her unease probably stemmed from the fact that she hadn't known him that long and it was still early in the relationship. That was it, she didn't know him well enough yet. As her head met the pillow, all thoughts of Envoy Hael vanished promptly from her mind.
ΩΩΩΩ
The pneumatic doors to the space station's only restaurant opened to admit Envoy Hael, his arm seated firmly around Captain Janeway's shoulders. Seven, who was sitting with Chakotay, Tom, and B'Elanna at a table in the middle of the room, resisted the urge to stare. She knew the Captain had been in romantic relationships before, but now confronted with it for the first time, she felt unusually flustered. Restraining her curiosity, she removed her attention from the two at the door, just in time to catch the conspiratorial grins on her dinner companions' faces. Then Chakotay stood, waving his arms to catch the attention of the couple at the door.
A dramatic sigh escaped Janeway's lips. "Should we pretend not to see them?" Leyton asked jokingly.
"How could we possibly miss them?" she chuckled.
As they approached the table, Janeway gave each of her crewmembers in turn a small teasing glare, her way of saying hospitably 'leave us alone or I will drop kick you into the brig'.
"Join us?" Chakotay asked with a small, knowing twinkle in his eye.
"Thank you for the invitation, but I think we will just take that small, quiet table at the back there," she said, tilting her chin and gesturing at a cozy table towards the back of the restaurant. "But you all have a nice evening."
The Envoy nodded politely before steering his dinner companion to a table against the back wall of the restaurant.
ΩΩΩΩ
"I think she really likes him . . . a lot," B'Elanna emphasized quietly, leaning into the table so that they could hear her better.
Tom snickered. "It's about time."
Seven leveled a look at him. "I mean no disrespect," he conciliated. "I just mean that it's good for her."
Chakotay grinned, and then wiped his mouth with his napkin. "All right, no more talk about the Captain's love life."
"Spoil sport," B'Elanna jeered.
He ignored her comment and instead changed the subject. "Still going through late night, marathon feeding sessions?"
Tom's eyes grew wide at the question. "Oh, no, why did you have to ask that?"
"What? I was curious," the Commander replied. "Why?"
"You just picked her favorite topic to rant and rave about," he explained, patting B'Elanna's arm condescendingly.
With a balled up fist, she hit him in the shoulder. "You, wait a minute. I don't rave like a lunatic about Miral's late night feeding habits."
"Whoa! I didn't say anything about a lunatic!" Tom defended himself.
As B'Elanna and Tom exchanged insults, Chakotay took the opportunity to engage Seven in a private conversation. "You're awfully quiet tonight," he remarked gently. "Are you all right?"
Seven smiled reassuringly if almost imperceptibly. "I'm fine."
Chakotay leaned over and pressed his lips softly against Seven's for reassurance. As in other situations, she focused on the mechanics, thereby diverting her emotional response to the kiss, or in this case, lack thereof. Pulling away slowly, she felt guilty as she met his dark eyes.
The Captain witnessed the kiss from a distance. Seeing Seven and Chakotay together was hardly a surprise, but Kathryn still felt a little shock register in her mind at their intimate display. She looked for any signs of discomfort from Seven, but didn't observe any. She didn't know why she expected to see unease or embarrassment, or why she was even more disturbed when she didn't. In her mind, she replayed the intimate gesture, unable to focus on anything except the way Seven's full, pink mouth yielded against her companion's.
"Katie?"
"Mmm?" She looked dazedly at Leyton, her mind just beginning to clear. "Yes?"
"You've scarcely touched your dinner. Is something wrong with it?"
She glanced at her plate. "No," she said, looking back out across the restaurant.
"If you really wanted to join your friends, we can," he tried again.
"No, it's all right. . . . I'm sorry, I'm just a little distracted tonight." He nodded at her. "How about I make it up to you?" That garnered a huge grin from him. "My quarters on Voyager?" she asked, smiling disarmingly.
He nodded enthusiastically, getting up to help her with her chair. As he followed her out the door, she tossed back mischievously, "I have some caramel brownies and some rather sobering coffee you'll just love."
ΩΩΩΩ
Seven had watched as Janeway and the Envoy left the restaurant. The night's events had proven rather disturbing and she felt the urge to follow their lead if only to escape the hostile looks B'Elanna was pitching at her from across the table. It had started out innocently enough. The petite engineer had expressed concern for Miral's nutritional intake. Seven had simply commented that adding a nutritional supplement to B'Elanna's diet would help ensure the baby's nutritional requirements were being met.
But once again, her intentions had been misunderstood. And every time she tried to explain, the obstinate Klingon interrupted her. Finally, she had just stopped responding and let B'Elanna fume at her. Sometimes if she was quiet for long enough B'Elanna would lose interest, but not this time.
B'Elanna crossed her arms. "I guess we know your opinion then."
"I was simply characterizing the nature of --"
"What good parents would do," she paused and glanced at Tom as he placed his hand on her shoulder. "Look here, Ms. Borg Perfection, what do you know about babies other than how to grow them in petrie dishes?"
Chakotay leaned back in his chair, removed his napkin from his lap, and pushed himself away from the table. "Okay . . . we should probably call it a night before there's bloodshed."
ΩΩΩΩ
As they exited the doors of the space station's restaurant, Chakotay grasped the slender length of Seven's upper arm. "Why do you have to do that?"
"To what are you referring?"
He pulled at her arm, stopping her so that she faced him. "The Borg thing. . . . You're always saying or doing something that just reminds everyone of the Borg."
"I offered to share my specifications for a nutritional supplement," she explained, her brow furrowing with confusion. "That is all."
"Yes, I know. But it was the way you did it."
"My method wasn't any different than--"
He cut her off. "It was condescending."
"That was not my intent. . . . She was asking for advice."
"She wasn't asking for anything. She just needed an outlet to talk about her anxiety as a new mother," he said with frustration. "But instead of listening, you pushed her like some Borg set on assimilating the conversation."
She glared at him. "I am Borg," she announced, and then a thought echoed a different sentiment. "Or you make me feel like one."
His voice followed her as she escaped down the corridor. "You're not. You're human."
ΩΩΩΩ
Returning to Voyager, she sought the comfortable silence of the cargo bay where she brooded over the argument with Chakotay. She could understand why he would be upset that she and B'Elanna had difficulty achieving compatibility. B'Elanna and Tom were good friends of his, and as he had explained before, he wanted to be able to spend time simultaneously with her and them. But B'Elanna had a disagreeable temperament and often, Seven believed, took offense at her very presence. To her mind, it seemed, the problem wasn't so much that she behaved like a drone as much as she didn't regulate her conduct aptly enough to accommodate sensitive humans, particularly half-Klingon ones.
B'Elanna's attitude towards her had only gotten worse since Seven had missed the baby shower. She had taken her non-attendance as a personal affront. Seven had later given a baby gift to B'Elanna in way of an apology. But the hot-headed Klingon barely glanced at the gift before she put it aside, voicing an acerbic 'unique.' Reanalyzing it, Seven should probably have avoided the situation altogether by giving the gift to Tom. Had B'Elanna really expected that she would attend? She was notorious for being painfully out-of-place at social functions and seeking to evade them.
The fact was, they were all too quick to blame her Borgness for her social transgressions instead of blaming her lack of experience. There was one person who was the exception, though. Captain Janeway understood Seven's unease even as she pushed her to overtake it and make the adjustment. She was obliging when Seven was most unnerved, providing a constant companion whom she could look to for support.
Thinking about the Captain, she remembered the conversation she had with her about her first crush. Her mind passed over the words--"Had to be me." Maybe the Captain could indeed provide some insight.
ΩΩΩΩ
Exiting the turbolift, she stalked the corridor until she was facing the door to the Captain's quarters. She wondered why she felt nervous about broaching this topic with Janeway. She and the Captain had often had late-night discussions and Janeway had made it clear that her door was always open.
Calming herself, she pressed the chime. From inside, she heard the unmistakable sound of the Captain's voice. "Come."
The pneumatic doors slid open and Seven strode in, coming to an abrupt stop a few steps inside the room.
"Seven!" Janeway said graciously. "What can I do for you?"
Seven turned towards Janeway, who was standing at the replicator with two wineglasses in her hands. Approaching her, she wondered at Janeway's disheveled appearance. A thought occurred to her that maybe the Captain was getting ready for bed. Ignoring these fleeting thoughts, she addressed her, "Captain, you offered to advise me regarding--"she left off at hearing footfalls approaching from behind.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Leyton offered a small, apologetic smile.
Seven caught Leyton in the periphery of her vision. He had removed his shirt and was only clad in pants and an undershirt. Embarrassment coursed over her. Of course the Captain would be busy. She and the Envoy were dating. Her throat seized for a moment, before she was able to express regret for having interrupted. "My apologies, Captain. I did not mean to intrude."
The Captain reached out, touching Seven's forearm. She realized what the situation must look like to the younger woman. "It's all right, Seven. You're not--"
Seven backed away. "We can have this discussion at another time. I will go now."
"Really," Janeway began. "You don't have to leave. . . ."
"An-another time, Captain," Seven managed, and with a short nod to Leyton, she left.
Janeway exchanged amused looks with her companion, and then she pointed at his undershirt.
Leyton grinned mischievously at her. "I suppose, I should have told her that I dropped coffee on my shirt."
She pressed her lips together in mock exasperation and nodded. "I think so."
ΩΩΩΩ
Janeway stepped from the back of the shuttle with a cup of coffee in her hand. Seven was still at the tactical station, even though the Delta Flyer was on automatic pilot and they weren't set to arrive for a couple of hours at the coordinates designated by the representative from Unimatrix 6. She watched her from behind for a moment, noticing that in addition to Seven's normally stiff posture there was a definite edginess to her; it flowed like an undercurrent, rippling up and down her spine.
With a few moments to think about it, she realized Seven had been virtually silent throughout the entire journey with the exception of the launch sequence and exchanging bits of tactical data. As a matter of fact, the young woman seemed to be doing her level best to ignore her. On top of that, Seven had scarcely looked at her since this morning. Janeway wondered if this strained interaction had anything to do with the embarrassing situation that had occurred the night before.
Seven was conscious of the Captain, standing behind her as she tried to focus on her task. But, once again, since encountering Janeway and the Envoy at the restaurant, she was consumed by images of the two together. She could still see the Envoy's large hands roaming over the Captain's body; the Captain murmuring her pleasure into his ear. The dreams that had come to shadow her day made Seven's body respond in decidedly immodest ways, making her feel affects she had only glimpsed at with the Commander.
Lost in thought, Janeway sighed softly, catching Seven's attention and bringing her out of another daydream. She opened her eyes, knowing she must try to distract herself from such intimate images, especially in the woman's presence. She glanced up from the Delta Flyer's tactical console, turning her head so that her profile was visible to Janeway. "What is being offered in exchange?"
"I'm sorry?" Janeway responded, perplexed and startled by the sudden inquiry.
"The members of Unimatrix 6 will use the acquisition of the quantum phase inhibitor to their advantage. They would not surrender a device of such significance without recompense," Seven explained.
Janeway flashed a crooked smile. "Medical techniques for the removal of Borg implants."
Seven nodded, acknowledging that information such as that would unquestionably be valuable to former members of the Collective.
Coming around the tactical station, she faced her Astrometrics officer. Looking into the large, pale eyes, somehow she felt the need to explain what Seven had obviously misinterpreted from the previous night. "Seven, about last night . . . what you saw--," she let off, shaking her head. "You weren't interrupting anything." She tilted her head down and looked pointedly at her, trying to convey her sincerity.
"You do not need to explain," Seven stated simply, dropping her eyes back to the tactical console thereby dismissing the conversation.
The Captain, thoroughly disappointed, moved away and sat at the helm, watching the stars streak by the viewscreen. She didn't know what she had hoped Seven's response would be, but dismissal certainly wasn't it. She felt a little consternation at having explained herself to her Astrometrics officer. "But then," she rationalized silently, "that was your choice. She didn't ask for you to justify your behavior. And why would she? She didn't tell you she was seeing Chakotay. Hell, I might not even know now if the Admiral hadn't informed me." Janeway felt the tinniest fragment of ire rise up inside of her at the thought that two of her closest friends hadn't bothered to tell her they were dating.
"Captain, we are being hailed."
ΩΩΩΩ
"We have no need for you to provide us with evidence. Seven of Nine is evidence enough," Principal Adjunct Utara said smiling with a scrutinizing eye at the ex-drone.
Seven shifted uncomfortably under the inspection. Janeway caught the unease and sought the Adjunct's attention. "Well, then, what do you require?" she asked suspiciously.
He faced the Captain, seeming a bit startled, and then he smiled soothingly. "Captain, truly, I do not require anything," he said, pausing. "Except maybe the company of two individuals. . . . You see, some of us are making the transition to individuality exceedingly well." He rocked back on his heels. "However, others are experiencing difficulty, and as the individual who is responsible for them, I take every opportunity afforded me to interact with other individuals, hoping that it will give me insight into these difficulties."
The way he kept emphasizing 'individuals' unnerved Janeway, but because she empathized with his predicament, she continued to listen.
"In a roundabout way, what I am saying, Captain, is that although you have the Tox Uthat and you are free to go, I would like for you to stay for dinner, and if you're comfortable with that, then possibly overnight. We have lovely accommodations." He pursed his lips, sensing her apprehension and he couldn't blame her. He was quite aware of how many times she had crossed paths with the Borg, and although, he did not consider himself a member of the Collective any longer, he knew everything about him, his crew, and his ship must be unsettling for her.
Janeway glanced at Seven to see how this invitation sat with her. Seven nodded her head only once, and so subtly that only someone thoroughly familiar with her would understand. It wasn't that she felt comfortable; staying a moment longer on the sphere was the last thing she wanted to do, but she knew the Captain was duty-bound to help. The Principal Adjunct was in a way emitting his own distress call.
"We accept," Janeway stated.
ΩΩΩΩ
"These medical adaptations will be of great benefit. They will enhance our lives; free us. Just not having to spend as much time in a regeneration unit is well worth paying any price," Principal Adjunct Utara commented, gesturing his guests to their seats at the long dining table.
The Captain and Seven took the offered seats, one on each side of him. Glancing around the dining hall, the Janeway offered, "I noticed that you have made other enhancements as well."
He followed her line of sight, her eyes gliding over the jumble of objects in the room. "Yes, we actually have two individuals on board who seem to be making new careers out of embellishing our environment."
Seven's eyes poured over the room. "Indeed."
Utara smiled at her emphatic phrasing. "We encourage this kind of experimentation . . . with the exception of the areas where ornamentation would effect the efficiency of the ship."
Janeway nodded. "That's an equitable policy. We have the same guidelines on Voyager," she paused to explain. "That is, crew quarters, the mess hall, and other gathering places are considered social areas of the ship and can be, well, for lack of a better word, decorated . . . or rather, personalized."
"Personalized," he repeated, considering the term. Seven wondered if this expression would become the next catchword after 'individual.'
Sensing a lull in the conversation, Janeway asked the rather pointed question she had been holding for an opportune time. "I'm curious, Primary Adjunct, do you have a problem with abandonment?"
"Abandonment?"
"Yes. Members of your crew leaving to find their families or pursue other interests or--"
Utara interrupted. "Actually, Captain, we don't. Unfortunately, the Borg were efficient. Most of us don't have families or homes left," he reflected sadly. "Many are on other ships and are still not free of their Borg oppressors. We were lucky to be among the few that were able to break away from the Collective when the virus struck Unimatrix 0."
"And they, your crew, don't have any desire to leave and establish homes elsewhere?" she asked.
"For the most part, no. Much of the crew seems content to adapting themselves to this new situation. Although a few individuals have decided to leave. As to the future?" he asked, pausing, "I suppose that remains to be seen. . . . Many have expressed the desire to see their native lands. For some of us, however, that may prove impossible."
"How so?" Janeway probed.
"Some of our home planets lay in parsecs of Borg-infested space. Strictly speaking, no one wants to venture there. I'm sure you understand," he said with a commiserating smile.
"Certainly," the Captain said, catching Seven's look from across the table.
"Principle Adjunct, have you considered using the Borgs' knowledge of holoemitters to construct facilities in which the facsimiles of these planets could be reproduced?" Seven solicited.
"Holodecks?"
"Correct."
Janeway smiled approvingly at her. "Seven, what a wonderful idea."
She dipped her head to conceal the warm blush that flashed across her cheeks due to the Captain's open praise.
Utara was at a loss for words as he considered the idea for a moment. "I knew that interacting with you two individuals would prove beneficial!" he exclaimed as three ex-drones entered the dining hall, carrying an assortment of trays. "Well, on that note, it appears dinner is served."
ΩΩΩΩ
After a surprisingly suitable dinner, a young male drone with obvious medical adaptations led them down a series of brightly lit corridors. Stopping in front of an almost concealed door, he regarded Janeway and Seven. "We hope the accommodations will be suitable. We don't have a lot of guests," he explained as he pressed a panel on the wall and the door slid open. "We only have one guest quarters," he said, looking apologetic.
"That's fine," the Captain mollified the young man. "Thank you for your hospitality."
He smiled graciously as he left. "You're welcome."
When the door closed, Janeway grinned crookedly at Seven. "Polite. Everyone we've met has been so . . . pleasant, especially the Adjunct."
"Species 568. They tried to talk their way out of assimilation," Seven illuminated with only a hint at humor.
Janeway chuckled as she walked into the room. Thrusting her chin out, her smile grew wider. Like the eclectic dining facility, they had just come from, everything in this room had obviously been bartered for; there wasn't a trace of circuitry, green light, or dankness anywhere. If anything it was the antithesis of everything Borg. The room was round and garishly decorated. Dark orange and gold tapestries hung from floor to ceiling. And the ceiling was hidden completely by an off-white canvas, gathered like a tent at the highest apex in the center of the room. The entire effect was overwhelmingly and strangely Persian. "Maybe Lawrence will show up," Janeway chuckled, tossing a stray smile at Seven.
"Of Arabia," Seven added. The Captain looked surprised. "I saw it during one of Tom's Midnight Marathon of Movies," she provided in way of explanation as she reached out and pulled one of the tapestries aside.
Her curiosity peaked, Janeway stepped up next to her. Underneath was the normal infrastructure of a Borg sphere. "They must be trying to make their guests forget they are on a ship formally belonging to the Collective," the Captain remarked.
"Or maybe they are trying to make themselves forget," Seven offered.
Janeway looked up at her. "Could be."
Displayed centrally in the room was a large, plush bed. It looked much like a featherbed Kathryn had seen once as a child on a field trip to a restored 17th century farm. However unlike that bed, this bed was round and covered in decadent-looking pillows. "Round?" Janeway said aloud.
Seven, busy inspecting a metallic-etched plate hanging on the wall, glanced over her shoulder. "Did you say something, Captain?"
"Uh, yes, the bed. I was just saying it's round."
"Yes," Seven agreed, "an inefficient design."
Kathryn turned and looked at her Astrometrics officer. And then it hit her, she was going to have to share a bed, this round bed with Seven. Seeking to hide her alarm, she turned away, eyeing the only other door in the room besides the entrance. It wasn't really a door, though; it was more like an entryway with more rich cloth draped off to the side. Taking a few quick steps, she found herself in a bathroom. This room carried the outer room's motif, but it was brightly lit and inviting and gave her excuse enough to take a little time to get a handle on herself. "Seven," she called out, "I'm going to clean up before bedtime."
And just as she reached out to grasp the draping cloth, which would afford her some privacy, Seven leaned into the room, startling the Captain and making her jump nervously. "You will need your bag," she said, handing the Starfleet-issue duffel to Janeway.
"Oh, yes. Thank you, Seven," she said, the embarrassed flush returning to her cheeks. Seven nodded and left, pulling the drape so that it fell across the doorway.
After convincing herself that Seven wasn't going to burst into the bathroom again, she disrobed and then stepped into the shower stall. Turning the lever, the shower sputtered to life, parsing her skin with . . . "Water!" she thought enthusiastically. "Good, old-fashioned water."
Warm streams of placid water flowed down, relaxing muscles in her body she never realized were tense. She pressed her palms against the ornately tiled surface of the shower stall, allowing the cascades to help her collect her reeling responses. The shower did its magic and soon she had her composure and also her reason for loosing it. "Had too much of that unique drink at dinner. Must have had alcohol-like properties."
Turning off the shower, she grabbed a towel from the niche in the wall. Wiping down her body, she became aware of how her muscles felt loose but her skin was markedly sensitized, and she had an odd, regretful thought about not having taken a cold shower. She chuckled to herself. "Yes, certainly an alcoholic effect," she mused, rifling through her bag and dressing in a simple nightshirt.
Stepping into the main room, she saw Seven perched on the edge of the bed. "Seven, didn't you bring something to sleep in?" she asked.
The question gave Seven pause or maybe it was the Captain's appearance. Janeway's skin, still dewy and flushed from the shower, lent the ordinary, white linen nightshirt she wore an appeal that was not at all lost on the blonde. "Yes," Seven managed finally.
She saw the hesitation etched clearly on the aquiline features. "You're welcome to wear that," Janeway said, referring to the biometrics suit. "But that material might not slide too well in the covers . . . uh, that is, you might be more comfortable in nightwear."
Seven stood, looking unconvinced. Her wardrobe wasn't exactly large and she wasn't used to wearing garments of the traditional sort, especially not sleepwear in front of the Captain. And then, there was the issue of sleep. She had tried it. She could do it, but it took a long time. The prospect of lying next to the Captain, listening to her breathe and sigh in her slumber, while she attempted sleep was going to be unconditionally troublesome.
ΩΩΩΩ
Janeway was settling herself under the bedcovers when Seven stepped in from changing. She was wearing a modest, silk shift in blue--it was the one the Doctor had recommended she use for sleeping. It had proven comfortable enough, but now with the way the Captain was gaping at her, she felt that maybe it was altogether inappropriate.
For Janeway's part, she wondered how many times, she was going to catch herself staring idiotically at Seven of Nine. "I wonder if she knows how beautiful she is?" her mind provoked. But if Janeway felt any discordance at admiring the young woman, she didn't allow it to infiltrate her consciousness.
What she did allow herself to acknowledge was the place that Seven held in her heart. From the second she made the decision to sever her from the Collective, she had known that she would be responsible for cultivating, guiding, and nurturing her growing individuality. And in the beginning, there had been something about the ex-drone that made her want to help. Along the way, that desire had grown into a need. Maybe it was Seven's astonishing intelligence, maybe her formidable strength, or maybe her innate humanness. Maybe it was that Janeway herself had been continuously challenged, stirred, and influenced by the beautiful woman. But whatever the reason, she was drawn to Seven and she felt the increasing need to know and understand her in a way no one else could.
Suddenly, Seven turned back towards the bathroom.
Janeway began to reach out, but stifled the impulse. "Where are you going?"
"I feel uncertain about this . . . experience. Maybe I will be more comfortable in the biosuit."
"Maybe I'll be more comfortable," Janeway considered silently. All ridiculousness aside, she should have been making her feel more comfortable instead of staring at her like . . . a 'fifteen year-old boy,' came to mind, but she brushed the thought aside. "Seven, you're fine. Just come to bed," she said, convincing her with a warm smile.
The Captain's smile radiated through her as she padded softly over to the bed. Looking down to where Janeway was now snuggled in the sheets, she wondered how she was to get into the bed without crowding her. The other woman seemed to read her mind and she rolled onto her side. "Okay now?" she asked softly.
Seven nodded once and slid into the bed, mirroring the Captain's position. For a long moment, the two just looked at each other, a strangely calming silence passing between them. Kathryn allowed her eyes to drift down her companion's form. Finally coming to rest at the end of the bed, where Seven's feet appeared to be dangling off the edge. "You can get closer. . . . I don't bite. . . . Not hard, anyway." Seven's eyes grew discernibly wider. "Oh, God! Why did I say that?" Janeway chastised herself silently.
When Seven recovered from her surprise, she slid closer, her eyes resting on Janeway's face, looking for some sign of when close was close enough. But if the sign came, she never saw it, until one long, silky thigh rubbed provocatively against her bedmate's. The Captain closed her eyes in an unconscious rejoinder, and Seven drew back, but only enough to conceal the quiver that blasted through her own body. Seeking to hide her response from Seven, Janeway kept her eyes closed and muttered, "Goodnight."
ΩΩΩΩ
Janeway hummed lightly against the backdrop of the classical piano piece she had selected for their trip back to Quadra Sigma III. Stretching her arms above her head, she linked them as she leaned back in her chair at the helm. She was in a remarkably good mood and feeling relaxed, too. "More missions like this one," she invoked like a silent prayer.
After the slight discomfiture of the night before, she had finally settled down enough to sleep and that she did--a deep, easeful slumber. She hadn't slept like that since she was a child, living in the sanctuary of her parent's home. "Ironic that it would happen on a Borg sphere," she mused.
Suddenly, Seven's voice broke through the lulling music. "Captain . . . there is an anomalous reading off the port bow. I am modifying sensors to compensate."
She moved up next to the ex-Borg and looked over her shoulder at the tactical viewer. "Is this heading accurate?"
Seven looked at the readout. "Yes." She met the Captain's perplexed look. "Although I cannot explain how we came to be at these coordinates."
Janeway glanced at the shuttle viewscreen. "Exactly where are we?"
"Two light years off our last position. An uncharted, M-class planet," she paused. "Captain, we've dropped--"
"Out of warp," she finished as a large, blue planet shimmered into view. "I can see that. But how's that possible?" Janeway gasped. "Get us back on course."
Seven tapped in a series of commands only to have the computer counter her actions with a repellant bleep. "Captain, the navigational controls are not responding."
Janeway took up her seat at the conn just as the shuttle rocked. "Inertial dampers are offline." She looked at Seven who was still leaning over the tactical station. "Seven, sit. I have a feeling this is going to get worse before it gets better."
As though to emphasize her point, the shuttle quaked violently, throwing the Captain from her chair.
"Captain!" Janeway held her hand up to forestall Seven's help as she sat back at the helm.
"We are entering the planet's upper atmosphere," Seven shouted over the whine of the shuttle's engine.
Janeway's fingers flew across the viewer. "I'll shutdown propulsion. . . ." she called, and then she banged her fist against the console. "No response." Then she keyed in another series of commands. "Damn! The reverse thrusters aren't responding either. Any suggestions?"
"We could disrupt the subspace field coils."
"Don't have time. We're going to have to set her down. . . ." She met the younger woman's worried expression. "Seven . . . brace for impact."
PART II
She opened her eyes to blackness. For a brief moment, she had the eerie feeling she was reliving the past--that she was again that six year-old that had huddled under a computer console to try to escape the terrifying metal men who had invaded her home and taken her parents. But as her eyes adjusted to the low light leaking surreptitiously through the cracks in the bulkheads above her, she knew she was no longer a frightened child on the Raven. Suddenly it all came back to her--the anomalous reading, the Captain at the helm, the crash. "The Captain!" Seven's mind screamed as she flung her arms out in front of her trying to locate anything that would give her direction. "Computer, activate the emergency lights."
No response from the shuttle's computer forthcoming, she moved forward on her hands and knees and managed to locate the ramp leading down to the cockpit, her arms stretched out and sweeping in front of her, searching for the chair where she had last seen Janeway. Seven felt the cool flat of the empty chair. "Captain!" she cried out, hearing the unfamiliar hysteria in her voice.
Pushing forward towards the cockpit of the Flyer, she felt around on the flat, cold surface of the shuttle floor. Her hand, brushing aside pieces of wreckage, collided with the front of the helm. Thrusting out to the left, she felt along the nose of the shuttle. "Nothing!" her mind spiraled, driving panic-laced spasms into her chest.
Pushing down implausible images of Janeway being thrown from the shuttle, she renewed her search feverishly. Reaching out into the darkness, she felt only the seeping cold. And then suddenly, her leg collided with something pliable. Trying to keep her bearings, she twisted herself around and reached out with her hands, and just as she had hoped, she touched the material of a Starfleet uniform.
Janeway was curled on her side, after having been thrown under the helm console at impact. "Captain!" she called out, pulling herself up alongside Janeway. Apprehensively, she reached forward, finding and touching the other woman's face. The skin under her fingers was cool and clammy. Following the contours of her jaw line down to her neck, Seven felt a weak pulse there.
Not able to assess the extent of Janeway's injuries, Seven knew she had to locate a source of light. It came to her; the emergency kit should have a wrist beacon and other rudimentary supplies. Knowing that the cracks in the Flyer's upper hull must be running along seams in the tritanium casing, she followed the infinitesimal splinters of light, to the shuttle's aft section. Branching off to the left, her fingers located the lever to the cargo hold.
The latch slid out of the lock and she pressed her body against the door to keep any of the items from falling out. Slowly, she pulled it open just enough, to push her hand inside. After a second or two of rummaging, she felt the handle on the kit. Grabbing at it, she yanked it from the cabinet; the other objects scattered haphazardly onto the floor around her feet.
Falling to her knees, she dropped the kit to the floor and released its catch. Daring to hope that the contents of the kit would still be in order, she reached for the position where the wrist beacon should be; she was rewarded.
Activating the wrist beacon, she was temporarily blinded when the high-output beam switched on. She swung the flashlight in the direction where the Captain lay. The illumination moved over the still form and came to rest on Janeway's face, the features bloodless except for a large, purplish contusion above her left eye. Seven shook off the trepidation and instead focused on finding the medical tricorder.
