Adrift

G. L. Dartt

 

The night was hot and humid, settling over the land like a wet blanket. She stood on the front porch of her family's ancestral homestead, perched on the railing as she stared out over the darkened cornfields without actually seeing them. Idly, she fingered the insignia on her collar, fingertips bumping over the unfamiliar rectangle of a flag officer rather than the four pips that she instinctively felt should have been there.

At some point during that blur of briefings, conferences, hearings and meetings in the immediate aftermath of Voyager's return, she had received an increase in rank, numbly accepting the duties and responsibilities of being an admiral. Now she couldn't quite remember exactly how her promotion had come about. Or perhaps it had really been a demotion of sorts, because where once she had captained a starship, now she spent her days behind a desk in San Francisco, dealing with the memos and reports her superiors passed down to her, performing repetitive tasks that had little to do with the complicated but rewarding onus of starship command, and everything to do with the tedious, administrative matters that kept an organization the size of Starfleet operational.

How long has it been? Kathryn Janeway wondered.

How long since Voyager made its triumphant descent to Earth amid the cheering crowds, settling onto its landing struts in the waterside park near Command Headquarters, never to lift off again? The tiny Intrepid-class vessel, finally finished with its valiant and courageous journey, had subsequently been converted into a museum dedicated to all the various discoveries it made while in the Delta Quadrant. It had seemed an honor at the time, as did her becoming a flag officer. Now, she recognized the honors for what they really were: a permanent grounding for both her and the ship she had once commanded so proudly.

She exhaled softly and closed her eyes, tilting her head back as she felt the stiffness in her neck, scarcely believing it had come to this. It was as if she were finally wakening from a long sleep, as if the past three years had been nothing more than a dream. Certainly, the weeks and months had passed in a deadening sort of haze, with so many of her actions carried out automatically, requiring little thought. It had felt so good not to have to think, she allowed with a touch of shame, to no longer bear any real sense of responsibility after spending so long with the burden of too much nearly crushing her.

She wasn't sure what made today so different. All she knew was that when her adjunct, Clive Rainscott, had brought her mid-afternoon coffee into her office, she had looked up at him from her screen, and for a few seconds, she didn't have a clue who he was, though she had worked with him every day since accepting her promotion. It was as if he hadn't been real to her until that point. As if all of it had been an illusion, and only then had she snapped back into reality.

Flustered, she had managed to cover up her momentary lapse, finally remembering his name and thanking him politely for the coffee. But since that moment, she had started looking around with new eyes, and to her horror, she discovered that she didn't much like what she was seeing.

"Kathryn?"

Janeway looked back at the house, unsurprised when she was joined by her sister, who handed her a steaming mug of coffee before taking up a spot next to her on the porch. Behind Phoebe, the screen door closed with a snap, shutting out the insects that danced and darted around the small, old style electric light illuminating the entrance. The farmhouse was located on a small rise, granting the two women a picturesque moonlit view of the land stretching out before them, pockmarked with lights from the other farms residing in the Indiana Agricultural Park. Janeway had dreamed of this view many times during those interminable, lonely days in the Delta Quadrant, uncertain that she would ever see it again, and longing for it with an intensity that had left her aching. Now it was unpalatable to her in a way she didn't completely understand, leaving her with a sick feeling deep inside.

"Are you all right?"

She glanced over at Phoebe, lifting a thin, elegant brow. "Why do you ask?"

Phoebe shook her head. "You seemed so distracted over dinner," she said, taking a sip from her coffee. "Even Mom noticed."

Kathryn laughed without humor, aware of the bitterness underlying it. "Funny, I was thinking that for the first time in too long, I was finally able to focus on what's been going on." She stared down into the dark liquid filling her mug, as if she could find some kind of answers there.

She and Phoebe shared little besides their genetic markers. Where Kathryn was wiry and compact, Phoebe was tall and willowy. Hair, dark and curly, cascaded nearly halfway down her back in a glorious wave, while Kathryn's rich auburn locks were cut short, falling neatly about her classic features and doing little to soften the firm jaw. Phoebe was an artist, possessing a languid demeanor that was occasionally punctuated with the most astonishing bursts of creative vigor. Kathryn, meanwhile, was seething power, held in restraint by an iron will and formidable determination. Yet for all that, the sisters were exceptionally close, having survived their childhood skirmishes to develop a true friendship as adults; one that had not missed a beat during Kathryn's seven years of wandering about the Delta Quadrant.