She made her way back to the central portion of the shuttle to the provisional medical bay. Without the benefit of power, she knew she would have to pry open the biobed to reach the medkit. Conveniently, the collision had fractured open a small rift between the biobed and the medical console. Wedging her Borg-enhanced arm into the narrow slot, she forced the space open. Slipping her hand inside, she felt around for the medkit. She touched a jagged edge. It was damaged. Wrenching the kit through the narrow slot, she balanced it on her knee and pulled open the case. She found the tricorder almost immediately. It was rolled in the folds of a thermal blanket. Grabbing both items, she rushed to the injured woman's side and draped the blanket over her shoulders and torso.
With a strong sense of apprehension, she ran the tricorder over the body of the Captain. The readings gave her hope. Janeway had suffered head trauma; she had a damaged ankle; and she was definitely in shock, but there wasn't any sign of internal bleeding or any injury that couldn't be healed with time. That is, if she could find some source of protection from the frigid temperatures she could feel seeping rapidly into the shuttle.
Taking a final tricorder reading, she felt at least moderately secure leaving the Captain for a couple of minutes. She could feel the cold infiltrating the Flyer and knew that she had to either get the environmental regulators back online or find a more suitable shelter. The extent of destruction around her told her the first option was futile.
Stepping over debris, she attempted to activate the door. It wouldn't move. Opening the panel next to the door, she used the emergency hand actuator to release the lock. Placing one hand on each side of the door and using her body weight for leverage, she pushed until it slid all the way open.
Snow spilled in onto her boots, and for a moment, she just stood there confronted by a great wall of white as disconsolate thoughts assaulted her. How deep were they were buried? Would she be able to find a superior shelter? Maybe Voyager would find them faster if they didn't leave the shuttle. But they would have to leave eventually, even if just to locate a source of drinkable water. And what about food? All of the questions and abstractions played out in her mind as every uncertainty she had and every quandary she could think of surfaced. Then unexpectedly, she heard, "Be efficient." But the words came not in the voice of the Queen as it so often had in the past, but in the distinctive tones of her Captain. With those words to spur her on, she grabbed a piece of debris from the shuttle floor and began digging.
ΩΩΩΩ
Her hands and arms were stiff and frozen. Her fingers bled, but digging her toes into the hard-packed snow, she pushed through to the surface. First the light struck her and she blinked, trying to adjust to the prism of light her eyes were blinded by. Shaking her head, she struggled to see, and when she finally did, she was stricken. The shuttle had come to rest only 18 meters off of a frigid, clear water lake. She knew the lake was deep, because the waters still rippled at the surface. Her mind moved quickly past what would have happened if the Flyer hadn't come to a stop where it had.
Changing her focus, she discovered that on an elemental level, they seemed to be in an ice bowl. They had crashed in a frosty hollow of a world. Pivoting, she confirmed it--on all sides of her rose 27-kilometer mountains. She suppressed the urge to sigh, knowing it would cause her to take a deeper breath of the frozen air.
Looking out past the lake, she gazed at the placid-looking sky. From the sun's position, she estimated that it would be going down in a few hours and given the contours and geography of the landscape, sunset would cause vigorous winds to rise from the lake and accelerate across the valley. They couldn't still be in the shuttle when that occurred.
Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the blinding light caused by the sun's reflection off the snow, she inspected the craggy mass of cliffs closest to her. It looked much like an endless jumble of tumble down pyramids. No one set of rock faces looked any different than another. But then her eyes found a focus. About 150 meters up, there appeared to be a cave or at least an inlet of some kind. She couldn't tell how deep it was or how much protection it might provide, but it was a better option than staying in the Flyer while sub-zero winds buried them deeper in the snow.
ΩΩΩΩ
Before edging back down the tunnel, she took one final look at the sky. From the position of the sun, she ascertained .33 hours for preparation and 2.47 hours to climb the 150 meters. "Be efficient" heralded through her mind as she set to her tasks.
Returning to the shuttle, she quickly scanned Janeway and found that her vital signs were much the same as before. Throwing the shaft of light emanating from the wrist beacon across the scattered debris of the shuttle, she realized there were many salvageable items and that their survival rested on her ability to be assiduous and precise in her decisions of what to take.
But the first thing she had to worry about was transporting the Captain. She had to create a gurney or sled of some sort; otherwise, it would be impossible for her to move the Captain and the supplies at the same time. Examining the contents of the shuttle, she searched for anything large and sturdy enough to support Janeway's weight. Then suddenly, she remembered seeing a large, concave piece of the Flyer's hull. It had been ripped from the surface of the wing and was lying discarded in the snow on the exterior of the planet.
Climbing up to the surface again, she retrieved the section of tritanium and pushed it to the entrance of the tunnel. She was thankful that the metal slid easily across the frozen layers of the planet's exterior. The lack of resistance would make it easier to push.
Returning to the shuttle's broken wing, she pulled thick slabs of insulation from between the hull and shell of the interior. She then placed the insulation in the cavity of the makeshift sled. She hoped the interwoven layers of insulation would prove sufficient to protect the Captain from the elements above as well as the cold metal surface below.
Scrambling back down the tunnel, she switched on the wrist beacon and quickly located the stockpile of thermal blankets. Using the high polymer string that bound the blankets together she wrapped four of the blankets cocoon-like around Janeway. The other two blankets and the little bit of string that was left, she strapped around herself, concentrating the layers around her torso and head.
Cradling the Captain's bundled form, she climbed from the darkness of the shuttle and gently laid her in the makeshift sled. Glancing up at the sky, she noticed it had begun to turn subtle shades of crimson and that it cast a rose hue across the entire valley. If the darkening sky hadn't signaled the earliest beginnings of sunset, she might have been able to enjoy the alarming beauty of the place.
But she didn't have the benefit of that kind of time; the lower the sun sank, the colder it would get and the more likely the slow breeze would evolve into a howling wind. Casting an eye to the inlet, she was hoping would be a cave, she had a moments pause. Maybe she should hamper down and settle into the shuttle for the night. And then, like a warning, a single snowflake fell and melted on the arm of her biosuit. A snowflake was hardly a threat, but a blizzard could put their lives in peril.
Slipping back down into the shuttle for a final inspection, she collected all the items she could find that might be of immediate use. Gaining access to the surface again, she tucked the emergency kit, medkit, ration bars, the tricorder, a phaser, a spare wrist beacon, and half a dozen other functional objects in and around Janeway on the sled. With one final check on that spot 150 meters up, she encased her hands and feet in the leftover bits of ship insulation, tested for weakness and instability in the sled's structure, and when she was sure there weren't any, she pushed her valuable cargo away from the crash site.
ΩΩΩΩ
Coming up around the final bend of the mountain, Seven could feel the high-level winds wailing around her. She had lost feeling in her fully-human hand .54 hours ago. But her Borg-enhanced one still gripped the edge of the makeshift sled, pushing it along the rocky, snow-slick surface of the mountain face.
She was close enough now to see the alcove in the rock and she could tell it would provide some protection from the brutal weather. She had been right; within moments of sunset the wind, monstrous and shrieking, had come alive. And soon after, the snow like hurtling slivers of glass had begun to speed across the landscape.
The fierce gusts stopped suddenly and Seven knew she would have only a brief interval to take advantage of the lull. Pushing the sled at a sharp incline, she gained some altitude on the mountainside. Suddenly the wind thrashed around her, kicking snow up into her face and catching the underside of the sled, lifting the front half into the air. The sled yanked loose from her stiff, frozen grip. Reaching out blindly against the snow that obscured her vision, her fingers contacted the flat surface of the sled, only to have it lift further into the air.
"No!" she wailed; the solitary lament was swallowed quickly by the deafening wind. But someone must have heard the mournful prayer, because just as soon as she uttered it, the wind let loose its iniquitous hold and the sled landed with a crack against the craggy surface. She threw herself at it, wrapping her arms around the precious cargo and trapping it under the weight of her upper body.
Her breath came in great heaving gasps. She almost didn't believe it. The wind, like some great, reasoning entity, had lifted the sled over its head and threatened to hurtle it down the mountainside, and then just seemed to change its mind.
She tried to settle herself. She focused on the outcropping of boulders that put her goal just out-of-reach. Hesitant to give the wind another chance to mutate into the screeching beast, she lifted up slowly and pushed herself against the sled.
Just as she reached the boulders, another fierce tendril of wind thrashed around the rocky corner, buffeting Seven from the side and whipping a frozen edge of the blanket against her chapped face. But she didn't notice, because she was almost there, and it was indeed a cave. And for the first time since leaving the valley floor, she felt elated. "Endorphins," she thought, distracting herself from the pain that shot through her human hand as she tugged the makeshift sled to the mouth of the cave.
Her mood quickly grew more somber as she looked at Janeway for some sign of awareness. But there was none. The Captain had not awakened once during the entire journey, and Seven knew the longer she stayed unconscious, the less likely she would be to ever wake.
She needed to check Janeway's bioreadings again, but first she had to make sure the area was secure. Opening the tricorder, she noticed how great masses of brush grew along the periphery of the cave. The readings revealed only two things: the plants were the only detectable organic life in the area and the cave was alarmingly deep. So deep, in fact, it extended beyond the tricorder's detection perimeter. But other than the depth of the cave, there were no immediate signs of danger.
For safety sake, though, she removed the phaser from the sled and set it next to her on the ground. Finding the medical tricorder buried in the insulation, she took another reading of Janeway. Her life signs were lethargic due to shock, but it was the low body temperature that alarmed Seven the most. She consoled herself with the fact that it was much warmer in the cave than in the shuttle.
Grabbing a sharp rock, she ignored the pain that shot through her hands as she slammed the rock into the hard-packed ground. Soon she had a hole edged with stones and large enough to contain a small fire. Ripping out some of the drier brush, she laid it in the hole along with several small stones, and ignited the whole thing with a magnesite-nitron tablet from the emergency kit.
Leaning forward, she pulled the makeshift sled closer to the fire, and after determining that the temperature in the cave was adequately elevated, she began to carefully dislodge the top layers of the stiff, icy blankets that surrounded Janeway. She also untied the frozen blankets she had strapped to herself and spread all of them out on some large boulders to unthaw and dry.
Giving herself a moment by the fire, she thought of what she could do to increase the core temperature of the Captain's body. Gazing at the firelight, it came to her; she could dig another larger pit next to the fire. If deep enough, the hole would provide some extra shelter by putting Janeway below wind level. She could line it with the hull piece from the shuttle, fill it with thick layers of brush, whatever dry insulation there was left over from the journey to the cave, and the dry thermal blankets.
Pushing aside waves of exhaustion, she built a provisional bed for the Captain. It wouldn't be the soft, comfortable bed she had shared with her the night before, but it would keep the little bit of cold wind that entered the cave from harming her further.
She loosened the insulating blankets from around the Captain and laid her gently in the provisional bed, her mind driving out unpleasant images of prehistoric death masks and burial rites. Reaching out, she stroked the skin of Janeway's face. It would not happen that way. She would not allow it.
Collecting the items she had scattered about when she had slid the insulation out from under Janeway, she put the items on a flat rock near where she sat. She allowed herself to rest for only a moment, because she still needed to inspect the Captain's injured leg and if she waited too long she might be too exhausted to complete the task successfully.
Turning her attention to the items on the rock, she reached for the remnants of the medkit. She could have healed the injury with a standard-issue anabolic protoplaser, but it was one of the items that had been crushed. Digging around in the medkit, a small stab of self-criticism worked through as she realized she should have picked up the pieces. She might have been able to repair it. Fortunately, her eyes fell upon an extensive set of bandages. She wouldn't be able to heal the injury, but with the bandages she did have, she could at least immobilize it.
Peeling back the layers of blankets, she gently grasped the Captain's injured leg, straightened it, and pulled the boot off. The injury was manifesting as an ugly, purplish red contusion running along from ankle to mid-calf. It was painful looking, but not life threatening, and fortunately, the frigid temperatures had kept the swelling down.
Grabbing up a roll of bandages from the medkit, she immobilized the Captain's ankle and calf. Not wanting to incur any more damage to the leg, she opted not to reinstate the boot, and instead wrapped the leg in one of the blankets she had left drying on a rock by the fire. And after guaranteeing herself that the Captain was as warm and dry as possible and that the fire would not die out anytime soon, she slipped to the ground and onto the one blanket she had left.
ΩΩΩΩ
A brilliant light hovered in front of Janeway, and for what seemed like the hundredth time, she struggled to reach it. Throwing her entire body towards the brightness, it flared up in her face, and she raised her arms against its intensity. Suddenly, she was there, and oddly she was sitting up . . . on the ground in a cave with an alien sun blinding her. Her head ached and she had a vague sense that a good amount of time had lapsed since she was last aware of her environment.
The last place she remembered being was the Delta Flyer . . . on a collision course with some . . . "with this planet," she corrected. Orienting herself, she gazed around the cave, her eyes coming to rest on the still form of Seven of Nine, lying on the other side of the dying embers of a fire.
The ex-Borg, wrapped in a single thermal blanket--the only shield protecting her from the frozen earth--lay curled and huddled on the ground. The young woman shivered and grimaced in her sleep, drawing the Captain's eyes up around her chin to where she gripped the blanket around herself with dirty, bruised, and severely lacerated hands. Janeway gaped at the blackened, smudged streaks of dried blood, and hoped to God that the rest of Seven's body hadn't endured the same kind of brutal treatment.
Watching another wave of shivers pass over the woman's frame, she drew her legs up, and reached towards the pile of brush and sticks laying just in front of her feet. White hot pain shot through her leg. It was her ankle, the same one she had twisted so many times on various tennis and Velocity courts throughout the quadrant. Pulling up the leg of her uniform, she took in the bandages. Self-effacing thoughts moved in her head. "She's taken care of . . . everything. The least you can do is make sure that fire doesn't go out."
Pulling herself around, she pushed some of the larger sticks into the fire. Flaring up, the fire crackled and spit back at her. Smoke and steam rose around her face and she pulled away hastily from the fire. As she resituated herself, a pair of pale blue eyes regarded her.
"Captain . . .?" Seven asked, almost choking on the word. The Captain was awake and that was more than she had dared hope for. Janeway looked tired and the dark circles around her eyes alluded to the raging headache she must have. Not waiting for Janeway to answer, she slid to her feet, and grabbed the medical tricorder.
"Seven," the Captain began as the other woman impatiently scanned her. "Seven," she tried again as the blonde moved lower to scan Janeway's leg.
Snapping the tricorder closed abruptly, Seven looked her in the eyes. "Your ankle is in a state of repair; your head injury no longer threatens your well-being; and you are now exhibiting only the weakest symptoms of shock."
Janeway managed a crooked smile, and for a moment, she was sure Seven had returned it in full before the younger woman ducked her head and looked away. "Seven, are you injured?" she asked, gesturing to the split and torn skin of her hands.
Seven gazed at her hands, inspecting them abstractly. "I am fine, Captain. My nanoprobes have repaired much of the damage."
Kathryn sighed, taking in the disheveled and wind chapped skin of her Astrometrics officer's face. "Seven, humor me . . . I take it we don't have a dermal regenerator?" Seven nodded. "Then, please, bring the bandages and a sterilizing capsule. . . . No reason we can't help those nanoprobes."
For an instant, Seven felt the urge to disagree. What if something else happened? What if they needed the bandages or an extra sterilizing capsule? Janeway gave her an immovable look and instead of voicing her concerns, she picked up the requested items and placed them in the Captain's hands.
"Okay," she said, drawing up Seven's right hand. "Tell me what you know . . . everything that's happened."
"We are on the surface of an uncharted planet. The Delta Flyer is in a state of disrepair in the valley 150 meters below--"
"Disrepair?"
"Yes, extensive damage to the left lateral wing and nose. Power, environmental control, transporters, all emergency systems--"
Janeway held a hand up. "I get it. What else?"
"This cave of unknown depth is located on the southwest-face of a circular mountain chain. The temperatures outside the cave are subzero. A centrally located lake spawns force two winds and whiteout conditions at sunset. The planet completes rotation in approximately 22-hour increments. There are not any signs of organic life with the exception of that vegetation," she finished, tilting her head in the direction of the heaps of shrubbery scattered around the cave.
Having completed cleaning and bandaging Seven's first hand, she lifted the other one. "Provisions?"
"The items on the surface of the rock. The snow is consumable, but I will have to locate other sources of food if we are to be here longer than five days."
"I see . . . we'd better plan for a longer stay. We were more than two light years off our flight path and it might take Voyager awhile to find us," Janeway explained, concentrating on cleaning the skin around the implants in Seven's hand. "And what about the Tox Uthat?"
Seven's eyes slid from Janeway's face to the layers and bundles of blankets and stuffing she was sitting on.
"Under me?"
"Yes, Captain. The third layer."
"Ah. . . . There now," she said, dropping Seven's hand.
"Thank you, Captain," Seven said, nodding vaguely at her.
ΩΩΩΩ
The stream of light from the wrist beacon splashed across the stone walls of the cave, cutting a gully through the darkness. The play of light flashing off the polished surfaces reminded Seven of an evening Naomi Wildman had turned down the lights in the cargo bay and staged a puppet show using only a palm beacon, her hands, and the resultant shadows. These shadows, though, did not appear as innocuous as the bunnies and birds Naomi had shaped her hands into. These shadows seemed to contort and shift with the deliberate intent of concealing shapes that darted just out of her sight.
"Irrational," she spat out at herself as the tricorder readings displayed the same analysis as before. She had inspected approximately 4 kilometers of the cave and found nothing. Deciding that she had established a large enough safety perimeter, she had turned around and started back, and there was still nothing, only igneous rock, deciduous vegetation, and water. She knew the readings were accurate, and yet she could not suppress the small tendril of fear that wrapped around her throat.
It was the dark. She didn't like it, and she especially did not like being alone in it. She felt captured and enslaved by it. If she wasn't careful, it could dominate her. She had allowed it to six years before. On that night, she had indulged her fear, allowing it to sublimate logic, spurn rationality, and spawn events that would destroy lives and blacken her soul in a way the Borg never could.
At that time, she had been on an away mission. The shuttle had crashed, and the four drones who had survived were severed from the hive mind. As the four sat around a campfire waiting to be collected, their remembrances of lives previous to the Borg had surfaced. They recalled their names, family members, incidents and experiences. They had wanted to escape the Borg and she had wanted to escape her fear of being alone.
After the three had fled into the shadows, leaving her in solitude to fend off her fear, she had walked calmly through the darkness and committed an atrocity. She had stalked, captured, and reassimilated them by creating a sub-neural link to bind them together in their own small Collective. They became a triumvirate of minds without the ability to distinguish where one mind ended and the others began. With little effort, she had sealed their fates, mentally and physically.
Years later, those same drones once again were able to gain independence from their Borg oppressors. But they were hardly free, as the sub-neural link remained to vise them together. They had been so desperate to separate from one another that they had allowed medical barbarities to be committed on their bodies. Using crude medical techniques, they extracted implants, searching their own flesh for the reason they could not be individuals. "All of that scarring for no reason, because I was the cause," she thought.
Perhaps if she had not let fear rule her, the lives of those three individuals would have been much the same as those aboard Unimatrix 6. Perhaps each one would have even had a life like hers. She contemplated her life for a moment. Everything considered, the fact remained--she was lucky. She had moments of adjustment, but she was protected, cared for, nurtured, and even loved--Admiral Janeway had so much as said so.
Knowing that the people she had victimized had forgiven her, didn't help her deal with her guilt. She had promised one of the ex-drones to live her life without compromise--this was the only restitution they demanded. And the only means she had of payment was to guard and protect her new Collective . . . her family . . . her Captain.
She would not let fear defeat her this time she thought as she dove headlong into the darkness swimming in front of her. The Captain was depending on her. She would not fail.
Thoughts of Janeway mired in her mind as Seven moved more boldly along the passageway. The Captain . . . the woman who pervaded her life and rejuvenated her soul . . . the person who never ceased to challenge and value her . . . the person who always intrigued and even delighted her . . . the person who never lost faith in her and never withdrew her support . . . regardless of how Seven behaved. Seven could argue with her, undermine her authority, be rude, be arrogant, be unresponsive, and Janeway would take it all in and balance it with her remarkable intelligence, infinite patience, and unremitting compassion.
Her pace increased and she could hear the sound of her own footfalls cracking off the cave walls and feel the weight of the phaser pounding against her hip. After a heated disagreement, Janeway had ordered her to take the phaser. And now all Seven could think about was that the Captain was there at the mouth of the cave; she was injured; and she was defenseless. And then there was the whole matter of how they came to be on the planet. Her mind raced over the spectrum of possibilities--shuttle malfunction . . . sabotage . . . the Pygorians . . . Unimatrix 6?
Seven began running.
ΩΩΩΩ
Small showers of white drifted and swirled into the entrance of the cave. Janeway settled herself by watching the thick, heavy flakes fall and melt into the dark gray surface of the craggy rocks, which protected them at least in part from the abrasive winds she could hear scouring the cliffs outside. The obtrusive howling of the wind caused her to shiver violently under the layers of blankets.
She knew Voyager would find them, it was just going to take some time. Knowing Chakotay, they would first search the area surrounding the designated flight path, and then begin a uniform search expanding out along the median. She estimated that she and Seven would be back on Voyager in four to five days if they were careful and didn't take any unnecessary risks.
Turning her head so that she could again gaze into the black depths of the cave, she considered that the uncontrolled trembling might be more from nervousness than from actually being cold. Seven still had not returned, and from the graying light at the entrance of the cave, she estimated that she had been gone for more than five hours. Janeway was worried, and to complicate matters, she felt helpless.
After Seven had left to see what other resources the cave might be concealing, the Captain, wanting to contribute and take some of the burden off the other woman, had gotten up and attempted a few simple tasks. But her injured ankle proved to be more debilitating than she had expected. First, she had moved the thickening ashes from the fire. But not being able to move them any great distance, the light winds blew them around, churning up a noxious, gray dust in the cave. After that, she had collected more of the dry limbs from the bushes and dropped most of it on her way to the neat pile Seven had created. As a last attempt, she had boiled water and spilt half of it as she removed the container from the fire. Having almost extinguished their only source of heat, she had looked around and realized the area was far more disordered than when Seven had left. Sitting back down on the covers of the makeshift bed, she had had to admit defeat.
Her stomach rumbled loudly, distracting her from the self-effacing thoughts. Ignoring the hunger pangs, she focused on the recesses of the cave. She shouldn't worry so much. This was not the worst predicament she had seen. The cavalry would arrive. It just might take longer than normal. After all, her strongest horsewoman was stranded here with her. For a moment, she amused herself with the image of Seven astride a noble, white steed.
"Ridiculous," she remarked, but somehow she was captured and drawn into the daydream. Seven was the perfect compliment to the horse's nobility, agility, and beauty. She imagined a long, creamy white thigh dangling from an ornate saddle as she remembered a piece of historical fiction she had read. "Lady Godgyfu," she remembered. Yes, Seven was the perfect representation . . . faultless lines, impeccable curves, flawless skin, exquisite face. She focused on the face; her vision being drawn from the silky, flaxen locks to the cornflower blue of her eyes and still lower to the generous pink pout of her mouth. The recollection of those lips softly playing against the Commander's resurfaced.
Embroiled in the unfathomable images, she didn't notice the growing light or the crunch of gravel under Seven's foot as she appeared from the obscurity of the shadowed cave. Seven's fears being reflected in the Captain's dazed appearance, she dropped the armload of thick branches she was carrying and rushed to Janeway's side. "Captain?"
Looking into the pale features and wide eyes, Kathryn tried shaking off the haziness of the daydream with a single thought, a single explanation--hunger; she must be hungry. And maybe as a result of not having eaten much in the last day, she was a little confused. She swallowed hard around the knot in her throat and then attempted to calm the younger woman. "Seven, I'm okay. . . . I think I was just . . . daydreaming."
Seven stared at her. "Daydreaming?" she thought incredulously. The stunned and intense expression on Janeway's face told her it was much more than a daydream. Reaching for the medical tricorder, she knelt next to Janeway. "Does your head ache? Have you had multiple experiences of these daydreams? Have you experienced any memory loss? Any moments of unconsciousness?"
"No, Seven, please . . . I'm fine. Really, I think I'm just a little hungry."
The readings reflecting nothing out of the ordinary, Seven closed the tricorder. "Daydreams from lack of sufficient nutrition?" she wondered at the older woman's explanation. She and Janeway had shared a ration bar before she left, and although she was hungry and could imagine that the Captain was as well, certainly she couldn't be hallucinating. Could she? Worry creased the narrow features. "We can supplement our diet with berries from those branches," she said referring to the tree limbs she had dumped hastily on the ground.
Janeway nodded at her, raising herself on her elbows to watch as Seven hastily plucked the berries and presented a handful to her. Janeway stared mystified at the plump, pink berries.
Seven pushed the offering closer to her. "They are edible, Captain."
When Janeway didn't respond, she picked up a berry and brought it to the Captain's mouth. Janeway, looking quite dazed again, focused not on the berry but on the full blush of Seven's mouth. Seven pressed the berry gently against her lips and her mouth fell open. As it touched Kathryn's tongue and her mouth closed around it, Seven drew her hand back slowly, her fingertips brushing lightly against the other woman's lips. The intimacy of the gesture registered in Seven's mind and set off a cacophony of sensation in her body.
The pungent berry burst onto Kathryn's taste buds. Blinking rapidly, she focused on the concerned, bewildered-looking woman in front of her. Knowing she was the cause of Seven's distress, she sought to comfort her. "I'm all right, Seven. It was just a temporary lapse. . . ," she rasped and then cleared her throat. "Did you find anything else?"
Seven evened out her breathing. "Yes," she said, collecting another handful of berries and depositing half of them on the blanket next to the Captain. When she started to protest, Seven interrupted. "There are plenty."
She moved around the fire to sit on a flat rock across from Janeway. Inspecting the campsite, she spotted the scattered twigs and the gray dust sprinkled on the ground. "You were busy as well."
Janeway smiled coyly. "How could you tell?" Seven smirked at her. "So, are you going to tell me what you found or is it a secret?"
If Seven noticed the light teasing, she didn't let on. "The cave runs in one conduit over 9.65 kilometers in length. At most points it is approximately 57 meters in diameter. However, at 643 meters, the path opens on a large cavern. At its center, there is a thicket of deciduous trees. This is where I obtained the berries."
Janeway hadn't considered this before. "Live trees?"
Seven gave her a perplexed look. "50 meters above the trees there is a 25 meter aperture in the cave ceiling," she explained. "At the southern-most apex of the trees, there are thermal waters."
"Hot springs?" Kathryn asked skeptically.
"Yes, hot springs fed by the lake in the valley."
Janeway stared at her peculiarly. "Yes, the lake in the valley," she said as if repeating it would clear it in her mind. "Anything else?"
"That is it. Those are the only things of note," she explained, finishing the berries. Then she got up and added a few more of the large, dry tree limbs to the fire, stoking it.
"So, how hot are these thermal waters?"
"The temperatures vary. 38.8 degrees Celsius in the main pool and 52 degrees Celsius at the streams source."
"Really?" Janeway was surprised to hear the sound of her own voice; she hadn't intended that comment for anyone but herself.
Seven, knowing well about the Captain's affinity for bathing, smirked at her before she moved off to the cave opening.
"Still snowing?" Janeway asked just as a small shiver crossed over her narrow shoulders.
"Yes," she responded, turning to find the Captain regarding her expectantly. Without knowing what the other woman wanted, she returned to the campfire, took up the blanket she'd been sitting on, and shook it out.
Janeway watched her begin spreading the blanket on the ground. "You're not going to sleep there, are you?"
Seven was startled by the question. "It will be fine."
Janeway pulled back the covers. "We'll be able to conserve our energy if our bodies aren't struggling to keep warm," she persuaded, trying to wipe the hesitancy from the young woman's face.
Seven's eyes darted over the reclining form of the Captain and then back at the blanket. "You are injured. I do not wish to risk damaging you further."
Janeway sighed. "Seven, it's cold. I'm cold. Please, just get in."
ΩΩΩΩ
"Look," he fumed, "my instincts tell me we are wasting our time searching along the standard flight path. If they had followed it, there would already be some trace of them."
"Envoy, we have a lot of distance to cover and we must conduct the search in an orderly fashion," Chakotay said, trying to be conciliatory. "As soon as we establish that the Flyer is not within the original boundaries of the flight plans, we will expand the search area. Any other way is impractical."
Leyton sighed. "You contacted Unimatrix 6?"
Chakotay pulled his shoulders back, straightening to his full height. "Of course, they were the first vessel we contacted when the Captain and Seven of Nine didn't arrive at the designated time."
"And?"
"Like I told you before, Unimatrix 6 had them on sensors up to this point," the Commander said, poking one blunt finger against the viewscreen on the wall. "If you will notice, the reading is still along the established flight path."
Leyton reached up and squeezed the bridge between his eyes. "What about the distress signal picked up by the Pygorian vessel?"
"You know as well as I do that there was no indication that the event was related to this one. The Pygorian delegation said the signal was faint and that it may have had a Starfleet signature."
"And what if it did?"
"It seems unlikely. The signal was emitted from very far off their established flight plan and it was detected within minutes of the Flyer falling off Unimatrix 6's sensor readings," Chakotay paused for emphasis. "We must continue searching areas we're more likely to find them in."
The Envoy, surmising, stroked his chin. He wanted to ask the Commander how a man who managed to survive in the Delta Quadrant for seven years could be so short-sighted, but he was tired of arguing. "Fine, you do that. I will take my ship and search the other areas."
Chakotay looked at the Chief of Security for support. "Tuvok?"
"Commander, I believe, it is prudent to ascertain that the Captain and Seven of Nine are not in the immediate area. However, there cannot be any harm done by allowing Envoy Hael to conduct a preemptive search around the periphery."
Leyton cast an approving eye at the Lieutenant Commander. It seemed the Vulcan possessed more instinct than the Human. "Then it's settled. I will leave immediately."
ΩΩΩΩ
Seven of Nine had been awake since daybreak. Lying on her side with Kathryn Janeway pressed against her front, she held her implanted left arm stiffly in place so that it would not fall onto the Captain's body and disturb her sleep. And even though she could feel the muscles tightening torturously in her arm, she did not wish to move.
Janeway was on her back, her head turned towards Seven. She examined Kathryn's face, tracing with her eyes the small lines and smooth planes. She could see the gentle, steady rise of Kathryn's chest and feel her warm breath on her cheek. It was comforting in the strangest way. The consummate satisfaction of this indispensable individual lying supine and vulnerable beside her, made her feel a part of the universe in a manner she had not experienced since being severed from the Collective.
Seven sighed softly, the exhalation whispering past Kathryn's ear. She was awake, but didn't want the wonderful warmth to end, and she knew it would, if Seven realized she was awake. Seven would want to get up and add fuel to the fire, boil water, ration the food . . . and the Captain just wanted to stay put for a little while. "Hell, this is the closest thing I've had to a real vacation in eight years," she thought.
Seven shifted and let loose another soft sigh. Her body becoming more fluid leaned in more against Janeway's side. Kathryn breathed in slowly and suppressed the need to wrap her arms around the other woman and press their warm bodies together. She didn't want to give herself away though. She peered out of the corner of her eye, trying to ascertain Seven's comfort level.
Seven's eyes were closed. Janeway examined her face and wondered what the ex-drone thought about at moments like this when she wasn't busy solving some intricate problem. "Astrometrics charts? Warp core calibrations? Efficiency diagrams? Borg encryption codes? Daily supplements? Kadis Kot? Chakotay?" She groaned internally. She didn't know what about that relationship disturbed her so much, but she felt a wave of guilt slide down over her and she raised her hand to her head, gripping and rubbing small circles on her forehead.
The sudden movement startled Seven. "You are awake," she stated softly.
"Yes."
Seven watched Janeway stroke her forehead with her thumb and forefinger. Her brow wrinkled with concern. "Does your head ache?"
"No," the Captain answered, removing her hand.
"It would be understandable if your head still hurt."
Janeway turned on to her side, certain points of her body firmly brushing against Seven's as she propped her head up on her hand. She looked intently at the blonde and then smiled gently, "Really, Seven, I'm fine."
Not anticipating the potency of sensation the sudden contact would set off, Seven did not have time to reposition herself. So when she lifted her eyes to meet Kathryn's, their faces were only centimeters apart. Her stomach jolted violently. It was too much--first the intimate contact, the penetrating gaze, the smile. . . .
Seven's eyes darted over the soft features of the other woman's face. Her lips were so tantalizingly close that she could almost imagine what they tasted like. Instinctually her body leaned in towards Kathryn. A small gasp from Janeway brought her cognizance back and allowed her to catch herself before she committed an irreconcilable offense.
In one smooth movement, Seven extracted herself from under the covers. Janeway watched the smooth curves and rippling lines of Seven's body as she bent over to retrieve an empty metal flask. Seven could feel the Captain's eyes follow her. Suddenly, she turned around, focusing on Janeway's face. The look pinned Kathryn in place and caused her to blush and shift involuntarily.
Seven peered at her curiously. "Water?" she asked, disengaging her eyes from Janeway's as she stood and moved to the mouth of the cave. The Captain nodded bewilderedly. She wasn't in the habit of inspecting other people's bodies, particularly not bodies immured in Borg implants.
Knowing that wasn't entirely the truth, she allowed herself to acknowledge that sometimes she just couldn't help but be taken with Seven and the uncompromising femaleness of her figure, the elegance and succinctness of her movements, and the stark Nordic beauty of her features. It wasn't only the way she looked, but that in so many ways, Seven was the most complex and intriguing person the Captain had ever known. She was innocent and unpretentious yet culpable and arrogant. She was intellectually brilliant and possessed immense wisdom. She was strong mentally and physically, and maybe these attributes were only outdone by her stubborn nature. She was single-minded and determined yet loyal and compassionate and . . . "And sexy," she added to her list silently. "No. No, erotic, sensual . . . sexy is far too simple a word to describe Seven," she mused, lifting a brow as she watched the ex-drone place the snow filled container on the fire. "And if I have to be marooned with someone on a frozen planet, she's definitely a good choice."
Seven poured the hot water into a canteen and handed it to the Captain. "Thank you," Janeway drawled softly.
Seven turned. "I'm sorry, Captain?"
"Thank you . . . for the water, for the fire, for taking care of everything . . . for taking care of me."
Seven turned away, a small flush covering her skin. "There is no need to thank me."
"Yes, I know," she said with mild exasperation. "You are only doing your duty."
A soft sigh escaped the young woman's lips and her shoulders slumped a little. "Ensuring your existence is not simply a requirement of duty, Captain. You are my friend and I desire for you to be safe and comfortable at all times." She turned and looked over her shoulder just in time to catch the buoyant smile stealing across Kathryn's face.
ΩΩΩΩ
The Captain pulled off her uniform coat and gray tunic, leaving on the undershirt. She rolled up her pant legs, and then proceeded to hop to the edge of the pool.
Seven watched all of this with the mildest amount of amusement. "Captain, I believe you will be in need of assistance."
"No, I can manage," Janeway said with confidence, taking a small step into the gloriously warm water.
Seven regarded her acrimoniously. "If you will not allow me to aid you, you should at least use--"
Janeway threw her arms into the air while she balanced on one foot. "See, everything is fine," she convinced. Moving deeper into the water, her foot slipped.
"Captain!" Seven grabbed at Janeway's arm, but not in time to keep her from collapsing into the water. Fortunately, the water was not very deep and Janeway landed, her hind end colliding with a muted thud against the rock shelf.
As soon as the pain radiated away some, she held up a hand to the taller woman. "Okay, you're right. I need some help."
Seven nodded and took her hand charitably, lifting and setting her back on her good foot.
"Thank you," she drawled.
Seven suppressed the urge to grin at the Captain's bedraggled appearance. Her hair was waterlogged and flattened at the ends. Her uniform was thoroughly drenched and the material clung irreverently to her petite body. Seven found her eyes stealing over the Captain's frame, lingering on the narrow turn of her hips and the stiff peaks of her breasts, all of which stood in relief beneath the sopping uniform. Curiously she felt compelled to touch these parts of Kathryn, but she suppressed the urge, recognizing that it would be inappropriate. But still, she found it difficult to look away. If she looked away, she might have to relinquish the extraordinary responses her body was experiencing.
"Seven?"
She responded by drawing her eyes back up to Kathryn's face.
"That offer of help still good?"
"Yes. You must remove your wet garments. They will dry faster if you aren't wearing them."
Janeway looked down at her soggy clothing. Then she looked back up at Seven and shook her head. "I don't think that's necessary."
"Captain, it is warm here. But eventually we will need to return to the cave entrance."
Kathryn pursed her lips, trying to think of something to refute Seven's argument, but that little voice in her head told her she was being ridiculous. "All right, you win--"
"It's not a matter of winning, Captain. Discretion dictates that you will need dry clothes to remain warm when we leave this environment."
"Okay, I'm convinced."
When Janeway didn't begin to remove her soaked clothing immediately, Seven realized that the Captain was waiting for her to give her some privacy so she could take off the dripping clothes. Turning her back, she wondered at Janeway's sense of modesty considering she was still going to need help into the water. "When you are finished--," she began and then the water splashed behind her.
She turned around abruptly. Janeway was already immersed in the pool. Seven's eyes swept over the slender shoulders, along the length of the graceful neck, and alighted on the sharp rise of the Captain's cheekbones.
"Your turn," Janeway called out. "It's incredible. I can already feel it working wonders on my bad ankle."
"I did not intend to participate."
"But you helped me get here. Did you come all that way for nothing?"
Seven lifted her brows skeptically. "643 meters is not a great distance, Captain. And I came so that you could dip your toes in."
"Come on, Seven. You mean to tell me that you're not at all tempted by this gorgeous scene--the lush trees, the steaming water, the smooth rock faces, the open sky above?"
Seven considered that she was definitely tempted, but not by the landscape. "The environment is pleasing, but I can enjoy it from here as well."
Janeway took one long look at her Astrometrics officer, cocked her head to the side, and smiled smugly at her. "Can't swim, eh?"
Seven unclasped her hands from behind her back. "Of course, I can. It is not safe for us both to be unaware of the surroundings."
"Seven, we've taken tricorder readings for what . . . two days now? And what did we find? Nothing!" Janeway paused, and then the teasing tone was back. "Oh! I've got it now. Why didn't you just say you are afraid of the water?"
"Because I am not."
Kathryn knew goading Seven into the activity by issuing a challenge was childish, but she couldn't help herself. "Prove it."
Clearly, the Captain was exercising her predilection for stubbornness. Seven sighed and reached up to the clasp behind her neck. She assumed the Captain would pay her the same courtesy and give her some privacy to disrobe. However when the other woman didn't seem to be inclined to do so, Seven released the clasp.
The biosuit lost cohesion at once, the material folding away from her body. Seven tugged at the sleeves, and then balancing first on one foot and then on the other, she pulled the suit completely off. Dropping the garment to the ground, she looked up again. Janeway was swimming away from her, her back to her. Seven took the opportunity to slip into the balmy water, but disappointment coursed through her. Did the Captain find her Borg implants unattractive?
At the flash of smooth, white skin, Janeway rolled in the water and swam to a boulder on the other side of the small pond. "All right, you've indulged your curiosity. . . She doesn't look any different than she did before," she derided herself silently. But once again, Kathryn had to acknowledge that she wasn't being fully honest. It wasn't that Seven looked different; it was that Kathryn's perception of her had changed.
At the start of their relationship, the Captain had to act as advocate and mentor to Seven's burgeoning humanity. Arrogant and stubborn, the ex-Borg had appeared as her staunchest opponent. But no argument from Seven or disagreement with Chakotay had dissuaded her from wanting to release the Collective's clutch on her Astrometrics officer. The extraordinary thing was that as she had battled Seven to encourage her development as an individual, Janeway had been challenged and changed. Her thoughts, her feelings, even the very core of her ideologies had been altered. Nothing was completely black and white. Everything lived in her mind, in indistinguishable shades of gray, especially Seven of Nine.
Leaning against the slope of a flat-sided boulder, she relaxed and watched the steam rise up in puffs around Seven's face. Her cheeks were flushed from the high temperatures and her eyes appeared an intense indigo instead of the normally placid pale blue. She was saying something about the Flyer and the possibility of malfunctioning systems, but Janeway could only manage to watch the words form and spill from the lovely shape of the blonde's mouth.
She interrupted. "Seven?"
"Yes?"
"Most of the people I've bathed with don't usually call me Captain," she drawled.
Seven, picking up the hint, lifted a brow. "I would imagine they wouldn't want to, Kathryn."
ΩΩΩΩ
By the time the two had completed their journey to and from the hot springs night had fallen. They had shared a ration bar, and after Seven had completed some campsite maintenance, they had slipped under the covers. Apparently, sleep had discovered Seven quickly but had not yet taken Janeway. She had lain very still, waiting for it to come but instead she had become only too aware of the woman lying next to her.
Seven's breath tickled her ear, drawing her attention to the blonde's face. The firelight glinted off the silvery implant on her brow and cast a rosy hue on her cheek. Kathryn knew that Seven would always be part Borg and part Human. But it was this very dichotomy that she found so provocative. And Seven was provocative, especially as she lay there sleeping serenely. "She's more than just provocative; she's alluring, desirable," Kathryn reflected.
When had it started? When had she started having these feelings for her Astrometrics officer?
Her hand shook as she touched a stray tendril of pale hair that was fanned out on the blanket next to her. It reminded her of the time she had pushed a stray piece of hair out of Seven's eyes. It had fallen unnoticed during a particularly competitive Velocity game. She hadn't given it any thought; she just reached up and stroked the hair away. It had felt natural to do so and Seven had accepted the gesture without so much as a twitch.
As a matter of fact, Seven had graced her with a radiant if rare smile. An uncharacteristic smile, a simple expression of gratitude, an acceptance of an invitation--maybe it was small moments like those that had enticed Kathryn, making her a willing victim of Seven's guileless charm. Certainly, the young woman's acceptance and attention had reconnected the Captain with the woman inside.
But it was more than that, wasn't it? Seven had been responsive; she'd even flirted with her, hadn't she? A comment delivered in a teasing tone and with a slight smirk--how many times had that happened? "Or am I seeing only what I want to?" she asked herself. "Am I being ridiculous? Adding to her actions motivations that she doesn't have?" Her mind fought back with a memory of its own . . . I would imagine they wouldn't want to, Kathryn. . . . Then she had smiled that private smile with those perfect lips--the ones Janeway had fantasized about kissing. Even the memory of the fantasy was appreciable enough to excite her and leave her weak and breathless.
Leveling out her breathing, she wondered again when these feelings had become so insuppressible. What registered in her mind more than anything else was the kiss she witnessed between Seven and Chakotay. "Seven and Chakotay," she mumbled, still questioning the existence of the relationship. Seven was with Chakotay. "Oh, God, what if it is just me . . . and what would I do if it wasn't?"
With one final look at the beautiful woman, Kathryn rolled onto her side, slipping away from the warm temptation next to her.
ΩΩΩΩ
Balancing on one knee on the smooth edge of the rocks, Seven leaned over and scooped up a handful of water and let it trickle between her fingers. Water was a fascinating element with diverse and malleable properties. And after yesterday's experience in these thermal waters, she understood its allure for the Captain.
Seeing how much Kathryn had enjoyed their time at the hot springs, Seven had wanted to bring the Captain here again, but she had declined, saying she was tired. Seven knew this was probably accurate, as Kathryn had lain awake most of the night. The Captain was probably worried about being rescued.
According to her own calculations, it would take approximately five days for them to be found if Chakotay was commandeering the search. First he would establish that they were no longer within the flight parameter, and then begin searching the perimeter. Soon afterward, Voyager would be able to pick up the signal from the subspace transponder.
As a diversion, Seven had suggested another trip to the hot springs. She had even gone so far as to prod Janeway, teasing her like she had Seven the day before. But she made another excuse; she said her ankle was bothering her, but that Seven should go, and even if she didn't use the springs, she should collect more dry brush and berries to refurbish their supplies.
Yielding to the wishes of her Captain, at first she had decided to merely travel to the copse of trees, gather the berries, and return, but the lissome steam rising above the water pushed aside all thoughts of efficiency.
Standing again, she reached behind her and undid the clasp at the back of the biosuit. After removing the garment, she waded into the waist-deep water. The water seeped up and around her, stroking a heated trail up her thighs and tantalizing her nerve endings. Struck once again by the balmy, welcoming embrace, she relaxed into the water with a soft sigh.
All of this, Kathryn observed from the shadows rendered by the density of the trees. Trying hard to turn away, she couldn't, mesmerized as she was by the soft vulnerability she was witnessing. Her mind reminded her of the impropriety of violating the young woman's privacy, but it went unheard. What she would later tell herself to justify the transgression, she didn't know or think about. She was taken with every graceful motion, every smooth vacillation, and every gentle exhalation.
But as captured as she was, Kathryn's mind still needled her, reminding her of the promises she had made to herself the night before. She had resolved to not thrust herself into any more intimate situations with Seven. So when the young woman had suggested they return to the springs, first she had told her she was too tired, and then when Seven continued to prod her, she had said her ankle hurt. But that was very far from the truth as Seven had taken extraordinary care of her injury. And soon after Seven had left, Kathryn's resolve had faded and she had grabbed up a wrist beacon and followed her.
Suddenly, Seven stood, the water sliding off her voluptuous figure. Kathryn watched the slender hands slide up her muscled abdomen and over her breasts. Seven's eyelids fluttered shut. "Oh, God," she moaned softly as Seven's hands swirled back down along the sinewy muscles as she sank back down into the satiny caress of the hot springs.
In her mind, Seven relived the dream that had haunted her since seeing the Captain and the Envoy together in the captains quarters. But this time, it was her hands smoothing over silken skin and Kathryn's hands caressing her. In between the irresistible images invading her mind, a small, inviting proclamation, escaped her lips.
Hidden deeply in the grove of trees, Kathryn didn't hear the word Seven had uttered, so much as see it. And all those times she had fixated on that mouth left her unable to draw any other conclusion than that the word that had fleeted from Seven's lips was . . . "Kathryn," she whispered, repeating it and hearing the huskiness of her own voice as her mind rolled over it.
Having seen too much already, Janeway did the only thing she could think of; she slipped away quietly and returned to their campsite at the mouth of the cave. Sliding back under the covers of the makeshift bed, she waited for Seven to return.
When she did, there wasn't any sign of the passion Kathryn had witnessed earlier. Seven was her normal, composed self. Maybe she had mistaken what she'd seen . . . and heard. Regardless, she was still resolved to discuss their developing relationship, even if it was only in approximated terms.
Watching Seven carry an armload of dried brush and deposit it in the pile next to the fire, she considered how to broach the topic and decided a direct approach would be best. "Seven, we need to talk about--,"
Standing up abruptly, Seven tilted her head and looked keenly at the entrance of the cave. "Captain, I believe I hear something."
"Something?"
Lifting her head, she looked at the entrance of the cave. "No, someone." Extricating herself from the covers, Janeway stood and hurried to the front of the cave.
Reaching the front of the cave, she heard it too. "Katie!" Her expression joyful, she looked at Seven. "It's Leyton."
PART III
Envoy Hael sat down in the cockpit of his ship and pressed the launch code sequence into the helm console. The shuttle vibrated to life and lifted abruptly into the air. From behind his position in the cockpit, Janeway saw the Delta Flyer appear on the viewscreen. She stared at it, her eyes passing over the wreckage laying scattered and buried only meters away from a large lake. In that instant, the specter of another catastrophic scene wavered in front of her. Hovering in her memory of another barren, ice-ridden landscape was a shuttle prototype submerged in brackish water. And although she didn’t witness it, she could still see in her mind’s eye the two figures sitting strapped into their chairs in the main cockpit as it slid beneath the dark, steaming water. A snow bank had saved her that time, too. She turned away from the viewscreen. She couldn’t be thinking about that now.
Her eyes fell heavily on Seven. The ex-drone met the look, and although she did not know what had brought on the gloomy change in the Captain’s disposition, she wanted to comfort the other woman. She stepped up next to Janeway and whispered, "Are you all right, Kathryn?"
Janeway looked up at her Astrometrics officer, and then reached out, resting her hand on Seven’s forearm. "Yes . . . it’s just a little too real, seeing it . . . a few more meters and . . . "
"I know," Seven replied softly. "But that is not what occurred."
Leyton, feeling as though he was eavesdropping on a private conversation, watched the two women. They seemed to communicate not so much in precise words but in approximations. He had the desire to break in, but something in their demeanor, or maybe in his own, prevented it. But, ultimately his curiosity won out. "What did happen?" he asked finally, his dark brows coming together quizzically.
When the Captain didn’t reply, Seven took up the lead. "We do not know."
"You have no idea how you ended up two light years off your flight path?" Leyton asked incredulously.
Janeway shook her head, trying to collect herself. "None."
"The first and only indication that we were off-course was an anomalous reading off the port bow encountered approximately .46 seconds before impact," Seven added.
"An anomalous reading . . . nothing else? Ships in the area? Subspace fractures?" he asked Seven as Janeway was now staring at the crash site again.
"None detected by the shuttle’s systems," Seven replied succinctly.
"No," Janeway repeated. "There weren’t any ships in the area or subspace fractures. There was nothing until the planet appeared . . . almost as though out of nowhere."
Leyton searched Janeway’s face. She seemed overly disturbed. Certainly, she had witnessed enough shuttle crashes in her time with Starfleet to be at least somewhat immune to them. But then again, he didn’t know what she might have endured on the planet below. She looked relatively uninjured except for a slight limp, but the weather on the surface of the planet was desperately cold. It should have been much worse, considering the enormity of debris spread out across the snow. "Are you sure you’re not in need of medical attention?" the Envoy asked.
Janeway looked to Seven again, almost as if to reconfirm what she already knew was true; they were both fine. "Sure."
"All right, if you’re sure," he said, eyeballing Kathryn curiously. "Voyager is approximately three light years from our current position. I’ll hail them and have them join us," he said, tapping in the communication code. "In the mean time, why don’t you two go down the hall to the galley and have something to eat?"
The Captain looked at Seven and she nodded in return. "Sounds good to me," Janeway commented, before she and Seven moved off the tiny bridge.
ΩΩΩΩ
Glancing around Voyager’s shuttle bay, Janeway took it all in. She watched Voyager’s personnel swarm over the debris of the Delta Flyer. B’Elanna, Tuvok, Harry, and Seven were huddled around Chakotay, all of who were entangled in a discussion about department assignments. Tom was bent over a piece of the shuttle’s propulsion system. And Leyton was saying something to her about a Pygorian vessel reporting the Flyer’s distress beacon. She tried to focus, but her thoughts were ephemeral and all she could seem to do was wonder who was on the bridge—the Doctor? Neelix? But then she latched onto something corporeal; she heard Seven’s voice. "I will run scans to detect if there are any subspace fractures in the area which could not be detected by the Delta Flyer’s sensors," Seven added.
Janeway turned her attention back to the circle of officers. "No, let Mr. Kim handle it." She glanced at Harry who nodded in acknowledgement as he stooped to run a preliminary scan on the Flyer’s intact warp power conduit. Then she smiled warmly at Seven. "You need to regenerate. At least one full cycle," she said moving her eyes slowly over Seven.
"Cap—," Seven began.
Janeway held up a hand, forestalling the protest. "Mr. Kim can handle it."
Chakotay glanced from one woman to the other, waiting for the argument to break out. After all, they had spent the last five days together. They must be getting on each other’s nerves by now.
"Yes, Captain," Seven complied readily.
The Commander stared dumfounded at the ex-Borg. Where was the firestorm? He looked at Janeway, trying to shake off some of his disbelief. "Uh, bet you could use a good nights rest, too. The ground must have been awfully hard and cold," Chakotay commented, trying subtly to get Janeway to consign herself to getting some rest.
Janeway looked at Seven. "Actually, I was very well taken care of. . . . Couldn’t have been better if there had been a mint on my pillow each night."
Seven uncrossed her hands and rocked back on her heels. A slight smile played at the edges of her lips. "You exaggerate, Captain."
"Maybe," Janeway tossed out as she turned to leave the shuttle bay. "Oh, and Seven, one full cycle."
"Yes, Captain," Seven agreed again as the Captain slipped through the pneumatic doors.
ΩΩΩΩ
The Captain couldn’t sleep. Back here in the comfort of her own quarters, she was warm, well fed, and entirely all too awake for the second night in a row. Sighing heavily, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She should have anticipated the crash would eventually reach out and take a stranglehold on her nights. When she had seen the Delta Flyer shredded into parts like a bird, frozen and stiff, lying dead and half buried in the snow, the scene had brought back chilling memories of that fateful day, which had ended in a double tragedy, and for a time, made her regret her very existence.
No wonder she couldn’t sleep. But still that incident was sometime ago, and although it played out in her subconscious, she felt she had come to terms with it. After all, she had endured so much since then and even that was all behind her; the Vidiians, Hirogen, and the Borg were very far away.
She wondered if her Borg was disturbed by their experience, especially since there appeared as yet to be no explanation for the occurrence. "Her Borg . . . ?"
"I almost lost Seven," she thought. ". . . and myself" came only as an afterthought.
Kicking her foot out, she stripped off the blanket. "Pointless. . . . Computer, lower the ambient temperature by two degrees," she huffed.
The computer chirped, marking the completion of the command.
She lay there for awhile. "Hopeless. . . . Computer, time?" she spat out.
The placid tones replied, "0427."
Sitting up, she thrust the covers the rest of the way off herself, thereby throwing them almost completely off the bed. "042 . . . 7," she thought. What would have happened between her and Seven if Leyton hadn’t showed up when he did? What would she have said to her? How much she cared? How aroused she was by Seven’s plaintive cry of her name?
"Oh, damn!" she growled, moving off the bed. Is that what this came down to? She was attracted to Seven; she wanted her—this much Janeway knew to be true. But was it really anymore than that? Buried deeply inside, she knew it was. . . . After all, it had taken two Janeways, an admiral and a captain, to turn time on its head. And the Captain could now at least admit begrudgingly that her motivation for participating in that act was, in most part, due to Seven.
Moving into the bathroom and turning on the sonic shower, she confessed to herself that the Admiral had been right; she would never have been the same. Just hearing that Seven would die had caused something inside her to break free. She was no longer the same upstanding Starfleet officer she’d been groomed to be. She suddenly understood and felt an unrivaled commiseration for Admiral Janeway. They weren’t so different, were they?
ΩΩΩΩ
Entering her quarters with Seven in tow, the Captain tugged off her uniform coat and threw it carelessly over the sofa chair. Smoothing her gray shirt back down into place, she glanced back at the taller woman. "Seven, have you been having any trouble sleeping since we returned from our extended away mission?" she asked facetiously, gesturing for Seven to make herself comfortable on the sofa.
Seven slipped onto the couch. "I have not slept since returning to Voyager."
Understanding immediately, Kathryn asked, "Only regenerated?"
"Correct. . . . Have you been experiencing difficulty sleeping, Kathryn?"
Hearing the concern, Janeway sought to assuage the young woman’s worry. "A bit."
Seven considered her answer. "Is something disturbing you? The lack of an explanation, perhaps?"
"Nothing I can put a finger on," she said, making her way to the replicator. "Can I offer you anything?"
"I’m fine. Thank you," Seven replied and then paused, watching the Captain return with a mug in her hand. "Conceivably, Kathryn, if you didn’t consume such great quantities of caffeinated beverages, you would not have such difficulty sleeping."
Janeway grinned broadly as she sat down next to the taller woman and took a sip from the cup. "But coffee is my secret weapon. Give it up? I don’t think I would ever be the same."
Seven smiled, Janeway was sure of it. "We could not have that."
The Captain waggled a brow and sidled a look at the blonde. "And why not?" Her tone was teasing.
Seven stared at her hands neatly folded in her lap. "If you were not the same, I would not be either."
Kathryn, touched beyond knowing what to say, stared at Seven’s profile. Raising her hand slowly, her fingers found the sharp curve of the other woman’s chin. Lifting it, she persuaded Seven to meet her eyes. When she did, Kathryn gave her a perfect, gratifyingly beautiful smile, and in that instant, Seven knew the Captain was her kismet.
For another moment, they simply stared intently at one another, each wanting the same thing—to intensify the intimacy of the contact. But neither woman was quite ready to overcome the vulnerability required to initiate it.
Janeway dropped her hand to Seven’s knee, first patting it lightly and then using it to brace herself as she stood. "I think this coffee could use a touch of mocha. Are you sure you don’t want anything?"
Seven’s eyes followed her to the replicator. "No," she murmured.
Janeway turned around. "What?"
Seven trailed her eyes back up to the Captain’s face. "Yes, I am sure."
ΩΩΩΩ
From her office, B’Elanna saw the Captain stroll into Engineering. The Chief Engineer had been expecting Janeway ever since this morning when they had re-docked at Quadra Sigma III. "Right on time," B’Elanna thought, knowing from experience that the Captain always conducted spot checks either during or right after the ship was docked. She rushed over to Janeway. "Captain, I didn’t know you were doing spot checks."
Janeway cocked a grin at her. "I’m not. And just how would you know when I conduct my spot checks, hmm?"
"Uh, I wouldn’t? I mean, how would I? It’s just you don’t normally just drop into Engineering for no reason," she said, covering the bases.
Janeway crossed her arms and tilted her chin up. "Not that I need a reason, but I do have one."
"Oh," the engineer commented edgily.
"B’Elanna, relax. I’m not conducting surprise inspections. Besides, even if I was, Engineering always receives exemplary marks." The Captain shook her head and raised her hand. "Regardless, that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to see how the recovery of the Delta Flyer was coming. . . . Do we know anymore?"
The Chief Engineer uncrossed her arms. "Well, Captain, the shuttle was heavily damaged . . . must have been some crash, because the seams running along the tritanium hull were wrenched apart. And on that left side," she paused and pointed at the viewscreen where a schema of the Delta Flyer was on display, "the plates were ripped off down to the lateral wing. The cargo component in the aft section was partially crushed and—" B’Elanna watched Janeway shift her shoulders uncomfortably. "Ah, anyway, you and Seven were lucky."
"Any indications of tampering?"
"No, none."
Janeway crossed her arms. "Internal systems and circuitry?"
"Nothing, Captain."
Janeway sighed, lifting her hand to rub the back of her neck. "Anything? Any ideas?"
"We can look for some signs of external interference, but since we’ve already run analysis on every piece, I don’t think we will find anything."
"Proceed. . . . We will have to provide an explanation to Starfleet."
"Yes, Captain," B’Elanna responded uneasily. With little evidence of anything out-of-the-ordinary turning up so far, she wasn’t sure she would be able to satisfy Janeway’s request.
ΩΩΩΩ
Chakotay was surprised to see Seven standing outside the entrance of his quarters. In all the time they had known each other, she’d only come to his quarters once. And now, it seemed particularly curious, as he hadn’t seen her much in the last few days. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her; she was just always occupied with other activities. Regenerating, pulling duty shifts, playing Kadis Kot, meetings with Janeway—he listed all the activities she had cited. One excuse for each time he started a phrase with ‘would you care to join me for . . .?’ It had occurred to the Commander that Seven was avoiding him.