Phoebe looked at her curiously. "How do you mean?"

"I really don't know," Janeway admitted. She was silent for a moment. "How did I get here?"

"The transporter from San Francisco, then a land speeder from Bloomington?" Phoebe offered facetiously, before subsiding when she saw her sister was completely serious. "What's going on, Kathryn?"

"I guess I'm evaluating my life."

"And?"

"I'm not very impressed with it."

Phoebe absorbed that, but did not look particularly surprised at the bitter words, merely patient, as if she had been expecting this for some time.

"How so?"

Kathryn exhaled abruptly, looking up at the sky. "God, where do I start?"

Phoebe nodded briefly and moved over to the porch swing, settling back against the cushions as she regarded her sister. "At the beginning," she prompted.

Kathryn didn't answer right away, considering the question. "I don't even know who I am anymore. It's as if I've suddenly awakened and nothing seems familiar to me. What made me accept an administrative position?"

Phoebe eyed her measuringly. "It kept you out of space, Kathryn."

The admiral was horrified at the comment, mostly because of its truth.

"Dear God, what have I done?"

Phoebe studied her for a moment longer, then made a motion with her head, inviting her to join her on the swing. Janeway hesitated, suspecting a lecture was forthcoming, before finally relenting and taking a seat on the dusty cushions. Phoebe pushed off with her foot, causing the seat to sway with a soothing rhythm. When she spoke, it was not with the lecturing tone Kathryn expected. Instead, she was quietly thoughtful, apparently sincere in wanting to get to the bottom of Janeway's sudden dissatisfaction with her life.

"What are you really missing, Kathryn? Are you so sure it has to do with your position at Starfleet?"

Unbidden, an image of Voyager's astrometrics officer popped into Janeway's head. It startled her because she hadn't thought of Seven of Nine for months...or perhaps she hadn't wanted to think of her. The tall, cool blonde, late of the Borg Collective, had gone off with Commander Chakotay, Voyager's first officer, eight months after their return to Earth. The couple had traveled to Chakotay's home planet, Trebus, which was located along the border between the Federation and the old Cardassian Empire. Janeway had received a wedding invitation a little over a year and a half ago and had instructed Rainscott to send a gift while tendering her regrets at not being able to attend. The acknowledgment of that marriage would have been a constant hurt, if Janeway had allowed herself to feel much of anything the past few years. Even now, the thought of it made her stomach cramp and a pain radiate from her temples like nails being driven into her brain.

That's why she tried so hard to avoid thinking about Seven, she thought unhappily, and immediately put her out of her mind, accomplishing the task with the ease of long practice as she rubbed her right brow lightly with her fingertips.

"I should never have walked away from my starship command," she said instead. "These administrative duties just aren't for me. I know an admiralship is supposed to be what every Starfleet officer strives for, but now I wonder it wasn't a huge mistake to accept that promotion."

"Maybe." Phoebe paused and sipped her coffee. "But I think you're avoiding the real cause of your unhappiness, Kathryn. Until you face it head on, you're not going to be able to help yourself regardless of what your duties are."

Janeway was unable to argue with the statement, but not entirely sure that it meant what she thought it did. It seemed to her that Phoebe was speaking of something other than how much her new rank was chaffing her.

"And when I do figure out what I want?"

"I guess you'll be better able to live with your choices. That, or you'll discover you completely hate where you are," Phoebe pointed out in a reasonable tone. "What happens then, Kathryn? Would you leave Starfleet?"

Janeway blinked. She couldn't imagine it ever coming to that. Of course, she couldn't imagine how she had ever let herself get to the place where she was.

"I doubt it," she said, but there was a note of uncertainty in her tone that she hoped Phoebe didn't hear.

"It's an option you might consider," Phoebe pressed.

Kathryn shot her a sharp look. "No," she said with more surety this time. "I don't believe it will ever come to that."

Phoebe regarded her, and then shrugged, as if it wasn't worth arguing over. "In the meantime..." she began.

"In the meantime," Janeway interrupted, "I'll continue to do what I'm doing. It's just that now, hopefully, I'll be able to do a better job."

"And what has Starfleet decided your job is now?"

"I'm actually about to leave on six month mission." Janeway hadn't particularly been looking forward to it, but in light of her lassitude over the past couple of years, perhaps it was just the thing she needed. An assessment tour of the various planetary bases in the sector was a tedious task, but at least, it would get her out of the office and into space again.