She stood just outside the door, waiting for him to ask her in. It was odd, but he had to think about how to greet her. Somehow he knew it was no longer appropriate for him to kiss her. She had taken to calling him ‘Commander’ again—no distinction between on- or off-duty time.
"Seven, what can I do for you?"
That was invitation enough and she stepped inside. "Commander, I have a matter which needs to be discussed."
"All right," he said, trying to keep the curiosity from his voice. "Have a seat." He gestured to a chair.
"I prefer to stand."
"All right," he said again. "What’s this matter?"
She was silent for a second, as though she were trying to remember something. "Commander," she began with an exhalation. "You and I do not . . . our relationship is rooted in friendship. I believe we should rectify this situation by pursuing other interests. An allocation of resources dedicated to other activities may be beneficial by allowing us to experience new opportunities."
"When did Seven become circuitous?" he thought. He grinned, his tattoo crinkling. "Seven, are you saying you don’t want to see me anymore?"
"Yes," she responded evenly, meeting his eyes. To her surprise there wasn’t any trace of disbelief or animosity.
"May I ask you why?" he asked with mild curiosity.
"We are incompatible."
There it was; the words had no more than left her lips and Chakotay knew it was the truth. They weren’t compatible. Time being the greatest of teachers, he willingly conceded that maybe he had been overly taken with the idea of the young woman being interested in him. Maybe he had also been overzealous in his statements of affections. And possibly, he just hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to carry on a relationship with Seven. Regardless, he had to admit he felt relieved. And well, he didn’t have to deal with an overwrought female—Seven seemed hardly to be upset. "One good thing about not having strong feelings," he thought. "It’s more like absolving a contract than a relationship."
Seven watched the emotions play across his face as he nodded at her. "So we agree?"
He pursed his lips, rocked back on his heels, and then smiled. "We do."
ΩΩΩΩ
Janeway removed two sets of utensils from the drawer and handed them to the Envoy. He placed them on the table on top of the napkins. Slinging her hip against the drawer to close it, she picked up the water pitcher and glanced at the plates that had just materialized on the replicator port. She tossed him an apologetic look. "I can’t guarantee how this is going to turn out. I’m not very good with the replicator."
"An oven person?" he teased, taking the water dispenser from her.
"No," she chuckled, moving apprehensively towards the replicator. "I’m even worse with that. All those archaic-looking knobs. . . ."
He nodded. "So, I’ve hardly seen you since your polar expedition. . . ."
"I have been busy."
"You’ve also been spending a great deal of time with Seven of Nine," Leyton commented lightly, pouring water into the goblets.
She turned her back to him, focusing her attention on the replicator. "Yes, she’s an exceptional person. . . ."
"She seems remarkable," he responded pleasantly. "I imagine you had the opportunity to get to know her quite well given the ordeal you two went through."
She removed the plates from the replicator. "I can’t speak for Seven, but for me, it wasn’t much of an ordeal. Compared to the Delta Quadrant, it was a lot more like vacationing on Risa."
He laughed and nodded, taking the plates from her and placing them on the little dining table. "This is the second time you referred to being stranded as though it was some sort of vacation."
"Is it?"
"Seven must be some conversationalist," Leyton offered.
"Actually, she’s not much of a talker."
He chuckled as he took his seat. "Couldn’t have been much else to do."
She glanced at him and then turned back to the replicator. "Computer, two glasses of Spring Wine. . . . No, not much else, but sometimes that’s a good thing."
"If you have the right company?" he asked casually.
"Possibly," she commented.
"I’ve had a few opportunities to see you together, remember? And you do seem closer to her somehow," he delved further.
She shrugged. "You can hardly be in such close confines with someone and not get to know them. Besides, she is a valuable member of my crew. She is--her . . . development is important to me," she said, pulling the glasses from the replicator and joining him at the table.
"Then you must be concerned about her relationship with Commander Chakotay."
"What about it?" she asked, settling the napkin into her lap.
Leyton looked at her confusedly. "They ended it," he said as the Captain pinned him with a bewildered look. "Seems like a smart move. Certainly those two were not destined for anything long term, and well, he—"
"Seven and Chakotay are not seeing each other?"
"Ah, maybe I’m wrong, but that’s what I understand. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t know?"
"No. How did you?" she asked, looking at him expectantly.
"Well," he considered, taking the time to pick up his wineglass, take a mouthful, and then swallow. "When a beautiful woman like Seven comes available, let’s just say, there are a few people on this station that would make it their business to know." The Envoy watched her eyes narrow at him suspiciously. "Me?" he asked quizzically. "No! No, of course not." He shook his head, grinning with amusement. "Really, Katie, she’s not my type."
"Please . . . what are you dead?" she teased.
"No more than you," he responded a little too seriously.
She picked up her fork and poked at the food on her plate. "What do you mean?"
"Just that I know a dozen people who would give their eyeteeth to spend as much time with her as you do."
She stared at him, a blank look on her face. "We’re friends."
"Yes, and?" he baited her.
"What are you implying?"
"Nothing, Katie, nothing," he said looking down at his plate. "Look, it’s just that I’ve seen this before."
"Seen what?"
"A captain fall in love with a member of his . . . or her crew."
Her fork clattered onto the plate. "What!"
"Katie, denial won’t help the situation."
"There is no situation," she railed, putting all the emphasis on the last word.
"If you say so."
"I do." Silence ensued. "Leyton, I am not in love with Seven of Nine." She waited for a response and got none. "You don’t believe me."
"You didn’t see your face earlier when I said that there were people who would be interested in Seven of Nine. You looked . . . panicky."
"Panicky?"
"Look, Katie, if you say you’re not in love with her, I believe you. But there’s nothing wrong, if you are. I just need to know."
"So that you can leave quietly?" Her tone was strangely accusatory.
He placed his fork on the plate. "Yes, maybe," he sighed. "You and Seven have been through a lot together, right? If you have feelings for her, you’ve probably had them for a long time. They’ve had a lot of time to develop, and even though you’ve pushed them down, they’re still surfacing. They must be very strong."
She stared at him in total disbelief. This utter lack of regard was not what she’d expected at all. Her, for all accounts, boyfriend was sitting there calmly, telling her that it was acceptable for her to pursue a relationship with someone else. In fact, he was encouraging her.
"Katie, I’m a fair person. I care for you and it would be, well, more than disappointing to not have you as a . . . friend . . . but I also want you to be happy," he left off, when she got up quickly from the table. He stood. Taking her by the arm gently, he tried to get her to look at him. "Listen to me. If she makes you happy . . . you deserve that. You understand that, right?"
Visibly shaken, she could only manage to utter one word as she moved out of his grasp. "Absurd."
"Absurd? That’s it? Absurd? Good Lord, Katie, are you this obtuse?" he asked forcefully.
She stared at him and then shook her head. "I don’t believe this. . . . Why is this so important to you?"
"To me?" He stepped back from her. "I told you. Your happiness is important to me."
Feeling that she had finally latched onto something comprehensible, she composed herself, and then asked, "Why?"
He snorted. "I care for you."
"Yes, you’ve said as much," she led him.
"Then why are you asking?"
"Yes, my question exactly," she responded.
His eyebrows raised questioningly as he quirked his head. Where did he get lost in this conversation? "Well, then, maybe we shouldn’t be having this discussion?"
At first, Janeway didn’t respond; she just moved back to the table and took her seat again. Glancing back at him, she placed the napkin in her lap again. "I’d prefer to just have a nice dinner with a good friend."
It wasn’t exactly acquiescence to his argument, but he still felt a bit triumphant. Maybe she would listen to him. "Agreed," he said, sitting back down in front of the now cold meal.
ΩΩΩΩ
Kathryn tried to listen to what Seven was saying, but the pleasing sound of the blonde woman’s voice only caused her eyelids to grow heavier. The enthusiastic round of Velocity they played earlier in the evening, the warm shower she’d taken while Seven had prepared dinner, the delicious meal she had overindulged in, and four sleepless nights had only contributed to the allure of the drowsiness overwhelming her.
Seven watched as the Captain’s eyelids began to droop as she droned on about nothing in particular. The ex-Borg could have been describing the mating practices of Species 8472 and Janeway would still have been sliding closer and closer to sleep. The Captain sighed faintly and shifted, her arm rubbing softly against Seven’s side.
Ever since they had returned from the away mission, Janeway had initiated closer and more frequent contact with Seven. From the very beginning of their relationship, she had always invaded Seven’s space—a touch on the arm, a pat on the shoulder; there were even times the Captain’s eyes seemed to reach out to her. But now, Janeway’s attention was, on the whole, much more intimate in nature. When they would walk together, Janeway would grasp her arm, holding them closely together and she would talk low into Seven’s ear. When they ate together, Janeway would reach across the table and steal things off of her plate. The gestures were so nonchalant that Seven wondered if Kathryn even realized what she was doing.
Kathryn’s breathing took on the even rise and fall of sleep. Seven, not wanting to disturb the other woman’s rest, turned her head only enough to confirm it. She was asleep—and soundly at that. For a moment, Seven considered the propriety of staying in Janeway’s quarters, when clearly the Captain was occupied. But taking in Kathryn’s features, so soft and vulnerable in sleep, she decided that the Captain’s rest was infinitely more important than what others might say if they knew she was there. She could always slip out quietly in the morning or whenever Janeway happened to wake. No one would have to know.
Closing her eyes, Seven relaxed into the couch and waited for sleep to claim her, too. She could feel herself begin to drift in that strange pool of nonsensical sensation, when next to her, Kathryn shifted and then leaned more heavily against Seven. It occurred to the ex-drone that sleeping upright wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable or natural way for any humanoid to seek rest. So, Seven wasn’t surprised that by the time the sleeping woman had finished fidgeting her way to comfort, she was veritably pinning the larger woman to the couch. But, of course, Seven didn’t mind; the soft comfort of Kathryn’s body would only enhance her sleeping experience.
That’s what Seven thought, until Janeway shifted again, one hand coming up and snaking around Seven’s waist, and the other, landing in Seven’s lap. Shocked by the unexpectedly bold contact, the blonde woman’s eyes flew open. She stared at the Captain’s slender hand lying nestled in the crook formed by her thighs.
Janeway’s fingers were curled lightly into her palm, the hand forming a small ball. It felt warm against the material of Seven’s biosuit and she noted how the warmth had spread, heating a trail all the way up her abdomen. Kathryn’s hands looked so soft and gentle and she imagined what it would be like to have them stroke her skin. She also imagined what it would be like to touch the delicate hand. Suddenly, she realized that she was about to reach out and do just that, which would no doubt wake the sleeping woman.
Beating down this almost irresistible need, she took a few deep lungs full of air to slow her breathing. With her breath coming at a more acceptable rate, she closed her eyes again. Just as her mind began to descend into unconsciousness, she felt Kathryn’s hand prowl up her hip and across her abdomen. After a few distressingly pleasant seconds, Kathryn’s palm finally came to rest on the flat of her lower stomach. Seven swallowed the lump of arousal in her throat. If there had been any question about her attraction to this woman, that small, trivial caress had put any doubt she may have had to rest.
ΩΩΩΩ
The sound of the chime to her quarters woke her. Janeway came awake to find herself in the living area of her quarters, still sitting on the couch . . . "well, sort of sitting," she thought, noticing that she was actually leaning against Seven. "I must have fallen asleep," she noted silently.
The chime came again, and this time, Seven stirred. She opened her eyes and looked down at Janeway. "Kathryn, I believe there is someone seeking entrance to your quarters."
"I think you’re right."
When the Captain didn’t make any attempt to answer the door, Seven asked, "Would you like for me to go into the bedroom."
"No . . .!" she exclaimed. "I mean, no, I will . . . uh, we were just up late and we fell asleep."
"Accurate," the ex-drone confirmed, unwrapping her arm from around Kathryn’s waist. Janeway dislodged herself from Seven’s embrace and pulled away. Standing, she pressed her clothes into place, trying to remove some of the more unsightly wrinkles. "Perfectly innocent," she told herself.
The chime came again and Kathryn looked at Seven, who was standing, and since she was wearing a biosuit, there weren’t any traces of their night together. "Thank God for small miracles," she thought, reconsidering her dislike for the ridiculous apparel the Doctor had outfitted Seven in.
With everything in order that could be under the circumstances, she called, "Come."
"Good morning, Katie!" the Envoy announced, striding purposefully into her quarters. "I thought we’d have breakfast, before you have to march away to . . ." he trailed off, having caught Seven out of the corner of his eye. "Ah, Seven of Nine, good morning."
He caught Seven’s nod before he turned his attention back to the Captain. "Katie, I didn’t know you conducted ship’s business so early before your shift."
"I don’t—not usually," she stated carefully.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
"No, we were just having a discussion," Janeway claimed. It was only a little, white lie.
"Oh, well, good, then. Maybe you’d both like to join me for breakfast?"
Janeway tried to think of a way to get out of it, but nothing came to her. "Okay."
"What about you, Seven of Nine?"
Kathryn held her breath, waiting for the answer.
"No, thank you. I have duties to attend to in the Astrometrics Lab."
"All right, maybe another time," he added graciously as she passed through the doors of the Captain’s quarters.
As soon as the young woman was gone, he came up next to Janeway, who was trying to slide her hair away from her face after having realized that her unruly hair hadn’t been attended to since last night. "It’s not what you’re thinking."
"Probably not. But you already know where I stand on this."
She dropped her hands. "Yes, good, then let’s go have some breakfast. . . . I’m famished."
"I bet you are," he teased.
It riled her, though. "We shared a game of Velocity last night. We came back to my quarters. We were discussing something. I was tired. I fell asleep. She fell asleep. That’s all. . . . Can we go now?"
"Of course," he remarked as they started for the door. "Katie?"
She glanced in his direction. "Hmm . . .?"
"Don’t you think you should change your clothes?"
ΩΩΩΩ
The room was silent except for the guitar melody playing softly in the background. The book, Sonnets from the Portuguese, lay discarded in the Captain’s lap. It had seemed like a good idea, sharing some of her favorite authors with Seven. But maybe this particular collection of poetry hadn’t been such a sensible choice. The decadence and rhythm of the language had left her yearning. She could still hear Seven’s melodic voice reading the words that vibrated through her.
. . . Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should,
Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare,
And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee,
Drop heavily down, – burst, shattered, everywhere! . . .
In every line, Kathryn recognized a shift in their relationship; she sensed that the words, uttered so lovingly, so convincingly were for her.
For Seven’s part, her feelings were far less elaborate and far more practical as she considered how to approach the other woman. She could grab the petite Captain, pull her close, and then just simply kiss her. She had done this with the Commander. But somehow this method seemed lacking; kissing Kathryn was not an experiment, which would require testing and analysis—it would be something to be savored and remembered.
Not being able to contain herself anymore, Seven leaned closer to Kathryn and took the book from her lap. Reaching forward, she placed it on the table. When Seven moved back, their faces were only inches apart. Just two days earlier, Janeway had been denying any interest in the young woman and now the attraction was manifesting so strongly that she ached. The mere scent of the other woman drew her in, making her feel vaguely faint. Looking up, she waited--her mind and body knowing instinctively what would come next. Seven met Kathryn’s gaze, then languidly bent forward and brushed her lips softly against the other woman’s.
In the ensuing moments of gentle, lingering kisses, Kathryn held off the swell of arousal that pulsed through her body and made every effort not to deepen the kiss. She would try to allow the younger woman to decide where this would lead--if anywhere--and what it would mean--if anything. Still hidden inside of Kathryn’s psyche was the fear that all of this would just end up as research entered into a database next to field notes of Tom’s and B’Elanna’s sexual habits.
When Seven moved away, Janeway was almost beside herself with loss and she, hoping that the gentle exploration wasn’t over, hesitated to open her eyes. But when she finally did, her fears were laid to rest—there was nothing resembling cool detachment in the look that greeted her; it was the face of unmasked desire. Seven’s eyes shone with a longing and want and Kathryn felt the breath grow heavy in her lungs.
Reaching out, Seven stroked her fingers along the finely crafted cheekbone. Grasping her chin, Seven pulled Kathryn’s mouth close again. Seven’s warm, full lips covered her own, and when she felt Seven’s tongue dart out and skim her bottom lip, Janeway could not smother the moan that tore unfettered from her throat. Burying her hands in the silky hair at the base of Seven’s neck, she brought their mouths together roughly. They kissed feverishly, tongues sliding ardently together.
The Captain was the first to break away. She was panting, the sound of her breath harsh in her own ears. When she brought her eyes up to meet Seven’s, she was slightly surprised to find the other woman in a similar state. Seven’s breath was shallow, great gasps pushed from her chest; her hair was mussed, small wisps dangled loosely from the normally impeccable twist; her face was flushed, red streamed across the paleness of her cheeks; and her lips were swollen to a perfect crimson from the passionate exchange. But the most remarkable and beautiful thing was that Seven was smiling openly at her.
Gazing back at the soft expression, Seven lodged her arm around Kathryn’s back and used her body weight to press the smaller woman against the couch. Before Janeway knew it, she was lying supine beneath the beautiful blonde and stroking the long muscles in her back. Their lips and breath intermingled and hands moved over her body, shooting off violent sparks of heat. And when Seven’s fingers fleeted deftly over the side of her hips, Kathryn groaned forcefully.
Surprised, Seven drew back, needing to confirm that she hadn’t hurt the smaller woman. Looking into Janeway’s flushed face, she understood the sound was an effect of Kathryn’s rising arousal. Pulling further away, she raked her eyes along Janeway’s body, which seemed to tremble under her ardent gaze.
Kathryn watched the subtle flaring of the other woman’s nostrils, and then suddenly she was being kissed and caressed with renewed zeal. Resting her hands on Seven's back, she slowly ran them down to the narrow waist, pulling her even closer, welcoming the full weight of the larger woman's body onto hers. As Seven eagerly pressed in, molding their bodies together, Kathryn arched her neck back against the couch cushions, granting the other woman better access to her lips. These kisses and caresses were the best of all, fervid and consuming in their intensity, lips coupled, every touch torrid, hands roamed, every stroke salient.
Her need to make love to Seven had established itself as a sweetly pervasive throbbing. The last thing she wanted to do was push Seven away, but if this went on much longer, someone would have to peel her off of the couch, or even worse, off of Seven. So after drawing out the kiss as long as she dared, Kathryn pulled away hesitantly, gently extricating her lips from Seven's. Placing her hands against Seven’s shoulders, she pressed up gently until the other woman was looking at her. "Computer, time?" Janeway asked, her voice having taken on an exceptionally husky timbre.
"0134" came the sparse response.
She looked at Seven for some recognition of the late hour. "It’s late. . . . You should go and regenerate."
"I don’t require regeneration at this time," she replied softly. "I wish to stay."
Kathryn had the urge to ask the young woman what else she wished for. But that would have been counterproductive. She reached out and stroked the flaxen wisps of hair from Seven’s eyes. "You may not, but I do. . . ."
Seven seemed to consider her words for a moment, her eyes softly passing over the features of Kathryn’s face. "Very well," she said finally, moving from on top of the smaller woman.
Seven gave her one intensely feral if fleeting look, which made the Captain’s resolve begin to waiver. "Yes, very well, indeed," Janeway mumbled, a wry grin twisting her lips.
ΩΩΩΩ
"Senior staff meeting . . . focus, focus," the Captain directed herself silently as she slipped into the brightly lit briefing room. Pausing at the front of the table, she set her coffee down. Before taking her seat, she took in the members of her staff already convened at the table. Her eyes rested briefly on each face, passing on a smile or nod. When she reached Seven, her hand dropped nervously to her abdomen and she breathed in deeply. Last night, she had been perilously close to taking it over what, she realized now, was a very arbitrary line she had drawn between herself and her Astrometrics officer.
She breathed in and collected her thoughts as she passed out the PADDs containing department assignments. "Okay, people, let’s make this brief. We have been ordered to report immediately to Headquarters and deliver the Tox Uthat."
Seven responded immediately. "Captain, I do not believe it is wise to leave this area of space before completing our analysis."
Janeway looked directly at Seven. It was evident that she wanted to solve the mystery of the crash, but Fleet Admiral Nechayev had made it clear that the first priority was to deliver the Quantum phase inhibitor. "After we deliver the Tox Uthat, if we are able, we will return to the area to complete our investigations."
"Captain, leaving now--," Seven started to disagree again.
"Seven, you have your orders," the captain maintained, casting at her a glare that she hoped would persuade the ex-drone that there was no room for discussion.
Seven’s jaw twitched, but Janeway could see that she wasn’t going to pursue the argument. But the open insubordination was enough for Kathryn to again speculate about the good judgment of becoming romantically involved with the obstinate woman. It was completely unbefitting for Seven to question her authority, and obviously, the young woman’s newfound comfort with her Captain was affording her to cast aside protocol.
With a lingering look around the table, she brought her thoughts back around to the matter at hand. "All right, before we proceed, I want to know if anyone has any new information regarding the Flyer and the . . ," B’Elanna shifted in her seat. "Yes, B’Elanna?"
"Well, I hesitate to mention it, but on a hunch I used passive infrared sensors to scan the hull pieces and I was able to detect a faint energy signature. The discharge occurred along the port bow not more than 2 minutes before impact."
"One produced at the time Seven detected the anomalous reading? What kind of energy signature?"
B’Elanna looked around the room. "We don’t know." Janeway raised a questioning brow at her. "The precise signature does not occur in any of the Federation databases," the engineer explained.
The EMH piped in, "That’s not entirely accurate. The energy signal does bear a striking resemblance to the biosignature emitted by humanoids."
Tom snorted. "Are you saying someone got out and shoved the Flyer?"
B’Elanna and Harry shared an amused look, causing the Doctor to purse his lips contritely.
"All right," Janeway began, attempting to get B’Elanna’s attention again, "I want you . . . and Harry to keep exploring the possibilities for that energy signal. Maybe it was distorted in some way." B’Elanna and Harry nodded as the Captain glanced around the table. "Anyone else have anything to report . . . ?" she asked hopefully, but no one spoke up. "Okay, then, just one more thing," she left off as she watched her officers look uneasily at each other, "I think it’s something you will enjoy hearing." Now she knew she had their attention. "Admiral Nechayev has requested that Ratiocination run analysis on the Delta Flyer and Voyager, so it looks like we will be getting a three-day reprieve." No one jumped for joy, but she could see they were still thrilled to have the time off. "Well, then, let’s prepare for immediate departure and . . . if everyone knows what their assignments are, dismissed."
Janeway stood and watched as her senior staff began to exit. "Seven, a moment, please."
The ex-Borg was not caught unaware; she’d anticipated Janeway’s summons. The Captain always admonished her when she questioned her decisions in front of the others. Seven, her eyes fastened to Janeway’s face, waited patiently.
"Seven," Janeway began, stepping towards the taller woman. "I realize that the nature of our personal interaction has changed. However, our relationship as Captain and crewmember has not and it is inappropriate for you to question my commands while we are interacting as thus."
Seven cocked her head to the side. This wasn’t exactly the reproof she had expected. "I do not understand, Captain."
Janeway thought about how she could rephrase her point. "As captain, I can’t permit any personal relationship between us to influence your perception of me as your superior. Because we are close on our own time, doesn’t mean that the same lapse of protocol exists at all times."
"I have always called into question your command decisions," Seven declared, unmistakably perplexed by the direction the discussion was headed.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, Captain," Seven returned.
"Just a week ago, I ordered you to regenerate when you wanted to run scans, why didn’t you question my decision then?"
"Your judgment was not illogical. Ensign Kim was the correct choice for the assignment," she left off and then added, "Had I not been required to regenerate, I would have been the most valid choice."
"Whether you deem it illogical or not, you are not to question my decisions in front of the others. Is that clear?"
Seven had only wanted to make sure they had determined how the shuttle had gotten off course. That way, Kathryn would sleep well again. Maybe if she explained herself, the problem could be resolved. "I--," Seven began.
"Dismissed," Janeway directed.
"But, Cap—"
"Dis-missed!"
Seven turned and stalked from the room. When the doors closed behind her, Janeway slumped back into her chair. How had it turned into a reprimand? She had only meant to draw the line between professional and personal conduct a little more clearly. In the end, what infraction had Seven really committed? "God, I’m loosing my perspective already," she moaned.
ΩΩΩΩ
Seven moved to the side as the Chief of Security entered the turbolift. They nodded briefly at each other in way of a greeting as he turned to face the door. Crossing his hands behind him, he turned his head slightly to the side, catching her in the periphery of his vision. She was shifting agitatedly, moving her weight from one foot to the other. "Seven of Nine?"
She stopped moving and turned her head to look at him.
"Do you require assistance?"
She moved uneasily. "I do not."
"Very well," he replied, turning his attention back to the turbolift doors.
It occurred to Seven that he might just be the person who could help her. Waiting for the door to open, he unlinked his hands, but before he could leave, she asked, "Lieutenant Commander Tuvok?"
He stopped just before exiting the turbolift and turned to regard the young woman. "Yes?"
Her eyes darted over him, and then she met his look. "At one time, you had begun to instruct me in Krakroa wh'ltri," she pronounced in perfect Vulcan dialect. "Would it be possible to resume that instruction?"
Tuvok’s eyebrow rose, the only sign of his curiosity. "It would," he replied, pausing. "May I ask why?"
Seven lifted her chin in discomfort, in defiance, in concurrence–it was all the same. "I wish to suppress particular feelings I am finding debilitating."
Tuvok tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing almost indiscernibly. "I must remind you that the purpose of one pursuing Krakroa wh’ltri is not the repression of emotion but the pacification of it. The techniques will only enable one to control the feelings and entropy that emotions create and to help clarify rational thought."
"I understand."
"Then we shall begin instruction tomorrow at 0500."
"Agreed. Thank you, Lieutenant Commander."
"You are welcome," he said, turning to exit the turbolift again. Before passing through the doors, he stopped. "Seven of Nine, before committing yourself to the path of the Krakroa wh’ltri, it is often wise for humans to first attempt discussing in a direct manner the emotions that are troubling them. Often, if the emotion is considered circumspectly, the difficulty can be eliminated."
Seven uncrossed her arms from behind her back and watched the turbolift doors close behind the departing figure. She had the urge to follow after him and ask what he meant, but she knew this was probably as proximal to advice as she was going to get from the Vulcan.
ΩΩΩΩ
Tuvok had told Seven to be direct about her feelings, and because failing to do so could result in the intolerable, she was trying. She had been willing to listen to the Security Chief’s advice from the day before because he seemed to possess knowledge beyond the other crewmembers. Maybe it was his psychic capacity, his uncanny ability to observe, or his age that gave him an advantage, regardless, she didn’t think this impasse was what he had intended, and it certainly wasn’t what she had envisioned. Seven was being utterly ineffective at telling Kathryn that she was in love with her. That was the direct path, wasn’t it?
But before she had even been able to approach the Captain, Janeway had become agitated. She watched the Captain squeeze the bridge between her eyes again, and then she paced across the floor of her quarters away from Seven. "I can’t pursue this."
Seven stood, hands locked behind her back. "Why can’t you?"
The question was simple enough, but Janeway still felt a knot rise in her throat. She choked it back down. "My position as captain prevents me from pursuing a romantic relationship with any crewmember," she declared grimly.
The two regarded one another—the Captain wondering if Seven would accept her argument and Seven wrestling with it. Silence flowed almost palpable in the air between them.
Suddenly, Seven, the confusion gone from her face, unlocked her hands. "Unacceptable," she announced resolutely. "This is not about Starfleet regulations or protocols."
"Isn’t it?" Janeway said, making the statement more of a declaration than a question. "Seven, this is the way—"
Seven cut her off, "No, this is about fear."
"Fear?" she asked weakly.
The way the Captain muttered the word, made Seven feel confident in her appraisal. "You are afraid to love me."
Janeway began to protest, wavered, and then finally just stared. "Ridiculous."
"You are afraid that if you allow yourself to love me, I will abandon you."
Janeway swallowed deeply. "And what brings you to such an outlandish conclusion?" she asked, trying not to reveal the trepidation she was feeling.
"Everyone you have loved has abandoned you. You are afraid that it will happen once again; therefore, you deny what we could be to one another under the auspice of preserving the non-fraternization protocol."
Janeway snorted. "Abandoned me?"
"Is that not what you believe?" Seven asked.
Janeway turned from her. "It’s not true."
"You’re correct, Kathryn. It’s not true, but nonetheless, it is what you believe."
The Captain shook her head doubtfully and ignored the implications of Seven’s statements. "Say it is true. What do you want me to do? Explain?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"No, I wish to be the one who proves your theory incorrect."
Kathryn ignored the earnest request. "I believe, that is your theory. . . . Let me ask you this . . . why did you stop seeing the Commander?"
"He and I were not compatible. What we experienced was . . . ," she reached for words to explain her feelings, "an imitation."
"Imitation?" Janeway repeated, asking for more in way of an explanation.
"Kathryn, when we were on the planet. . . . No," she corrected herself, "even before I could identify what I felt, you . . . were in my heart."
"Was Chakotay in there, too?" The second the words slipped from her mouth, she regretted them. She hadn’t realized how jealous she truly was that the Commander had been Seven’s first choice . . . "except for Axum," her mind provoked her further.
Seven’s eyes flitted around as she heaved a heavy sigh. "I do not love Chakotay."
Whatever the Captain expected to hear this was not it and she could only manage to gape at the young woman. Just what was Seven implying? That she was in love with her? "It had to have been the proximity, the close confinement, and you, thrusting yourself into the middle of her life," she rebuked herself silently.
Seven shifted, drawing her attention away from her thoughts. "Spend the 3-day reprieve with me."
"What?"
"We have been granted leave upon returning to Starfleet Headquarters. Have we not? Spend it with me," she stated vigorously. "If you do not wish to pursue a relationship with me after that time, I will not seek one either."
"I can’t."
"Why?"
"I just can’t," she repeated, pursing her lips. "I have plans."
Seven bristled, her shoulders shifting underneath the biosuit. "With whom?"
"Leyton," she lied. She hadn’t had any contact with the Envoy since the day before they had left Quadra Sigma III. "That’s another little, white one for you," she thought.
Seven knew what Janeway was going to say before the words passed through the air, but knowing it didn’t make it any easier for her to hear. Her eidetic memory flashed over the instances she had seen the two together. Images of Janeway smiling at him and laughing at his jokes stabbed through her mind and opened an aching wound of jealousy. The Captain was glad to be with him. Could she bring Janeway that kind of happiness?
Only one day before, she had openly defied the Captain in a briefing. She was still trying to unravel what about it had caused such a disturbance inside Janeway. Seven had thought she was distinguishing between personal and professional by treating the Captain in the same manner as always even as she sought to get closer to Kathryn. Understanding other people’s emotions was so difficult and Seven felt so completely inept.
Kathryn watched Seven’s face fall, and without a word forthcoming, she knew she had just shattered a precious collection of hope stored inside the young woman’s heart. Struck by the authenticity of emotion in Seven’s face, Janeway suddenly felt the need to double back and she reached out, touching the young woman on the arm. Seven flinched and Kathryn dropped her hand. "Seven, it’s not like that."
But Seven was not listening; she could only stare, disbelief marring her features. Could she be so easily fooled? Were all humans so duplicitous in their emotions? Had she done something to make the Captain wish to retract her affections? Seven squinted, pushing down the tears and attempting to hold back the onslaught of terrible emotions swimming just below the surface.
Kathryn felt caught; she could see the confusion. What should she do? How could she explain her position to the young woman and have her understand how precarious it was? Feeling overwhelmed, she didn’t try to clarify any further. And when Seven slipped out of her quarters, she didn’t try to stop her.
Lifting a shaky hand to her forehead, she wondered why she had lied. Why had she told Seven she was spending the time with Leyton? The excuse had seemed a quick escape, but she should have realized the terrible impact it would have on the other woman. "She confesses her love and you accuse her of insincerity," she admonished herself.
She breathed in slowly, trying to calm her nerves. Swallowing the ugly lump in her throat, she walked to the replicator. "Coffee. Black."
A silver mug materialized on the replicator pad. She lifted the mug and the scent of the contents wafted up to her. Holding the cup in both hands, she brought it up to her nose and inhaled deeply. This gesture, although hers, was synonymous in her mind with the Admiral . . . Admiral Janeway . . . what had she told her? She remembered the drawling tones of the Admiral’s voice. "This is for us, too. Don’t screw it up." Of course, the Admiral had assumed that the Captain was also in love with Seven. Janeway frowned. "And, well, she was right about that too, wasn’t she?" she thought with a self-recriminating snort.
ΩΩΩΩ
Seven stalked onto the bridge and went directly to her post at the stellar cartography console behind the captain’s chair. The Captain had to suppress the urge to turn around and greet her Astrometrics officer. She knew Seven would only respond with a curt nod of her head anyway. Once again, Seven seemed to deem smiling as an inefficient use of her time. "At least smiling at me," Kathryn thought. "Why would she smile? She hasn’t even spoken to me in the last four days."
And the last four days had been torturous for Janeway. The insomnia had returned. Her appetite was at an all time low. And half the time, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She had spent so much of her free time over the last month with Seven, she couldn’t remember what she used to do before that.
She smirked to herself. During their last conversation, the young woman had promised to leave Kathryn alone if that’s what she wanted, and Janeway supposed that this was exactly what Seven was doing. But Seven had vowed to do that after they had spent the three days of leave together. And even though initially Janeway had rejected this idea with a lie, it was exactly what she wanted to do even if it meant she would have to explain her lie first. And then she would have to do some convincing . . . maybe even a little groveling. She didn’t know exactly how she would persuade the stubborn woman. But whatever it took, Kathryn would do it gladly.
And very soon Janeway would take care of all of it—the lying, the hurt, the anxiety, the loneliness. Later today, she would meet with Admiral Nechayev, give her the Tox Uthat, and then she would have three days of leave to concentrate on clearing the air with Seven. But first, they had to dock Voyager at the Starfleet shipyards. "All right, Mr. Paris, take us in."
"Yes, Captain," the lieutenant responded with a cocky grin.
ΩΩΩΩ
"So, this is it?" Admiral Nechayev asked out loud as she handled the crystal, lifting it to eye level and gazing at it.
"It would seem so," Janeway replied off-handedly.
The Admiral glanced at her, so distracted by the item in her possession that she almost seemed surprised to find the Captain still standing in her office. "Good work, Captain," the Admiral complimented. "Now, get Voyager into dry dock. I want analysis personnel from Ratiocination to go over those ships to make sure they weren’t tampered with."
"I don’t believe they were, Admiral. My chief engineer confirmed that she didn’t find any evidence of tampering or system failure."
Nechayev’s eyes glimmered darkly at Janeway. "Well, then, Captain, what did happen? Pilot error?" The hostility in the Admiral’s voice told Janeway the questions were rhetorical. She remained silent. "No, Captain," she condescended, "something happened out there and I believe we should find out what. Ready Voyager for dry dock."
"Immediately, Admiral," she paused, trying to decide whether or not she should push her luck. Admiral Nechayev was notorious for her black moods. "What are you going to do with the Tox Uthat?"
The Admiral seemed to consider whether or not she felt like answering the question. "We will destroy it, of course."
Janeway smiled vaguely and nodded. Given Nechayev’s unpredictability, she wasn’t sure if the Admiral was being candid or being facetious. With one more look at the Admiral, she turned to leave.
"Captain?"
Janeway paused and turned back around to face Nechayev. "Yes, Admiral?"
"You take care now."
Janeway nodded wonderingly; it wasn’t like the Admiral to dispense such pleasantries. "I will. You, too." The Admiral’s enigmatic smile was not lost on the Captain as she exited the office.
ΩΩΩΩ
Janeway wedged the Jelinian chalice into the already full duffel bag. She had prized the cup when Commander Garon had given it to her just after they had escaped the Void. But now she felt compelled to move it--along with half a dozen other Delta Quadrant trinkets--from her quarters onboard Voyager to her home in San Francisco. It wasn’t as though her quarters were crowded. If anything, the rooms were sparsely decorated. But still she had this overwhelming need to clear out everything she could . . . to make room for what, she didn’t have any idea. The last time she had taken on such a bold housekeeping project was over seven years ago, just after having accepted Mark’s marriage proposal.
Suddenly, she sat on the floor. "God, I’m nesting. Why the hell am I nesting?"
"You’re procrastinating," she answered herself. And that was the truth. She had come back from her meeting with the Fleet Admiral feeling remarkably unsettled. She had tried to shrug it off as she had another matter to resolve. But that was just the problem; she couldn’t find the person she needed to resolve it with. After several attempts at using the commbadge to contact Seven, she had consulted Voyager’s computer, which had promptly informed her that the ex-drone was not onboard.
Taking up her tunic from the floor next to her, she stuffed it into the duffel, too. She could try one more time. Maybe Seven had returned by now. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine."
"Seven of Nine is not onboard Voyager," the computer returned unsympathetically.
"All right, I get it. Just desserts. I’ll just have to be patient," she told herself.
Standing up, she pulled the bag onto the bed. "You certainly know how to have a good time. You’re supposed to be on leave for three days and you’re cleaning your quarters," she thought as she zippered the bag shut. With one final glance around the room, she grabbed up the duffel bag and heaved it onto her shoulder.
Though everything was still up in the air, she at least had a plan now even if it wasn’t the one she had intended. She would give Seven a little more time to sort things out, and when they returned from leave, she would clear up everything as best she could. Her decision and rationale, whatever it might be, would have to be precise and cogent, and that would require the Captain to take some time to think about it. With Seven’s meticulous mind, she couldn’t just explain she would have to anticipate Seven’s every response. "Is that even possible?" she wondered.
ΩΩΩΩ
It was good to be back onboard. After having used up the first day of shore leave cleaning her quarters, she had spent the next two days at home, reading a book and basking in the Indian summer sun. She enjoyed herself, but by the time evening rolled around on the third day, she just kept coming back to how much better everything would have been if Seven had been with her. And the first thing she was going to do when her duty shift ended was to go and hash things out with her. She couldn’t leave any of it the way it was. She couldn’t bear it and she didn’t want Seven to have to either.
When she had finally stopped procrastinating and allowed herself to think about why she couldn’t be involved with Seven, she realized none of it mattered. She could hold all the internal arguments she wanted and she could win every battle, but it still wouldn’t change the fact that she loved Seven. Loved her, needed her, and would do whatever it took to make everything right between them.
"Time for pleasure later. Back to business," she mused, smoothing the front of her tunic into place. First, she had to make an appearance on the bridge, then attend a briefing on the Ratiocination findings, and then she could go to Seven. She smiled privately to herself just before the turbolift doors opened.
Janeway entered the bridge as Harry Kim stood at attention. "Captain on the bridge."
"At ease," she said as her eyes passed over the familiar faces . . . and one unfamiliar one. Her eyebrows rose wonderingly as she inspected the young lieutenant.
"Captain, this is Lieutenant Jacobs," Chakotay said, seriousness crinkling his brow. "Lieutenant Jacobs has been assigned as Chief of Astrometrics."
Janeway’s eyes moved over the lieutenant. "What?" she asked, confusion and shock collapsing over her features. Bracing herself against the railing, she waited for an answer. Looking for an explanation and seeing only uncertainty in the lieutenant’s eyes, she turned to Chakotay. "Where’s Seven?"
PART IV
In reaction to the bombshell dropped on her, the Captain had immediately retired from the bridge to her ready room and was sitting at her desk, accessing Voyager’s personnel records from the computer interface. She glanced up briefly when the Commander entered the room. "When did Seven leave?"
Chakotay recognized the barely suppressed anger in her voice. "Seven of Nine resigned her position at the beginning of the layover . . . just after Voyager went into dry dock," he explained, taking a seat in front of the captain’s desk.
"Why didn’t anyone notify me?"
"I thought you knew."
"I didn’t. . . ." Her gaze moved from the computer viewscreen to him. "But I should have." She looked back at the computer, inspecting the interface. Suddenly, she slammed her fist down. "Damn! These records don’t tell me anything! What’s the point of keeping them?" She looked at him again. "Where did she go?"
"I’m really not sure."
Her voice hitched up a notch with disbelief. "You didn’t ask?"
"I did. It’s a matter of record for Starfleet to track former personnel."
"What did she say?"
"She said she would be studying."
"Studying what, Chakotay?" she asked, frustration dripping from her words.
He felt like he was being interrogated. "I don’t know . . . humanity?" he suggested glibly.
"Why the hell would she be studying humanity?" she barked.
He bowed his head and looked at his boots for a second, and then he met her glare. "Kathryn, she didn’t say what she was studying. . . . I just assumed it wasn’t an educational institution she was attending." He paused. "What could they possibly teach her that she hasn’t already assimilated?"
The captain stared at him. "She doesn’t assimilate things, Commander."
He heard the strain in her voice. "You’re right. I chose my words badly," he pacified her. "Kathryn, you shouldn’t worry. She’s not your responsibility."
"Isn’t she?"
"No," he said firmly. "She’s an adult."
"I’m the reason she left," Janeway blurted.
"No, you’re not," he disagreed. "She must have decided she needed experiences away from Voyager."
She stared at the viewscreen. "She wanted to get away from me."
"Kathryn, don’t you think that’s a bit irrational? Look, I know you feel responsible for her well-being, but—"
"She left because she is . . . was in love with me." She pushed the computer interface away, and looked at him, waiting for some kind of a response.
Chakotay gaped at her. "She told you that?"
She nodded, her eyes moving down slowly to scrutinize her desk.
He lifted his chin at her. "What did you say?"
Janeway frowned and shook her head; she had already revealed more than she intended to.
"Well, obviously, you didn’t return the sentiment or we wouldn’t be having this conversation."
Her stomach clenched violently. He was right. It was her fault. A heavy sigh shook her slender frame. "Chakotay, did she say anything else?"
He silently studied Janeway for a moment. "She mentioned that Tuvok had indicated where to start her studies. . . . Kathryn, she was really vague about it. Maybe she just wanted a little time to—"
She leapt on the new piece of information. "The Vulcan Science Academy?
"No, I don’t think so."
She looked crestfallen.
"Check with Tuvok," he recommended. "Seven took him into her confidence on occasion."
She nodded vaguely. "Yes . . . thank you, I will."
He stood and moved off toward the exit of her ready room. Suddenly, he stopped. "Kathryn, you should have told her that you love her," he said without turning around.
ΩΩΩΩ
Walking down the corridor to meet with personnel from Ratiocination, it occurred to the captain that given her current state of mind this was really the last thing she should be doing. But she needed to know what the results of the tests were. Pulling her shoulders back, she drew up around the final corner to the conference room. Through the glass window, she could see a redheaded officer waiting.
Janeway opened the door and the officer stood up, pushed away from the table, and extended her hand. "Hello, Captain Janeway. I’m Lieutenant Commander Gutierrez. I’m Ratiocination’s Chief Technician."
Janeway shook hands with the other woman. "It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant Commander."
Gutierrez gestured to the chair opposite her. "Please have a seat, won’t you?"
"I thought Admiral Nechayev would be joining us," Janeway commented as she sat down.
"Well, Captain, I believe she would have been here, if there was actually something to report."
"I see," Janeway responded neutrally. She had hoped to encounter the Admiral again. She couldn’t seem to put Nechayev’s odd behavior behind her. Seeing her again would have given the Captain the opportunity to reassess the situation.
"Here’s the report, Captain." She handed Janeway a PADD. "If you want to read over it, I can answer whatever questions you might have."
The Captain grasped the PADD and nodded. She took a few minutes to look at the data, which seemed to match B’Elanna’s conclusions, point by point. "Well, Lieutenant Commander, there doesn’t appear to be too much to discuss."
Gutierrez smiled. "You’re right."
"Frankly, I wish you had found something. It might make me more confident that no one else will duplicate my experience."
"Your crew was very thorough. As you can tell there were only a few other tests we could run and they all came back negative or inconclusive."
"Inconclusive," the Captain repeated, inspecting the readout on the PADD again. "Yes, I noticed, here on the mass spectrometry results. . . . What does this test involve?"
"Well, we dust the plating with residue-specific enzymes. Any organic acids present will react, producing peptide chains, which with the help of spectral analysis will reveal previously untraceable macrobiotic patterns."
"There was a reaction?"
"Yes, generally there is always a reaction as organic acids are common to most environments, but it’s the resulting pattern that actually gives us the information we are looking for."
"And in this case, the patterns didn’t match anything," Janeway guessed.
"Correct, Captain," she confirmed. "There are diagrams accompanying the report, but as you can see, they appear to be nothing more than random marks composed of thin, spiraling lines."
Janeway stared at the diagram. She focused on the five large ovals and the two even larger arches. All of the markings appeared to have the same whorl-like attributes. "And you have no idea what would cause those patterns?"
"No . . . I was hoping you might be able to enlighten us," she chuckled. "A strange remnant from an equally strange encounter in the Delta Quadrant?"
Janeway smiled politely. "Not that I’m aware of, Lieutenant Commander. But it’s always possible."
ΩΩΩΩ
The Captain nodded politely as she took the cup of Vulcan spiced tea from the Security Chief. Normally, she would have been thrilled that Tuvok was sharing this fantastic treat with her, but she had other matters on her mind that made her mood exceedingly somber. She ignored the trembling of her own hands as she brought the cup to her lips.
The tall Vulcan settled on the couch next to her. "What is it that you wish to discuss?"
"Chakotay suggested that you might know where Seven has gone."
"The Commander is correct, Kathryn. Seven of Nine is on Vulcan."
She took a steadying breath as relief besieged her. Vulcan was close, only 16 light-years from Earth. She could be in the Eridian system in a matter of 48 hours.
Well aware that Kathryn had strong feelings for the young woman, Tuvok knew his friend would be upset by Seven’s departure. At the time, though, he had reviled the idea of interfering in their personal lives. But now watching the array of emotions cross Janeway’s face, he understood that his analysis of the situation had been flawed. Kathryn was experiencing an emotional turbulence far greater than he had anticipated.
Allowing his mind to reach out and touch the captain’s, he resolved what he should have known earlier. She was in love with Seven of Nine and he concluded that he must assist her in whatever way he could. "Seven of Nine is studying Kya’shin."
She exhaled and placed the cup on the table in front of them. Propping her elbows on her knees, she held her head in her hands. "Kya’shin," she repeated, shaking her head.
"She expressed the desire to control her emotions. I had begun the process by instructing her in the ways of Krakroa wh'ltri. However, she quickly mastered those principles and was adamant in her desire to learn more advanced techniques."
"When did this begin?" she asked, pressing her fingers brutally into her temples.
"We resumed the training one day into the journey from Quadra Sigma III back to Starfleet Headquarters."
There it was; the confirmation that she had been the one who had driven Seven away. The day after she refused Seven’s . . . attention . . . "no, love—she was giving you her love," she rebuked herself. Breathing in, Kathryn removed her hands and looked at him. "Does that mean you know where she is on Vulcan?"
"She is at the Temple of Sovval-Tok. The temple and surrounding town is a mecca for the Srunihki Order."
"I have to go to her. Where is this temple?"
"It is located on the southern continent in the desert of Ket-´lio. . . ." He paused, placing his cup on the table. "Kathryn, I would advise you to go immediately. Although arguably limited, my experience tells me that human love requires a certain amount of illogic. Seven will be changed by her experience. The Sovval-Tok monks are methodical and unrelenting teachers."
She didn’t know what in his statement to grab onto first—the fact that he recognized her love for Seven or that he didn’t believe she would be able to get her back. "What are you saying, Tuvok? That I will not be successful? Humans may be illogical but we are also relentless."
"I do not question your resolve, Kathryn, only the immediacy with which you will act in this matter."
ΩΩΩΩ
Absorbed in thought, she stared at the prism of colors reflected through the whiskey decanter, which was perched perilously close to the edge of the coffee table. "The immediacy with which I will act," she repeated, slurring the words as she twirled the glass. The amber fluid sloshed over the edge and onto the couch. Watching the whiskey absorb into the upholstery, she added, "Vulcan spiced tea, well, it’s not bad, but it doesn’t compare with a belt of Irish whiskey for steadying the nerves."
After draining the last of the alcohol, she reached out from her spot on the couch and dropped the empty glass on the table. It landed with a cracking thud. The noise was a strangely satisfying exhibition of her anger—much like slamming a door was when she was a little girl.
Pulling her legs up on the couch, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "Computer, set lights to one-eighth illumination," she ordered. And in compliance, the lights rescinded to a dull glow.
Still questioning why no one had informed her of Seven’s resignation, she tried to comprehend why it was that Vulcans could interfere with emotional matters to the extreme extent of teaching emotion dampening techniques, but be too ill at ease to communicate a vital piece of information to a close friend. "What? Are the Vulcans recruiting? Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination—as long as everyone behaves the same," she reflected facetiously, amused by her own thoughts.
Truth was that even after four stiff drinks, Kathryn was still having a difficult time believing they had concealed Seven’s resignation and subsequent departure. Neither Chakotay nor Tuvok—her officers and her friends—had thought so much as to mention it. Somewhere in the back of her alcohol-muddled mind she knew neither man had really attempted to hide anything from her. But still it smarted.
Certainly, the thoughtlessness shown by her closest friends wasn’t the most contradictory piece of this puzzle. The most irreconcilable part was that even when she clutched at the edges of protocol, when she played it safe, she still lost. Admiral Janeway had been right—you can’t have everything. You have to choose your battles wisely and not live your life by someone else’s arbitrary standards. "You can’t always be the belle of the Starfleet Captain’s Ball" is what the white-haired admiral had told her.
And even worse was that she couldn’t figure out why she had done it—why she had pushed Seven away. Why had she hurt the person that mattered to her the most?
The answer came floating out of the air. "Abandonment," she thought. Even the word sounded solitary; and she was that—isolated, alone . . . lonely.
Turning her head to the side, she stared out the porthole above the sofa. Maybe she was a coward. If she forced herself to think about it, it made sense. Was that why it infuriated her so much, because Seven had simply stated the obvious? Her father, Justin, and Mark—all had folded into the time/space continuum of her past. "And now, Seven," she heard herself say.
Suddenly something else jumped out at her. Was that what this was—a ploy? Was Seven’s running off to Vulcan meant to shock her into some sort of self-realization? The thought riled her. She didn’t take kindly to being manipulated, and the fact that she was lying here drunk and mulling it over, meant there was a possibility that she had been.
She exhaled slowly and stared at the belly of the Defiant-class ship docked above Voyager. The USS Murmansk—it was Admiral Nechayev’s ship. There was something else she just couldn’t get her mind around—Admiral Nechayev’s enigmatic behavior, the Tox Uthat, the shuttle crash—what the hell was that all about?
She turned her eyes from the porthole and focused on the interior of the room. Something was odd. The room glowed with a strange orange light. It took a few moments before it registered that the light was coming from the computer interface on her desk.
The incoming message beacon flashed at her and she wondered how long it had been doing that. Grasping the edge of the couch, she pulled herself up to a sitting position. The room swam before her eyes as she stood and stumbled to the desk. Activating the communication, she shielded her eyes from the Federation insignia as it flashed onto the screen. Hearing the familiar voice of Envoy Hael, she peeked between her parted fingers at the image.
"Katie, I hope this communication finds you well. I am on my way to headquarters for an impromptu session of "which delegate can we blame today." I’m hoping that you will still be in the vicinity. I would love to have dinner or drinks before you head off for your next mission. I will be arriving tomorrow; I’ll contact you then. Hope to see you soon."
"Computer, end transmission," Janeway ordered. The computer chirped in compliance and the viewscreen went black.
For a moment, she just stood, leaning against her desk, rubbing her temples, and trying to clear her jumbled thoughts. Using her hip, she finally pushed away from the desk. "I hope he opts for dinner and not those drinks," she mumbled as she stripped off her uniform, tossed it haphazardly on the floor, and then stumbled into the bathroom.
ΩΩΩΩ
When they met the next evening, Envoy Hael had in fact chosen to have dinner, much to Janeway’s relief. After the meal, they had returned to her quarters to partake in a nightcap, or rather Leyton had. She had feigned being too full from dinner and had passed on the drink.
Moving to the small cabinet near the sofa, Leyton picked up the almost empty whiskey decanter. "Have a little party, Katie?"
She tossed him a look from over her shoulder. "No. Why?"
"This was more than three-quarters full last time I saw it," he replied, jiggling the container in her direction.
She picked up the PADD on her desk. "Couldn’t have been."
"It was," he emphasized as he put down the decanter. Coming up behind her, he placed his hand on her arm. "What’s going on?"
Janeway faced him, pretending to still be inspecting the contents of the PADD, and then she looked up. "What do you mean?"
He sighed and dropped his hand. "Are we going to do this again?"
She dropped the PADD onto her desk and as she turned back to him, she squared her shoulders. "What?"
"Katie, you’ve been miserable all evening. What’s wrong?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, taking on a definitively defensive stance.
For a moment, he waited, still hoping she would respond. But when it was clear she was going to maintain her silence, he put down his untouched whiskey and moved to the couch. Leaning over the edge of the sofa, he picked up his overcoat and pulled it on.
"All right," she said softly. "Seven left."
He stopped and turned around to look at her. "She did? Why?"
Janeway dropped her hands to the desk, bracing herself. He could see that she was trembling. "Oh, Leyton, I was awful. One minute I was . . . we almost. . . . And the next I was yelling at her after a morning briefing."
"About what?"
"She questioned my orders," Janeway stated simply.
"She’s headstrong, Katie. She is constantly testing protocol. You had to make sure she understood the command structure. That she didn’t undermine your authority—"
The captain interrupted, "That’s just it. She didn’t. Not any more so than usual. I overreacted. . . . I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Loving her," she managed to push out.
"I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think."
"It is. After the argument, she came to speak with me—to clear things up. I made it worse. I told her I would be busy during the reprieve . . . that I would be with you, and then I ignored her for almost two weeks."
He looked at her strangely. "You—"
"I know I should have spoken to her about . . . everything. Explained the complications. Explained my fears. I wanted to. But I put it off. I don’t know why."
"We all have insecurities. . . . Regardless, whatever the motivation, you cast aside something you wanted," he paused, ". . . needed badly. So, there must be a reason to wreak such destruction—it was working for you on some level—or you wouldn’t have done it. That’s what you need to figure out, Katie."
She stared at him. "What are you saying? I did it on purpose?"
"Yes. You set yourself up."
"Why would I do that?"
"You said it yourself—fear. I don’t think it’s fear of loving Seven or anyone else. It’s fear of losing them."
She crossed her arms.
He shook his head. "Katie, she has things to work through, too. . . . She’ll need you to help her."
She snorted. "She went to Vulcan."
He looked at her incredulously. "What?"
She put her hand on her hip and gazed at the floor. "She’s on Vulcan. She went to study Kya’shin."
"Vulcan mind mash," he said pensively. "How long ago?"
She swallowed. "A week."
"But you’ve been on leave."
"She resigned her position just before."
"If she resigned her position, someone had to know she was going," Leyton reasoned.
"Chakotay did. He’s in charge of personnel matters."
"Oh," he said, unsurprised. "Obviously, Tuvok must have known as well."
Her mind elsewhere, she nodded inattentively.
"Katie, what are you doing here?"
"What?" she asked absently, wringing her hands together.
He clasped her hands in his. "Look at you. You’re obviously distraught. You have to go after her."
"I’m fine," she barked, yanking her hands from his.
"I only want what’s good for you," he pointed out.
She turned away from him and looked out of the view port. "You were good for me."
She was so stubborn. Always twisting things around, making everything so difficult. He came up behind Janeway. "Oh, I see. You don't have to go after her now that I'm here. Is that it, Kathy?"
Her face registered her surprise, and then her dismay. Leyton didn’t call her Kathy, but there was still something familiar in the way he said it. She turned around. "Q!"
"Yes, my dear, 'tis I, Q."
"What the hell! What did you do with Leyton?"
"Kathy, really, it’s not hard to figure out. It’s just me," he said with a flourish of his hands. "Only moi."
She peered into Q’s face. The absurdity of the whole situation was paralleled in the thick lines and drawn skin of his clown-like features.
"One and the same," he remarked smugly.
She stared blankly at him for a moment. "Oh, God. . . ."
He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Now, Kathy, don’t be upset. It was all for your own good."
"Get out!" she snarled.
He backed away from her. "I can hardly leave you when you’re hysterical."
"Q," she hissed menacingly, "get the hell out of my quarters and off my ship or I swear I will rip you apart limb by limb."
He expected outrage, but this was quite simply an affront. "And you don’t think I’ve made sacrifices to bring this whole little thing together? I turned down a chorus of beautiful Ramatisian maidens and a year on the extraordinarily quiet Ramatis III . . . and . . . and they are calling me Déjà vu Q in the Continuum. Really, it’s quite impertinent—you do a little time reinvention and they just won’t let you forget it."
Suddenly, everything made sense. She eyed him. "You made him up."
"Leyton? Of course I did." He smirked. "What? Are you going to tell me you didn’t like him? He was made according to your own specifications, my dear."
She ignored the jab at her holographic dalliance with Michael. "Why?"
"Oh, my lovely captain, to disarm you. Why else?"
She stared at him.
"Still not putting it together, are we?" He nodded and clucked his tongue. "It’s simple enough. Leyton—you specified everything about him. He was, well, for lack of a better word, programmed as your ideal mate. But here’s the catch, Kathy. Are you paying attention . . . ?" He smirked and continued slowly, emphasizing every word. "You—didn’t—want—him." His eyes twinkled. "You wanted the Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One."
She disregarded the reference to Seven and instead grasped for more answers to the strange puzzle her life had become over the last couple of months. "You pushed the Flyer off trajectory."
"Yes, I literally, as you said, pushed the darn thing right down to the planet. Mr. Paris is unwittingly on the mark when he doesn’t completely miss it," Q added.
"You could have killed us!"
"Of course, I could have. But that would have defeated the point." He rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "You told Leyton that it was a veritable vacation. So, the food was mediocre, but the view was scrumptious wasn’t it?" He winked at her.
The captain swallowed, understanding immediately to what he was referring; she hadn’t been able to get the sight out of her mind—Seven in the hot spring. Without trying, she could easily remember the rivulets of water rolling down the flat of the statuesque woman’s abdomen.
Q took advantage of her momentary silence. "Oh my, you humans and your restraint, such power. . . ." he said, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "I led you to the fountain, in every way conceivable to your teeny-tiny mind, and yet you still did not drink. . . . A member of a more intelligent species would have taken your lovely Borg as she moaned—"
"Stop!"
"Don’t like the truth?" He lifted his brow and snapped his fingers.
Suddenly, she was standing in waist-deep water. A very naked Seven of Nine loomed in front of her.
"Kathryn," Seven whispered as she entwined her wet hands in Janeway’s hair, drawing her closer.
Janeway grasped Seven’s shoulders, trying to hold the larger woman in place. "Seven, this isn’t—" The blonde’s lips crushed against her own and Kathryn felt all the strength in her arms give way as the other woman pressed their bodies together. Seven’s full breasts slid against hers, and Janeway realized she was also naked.
Another flash and she was standing, fully clothed, and staring at the bulbous features of Q’s face. She glared at him. Her hands balled into fists at her sides.