"Necheyev wants to know that our bases have fully recovered after the deprivation of the Dominion War. Some of them were in the thick of the supply routes and were well maintained, but many others away from the war zone were stripped and running on skeleton crews. Then there are those that were actually destroyed by enemy attack and are still in the process of rebuilding. Starfleet wants to be sure that all the installations we had prior to the war are back in full operation before the end of the year. That means conducting a complete investigation of personnel, supplies, and ship traffic patterns for each installation to determine what, if anything, is needed to be done to facilitate that goal."

Phoebe had developed a bit of glazed expression in her eyes, clearly bored, just as Janeway had intended. Though it was her own behavior during dinner which raised the topic in the first place, she didn't want to discuss it any further.

Whatever might be uncovered if the conversation were continued was not something she was quite ready for.

​

"Admiral?"

Janeway started slightly. She had been so involved in the last minute paperwork that needed to be done before she left on her tour, she hadn't heard the hiss of the door. Rainscott wasn't a particularly impressive figure, but he was extremely organized and had an amazing knack for knowing what Janeway needed almost before she did. It wasn't his fault that his sparse frame, thinning brown hair and mousey eyes set in a narrow, pinched face made him somewhat easy to overlook as a Starfleet officer. Despite his fussy manner, he was a brilliant administrator and Janeway suspected that he was the one who really ran the admiral's office while she was just the figurehead who signed the padds and memos so he had the necessary authorization to do what he wanted.

"Yes, Ensign?"

"You have a visitor."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. For Rainscott not to identify the person, or even give her a little more warning beforehand, indicated the visitor was someone unusual in addition to being unexpected. It had to be one of the senior admirals dropping by unannounced, she decided as she rose to her feet and inclined her head, indicating she was ready to receive whomever it was.

The bulky figure who appeared next was a jolt, almost as if her recent uneasiness had predicted his arrival. Rainscott finished showing him in, and then quietly exited, leaving the two alone.

"Commander?" she said with a broad smile, stretching out her hand in welcome.

"Just Chakotay now," the former first officer responded, grinning affably as he accepted her hand and wrung it warmly. "I returned to civilian life as soon as Voyager returned, remember?"

"Actually, I did," Janeway admitted with a small laugh as she settled back in her chair. "It's just that old habits die hard."

She regarded him with honest pleasure, taking in the broad shoulders and expansive torso covered by a simple, yet flattering tunic. The blue fabric of the shirt, open at the collar, had some kind of designs embroidered on the chest, and she wondered if they were symbolic, in the same manner as the tattoo arching over his left eye. Dark haired, with brooding good looks, Chakotay seemed to have aged little since their leave-taking two years earlier though his midsection had softened and spread. Marriage must agree with him, she noted glumly, but that didn't stop her from searching the area behind him as he took a seat opposite her desk, and it actually took a few seconds for her to realize for whom she was looking.

"Seven isn't with you?"

The words were out before she could stop them, and she regretted how disappointed they sounded.

Chakotay looked briefly puzzled. "Should she be?"

Janeway felt the heat in her cheeks. "I suppose not." She met Chakotay's dark eyes. "I'm not entirely sure what prompted this visit, old friend, but I'm certainly glad to see you. Is this purely a social call?"

"Not entirely social, Kathryn," he allowed, leaning back against the leather cushions of his chair. "I decided to stop by and catch up on a few things. I'll start by telling you that Starfleet Academy has offered me a professorship in anthropology if I take up my commission again, so I guess you'll be seeing a lot more of me."

"That's wonderful," Janeway said, though she was conscious of an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She knew where it originated. While she would be glad to have some old comrades around San Francisco, particularly now that she was starting to focus on her life once more, the thought of seeing Seven with Chakotay made her ill. She'd just have to get over it. After all, it was the Chakotay/Seven future relationship that provided the impetus for her elder self to make the dangerous journey back in time. Janeway thought that perhaps the admiral had even found a kind of peace by doing so, after a life where regret had been the primary focus of her existence. Still, there was a sour taste in the back of her throat. Whatever peace her elder self might have found before sacrificing herself to the Borg queen, the current admiral was no where close to discovering it.

"I'm sure Seven will enjoy being back on Earth once more," she offered lamely, though privately she remembered that Seven couldn't wait to leave two years earlier. Earth had been nothing but debriefings and interrogations for the young Borg. As hard as it was on her personally, Janeway truly hoped that Seven had found a better life during her years away.

Chakotay blinked and appeared confused. "Is she back on Earth?".