He smirked. "Don’t you like being wet, Captain?"
She unclenched her fists. "Leave!"
"Kathy, I’m hurt," he pouted, his lips pressing together in a thin line. "Many may not know this, but I’m a sensitive soul. I wear my heart on my sleeve. Leyton—he was sensitive because I made him that way. . . . His sentiments were mine and mine his."
"He wasn’t real."
"Oh, but he was real, Captain. Now he is not. . . . See, didn’t exist, existed, doesn’t anymore. Basic timeline mishmash," he guffawed.
She stared at him as though he was the vilest of creatures.
"Oh, Kathy, you’re getting bogged down in the details. Never mind the prop, which is all Leyton was. . . . You’re obviously missing the point. Forgive me, but it’s time for a little tough love."
She suppressed the urge to ask him what he meant, because she knew it would only encourage him. And more than anything else, she just wanted him to leave. So, instead she turned her back on him and attempted to focus her attention on the porthole.
He sighed as a tiny frown creased his brow. "She would have even accepted the attention of that seventy-six year old." He seemed to consider his own words for a moment. "Yes, maybe that’s the tact I should’ve taken. Somehow I think Admiral Janeway would have been more appreciative than her younger, more pedantic self."
She turned around and stared at him again. "What are you talking about, Q?"
"Oh, never mind! For the Universe’s sake, Kathy, my point is she loves you . . . or yes, what you’re thinking might be right, depending on how far the Vulcans have taken her, she loved you—passionately, in fact. Better not wait much longer or it really will be all over."
She didn’t respond.
"Are you listening?" he asked obnoxiously, sticking his face close to hers.
Unwilling to acknowledge his question, she looked austerely into his face. They stared at each other for a few more moments. Finally, growing tired of the juvenile games, Janeway decided that since he wasn’t leaving she might as well get the answer to the one big question she had. "Why?"
"Not the response I was looking for, but since only a few moments ago you were completely mute, I’ll take it," he mumbled. "Why what?"
"Why all of this elaborate plotting, just for my happiness?"
He crinkled his brow. "Well, yes, that’s the long and short of it. I could go on about fate, destiny, and serendipity, but it’s so much easier—for you to understand—if I just chalk it up to that old Earth axiom—an eye for an eye. You helped me with my boy. He’s the pride of the Continuum! And all because of his Aunt Kathy. Just consider it a little gift from the Q."
"A gift—!"
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Captain, you are on your own from here on out. You must make the correct choice. I won’t be here to help you. There’s an intergalactic conflict that needs my special diplomatic touch. . . . Ta!" With a flourish, he snapped his fingers, and suddenly, she was alone.
ΩΩΩΩ
Sitting in the waiting room outside Admiral Nechayev’s office, the Captain felt overwhelmed—everything seemed too much to process. But one thing was clear to her, if she was going to make amends to Seven, she would have to do so immediately. Chakotay, Tuvok, and even Q had said as much—time was her enemy.
Admiral Nechayev’s assistant came out of the inner office, knocking Janeway squarely out of her reverie. "Captain, you can go in now."
"Thank you," Janeway replied as she stood, walked to the door, and entered the fleet admiral’s office.
"Captain, I’m surprised to hear from you so soon. It’s a pleasure," Nechayev commented lightly.
"Yes, thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Admiral."
The other woman nodded and gestured to the chair in front of her desk. "Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?"
Janeway took the offered chair. "I have a request, Admiral."
"Oh?"
Janeway glanced at her uniform pants as she smoothed them out, and then she met the Admiral’s eyes. "I need some time off."
"Oh?" the Admiral repeated, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Yes, I have a personal matter that must be resolved."
"Anything we need to know about, Captain?"
Janeway smiled knowingly. "No, Admiral. It’s wholly a personal matter—nothing that would require any time spent with a Starfleet counselor." At least she hoped not.
Nechayev chuckled. "Well, you’ve certainly amassed enough leave. Seven years worth, if I recall."
"Seven years worth is correct," Janeway confirmed with a vague smile.
Nechayev’s eyes ran up and over the smaller woman. "Granted. Captain, you are most deserving of some time off. . . . Please, take what you need."
"You don’t want to know how long I will be gone?"
The Admiral dropped her elbows onto her desk and steepled her fingers together. "Captain, I don’t know of anyone more worthy of a vacation." She held up a hand as Janeway started to offer up a dispute. "True, you were on leave recently, but frankly, Captain, I don’t think that matters much. In fact, we were all wondering just when you would need to take leave. It’s common to grant time off after deep space missions and your time in the Delta Quadrant was, well, the deepest."
Janeway stared incredulously at her. She had expected more difficulty obtaining leave. That was why she had made an appointment with the Admiral. But, apparently, her concern was unfounded. "Thank you, Admiral."
"You’re welcome, Captain. . . . Life is too short to waste. As I discovered so recently with the untimely death of Admiral Wescott."
"I heard about his death. It’s unfortunate. My father worked with him and held him in high esteem," Janeway offered.
She waved her hand. "Yes. . . . Well, anyway, you should take some time. I remember quite clearly what it was like to be a captain—it’s exhausting. Let me tell you, being an Admiral is a walk in the park by comparison. As captain, you have all those crewmembers looking for direction, encouragement, and reassurance."
"Or just one crewmember," Janeway thought as she glanced at her hands neatly folded in her lap.
"Captain, you seem a little unnerved. Are you sure that this need for leave is personal?"
Janeway saw her opportunity to get some answers. "It is, Admiral Nechayev. However, I am still . . . curious about the Tox Uthat."
The Admiral seemed to grapple with her last memory of Janeway’s mission. "Oh, you mean the reports from Ratiocination?"
"Yes, that and . . . ," she paused, "everything."
The Admiral got up abruptly and closed the door to her office. Taking her seat again, she said, "Now that we’ve eliminated any possibility of interference, I can explain. . . . You see, Captain, after you obtained the quantum phase inverter we received an intelligence report that someone was attempting to confiscate it and sell it to the highest bidder. The details were sketchy but compelling enough to warrant a great deal of secrecy. No one was above suspicion."
"Including me," Janeway added.
"Including you, your crew, the Ferengi, the Pygorians, and half-a-dozen other groups and factions." Nechayev’s eyes twinkled mirthfully. "That shuttle crash may have inadvertently worked to our benefit as it concealed your whereabouts. It may have even saved your life."
A smirk fleeted sparingly across the Captain’s face. Was this to be the final irony—that Q could be trusted . . . that through all the riddles and all the harassment, he was concerned about her and the good of the universe? Janeway shook her head disbelievingly. It was hard to accept even as she remembered him saying, "It was all for your own good."
"Captain?"
Nechayev’s voice jolted Janeway out of her deliberation. "Yes, Admiral?"
"I hope you’re not offended. We really couldn’t have been more careful," she explained.
"No, of course not. Your scrutiny was called for under the circumstances," she responded perceptively.
"Good. . . . Enjoy your vacation, Captain. You will file the appropriate papers and designate Commander Chakotay as acting captain?" the Admiral reminded.
"Yes, I will," Janeway said, rising from her chair. She extended her hand to the seated woman. Nechayev stood and grasped the Captain’s hand firmly, shaking it. "Thank you again for the grant of leave . . . and also for the explanation," she paused, releasing the Admiral’s hand. "I recognize you didn’t have to supply one, but I appreciate that you did."
Nechayev nodded and smiled. "You are welcome, Captain."
ΩΩΩΩ
Stepping out of the shuttle station, Captain Janeway was overwhelmed—as she always was—by the strange, vermilion-colored world around her. "Red—Seven’s favorite color," she chuckled, wondering why humanoids who wished to control their emotions would seek out such a place. The planet was the antithesis of peace and tranquility, and frankly, she found the whole of it unnerving.
Volcanic rivers, endless seismic activity, not to mention the scorching heat and immense gravitational force that made her drag her feet for the first few minutes after arriving, all contributed to a less than serene feeling. And the only respite came at night, when the brightly burning sun slipped below the horizon. But even the comparative placidity of the darkness was plagued by the planet 40 Eridian C, which appeared as a blood-red pupil in the center of the unblinking pale eye of Vulcan’s only moon.
The entire planet, in fact the complete sector, seemed to be a test of the inhabitant’s mental prowess to control their own extreme emotional states. But maybe that was the point; if they could control themselves here, perhaps it could be done anywhere.
Hefting her duffel bag onto her shoulder, she shuffled along the mud-baked streets. Taking in the long line of buildings, she looked for the hostel Tuvok had suggested she stay at. The town, or maybe village better described the set of interconnected homes and shops, reminded her less of a thriving mecca and more of a secluded commune.
Coming around another bend, she noticed a series of buildings with small cylindrical spires, which seemed to fit the description Tuvok had given her. Opening the narrow door to the courtyard, she spotted a tall Vulcan male who appeared to be tending a small vegetable garden. Sensing her, he turned around abruptly. "May I be of assistance . . . ," he left off as he inspected her uniform. "Captain?"
"Yes," she said as he approached her. "Hello, I’m Kathryn Janeway. I need a place to stay and I was told you take in boarders."
He nodded. "That is correct. I am Vorlek. How long will you be staying?"
"Right down to business," she mused. "A few days, or more, depending on how long it takes me to resolve a couple of matters."
"I have a single-room cottage. I assume it will prove sufficient."
"That’s fine. All I really need is a bed and someplace to put my bag," she replied, gesturing to her duffel.
He nodded again. "Follow me, Captain."
Vorlek led her through the courtyard, away from the main house, and past half a dozen empty-looking buildings. Finally, at the edge of the property, they came to a small, round cottage similar to the others but different in that it was detached from the surrounding buildings.
He pulled open the door. The inside of the dwelling was highlighted by bleached walls, accented by four small windows concentrically placed to allow light to filter in from each direction. It was, as might be expected, sparsely decorated—a single bed at the south end, a replicator flanked by a small table and two chairs near the north end, and a large rug rested in the middle of the lodging.
After inspecting the room briefly, she turned back to her host. She could feel his eyes examining her. She suppressed the urge to glare at him. Vorlek appeared almost antagonistic, much more so than a being that could control his emotions should. "Friendly," she thought derisively.
As though sensing her thoughts, he tilted his head at her. The gesture was much more endearing when Tuvok did it. "If you wish to dine communally, meals occur precisely at daybreak and dusk."
She smiled at him pleasantly; her mother always said you could catch more flies with honey than vinegar. "Thank you," she replied, thinking there wasn’t any reason to antagonize the locals. After all, she had been warned that they were zealous in their religious pursuits of the IDIC, but paradoxically, they were not friendly to outsiders. Closing the door behind Vorlek, she hoped she would not have the need to stay on Vulcan for very long.
ΩΩΩΩ
Immediately after depositing her personal effects in the room, she went looking for the Sovval-Tok temple. Following the main thoroughfare, she found it at the center of the village square. The temple, characterized by a series of soaring turrets, was bold in its golden-colored façade and compelling against a backdrop of verdant gardens and orchards, the entirety of which was surrounded by a great courtyard wall. Masses of people milled about the grounds.
Entering the temple courtyard through the open gate, she stopped just inside. Taken aback, she gazed at the lushness of the gardens and watched the people as they tended the plants. She had hoped to find Seven right away, but she didn’t see her. She was about to inquire with a young Vulcan woman who happened by when she noticed a brightly shining spot just on the other side of a large bush.
Moving around to the edge of the garden, Janeway spotted the blonde head amongst all the brunettes. Seven’s hair haloed her head in the bright sunlight as she knelt on the ground next to a massive bush from which she plucked large, purple berries, and deposited them into a bulky woven basket next to her. Janeway watched, enthralled by the sight.
The intensity of seeing the young woman again registered keenly, causing warm tears to spring to her eyes. Her heart and lungs battled for dominance as her senses consumed the sight. Warmth radiated through her veins, inspiring another cacophony of raw emotion, the severity of which made her feel unsure. One thing was certain, though; she would not leave Vulcan without Seven.
Coming to the edge of the bush, Seven suddenly rocked back on her heels and stood up. Stretching her back a bit, she unknowingly displayed the lovely length of her body to the captain. Janeway felt a very physical charge of desire and was thoroughly ashamed of the reaction. She had come here to apologize and instead she was spying on her like some sort of Peeping Tom. "She offered you everything you wanted and you pushed her away. Don’t you have some pleading to do?" her mind incited.
Almost as though to answer, Seven turned. Her eyes fell on the Captain. Janeway stood still, caught in the torrent of emotions. She didn’t really know what she had expected—a great demonstration of anger or a profound display of anguish—but either reaction would have been preferable to the cool look of detachment Seven gave her instead.
The tall blonde approached Janeway until she was standing two meters from her. Squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin up in that manner the Captain was so accustomed to, Seven clasped her hands behind her.
"Captain Janeway," Seven said with a short nod.
"Seven," Janeway responded evenly.
The ex-Borg inspected her. "Why are you here?"
"Well, that was straight to the point," Kathryn thought. "I came to talk to you. . . . Is there somewhere we can speak?"
Seven glanced around uneasily.
"Do you have a room?" the Captain asked, noting Seven’s discomfort.
"Yes, but I believe the south garden would be more suitable."
Janeway tried not to be offended at the thought that Seven did not want to be alone with her. "All right, the south garden."
She followed the young woman down a meandering trail, under an arbor, and into another large garden. The vegetation was surprisingly profuse and there were several intricately carved benches placed at junctures in the path. At the center was a large three-tier water fountain, which seemed to serve a beautifying as well as utilitarian function by supplying the temple and its surrounding gardens with irrigation.
A heavy floral scent, similar to lavender, was in the air, making Janeway feel strangely light-headed. Approaching one of the benches, the Captain stopped abruptly. "Sit with me?" she asked perching on the bench.
"I prefer—," Seven began.
"I know you prefer to stand, but please, won’t you sit?"
Seven sat at the far edge of the bench. Janeway angled herself so that she was facing Seven’s profile. She studied the other woman for a moment, trying to decide just where she should begin. "First of all, I want to apologize—"
"I accept," Seven said, moving from the bench.
The Captain reached out and clasped Seven’s forearm lightly and pulled her back down. "Please, let me finish."
"Proceed," the ex-drone consented, staring coolly at the place where Janeway’s hand still held onto her.
Kathryn removed her hand and sighed. "What the hell am I going to do to make this right?" she railed at herself. Suddenly feeling very flustered, she stood and paced the short distance to the fountain. She felt the cool drops of water mist her skin.
Seven’s eyes wandered apprehensively over the Captain as she waited for the next shift in emotion. Abruptly, Janeway turned and stalked up to the other woman. Coming to rest directly in front of Seven, she leaned over so that their faces were within centimeters of the other. She stared into the beautiful woman’s eyes. "I love you. I never meant to hurt you, and if there was anything I could do to erase what I did, I would. But I know I can’t, so all I can do is tell you that I am sorry."
Seven leaned back slightly, but maintained the eye contact. "I recognize that you did not mean to hurt me and I accept your apology. And I apologize as well."
Janeway drew back a little. "For what?"
Seven shifted her shoulders. "You were not prepared to be in a relationship with . . . ," she left off. "I knew this and I pursued it anyway. My actions were illogical."
"No, your actions weren’t illogical, Seven. Mine were," she said, depending on her command training to keep the rising sentiment from her voice. She stood and walked slowly back to the fountain. Looking into the water, she said, "Seven, you can’t just get rid of your emotions. You’re right; they often make individuals behave illogically. But they also make us take risks," she paused, struggling for the right words, ". . . which can lead us to the most treasured experiences."
"Captain, I am not getting rid of my emotions. I am learning techniques for managing them."
Suddenly a bell rang out. It took Janeway a moment to realize it was coming from the temple. Seven stood. "We are being summoned for the evening communal meditation. I must go."
Kathryn sighed. She didn’t appear to be making any headway. Watching all the other students, pilgrims, and locals file methodically into the temple, it occurred to her that she was taking the wrong approach. "Maybe what’s needed is a little disparity—a little commotion," she reflected silently. Seven needed to be convinced, but maybe dealing strictly in logic was not the way to do it.
Going on instinct, she reached out and clasped Seven’s hand in her own. Turning it up so that the palm was exposed, she kissed the pulse point lightly. "I am here and I will remain until we are both convinced that you want me to leave."
Seven’s eyes darted wonderingly over Kathryn’s face. The bell rang out again, and she turned to leave. Janeway released her hold reluctantly. If she wasn’t mistaken, she had seen a second of hesitation—a moment of indecision—in the young woman’s demeanor. The Captain’s gaze followed Seven until she disappeared into the temple.
ΩΩΩΩ
The next morning, Janeway got up early and made her way to the temple courtyards where she knew she would find Seven and the other inhabitants of the village attending the massive communal gardens. She had hoped to have the opportunity to catch the young woman alone—just to talk with her again—but it seemed that there were always others toiling close by. So instead of attempting an intimate discussion, which might embarrass the ex-Borg, Kathryn just silenced her mind, worked quietly alongside Seven, and waited for a moment they would be alone together.
Everyone nearby noticed the captain’s presence except the one person she was trying to catch the attention of. Seven had done little to acknowledge her, other than to nod curtly at her. But the Captain wasn’t going to be put off now. She had labored outside the temple for three hours under the ceaseless Vulcan sun. Much like the fruit that had fallen prematurely from their branches and had been discarded and left to spoil in the sun, she felt baked old and yellowed beyond her age. So, when Seven deposited her final batch of berries into the large storage container and made her way to the meditation rooms, Janeway followed closely behind.
The shade of the communal meditation room was cooling and Kathryn felt herself give over to the tranquility as she watched the students loitering quietly around the area. Several of them, including Seven, crossed the room and disappeared down a long hall. Janeway moved quickly to the entrance of the same corridor and just before one of the doors closed, she caught a glimpse of Seven.
Entering the room quietly, she expected to see several students, but there was only one occupant. Closing the door lightly behind her, Kathryn watched Seven as she lit a candle in preparation for her meditative exercises. Picking up the candle, Seven walked to the center of the room and sat down cross-legged on the floor. Leaning against the wall just inside the door, Kathryn waited for Seven to greet her in some way. But she didn’t; she only stared at the flame, using it to harness the focus she would need to meditate.
Unsure what she should do, Janeway stared at the patterns of light cast on the wall. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to be disruptive, but she couldn’t just fade into the background either. Abruptly, she pushed away from the wall and paced agitatedly across the small room. Seven’s only response seemed to be to close her eyes and begin chanting inaudibly. Kathryn knew she would have to turn it up a notch. "When my fiancé and my father were killed, do you know what I did?"
Seven continued her meditative exercises.
"I slept. I pulled the covers over myself like an ostrich burying her head in the sand. I ignored the universe and receded from my own life. I was depressed . . . demoralized. I doubted everything I knew. I wanted answers to questions I had never before even fathomed. I was despondent and I stayed that way for days. Hell, I stayed that way for months!"
Seven opened her eyes and stared at a spot on the wall several centimeters to the left of Janeway’s head. "If you wish to remain, you must lower your voice, Captain."
Janeway ignored her. "Then Phoebe came to my room. She told me I was being a coward. That I could lie in the darkness for the rest of my life and the answers would never come. She said I had to live without them or I would never live at all."
Seven opened her eyes, picked up the candle, and unfolded herself from the floor. Standing up gradually, she extinguished the candle. She didn’t once look at the Captain.
Janeway sighed. "Seven, until I met you, I thought I had it down; I thought I had taken it to heart. I took risks everywhere. But now, I realize that I am still only partly living."
Seven moved slowly to the table in the corner and put the candle down next to the others.
Janeway continued on, unwilling to waste one moment of their time alone. There were so many things she wanted to say. "You were right. I am afraid. I’m here and I’m still afraid," she said, coming up behind the other woman. "But now the fear is so much more." Janeway reached out tentatively, putting her hand on the blonde’s back. "And part of me is very angry, Seven. Do you know why? Because by leaving, you proved that I was right." Janeway drew in a slow, calming breath. "You proved that the person I love would abandon me."
Seven turned a pained look on her.
And Kathryn noticed even as her hand dropped away from Seven’s back. "I know, I know. I pushed you away. I forced you to . . . to leave. But it still came true, didn’t it?"
Seven stared openly at Janeway now. Breathing deeply, she looked at the ground, seemed to murmur a word, and then something settled inside her. "Captain, I must return to the temple."
Kathryn tilted her head down, closed her eyes, and pursed her lips. Taking a stabilizing breath, she opened her eyes again and regarded her companion. "All right, I will see you tomorrow."
ΩΩΩΩ
Seven sat cross-legged on the hard-packed floor of the small hut, which served as her temporary living quarters while on Vulcan. Upon first seeing the small quarters attached to the meditation rooms, she had been surprised by their archaic design. After all, the Vulcans were a technologically advanced race of humanoids. Certainly, they would have used that technology to make their habitat more comfortable.
However, after having spent a good deal of time here over the last week, she had come to appreciate the simplicity inherent in the whitewashed walls, rounded corners, arching doorways, and sparse decoration. It was somehow comforting to have her environment stripped down to the barest elements—uncluttered and unconfused.
Rolling her right shoulder, she attempted to relieve the small ache caused by the persistently maligned bi-radial clamp. Her shoulder had been bothering her for two weeks now, and with a note of irony, she recognized the dull throb had manifested more strongly since the Captain’s appearance. "Stress," she thought as she rubbed the sore muscles.
Massaging her shoulder one final time, she straightened her back and laid her hands loosely on her thighs. She attempted to find a satisfactory position, but comfort eluded her. Her right anklebone was digging into the hard-packed floor beneath her. "Concentrate. You must complete your meditative exercises," she ordered, but instead she found herself focusing intently on the sharp pain mounting in her ankle and echoing soundly in her knee joint. Wriggling on the floor, she attempted to find a more favorable position.
But even after placing a mat beneath her and assuming the more suitable loshiraq position, Seven could still not turn off the well-spring of her thoughts—the petite, vigorous, auburn-headed woman, whose eyes drew her in and threatened to overwhelm her control. She could still see the way Kathryn’s eyes had glimmered at her after their first kiss. She could still smell the warm, fresh scent of her. She could still feel the smooth, lightly freckled skin under her fingertips. And she could still remember the way those sensations made her body react.
Drawing herself up onto her knees, she assumed the leshriq position. She pressed her palms together, steepling her index fingers, and focused on the candle. And although the flames enthralled her as they licked up the wick, she still couldn’t find her focus. Her thoughts trailed on.
Clearly, Janeway wished to resolve their conflict but what was not comprehensible was what she wished for her to do. The captain had apologized, she had accepted, and yet the strong-willed woman insisted that Seven had not forgiven her. Why was she always at an impasse with this woman?
Seven would never be able to resume her studies with any sort of success as long as these issues remained unresolved. It was far too disconcerting to have the vibrant woman hovering about one moment, concerned and doting, and then striding about the next, confrontational and aggressive. The wide gamut of emotions unsettled Seven. And then there was the difficulty of the Captain’s physical presence—the penetrating gray-blue of her eyes; the slender elegance of her hands; the dusky resonance of her voice; the innate perfection of her smile—altogether it was most distracting. And the ex-drone believed that was Janeway’s intent . . . to divert her.
The captain’s effort was so thorough that Seven found she was unable to compensate and her only defense was her Borg past; she pretended to be the colorless, stiff drone she was once. She removed herself from her environment and locked out her emotions. The odd thing was the severely stoic behavior made her feel peculiarly restrained. It was almost as though confining herself to these rigid responses made her feel as if she was trapped in a bottle and the only way out was to shatter the glass from the inside. "Claustrophobic like Tom," she found herself assessing silently.
And that was another issue Seven had not anticipated. She never expected to miss the individuals of her former collective. From beginning to end, all of her relationships with the members of Voyager’s crew had been uncertain. Ultimately, though, she held in her mind the memory of every person and she supposed she was in their memories, too—this was the legacy—and in this way they would always be together. But somehow memories did not appear to be enough.
Seven felt a sudden biting pain in her thigh. Looking down, she realized that her Borg-implanted hand was gripping her thigh ruthlessly. Relaxing her hand, she took a steadying breath. Maybe the captain was right; she was still angry and she hadn’t forgiven her.
ΩΩΩΩ
On this morning, the captain had managed to procure herself a spot in the shade under the overhang of the temple. So, at the very least, she didn’t resemble an Arcadian sewer rat when the blonde had appeared after the morning meditation. As soon as she had seen Seven, she had stepped up behind her and followed her into an arboretum. She had hoped that yesterday’s confession would have been a breakthrough; it had been for her.
But today, Seven was still remarkably unresponsive; that was how Janeway had come to describe Seven’s outstanding capacity to ignore her. The only time Seven even seemed to acknowledge her presence was when she acted outside her character by doing or saying something shocking. It was bad enough that people gazed peculiarly at her as she passed by. "The Starfleet Captain Stalker," she thought. "That’s shocking enough, isn’t it?"
But she was determined. If she had to indecorously throw herself at Seven’s feet, that’s exactly what she would do. Suddenly it came to her. Maybe if she revealed something shocking, even more scandalous than what she had already bared, Seven would be more responsive. . . "Do you remember the hot springs?"
Seven dipped her head in affirmation, and then hefted up a basket.
Janeway took a steadying breath. "What happened on the second day we went to the hot springs?"
Moving off towards the trees lining the perimeter, the ex-Borg said, "We did not go to the hot springs a second time, Captain. I went unaccompanied."
Kathryn followed behind her. "No, you didn’t. I followed you there."
That caught the young woman’s attention. "I do not understand."
"After you left the cave, I changed my mind and followed you to the hot springs."
Seven’s eyes darted over Janeway, and then fell back onto the treetops. But it was long enough for Janeway to recognize the surprise as it crossed over Seven’s face. A little shock value could go a long way.
Seven slipped the basket from her shoulder to the ground. "You were observing me." It was a statement not a question.
"Yes, Seven, as inappropriate as it was, I was watching you."
Seven pulled her shoulders back and turned around. Her anger was almost apparent. "To what end?"
Kathryn answered as honestly as she could. "I wanted to . . . I needed to. You made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a very long time . . . things I thought I might not ever feel again."
"What things?"
"Admiration. Desire. Love." Kathryn walked away from Seven. "God, this is hard," she mumbled as she turned around to look at the ex-drone. "Seven, I love you. . . . Please, I’m so sorry."
"I have accepted your apology, Captain."
"That’s just it. I don’t think you have, not really."
"I do not understand what you wish for me to do."
"Oh, Seven," she said, pinching the bridge between her eyes. Then she looked up at the other woman. "I want you to come home."
Her eyes darted away from Kathryn and focused on the trees again. "This is the home I have chosen."
Janeway sighed. She watched the tall woman reach up and pick several pieces of fruit from the tree. Nothing was working. She just didn’t seem to be able to push past the hurt she had caused. "Seven, after you’re finished here, what will you do?"
She dropped the fruit in the basket. "I will find a useful position somewhere."
"She has an answer for everything," Janeway thought, absently running her fingers through her hair. "You seem to have everything figured out. So, maybe you can help me."
Seven tilted her chin up, her eyes resting levelly on Kathryn’s face.
"Tell me, what will I do?"
"Captain?"
Her eyes searched Seven’s. "What will I do, knowing that you’re out there somewhere and that I haven’t any part in your life?" she asked plaintively. "Will you become a celebrated scientist? Will you fall in love? Marry? Have children?" Janeway moved her hand up to her forehead as she turned and moved away. "I have to know those things, Seven." Only now realizing how very true it was, she took a long, shuddering breath. "Even if I’m not the one you share your life with, I need to know."
Seven swallowed reflexively over the building knot in her throat. "There is nothing to prevent us from being friends."
The Captain, nodding her head, turned away. "I understand."
Seven heard the disconsolation, and the more familiar resignation, coloring Janeway’s tone as she had muttered those words. She examined Janeway’s narrow shoulders, which seemed to tremble with every breath. With a slow inhalation, Seven began, "Tomorrow, I begin the initiation to the A-riv-ne. I am supposed to have a family member or friend participate with me for the first time. I do not have anyone. A Sovval-Tok monk may act as substitute, but I would rather you be my partner."
Taking a steadying breath, Janeway wiped away the tears that had begun to threaten her composure. "Yes . . . yes, I would like that."
Seven, nodded shortly, unsure that she had made a wise decision. "The exercise is to take place at daybreak, Captain." She inspected Janeway once more for signs of acute distress, and when she was assured they were no longer excessive, she picked up the basket, and left.
ΩΩΩΩ
Janeway was not exactly sure what the A-riv-ne entailed. But at least now after a lengthy conversation with Tuvok, she was vaguely familiar with the ritual and its ceremonial significance. She and Seven would participate in what she could only call ‘relaxation exercises for two.’
Tuvok had informed her about what to wear and how to guide Seven in the ritual, if only symbolically. And now she stood in the center of the room, waiting to initiate her friend into what she could only term as Vulcanhood. The Captain snorted. This was her every nightmare come true. It was a complete farce. She felt bitter and hurt. As much as she respected Vulcan culture and principles, she wanted Seven not some Vulcan imitation. "You should have thought about that before. You took advantage of the fact that you believed she would always be there. . . . Your own fear caused this," her mind bit back at her.
She shook the self-deprecation off as the door creaked open and Seven appeared. She was dressed in apparel similar to Janeway’s white gi, except that she was wearing the traditional pale blue sash of the initiate around her waist. Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail. How utterly human the young woman looked was astonishing to Janeway.
Once again a brief nod was Seven’s only acknowledgement of Kathryn. Apparently, Seven had little else to say. "Shall we begin?" Kathryn asked, taking a spot at the center of the mat.
Seven joined her. "You are familiar with the A-riv-ne?"
"Tuvok gave me a crash course," Janeway said, assuming the stance for the first exercise.
Seven stared at her for a moment, and then followed suit, her body position mimicking Janeway’s. Gravitating first towards and then past one another, their eyes met with focused intent, as they grew accustomed to mirroring one another’s movements in a delicate dance of echoes.
Sliding back, they raised their arms up and flexed their palms, giving the impression of their hands joining in familiar regard. The shifting of their positions inspired a fleeting exchange of wind that whispered past, raising the fine hairs on Kathryn’s forearms. Slowly, they lowered their arms, their hands brushing over their knees, and then expanding back out towards each other. Their faces met, vision narrowing.
Crossing their arms back up and then stretching them wide, they seemed to reach expectantly for each other. Opening their stance and advancing, they appeared to embrace, their bodies converging. They were so close, the smaller woman could feel the warmth of Seven’s breath on her cool cheek, and the contrast of sensations expanded sharply, resonating through Janeway’s body. The stretch of leg insinuated between hers, the gentle gyration of their hips, and the ensuing intake of breath from Seven set free a flurry of butterflies in Kathryn’s abdomen.
Without warning, Janeway stopped and stood up straight, bringing them eye to eye. Still posturing, Seven gazed watchfully, looking for some suggestion of Janeway’s intent. But it was too late, before she could move away, Kathryn had captured her face in her hands and had tried to draw their mouths together. But Seven resisted, rising to her full height.
"Seven, please?" the request was simple in its plaintive state, and Seven hesitated, giving Janeway the opportunity to press up on her toes and brush her lips pensively against the blonde’s. Seven stood motionless, her body inert, but at least she didn’t move away.
Taking this as encouragement, Kathryn tilted her head and captured Seven’s lips more boldly as she wrapped her arms around Seven’s back, tugging their bodies together. "One response, any response," she begged Seven silently even as she shivered through a blaze of arousal.
But Seven did not respond.
Pulling away, Janeway swallowed hard. Looking into the unaffected eyes of her companion, she realized she had to let it go. She had pushed her too far and it was too late. "I’m sorry, Seven. I had hoped that what you’ve been telling me was just a way of driving me away. I was mistaken and I apologize. I will leave immediately."
The Captain straightened her shoulders and turned to leave. As she extended her arm to open the door, her wrist was seized and used to turn her around. Suddenly, she was thrust backward against the wall. Her body hit the hard surface with a blunt thud and her skull would have cracked against it, if Seven’s hand hadn’t been cradling her head from behind. Seven’s mouth latched onto hers frantically. Kathryn felt as though she was being consumed, all the breath and energy being pulled forcibly from her body. But she took it all in, and even encouraged it, pressing her mouth and body wantonly against Seven.
Feeling the passion pump through her, Kathryn was lost in the unfettered physicality of the moment, so much so that she was surprised when Seven pulled away abruptly. She stared back into Seven’s face, her pale eyes were wide with desire and her mouth gasped, demanding a calming breath. Then, Seven’s eyes moved off and Kathryn could see that she was slowly regaining some of her restraint.
"No . . ." she breathed as she guided Seven’s lips back down to hers. Without any response forthcoming, she ran her hands up along Seven’s arms and shoulders, over her neck to the back of her head. Holding her in place, she kissed Seven tenderly, her lips nipping and sucking lightly on the full mouth. Dedicatedly, unsparingly, Kathryn attempted to strip away Seven’s control.
And then, finally, in answer for her efforts there was a hand on Kathryn’s cheek. Caressing it, Seven let her lips mold against the older woman’s. It was a tempered kiss at first, but the next touch was more intense as Seven’s tongue slipped out and skimmed across the waiting pair of lips. Kathryn groaned and pressed herself closer to Seven, who deepened the kiss.
But Janeway wanted more; she needed to have more. Infiltrating her hands under the material, she invaded the tunic of Seven’s gi. Deliberately, she dragged her hands down the bumps along Seven’s spine. Seven shivered against her and kissed her harder.
Kathryn ached from Seven’s evolving attention, which had moved from her lips to her jaw and was now focused on the tender flesh of her neck. Her body quaked and her knees grew weak from the soft assault. And she couldn’t control the moan that once again escaped unbidden from her throat.
Pulling back, Seven looked into Janeway’s face as she touched the exposed skin of her upper chest. Boldly, the blonde parted the material of Kathryn’s wraparound gi, trailing a path from Kathryn’s clavicle, between her breasts, and down to her navel. The slightly cooler metal contrasted sharply against Kathryn’s hot skin and made her feel light-headed. Kathryn moaned low in the back of her throat as she tried to hold off the waves of pleasure overtaking her.
Grasping the edges of the gi, Seven watched Janeway’s responses, waiting to see if the modest woman would stop her. But the Captain didn’t utter a word, which correspondingly caused Seven to grow bolder. Pushing the cloth apart and uncovering Kathryn’s breasts, the young woman stared at the pliant mounds topped by large, pale pinkish-brown nipples. Seven looked back into the other woman’s face as she ran her fingertips over the areolas and Kathryn gasped as the velvety tips hardened and puckered responsively.
The ex-drone’s eyes bored into Kathryn’s before dropping again to her exposed chest. Her body thrumming with arousal, she watched as Seven’s hands covered her breasts and massaged gently. Janeway’s hands remained at her sides, neither encouraging nor discouraging the exploration. The Captain knew she should stop this; the meditation rooms were public places. "Seven, we shouldn’t. . . . Not in here."
Seven’s eyes, the pupils large and dark, gleamed at her. And then she kneeled, bringing her to just about eye-level with the shorter woman’s breasts.
Kathryn sipped in a breath. "She’s testing you. Will you win or lose?" Janeway’s mind provoked. "Win," she thought, tangling her hands in Seven’s hair as she watched the perfect lips latch onto her nipple. Viewing the scene from heavily lidded eyes, the Captain was forced to let go of any reserve she had left. Pressing herself into Seven’s mouth, she allowed herself to fully enjoy the sweet tugging and pulling.
Tilting back a little, Seven hooked her fingers into the waistline of Kathryn’s pants as she stared down at the heated place between her partner’s legs. She moved her gaze up, meeting Janeway’s eyes. "I wish to make love to you. Will you allow it?"
Kathryn took a step back from Seven as she slipped the wraparound tunic the rest of the way off her shoulders. Then slowly she bent low, pulling her pants and undergarments off. Completely naked now, she knelt in front of Seven and took her face gently in her hands. Staring into the blazing blue eyes, she breathed, "Please."
Seven stood unexpectedly and Kathryn experienced a wrenching moment of fear. But as she met the young woman’s eyes, Seven took up her hand and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of the palm. Pulling gently, she raised Kathryn slowly to her feet.
Thrusting her arm around her waist, Seven crushed Kathryn to her and kissed her languidly before taking her by the hand again and drawing her backwards to a door. Concealed the way it was in the wall, she had never noticed it before. "Her room," Kathryn guessed silently, unwilling to break the spell of the moment with words.
Opening the door, Seven led her into the small bedroom. Gazing down intently at Kathryn, she pulled her smoothly into another heated embrace. Arms, legs, and lips entwining gracefully, they moved slowly towards the large, billowy cushions that comprised Seven’s sleep space.
With each movement, the woven linen of the gi rasped provocatively against Kathryn’s breasts, hardening the nipples, torching her body with desire, and reminding her that Seven was still dressed. "Clothes," she murmured, her voice husky.
Seven pulled back hesitantly from kissing Kathryn’s neck. "Your clothes will not be discovered. The rooms are private," she rasped, nuzzling back into the hollow of her neck. "We won’t be disturbed."
"No," Kathryn said, cupping the younger woman’s flushed face. "Your clothes . . . I need them off."
"Oh," Seven breathed distractedly, looking into the deep blue eyes of her lover.
Still caught in Seven’s gaze, Kathryn slipped her hands between their bodies, grasping at the sash and pulling until the knot came undone. Smoothing her hands over Seven’s shoulders, she pushed the gi off, both items falling to the floor. Using her fingertips and palms, she stroked the voluptuous body, kneading the ample mounds and caressing the large, pink nipples that jutted out, growing harder even as Kathryn watched.
Sliding lower, Kathryn slipped the pants of Seven’s gi over her hips and down her long legs. Seven stepped nimbly out of the garments as Kathryn moved back up. Shifting back into the waiting embrace, she pressed her mouth to the expectant lips as thighs brushed together, bellies collided, and breasts crushed against each other.
Stepping backward, Seven pulled Kathryn along with her until she felt the backs of her knees meet the edge of the bed. Sitting, she slowly and methodically drew Kathryn down on top of her, their bodies molding and sliding together as they reclined. "Oh, God," Kathryn husked, feeling Seven’s hot mouth come down on the muscles of her neck as her hands stroked the slender sinew of her back.
Kathryn rose up onto her elbows. Hovering above the blonde, she used her hands to brush over Seven’s full breasts, her fingertips rediscovering the pinkish nipples, which were so pliant and silky despite their stiffness. Her body and the soft sounds Seven made urged her to make her way down from Seven’s lips, over her jaw, down to the elegant neck. When Kathryn finally reached the firm tips of her breasts, she used her tongue to swirl over the protuberance lightly, and then sipped it into her mouth, her lips slipping around it and sucking gently.
After lavishing attention on both receptive mounds, Kathryn—urged on by the constant moans elicited by her young lover—trailed her breasts and lips slowly down Seven’s body, stopping to lick the narrow, silver implants spanning Seven’s abdomen before dipping her tongue into her navel. Moving lower, she pulled her fingers through the thin patch of curly blonde hair, tugging at it gently, and listening to the soft gasps of her partner.
Cautiously, she eased apart Seven’s long legs, positioning herself between them. Staring at the folds of the young woman’s wet and swollen sex, she had a moment of trepidation. Could she satisfy this woman? Glancing back up the length of Seven’s body, she met the young woman’s eyes, heavily lidded and watching her. "Nothing like trying," she mused, looking back down at the glistening flesh she realized she so wanted to taste.
Using her fingertips, she gently opened the thick outer lips, and dipping her head, she leaned forward and skimmed her tongue tentatively over the puffy inner folds.
"Kathryn!" Seven cried out, her voice hoarse with desire, her hips thrusting up. This being all the encouragement she needed, she pressed her mouth against Seven’s sex, lapping at it eagerly. As Kathryn heightened the intimate exploration by flicking her tongue against the sensitive, little mass of enlarged and aching nerves, the blonde whimpered and undulated.
Brushing the flat of her tongue against the sensitive organ, Seven responded immediately by driving her sex rhythmically against the ardent mouth. She thrust so wildly that Kathryn had to use her hands to hold down her hips, to maintain contact with the engorged clit, until finally, Seven climaxed, every muscle in her body growing rigid and then lax.
Almost immediately, Kathryn moved up into the young woman’s arms, covering the flushed body with her own, whispering inarticulate words of love into Seven’s ear. After the blonde’s breathing slowed to shallow gasps of air, she clasped the other woman to her, rolling Kathryn onto her back, eager to indulge her partner in the same pleasures she had just experienced.
Staring down intently, Seven captured Kathryn’s lips in an explosive kiss. The already aroused woman pressed up, slipping her hands around Seven’s back and grinding her hips against her. Understanding Kathryn’s inflamed state, Seven immediately moved over her breasts, heightening her anticipation as the full lips nuzzled the soft mounds, finally clamping over a turgid peak.
Kathryn’s fingers tangled in the silky hair, pulling Seven’s head near. It occurred to Seven that she could not be much closer, but she enjoyed the enthusiastic response nonetheless. Shifting to the left breast, Seven sucked on Kathryn’s other nipple, and used her fingertips to manipulate the right breast, avidly massaging the pliant mound.
Suddenly, she grasped Seven’s hand and pressed it over her delicately rounded stomach to the hollow of her hips. "Please, Seven," she husked, directing Seven’s hand to the thatch of wiry auburn hair. Curiously, Seven touched the curling hair, stroking it, and then swept her hand down between Kathryn’s legs.
Kathryn felt Seven's fingers carefully stretch the lips of her sex apart, the young woman's fingers slipping between the slick folds and gliding through the moisture. Seven’s fingertips brushed the rigid swelling at the top of her sex, causing a loud cry to rip from Kathryn’s throat, her eyes shutting involuntarily from the exquisite pleasure.
The older woman breathed in deeply, her chest rising and falling with exertion. "Inside," Kathryn urged throatily. Intrigued, Seven penetrated the tight, moist channel, using her finger to probe carefully. The inner walls of the smaller woman’s vagina clenched her finger, and Seven noted how that contraction of muscles affected another reaction, sweeping over Kathryn and bowing her back. Moving her hand rhythmically, thrusting within the tight orifice, she used her thumb to flit over the hardness at the apex of the other woman’s sex. In response, Kathryn’s hips jerked against her, the movements increasingly frenzied and uncontrolled.
Seven observed the flush of color moving over her lover’s body and the reflexive puckering of her nipples. With her hands occupied, Seven moved her lips over the breast closest to her mouth, kissing it, her teeth grazing the nipple. The next thing she knew, a cry burst from Kathryn’s lungs as she grabbed the blonde’s head, burying it against her breasts. And then, just as suddenly, her body arched off the bed as the supple canal surrounding Seven's fingers convulsed.
As the small tremors passed away, Kathryn reached for Seven, encircling her in her arms and tangling their legs together. Noticing the heat and wetness slathering her thigh and the tremulous sigh issuing from her lover’s lips, Kathryn realized the blonde was aroused and anxious for more amorous attention. Kathryn reached out and tweaked a nipple.
"Kathryn, . . ." The plea was soft and alluring.
Taking Seven’s face in her hands, she caressed a cheek as a wry grin curled her lips. "Seven?"
"Kathryn, I . . . need you," the young woman said, trying to express the desire coursing through her.
"I know, my love," she said, pulling Seven’s lips down to hers, initiating another round of lovemaking.
ΩΩΩΩ
Feeling hot and utterly lethargic, Kathryn woke slowly. Breathing deeply as her awareness expanded, she gradually became alert to the warm body wrapped amorously around her own. Everywhere, hot, sticky skin pressed delightfully against her, clueing her to the fact that she and her companion were completely naked.
Arching her back to stretch lazy muscles, she opened her eyes little by little and took in her surroundings. Looking down at the body entwined so intimately with hers, her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sleep-softened features of Seven of Nine’s face. A tousled flaxen head rested heavily on her chest and a long arm was tossed casually over her shoulder. "Beautiful," she mused, a crooked grin twisting her lips.
As she contemplated the aquiline nose and the long, pale lashes lying softly against her companion’s face, the events of the previous day . . . and night came back gradually to her. A vibrant smile donned Kathryn’s face even as she remembered why her muscles felt sore and achy. "In the very best way," she murmured lowly.
Kathryn examined her for a moment longer until her stomach rumbled loudly, waking the blonde woman. First there was a soft inhalation, and then blue eyes, still dark with sleep, opened.
Discovering the woman beneath her, Seven's face melted into a warm smile. "Kathryn," she muttered softly as she rose up slightly, pressing her lips tenderly against the other woman’s.
"Good morning," Kathryn greeted huskily as Seven continued to gaze at her with a sleepy expression.
"Good morning," the younger woman rasped.
Just as Seven leaned into Kathryn for another kiss, the door banged open. Vorlek and three other male Vulcans erupted into the room.
Before Janeway could stop her, Seven vaulted up and advanced on the intruders. Alert to the phasers trained on her mate, the Captain grabbed frantically for her arm. "Seven, don’t."
Vorlek’s eyes moved over the two women. This display was not what he had expected. "Get dressed," he ordered.
"What the hell is going on?" Janeway bellowed.
"Get dressed, Captain Janeway," he repeated.
PART V
Vorlek shoved the Captain backward into the room. Stumbling, she bumped into Seven. Immediately regaining her balance, she eyed her captors. "Under Federation law, you must advise us of the charges against us," she pushed, her voice flinty.
He sneered at her. "Captain, when we are ready to inform you of the charges, we will come for you."
Realizing that he was about to shut the door, Janeway stepped back before he could slide it closed on her. A second later, they were alone in a small, gray-walled room, which seemed to function as a provisional holding cell.
"Captain," Seven began to address her, but Janeway’s hand went up warningly. Seven watched the smaller woman’s eyes travel suspiciously around the empty room, until finally she met the ex-Borg’s gaze. Raising an eyebrow, she gestured hastily to all sides of the room. With only that, Seven recognized that Janeway wanted her to search for surveillance devices. Seven, looking at the other woman, could almost hear her thoughts—"You take this side. I’ll take that one."
The Captain moved off to the right and Seven took the left, both immediately setting about trying to determine if they were being watched or listened to. After closely inspecting the walls, floor, ceiling, and the single light source of the otherwise empty room, they were both convinced it was all right to speak freely.
Janeway’s eyes moved over Seven. "Any idea what’s going on here?"
"None."
The Captain sighed, scrutinizing one of the blank walls. "I have the feeling that, whoever these people are, they don’t operate in accordance with Federation law."
Seven lifted a brow. "I concur."
Janeway’s gaze slipped across the barren walls and landed on the door. "We have to get out of here. . . . Maybe there is a hidden access panel or something."
Seven rocked back, unclasped her hands, and moved to the back wall. Sliding her fingers over the smooth surface, she searched for a seam or break in the white plaster that might grant a way to escape.
Janeway moved to the front of the room and inspected the door. Slipping her fingers into the door’s seal, she tugged. "No give at all. But there might be for Seven." As the thought occurred, she turned to get the blonde’s attention. It was then that she noticed the young woman had herself pressed up against the right-facing wall. Perplexed, Janeway uttered, "Seven?"
The blonde held up her hand. "I can hear them."
Janeway moved up alongside her Astrometrics officer. Tilting her head in the same fashion as Seven, she listened. But she didn’t hear anything. "What are they saying?"
Seven held up her hand again, requesting silence. Janeway stilled her impatience by crossing her arms and studying the blonde woman’s profile.
Finally, Seven pulled back from the wall and said, "They have left." Then she fell into silence, trying to decide what piece of information to give the Captain first.
Janeway waited as patiently as she could, but her curiosity won out. "What did the Vulcans say?"
Seven thought that was as good a place to start as any. "Remans, Captain."
Janeway appeared baffled for a second. "Remans?"
"Yes, the individuals that apprehended us are impersonating Vulcans, and have been for many years," she said, pausing to inspect the small lines that grew deeper around Janeway’s eyes.
"Go on," the Captain encouraged. "Why?"
"In order to infiltrate Federation space and find the quantum phase inverter."
"Too late," Janeway said smugly.
Seven lifted a brow. "Inaccurate, Captain."
"What?"
"According to their conversation, it is in their possession."
"Impossible!"
"They speculated that we are on a covert mission to take it back, but they are not sure for whom we are working."
The Captain pressed her hand against her eyes, and then ran her fingers up over her forehead. Throwing her hands up, she gestured to the air, expressing her frustration with a wave of her hand. "What exactly does that mean?"
"That is not clear, Captain. However, they seemed to be trying to ascertain whether they should contact the Admiral."
She tapped her finger against her lip. "The Admiral," she repeated questioningly, and then her face lit up. "Nechayev?"
"They were not specific."
"What the hell is going on here?" she asked, her mind searching frantically for an explanation. Crossing her arms over her chest, she wandered across the room.
Seven’s eyes followed her. "Captain, there is more."
Janeway nodded her acknowledgment and turned back to Seven.
"The Remans are going to deploy the quantum phase inverter."
"Here?"
"No. They intend to smuggle it into Romulan space and use it to destroy Romulus."
Janeway, a look of complete horror on her face, took a step back. Clutching at her stomach, she managed to still the dread swirling in her abdomen. "Why?" she breathed. "Did they say why?"
"No, they did not; however, I can speculate."
"Please," the Captain pushed out.
"The Romulan Star Empire is comprised of numerous factions, including the Remans. Before the Federation made contact with them, they warred against each other. When the Federation approached them, it gave them a common enemy to unite against. Over the years, there have been extremist factions that have conceded from the union due to internal competition for decreasing planetary resources, particularly dilithium."
"But why such an extreme measure? I mean, destroy the sister planet?"
"A Romulan prophesy states, ‘When no more the mutual twins are uniformly fed from the womb, inert is the uncertain empire of the star until it yields but one’. This prediction has given rise to a common belief amongst Remans that annihilating one of the sister worlds will allow the other to grow strong."
"Leaving the single planet to receive all the resources of the system . . . intriguing," the Captain said, momentarily forgetting that fulfilling this prophecy would mean the death of many people.
"Misguided . . . destroying Romulus would invariably cast Remus out of its orbit and send it into the sun with the greatest gravitational pull."
Janeway’s eyes grew large with disbelief. "Then why?"
"I believe the Remans are willing to discount the reality of the situation, because the prophecy offers recompense for the injustices they have suffered at the hands of the Romulan Star Empire. The Romulans have pillaged Remus of its rich deposits of dilithium and subjected the Reman population to a caste-like system in which they have become the undesirables."
"I see," Janeway paused. "If I'm following your line of thought, you believe the Vulcan imposters are members of one of these Reman factional groups, and that they intend to carry out the prophecy."
"That is the most logical conclusion."
The Captain contemplated this new bit of information, realizing that they were dealing with the fervor of religious zealots. Correction—Reman religious zealots. Janeway tried to recall all she knew about Remans, which wasn’t much. One thing, repeated through her mind though—Remans, like their Romulan relatives, were extremely antagonistic but they lacked the intrinsically compassionate nature of the other group. Things would be getting worse before better.
Glancing up, she took in her companion’s profile. "Seven, they will . . . interrogate us. When that time comes, I want you to tell them that you do not know what the objective of the mission is, only that you were given orders to portray yourself as a student disciple of the Srunihki Order."
Seven looked gravely at the small woman. "We must escape before they interrogate us."
"I doubt we will be able to find a way out of this room before they come for us," Janeway left off, watching the bit of panic flutter over Seven’s expression. "But let’s not stop searching. Besides, I think the first round we’ll be all right. They will be trying to gather as much groundwork as they can before they really try to coax the details from us."
Seven didn’t like the way Janeway said ‘coax’, or for that matter, the way her pulse jumped in her throat when she had said ‘interrogate’. The ex-Borg was not worried about herself. Her nanoprobes would rapidly heal almost any injury the Remans could inflict. But Kathryn didn’t have this advantage. "Captain, at whatever cost, you must preserve your—"
Knowing what Seven was about to suggest, Janeway interrupted, "So, we are back to Captain, are we?" she asked teasingly.
"You are attempting to soothe me by distracting me with humor."
"Maybe," Janeway said noncommittally.
"It is unnecessary. We have encountered worse adversaries. We’ll be fine, Captain."
Janeway smiled reassuringly at Seven, but truthfully, she wasn’t sure they had encountered worse opponents. It wasn’t the Remans and their reckless and foolish plan that made her think that; it was the lack of knowing just who was involved. Until she could determine how deeply this conspiracy had infiltrated into Starfleet—or for that matter, the Federation—she and Seven were alone in this situation. But this isolation would be one of the first things she would try to change.
ΩΩΩΩ
The next morning, Vorlek and another guard, came for the Captain. After walking down several labyrinth-like corridors, Janeway was escorted into a room. Two men stood on either side of a third man, who was sitting at a large, sleek desk. Upon her entrance, the two men moved off, giving her the opportunity to see the person who was obviously in command. He was wearing the robes of the town magistrate.
He nodded shortly to the guards flanking her and she was unceremoniously pushed down into a chair in the middle of the room. He nodded again and the guards moved off to flank the door.
Sitting with his elbows propped on the desk, he took a moment to inspect her. She knew that being a small female often gave her an advantage, especially with the more arrogant species of humanoids. She could almost hear his thoughts . . . she is human, weak, harmless.
Suddenly, he unclasped his hands, the movement pulling her from her reflections. "So kind of you to join us . . . I’m Magistrate Xonrek. It’s a pleasure to meet the illustrious Captain Kathryn Janeway."
She stared at him, her eyes narrowing perceptibly. "Magistrate Xonrek, I wish I could say the pleasure was mutual."
He snorted and his lips almost twitched into a smile. "Well, all pleasantries aside, Captain, I’ll be direct. Why are you here?"
She leveled a look at him. "Magistrate, I wish I could tell you. But as you brought me here, you would know better than I."
He clenched his jaw. "I digress then. What’s your mission on Vulcan?"
"Only to bring back Seven of Nine."
He got up, moved towards her, and then behind her. "To reclaim your lover? Is that so?"
She could not see him, but she knew he was hovering just over her right shoulder. "It is," she responded.
She saw it before it happened or so it seemed. Suddenly, his hand came down, contacting her cheek and lip, and causing her head to snap down against her chest. At that moment, she hoped Seven, if she was being interrogated, had chosen to defy her orders. Because following the orders Janeway had given her earlier might get the stubborn ex-Borg killed.
"Again, Captain, why are you here?" he asked with complete composure.
"All right, that didn’t work," she thought, feeling the blood roll down her chin. "New tactic." She lifted her head and focused on the back wall. "I was sent here to retrieve the Tox Uthat."
"Who gave the orders?"
She let her instincts take over. "Fleet Admiral Nechayev."
His eyes rolled over her, probing her for any sign of deceit. "Why, Captain, would she have sent you to obtain it from us, since she was the one who took great pains to give it to us in the first place?"
"Pay dirt," she thought, still managing to give him a look of surprise. "Magistrate Xonrek, I don’t know . . ."
"Speculate for me, Captain."
"Maybe she was going to sell it to the highest bidder. Maybe she was going to have it destroyed like she was supposed to, thereby wiping out any evidence of wrongdoing. I really don’t know."
"Perhaps," he interjected, "you are working on your own and you were going to sell it to the highest bidder."
The Captain snorted contemptuously, and then eyed him. "I was the one who obtained it from Unimatrix 6. It was in my hands. I could have profited from it at that point, if I had wanted to. I am simply following orders."
He seemed to take the information in stride. "Well, then, what precisely were your orders?"
"To infiltrate the Sovval-Tok Temple, find and obtain the Tox Uthat, communicate the realization of the mission, and deliver the Tox Uthat to Admiral Nechayev."
He smirked. "I suppose, you will not be sending that communication."
Janeway thought he would be less condescending if he had known he had just swallowed the bait. "If I don’t send that communication, you may end up with a brigade of Starfleet personnel on your doorstep."
"Doubtful, Captain. I don’t think the Admiral will send a single ensign to your rescue."
Janeway gaped at him, putting on her best look of bewilderment.
"After all, if she were exposed as having given the quantum phase inverter to us, inevitably someone would begin to wonder what we had done to obtain it."
"And that was?" she asked warily.
He studied her. She seemed so small and weak; he enjoyed filling her eyes with alarm. Another’s fear—it was an entertaining emotion to witness, especially when you inspired it. "The eradication of a colleague."
"Admiral Wescott," she took note silently, and then quickly turned her attention back to the Magistrate.
"So, you see," he continued, "I doubt the Admiral would be so foolish as to involve any more Starfleet personnel than necessary."
"You don’t know that. She sent us, didn’t she? What would keep her from sending that brigade and then claiming that you stole it? Who in the Federation would believe you? You’re Vulcan zealots."
A slightly superior smile played on his lips as he considered her words.
She took a risk and interrupted his thoughts. "I may have a mutually beneficial solution."
He lifted a brow. "I am sure you do. Please, go on."
"I send the communication, which will tell Nechayev that I have the quantum phase inverter and that I am on my way back to headquarters . . . that’ll give you time to proceed with your plan—I assume there is some reason you wanted the Tox Uthat. You give us a shuttle. We head out of Federation territory."
His smile was little more than a grimace. "Captain, how can I guarantee that you will not head directly for Starfleet?"
"Magistrate Xonrek, until I know how extensive this conspiracy is, going back to Starfleet now could mean imprisonment or death. If I go back, crying betrayal, it would be her word against mine. She’s a Fleet Admiral in good standing," Janeway said with emphasis, and then paused. "I have no delusions about who Starfleet brass would believe."
He shook his head. "I know a little something about you, Captain Janeway, and I believe that you would sacrifice yourself and your friend to keep us from using the quantum phase inverter. So, it is logical that you would take the risk of going back to Starfleet."
She played her final card. "Magistrate, the Tox Uthat is good for only two things . . . one—harnessing energy and two—destroying a planet. Since destroying a planet would be foolhardy . . . the consequences being immeasurable . . . I’m willing to bet you’re going with that first option. And if that’s true, I don’t see any reason to jeopardize myself by running back to Starfleet with allegations against one of their highest ranking officials."
With her statement, she confirmed what he already knew. Humans were shortsighted and their mental faculties were small. It was true that the Vulcans in this region needed an alternate way of producing energy, but he was not a Vulcan. "I must think about your proposal, Captain." He turned and signaled to the guards at the door. "Take her back."
ΩΩΩΩ
Seven heard the shuffling of boots in the hall outside the cell. Swiftly, she shoved the innards of wire and conduit back into the hidden control panel she had discovered next to the door, and then she hastily pushed the front cover back into place, stripping and pinching some of the wires in the process. But the shredded wires were irrelevant, because the control panel no longer provided access to the door. Evidently, the Remans had taken the precaution of relocating the door’s control panel to another location.
Stepping into the center of the small room, Seven locked her hands behind her back and assumed a pose she hoped didn’t appear suspicious.
The door opened just long enough for the Captain to stagger in.
"Kathryn!" Seven exclaimed, grabbing a hold of the sleeve of Janeway’s gi and pulling her further into the room.
"I’m okay," she said breathlessly, the intensity of the last couple of hours just now registering as she gazed into the wide eyes of her partner. "They haven’t taken her," the Captain thought as she felt Seven inspect her.
Grasping Janeway’s chin, Seven pulled the older woman’s face gently up to her own. "Does it hurt?"
Janeway would have chuckled at the illogicality of the question if not for the sympathetic way it was delivered. "It’s nothing. Very minor."
The ex-Borg looked unconvinced, but wasn’t inclined to argue the point. Instead she lifted the bottom edge of the tunic of her gi and wiped the dried blood gently from Kathryn’s chin and lip.
Warmed by the tender touch, Kathryn reached around Seven and pulled her into a strong embrace. She hoped it would comfort the young woman and remind her that a split lip wouldn’t be her undoing. She heard a soft, patient sigh push from Seven’s lungs—a sure sign the ex-drone was adapting to the situation.
Kathryn pulled away slightly. Then reached out and caressed the soft velvetiness of the young woman’s cheek. "Let me tell you what I’ve learned." Seven swallowed, and then nodded. "They do have the Tox Uthat. Admiral Nechayev gave it to them in exchange for the assassination of Admiral Wescott," she left off, noticing the questioning look Seven gave her. "I’m not sure why. . . . But I managed to convince them that Admiral Nechayev sent us here to retrieve it . . . that she told us they had stolen it."
"But when they contact her—" Seven began.
"I don’t think they will," Janeway interrupted. "I managed to convince them that they should allow me to send the communication required by the Admiral, only I have no intention of actually contacting her. This will give the impression that I have the Tox Uthat and give us time to escape."
"But it will allow them time to smuggle the inverter out of Federation space."
She began to smile at Seven, until it split the wound in her lip, making her grimace instead. "Not really. That’s why we are going to contact Unimatrix 6 instead. . . . That is, if you remember the communications channel they use."
Seven tilted her chin. "I do."
"Good. Do you think Unimatrix 6 can be trusted?"
"Yes, while we were in their presence, I did not detect any attempts at deception. They showed a willingness to aid the Federation by turning over the quantum phase inverter. If they had been tempted to exchange it for items that would have aided their transition to individuality, the Federation would not have been contacted."
Janeway nodded. "I agree, so I’ll send the communication to Unimatrix 6. Hopefully, they will be confused enough to contact Voyager. After that, the Remans have put us on a shuttle. We have agreed to head away from Federation space. However, we will have engine trouble."
Seven tilted her head. "This is when I will transport back to Vulcan and locate the quantum phase inverter."
The emphasis Seven put on her assumed role wasn’t lost on the Captain. "Yes. . . . I’m hoping that you have some idea where they might be hiding it?"
Seven smirked. "I do; however, it is only speculation."
Janeway cocked her head wonderingly. "Speculate away."
"The room on the southeast side of the main temple. I believe a containment field . . . or other technology that resonates at the same frequency . . . occupies this room. I could hear the sound during the collective meditation," she explained.
Janeway pinched her lips together, suppressing what normally would have been a wide smile. "Good. We have that and surprise on our side."
"Surprise?" Seven queried.
"The Remans think we are inconsequential—a minor annoyance. They certainly don’t see us as a threat. . . ."
"Their underestimation will give us the advantage," Seven completed the thought.
ΩΩΩΩ
That afternoon, the guards came again for the Captain. Leading her down another maze of gray corridors and past half a dozen doors, they finally entered a room. She paused warily just inside the door. The space appeared to be a storage area for spare parts—not at all the sort of place a communications interface might be located. Uneasy, she held her breath and wondered what her chances would be of successfully gaining her freedom from the room if she had to fight her way out of it. But then, her sight fell on the end of the room where there appeared to be a fully functional communications console.
She exhaled, and then felt the point of Vorlek’s weapon jab into her ribs as he prodded her towards the end of the room. "Well, Captain, you want to send that communication, don’t you?"
She nodded and moved towards the back of the room. As she approached the communications console, Magistrate Xonrek entered the room. "Captain, please be my guest," he smirked, gesturing to the communications interface as he moved up next to her.
"Please begin," he invited patronizingly as he leaned over Janeway’s shoulder, watching her input the codes into the communications console. Suddenly, his forearm flayed out, whipping Janeway in the abdomen and thrusting her away from the console. He eyed her suspiciously. "Captain Janeway, the communications channel you are attempting to open is not to any Starfleet post that I am aware of."
After regaining her footing, she looked up at him, her face completely placid. "That’s correct. My orders were to contact Unimatrix 6 when we had obtained the Tox Uthat."
"Most unusual," he scoffed.
Taking her cue from his lifted brow, she bated him. "I understand your skepticism. I did not comprehend the significance at the time, aside from the fact that we had obtained the Tox Uthat from Unimatrix 6 in the first place. But now, I see her real motivation must be to keep us from contacting her directly—to keep any implication of wrongdoing from her."
"What is Unimatrix 6's part in this?"
The Captain needed a moment to think. "What do you mean?"
"Unimatrix 6 had the quantum phase inverter under their control. They released it to Admiral Nechayev. Why?"
"I don’t know. Maybe she negotiated a deal with them just as she did with you. But if she did, I am not privy to the information any more than I was regarding the transaction she made with you."
Xonrek inspected her for an instant, then something settled and the familiar arrogance staged a comeback on his face. "Continue. Make the transmission, Captain."
Janeway glanced back down at the computer console and tapped in another series of codes. "Principal Adjunct Utara, as discussed earlier, I have obtained the item. Please contact the necessary party." She hoped that was just confusing enough for Utara to contact Voyager for clarification.
ΩΩΩΩ
Chakotay sat at the desk in the captain’s ready room. It was bad enough he was in charge of all personnel reports, but with the captain gone, he also had department reports to go over. He stared at the PADDs piled haphazardly on the desk. Reaching for a report, he resigned himself to the work and put aside his proclivity for procrastination.
Staring at the words that appeared when he activated the screen, he desperately tried to focus enough to understand them. He got at least far enough to discern that he was peering aimlessly at the monthly Astrometrics report. The next thing he knew, his mind was wandering from how many kilotons of dark matter was scanned in the Cimmerian nebula and onto more interesting affairs; his brain was more fascinated with speculating about how the Captain might be fairing on her odyssey to the Vulcan home world.
He still felt guilty about what had happened between the Captain and Seven, because inside he understood he was partly to blame. He had known it was a mistake to pursue Seven from the very beginning. But all sensibility had flown out the porthole, when Chakotay had found out that he was the object of interest in the beautiful blonde’s experimental foray into dating. Simply stated, he had let his ego get in the way of rational thought.
And then, to make matters worse, he never informed the Captain that Seven was leaving. He had known the two women were growing close, so he had thought the Captain would know of Seven’s resignation. But Seven’s illusive answers to the questions he had asked during her exiting personnel interview should have tipped him off. At the very least, he could have casually dropped a comment to Janeway before he went on leave. He shook his head at his own stupidity. "Well, I can make it up to her in some small way by clearing all these department reports from her desk," he thought.
As he took up the PADD again, the computer interface chirped at him, informing him of an incoming communication. Activating the computer viewscreen, a face he had only seen in passing appeared. "Greetings, Commander Chakotay."
"Principal Adjunct Utara, what can I do for you?"
"I was hoping to see Captain Janeway . . ."
"I’m acting captain. Captain Janeway is on leave."
Utara looked puzzled, his expression turning from pleasant to concerned. "Is the Captain on Vulcan?"
Chakotay weighed the decision of whether he should answer the question. This time, he went with his gut-level reaction. "Yes, she is on Vulcan."
"You’ll have to forgive me, Commander. I am a bit confused. Let me explain and maybe you’ll be able to explain. . . ."
"Of course," Chakotay replied.
"Only moments ago, I received a transmission from your Captain."
"From Captain Janeway?"
"Yes," Utara clarified, "the problem is I don’t understand it."
"You don’t understand it?" Chakotay repeated.
"No, the transmission originated from the desert of Ket-lio on Vulcan. She refers to obtaining an item and tells me I should contact the necessary parties. I’m completely at a loss. The only necessary party I could think of was Voyager."
It occurred to Chakotay that maybe this was some kind of rouse or maybe the captain was on a secret mission or . . . maybe she was in danger. "Can I see this transmission?"
"You can hear it, Commander. It was sent audio-only."
"Let’s hear it, then."
The Adjunct nodded and the next sound Chakotay heard was the unmistakable tones of the Captain, "Principal Adjunct Utara, as discussed earlier, I have obtained the item. Please contact the necessary party."
Chakotay was silent for an instant as he considered what he had just heard. The confusion was eminent in his voice when he did finally speak. "I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help, Principal Adjunct," he paused. "I don’t know what she’s talking about either."
The Commander’s confusion seemed to unsettle the ex-Borg. "Commander, I was sure you’d be able to clear up this matter. Should I send a communication to Starfleet?"
"No, it’s all right. Did you try contacting Captain Janeway for clarification?"
"Yes, that’s the first thing I did. However, I was unable to send to the same channel."
Chakotay rubbed at his tattoo. "Principal Adjunct, thank you. I believe we can handle it from here."
Utara nodded at him. "Commander, if you should need assistance, please let us know."
Chakotay nodded. "Thank you. I will." Closing the communications panel, he realized he didn’t know if they would need assistance or not. But one thing was clear—he had to get Voyager to Vulcan.
ΩΩΩΩ
Everything would have to be timed perfectly to work. The only advantage they had was doing the unexpected, to surprise the Reman interlopers, which meant that she should have already transported Seven to the surface. But staring at the out-dated transport panel and glancing around the rickety Vulcan cargo shuttle, Janeway felt less sure about transporting her partner to the surface. What if she couldn’t get her back?
Seven stood in the center of the small cockpit, waiting for the transporter to send her to the surface. She observed Janeway at the transporter controls. She seemed hesitant to key in the final code and Seven wondered if there was a problem. "Captain?"
Absorbed in thought, Janeway glanced up from the transporter controls. Her eyes met Seven’s as she tried to shake off the apprehension. "Maybe I can gain a little of her confidence by osmosis." It was a strange thought, but it settled her. Moving towards the young woman, she extended her arms and tugged Seven into an embrace, crushing her against her. "Be careful," she whispered into the hollow of the other woman’s chest.
Looking down, Seven met Kathryn’s eyes again. "I will."
For a few moments, they just stared at one another. Aware of the time passing, Seven started to pull away. But something inside Janeway wouldn’t allow the distance just yet. "Kiss me," Kathryn murmured.
"Your lip—"
"Kiss me," she demanded again, pulling the young woman’s mouth down to hers. The kiss was immediately demanding and urgent . . . and because of her torn lip, slightly painful. But the discomfort was nothing compared to the intense pleasure it generated in Kathryn’s body.
Pulling back, Seven reached up, gently grasped the smaller woman’s chin, and tilted her face up just long enough to see that the passionate encounter had not broken open the cut.
Inhaling deeply as she steeled her nerves, Janeway walked back to the transporter controls. "Seven, I will transport you back within seven minutes. If it’s not there, promise me you won’t leave the area. I want to be able to keep a transporter lock on your signal at all times."
"Captain—"
She held up a hand. "I know, it is more important for you to locate it, but remember, we will have other opportunities. They will still have to get it out of Federation territory. . . . Seven minutes, no more."
"Yes, Captain."
The older woman peered back down and keyed in a series of codes. Then Janeway looked up. "See you soon."
The ex-Borg nodded and Janeway pressed the final key and watched Seven dematerialize.
Seven felt the slight tingling of the transporters, and then suddenly she was standing in the whitewashed room of the temple where she had heard the hum of a containment field. Glancing around, she observed in the center of the room a cargo container secured in an elliptical field. She had been right, but whether the quantum phase inverter was inside the container remained to be seen.
Briefly, she scrutinized the room. Two entryways—the closed one led to the communal meditation area, and the other open arched one, led into the maze of gray hallways she had used her eidetic memory to map as the Remans had taken them to the holding cell.
Moving quickly, she went directly to the control panel on the back wall to disable the containment field. The Captain would be precise in her timing, so the ex-drone didn’t bother trying to deactivate the field using commonly used codes. She pushed her hand out, released her assimilation tubules, and assimilated the entire control panel. It was a risky process as it could have set off an alarm, but there wasn’t time for anything less invasive.
Luck was with her and no alarm sounded as she watched the control panel sprout the indisputable signs of Borg technology. Tapping in a series of codes, she watched the field slip away. What was it that Kathryn always said—‘Most everything worth anything is a blessing and a curse?’ The Captain was once again correct in her assessment, at least that’s what Seven thought as she briefly glanced down at her Borg physiology, before moving to the center of the room and pulling open the container.
Glimpsing into the container, she lifted up a cushioned bit of packaging. It was apparent her assertions were correct, because sitting on the bottom layer of packaging was the quantum phase inverter. Taking it up from its hallowed position, she began to place everything back the way she had found it, starting with placing the packaging back into the container. Unless someone came into the room, the control panel and its newly acquired Borg additions wouldn’t be noticed on the wall next to the open doorway. However, the container seated in the middle of the room could be seen by anyone who passed by the archway, so putting everything back, as closely as possible to the way she had found it, would be a judicious step towards not being discovered.
As she placed the final piece of packaging back into the container, she heard the shuffling of feet down the corridor. Slinking around the corner of the entrance, she berated herself for not moving fast enough to have replaced the container’s lid.
Quietly moving away from the room, she entered another corridor. Over the short distance, she could hear the sounds of discovery. Soon, they would be pursuing her. But according to her internal chronometer, the Captain would be beaming her up in two minutes, so she only had to evade them for a short time. But this would be improvident and Seven was nothing if not mindful. She conjectured that many factors could interfere with the Captain transporting her back on board the shuttle. Taking these potentialities into account, she made her way to a place she knew she could extend her hiding time if it became necessary.
ΩΩΩΩ
Relief poured over the Captain as she began the sequence for transporting Seven on board. She hoped the Astrometrics officer had been able to locate and abscond with the Tox Uthat, but one way or the other, she would be glad to have Seven back with her. As she keyed in the final command, she received a hail. Delaying the final code for the transporter, she narrowly deflected the Remans from detecting a transport in progress. Masking her agitation, she answered the hail. "Yes, Magistrate Xonrek?"
"Captain, why have you not yet departed?"
So, he didn’t know. "We encountered a problem with the shuttle thrusters. Give us another minute or two and we will be on our way," she said agreeably.
As he nodded at her, she saw the guards appear behind him.
One of the men addressed him, "Magistrate Xonrek—"
The Reman spun around in his chair, angrily retorting, "Can’t you see I am conducting business? Can’t it wait?"
"No" was the simple reply.
Knowing well that the guards interrupting the Magistrate signaled that something had gone awry, she cued off the communications channel and pressed in the code to transport Seven back on board. The computer chirped rudely at her. Inspecting the control panel, she recognized the source of the problem. Seven’s biosignature had disappeared off the scanner. Working frantically, she tried to get a lock on Seven. "Damn!" she bellowed, beating her fist against the console as she tried to locate Seven’s biosignature again.
Turning back to the screen, the Magistrate assumed his fiercest face only to find a blank screen gawping back at him. "Fvadt!" he cursed. Tying to rein in his anger, he rotated in his chair and fixed the guards with a steely stare. "Contact the Sha-vokh. Tell them to intercept that shuttle and keep it from getting away. They must not destroy it." Turning back to his desk, he cursed the low-brow technology this group of Vulcans reveled in. The lack of technology had kept them hidden on this planet, away from undue attention, but activities that at home had seemed common place suddenly became difficult.
Pressing in a series of codes, he cursed his misjudgment of the human captain as he instigated the communications link. Turning his attention to the viewscreen, he was confronted with the image of an openly annoyed Starfleet Admiral.
"Why are you contacting me? Our business has been concluded," Nechayev responded the minute she saw the Magistrate’s face.
He put on his calmest and most condescending look. "Admiral, I believe we have a situation."
"Go on," she responded curtly.
Humans had proven adept at being deceitful, so he wasn’t exactly sure what he should tell her. "Your liaisons have removed the item you gave us and are headed towards Starfleet Headquarters."
"What? What liaisons?"
One of Xonrek’s eyebrows crooked up incredulously. "Admiral, we are well aware of the fact that Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine were sent here under your orders to retrieve the quantum phase inverter."
The Admiral’s face was ashen. "What?"
So, the Admiral didn’t know about Janeway; Janeway had deceived him yet again. However, he could make this disclosure work to his benefit. "They are aware of the arrangement between us. . . . We are willing to overlook your breach of our agreement if you agree to our terms."
The Admiral’s face was stony. "What are your terms?"
"You intercept Janeway and the drone. Give us the inverter. You clean up the details however you see fit."
"If I have to do all the work, why should I give you the inverter?"
"Retribution for dishonoring our agreement . . . and we leave the sector quietly."
Her features settled into a hard mask. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she determined it was best to agree to his terms. She would take care of Janeway and the drone later. Right now, she had to rein everything in. "Agreed. I am in the area. Send the coordinates so I can pursue."
ΩΩΩΩ
A second Vulcan vessel appeared on the small viewscreen. The Captain was having a hard enough time holding off the other ship that was barraging her with salvos of pulsed phaser fire. "At least it’s not a Warbird," she thought sarcastically, knowing that she couldn’t hold off the ships much longer. The shields were already down to ten percent. One more volley of fire, and she wouldn’t be able to keep them from boarding.
She didn’t really understand it—the exchange of weapons fire should have been over almost the moment it started. The ship hovering around her position far outclassed the fragile shuttle. Her only defense had been the shuttle’s smaller, more maneuverable size. The Remans’ tactics seemed to be neutralizing her defenses slowly without destroying the ship. Truth was, if they had tried hard enough, the dilapidated shuttle should already be space debris. "Unless, they think the Tox Uthat is onboard . . . which also means they don’t know Seven has it." She smirked at the control panel as she keyed in another set of tactical maneuvers, and then moved back over to see if she could relocate Seven’s biosignature on the surface.
Another flare of fire rocked the shuttle and a plume of plasma billowed from the left aileron of the warp sled. Before she could register the loss of helm control, the computer intoned, "Shields are offline." Suddenly, she felt the shuttle being pulled into a tractor beam.
She exhaled loudly, frustrated with her dismal attempt to evade the other ships. She hoped Seven had managed better than she had. And just as she had that thought, she heard the whir and felt the tingle of a transporter beam. Surprisingly, the next thing she knew, she was standing on the bridge of Voyager.
Pulling her body out of the bent over position she had been in when the transporter caught her, she inhaled, pressed her hand to her abdomen, stilling her nerves. "Commander?" she questioned, trying to reorient herself. She had expected to be in the hands of the Remans when the transporter wave caught her.
Chakotay looked at her expectantly.
"I’ll explain later," she said, waving him off and turning to Harry. "Mr. Kim, Seven of Nine is on Vulcan’s surface somewhere in the Temple of Sovval-Tok. I believe she may have found some way to cloak her biosignature. I want you to run continuous scans of the area. . . . Locate her, and when you do keep a lock on her. I want her beamed aboard at the next available moment."
"Aye, Captain," the dark-headed ensign responded.
She turned away from Harry, her gaze falling on the viewscreen. She watched the outgunned ships move off. "Tuvok, keep an eye on those ships."
"Yes, Captain," the security officer replied.
With the Remans moving off, her thoughts turned again to securing Seven’s safe return. "Harry, any luck?"
"No, Captain, I can’t seem to locate her signal."
"Fine. Tuvok, Commander, take a security team down to the surface and locate Seven. She is probably in the Sovval-Tok temple. Her biosignature may be masked and she may have the Tox Uthat in her possession."
As he was about to enter the turbolift, Chakotay turned and gaped at her. "Questions later," she commanded.
"Yes, Captain," he said, stepping into the turbolift.
The pneumatic doors had no more than closed, when Harry’s voice rang out. "Captain, a ship is approaching at high warp."
She turned and looked intently at the ensign, who was working feverishly over his console. "Who?" she asked.
"Starfleet," he said, grinning.
She appeared momentarily unnerved. "What ship, Harry?"
"U.S.S. Murmansk."
Janeway bristled, and then straightened her shoulders. "Shields up. Red Alert."
"Captain, if the shields are up, we can’t transport the security team," Harry reminded delicately.
"I am aware of that," she snapped as Tuvok and Chakotay reentered the bridge and retook their posts.
"Should we hail them, Captain?" Harry asked perplexedly. Before she could answer, he had his answer. "Captain, they’re firing on us. . . . Quantum torpedoes, full spread."
"Tom, evasive maneuvers," she ordered, turning her attention on the blond sitting at helm control.
His eyes never leaving his console, he responded, "Aye, aye, Captain."
The ship rocked erratically with the force of multiple impacts. "Shields are holding at 30 percent," Tuvok updated.
"So much for diplomacy," Harry mumbled.
"I don’t think, Admiral Nechayev is feeling particularly diplomatic at the moment," she said, eyeing Harry, who returned the look warily. Striding across the bridge, she took her seat, and then addressed Tuvok. "Arm the aft photon torpedo banks and fire when ready."
They all watched the discharge race towards the other ship and collide with its shields. "No effect . . ." Harry announced, and then continued, "Captain, the Vulcan vessels are returning."
Her expression remained impassive. "All right, let’s bring this fight into the open. Send a distress signal to any Starfleet vessels in the area."
ΩΩΩΩ
Seven shrank back behind the massive biomagnetic tube. She could hear the footfalls approaching and knew the Remans would eventually figure out why they couldn’t track her energy signature. She was grateful that they weren’t really Vulcans, because if they had been, she would already be in custody. The biomagnetic tube had been invented by the resourceful minds of Vulcans, who knew that magnetizing water would create crops with higher germination rates, greater primary growth, and lower mortality rates. It was an offshoot benefit for Seven that the biomagnetic tube produced a high gradient biomagnetic field, which aside from magnetizing water, also produced a natural biodampening field.
The sound of muffled voices grew louder over the sound of the water filtering through the tube and she knew she would soon have to concede her hiding spot. She could only hope that once she emerged from the dampening field, the Captain would be able to transport her.
Suddenly, the unintelligible noises became distinct. "Vas’ daom," one of the guards commanded in Romulan. Peeking around the biomagnetic tube, she could see that there were two of them in the room with her. One was only eight meters from her position and closing on her from the left as he had been ordered. But she had a clear path to the door. Once outside the door, she might be able to conceal herself in one of the catacomb-like passages. The very thought of catacombs and musky vaults made her leap out of her hiding position and dart towards the door.
Clutching the Tox Uthat, she dive rolled out of the exit. In the periphery of her vision, she caught the guards firing on her. The yellow beams flashed out of the doorway as she pulled up against a niche in the wall and sidled carefully around the corner.
For a second, she collected herself, trying to decide what direction would provide the most concealment. To the left would be the exit into the courtyards. She might be able to shroud herself in the thick foliage. Moving quickly, she slipped around another corner, only to be confronted by Vorlek and another guard.
He fired his phaser. A yellow beam flashed out at her. She lunged for the ground, but knew it was too late as she felt an unexpected tingling sensation move over her. Suddenly, she was crouched on a titanium deck and staring at . . . "the central plexis," she reflected.
A familiar voice spoke up. "Seven of Nine."
She turned around, her body crimped into a fighting stance. She recognized the speaker. "Principal Adjunct Utara."
He held up his hands, assuming a surrendering stance. "It’s okay, Seven." She eyed him suspiciously. "Really," he convinced.
She glanced at the viewscreen. Voyager hovered nearby, but what drew her eye was the Sovereign-class ship caught in the tractor beam emanating from the sphere she was on. She never thought she would ever again be pleased to see that odd, distinctly Borg fluorescent green tractor beam. She unfolded herself from the fighting stance.
Seeing her relax, he turned back to his communications monitor. "We’ve got her, Captain."
"Good," Janeway replied, feeling relief well up inside her.
Hearing the Captain’s voice, Seven moved up next to the Principal Adjunct and peered down into the communications panel.
"I have it, Captain," Seven smirked, looking triumphant.
Janeway smiled widely, despite her injured lip, as she gazed back at her partner. No, ‘partner’ wasn’t entirely accurate. Seven was more than that; she was her mate and her match.
Epilogue
Janeway hugged her cup of coffee to her as she sank down into the comfort of the sofa in her quarters. It was the first day of leave. She hoped it would be more enjoyable than the last time. She thought back to her impromptu trip to Vulcan a few months prior. "Well, it wasn’t completely unpleasant," she mused. It just didn’t start or end exactly the way she had expected. But she had resigned herself to the knowledge that everything that had turned upside down had righted itself again.
After the Murmansk had been captured by Unimatrix 6, the Reman imposters had fled, only to be caught by the Tal Shi'ar as they crossed into Romulan space. The Admiral was in custody and was on trial for a long series of crimes, the least of which was the falsification of data and the worst of which was conspiracy to assassinate a Starfleet official.
The assassination of Admiral Wescott was something that still wasn’t clear to Janeway. "Could it have been motivated, as many inside Starfleet speculated, by a long-held grudge between the two admirals? Entering the Academy as a cadet, Kathryn had heard rumors floating around the campus about the animosity between the two, at that time, captains. Her roommate had even gone so far as to theorize that it was a love affair gone wrong and she remembered her father grumbling about it. "Conduct unbecoming," he had said. Ultimately, the scandal had withered away and been forgotten. "But maybe not by Admiral Nechayev," Janeway speculated.
She hoped the reasons would come out in the trial. The whole thing was a shame, though. In her career, Nechayev had valiantly championed many worthwhile causes. "Too bad she wouldn’t be able to help Unimatrix 6," she reflected regretfully. They could have used someone like the Admiral to help cut through the deep vein of suspicion that kept Unimatrix 6, despite their shows of loyalty, from joining the Federation.
"But that’s a fight for another day," she commented. It was funny, but Unimatrix 6 hadn’t wanted anything in return for their capture of the wayward Admiral—at least nothing more than Janeway’s promise that she and Seven would visit with them again. And given that this was their first opportunity for time off since her fiasco of a trip to Vulcan, that’s just what they were going to do. "But first, a day of relaxation . . . well, not totally," she mused, her thoughts turning decidedly more fervid as she thought of the young woman in her shower.
She could hear the perfect pitch of Seven’s voice ring out through the open door of the bathroom. Who knew Seven would have a propensity for singing in the shower?
Seven and her return to Voyager—that was another situation that had worked itself out. She now not only had the only Astrometrics lab on a Starfleet vessel but also had dual lead Astrometrics officers. After she and Seven had returned to Voyager and the dust had settled, Starfleet had granted Seven another post in Astrometrics. Unfortunately for Lieutenant Jacobs, she soon had found herself outstripped by Seven’s exceptional knowledge, and had come to the captain with the suggestion that perhaps Seven should be reinstated as the head of Astrometrics. Janeway had commended the young woman for her integrity and instead created dual postings. Surprisingly, the two Astrometrics officers had gotten along well, and eventually, they had settled comfortably into their mutual roles.
It was true that under this arrangement, Seven had a little too much spare time on her hands, so Janeway had suggested to B'Elanna that she allow Seven to assist her in Engineering. Janeway smirked as she remembered how B'Elanna had first turned red with anger, then green with disgust, and then the palest shade of yellow with helpless acceptance. "Resistance was indeed futile," she mused.
Almost as though on cue, the tall blonde entered the room. Kathryn suppressed a chuckle; she always wanted to laugh when she saw Seven, a towel wrapped turban style around her head, emerge fresh from the shower. The look on the ex-drone was as disarming as it was priceless.
Seven caught the amusement on her partner’s face. "Kathryn, it’s only a towel," she said exasperatedly.
"Yes, but, you look so . . . charming," Kathryn teased.
"You’re laughing at me, because I look charming?" Seven bantered, clearly enjoying the easy compatibility that existed between them.
"I’m not laughing at you—"
"You’re laughing with me," Seven completed. "Do I have to point out, yet again, that I am not laughing?"
Janeway snorted. "No, love."
Seven tilted her head as a soft grin settled over her features. Wrapping her robe around her more tightly, she tucked a foot underneath her leg as she took a seat on the couch next to Janeway. "What were you mumbling about?"
"When?"
"While I was in the bathroom."
"Oh, nothing particularly interesting."
"Kathryn . . ." she rebuked. They had already had multiple discussions about Kathryn not being forthcoming with her thoughts and feelings, but sometimes Seven still had to remind her.
"All right, I was just thinking about what might have caused Admiral Nechayev to behave as she did."
A small smile played in the pale eyes of the blonde. "Individuals are motivated by many peculiar things."
"You think so?"
"I do. Perhaps, you would like to explain what motivated you to stand outside the Sovval-Tok Temple in Vulcan’s mid-morning sun for three hours?"
Janeway chuckled, and then she pulled her face into a mask of exaggerated mystification. "I have no idea why I did that. Maybe Q was still playing his tricks."
"Unlikely."
"Maybe I was waiting for Leyton . . . to tell him I was in love with him," she joked.
"Doubtful."
"And just why not?"
Seven grew serious. "Because . . . I had the advantage."
The captain gaped. "How do you mean?"
"You couldn’t have been in love with him, because you already loved me, t'hy'la."
Kathryn smiled sweetly up at her; she loved when Seven used this Vulcan term of endearment. Reaching up with her hand, she cupped Seven’s cheek and drew the beautiful face to her own. When Kathryn felt the delicate pressure of Seven’s lips, she slipped her arm around the narrow waist and pulled the blonde to her with a gentle but insistent strength. And in the intervening moments of heated kisses, ardent caresses, and impassioned sighs, they lost all sense of themselves in each other, knowing only the extraordinary wonder of their tangled bodies, commingled spirits, and entwined destinies.
The End