Now it was Janeway's turn to be confused. "She didn't accompany you?"

Chakotay regarded her, then lifted a brow as his expression cleared, almost as if suddenly realizing something. "I'm sorry, Kathryn, I thought you knew. Seven and I haven't been together for..." he trailed off as he did the math. "It must be well over a year now." He shook his head. "I guess time just seems to slip away when you're not paying attention."

Janeway felt her jaw loosen, but with an effort, she prevented it from dropping open. "You're divorced? So quickly?"

Chakotay looked at her oddly. "We were never married, Kathryn."

"But..." Janeway began, and then shut her mouth as she tried to gather her thoughts. "I know I sent a wedding present."

"You did." Chakotay looked vaguely bemused. "All the gifts were returned, Kathryn. Perhaps yours was lost in transit?"

Janeway held up a finger, feeling as if the conversation had careened completely out of control. "I'm sorry, Chakotay," she said, trying to regain some composure. "Let me see if I have this straight. You and Seven were going to be married, weren't you?"

"That was the plan," he admitted. "But she decided two days before the event that she wasn't prepared for such a commitment. We had to cancel all the preparations." He paused, his face twisting slightly. "She left on a transport the very day of the wedding, and I haven't seen her since."

"Oh." Janeway inhaled slowly. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. I honestly didn't know." She suspected that the sudden surge of elation in her chest was a completely inappropriate response to such news.

He shrugged, attempting a casualness that he obviously did not yet feel. "I guess it's hard to keep track of every little thing going on with your former crew. We've drifted apart the past few years. Still, I thought you would have known about it, for no other reason than because it involved Seven."

Janeway wasn't completely sure what that meant. There had been a tiny little inflection there, a sort of edge that crept into his tone at the last, that made her look closely at him.

"You don't know where she is now?"

"She didn't leave a forwarding address. You really haven't heard from her for the past year?" He sounded somewhat skeptical, as if suspecting that Janeway was playing some sort of word game with him. The admiral had no idea why.

Frowning, she shook her head. "No, not directly since the two of you left for Trebus. The last communication was the wedding invitation."

She wondered why just saying it hurt so much.

He stared at her, then shrugged again. "I guess she really did want to make her own way in the Alpha Quadrant." He said this last in a low voice, almost as if to himself.

"Is that what she told you?" Janeway asked sharply.

"She told me a lot of things before she left." He hesitated, and then dipped his head. "It wasn't the most amiable of partings, Kathryn."

Janeway blinked, surprised again. "What happened?"
He looked very uncomfortable. "It was just one of those things, Kathryn."

"What things?" She knew it wasn't really any of her business, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from pursuing it.

Chakotay took a breath. It sounded vaguely exasperated. "I was an experiment, all right?"

"A what?"

"Something she needed to do to become more human." His tone was unusually flat.

"She told you this?"

"I read between the lines."

"What exactly did she say?"

He shifted uneasily in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the whole conversation. "She said that pursuing a romantic relationship with me had been the most appropriate course her life required up until then." Janeway could almost hear the Borg's chill tones echoing his. "But, at that point, she considered her options and decided that she simply was not prepared to escalate the romantic interaction into a permanent mating unification, either socially or legally."

Janeway crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him. "Go on."

"Well, I said a whole lot of things about why she had waited so long to make that decision, and she said some things regarding her experience with Humanity, or the lack thereof, and finally we decided that it would be best for all concerned if we moved on with our lives. Separately." His olive skin had darkened considerably, and the admiral wasn't sure if it was anger or from a lingering amount of embarrassment. "I'll spare you any further details."

"All right." Though she dearly wanted such details. "I'm sorry I've been so out of touch with things."

Janeway didn't want to admit, not even to herself, that she had preferred it that way. She hadn't wanted to know what was going on outside the little world she had made for herself in this administrative office. Now it sickened her to know how much she had isolated herself, how much she had walked away from things with which she didn't want to deal. It reminded her painfully of her behavior in the void at the beginning of Voyager's fifth year. She had blamed that on the accumulated guilt of stranding her ship and crew in the Delta Quadrant. She didn't have an excuse for this insular behavior, at least, not one she cared to acknowledge consciously.

"I've been busy," she added lamely.

Chakotay didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded soberly. "I guess you haven't heard from the rest of the crew lately, either."

"I know Tom and B'Elanna are posted to the Liberty," she said, trying to remember the bits and pieces Rainscott had brought to her attention every so often. "She's expecting again."

"It's a boy," Chakotay said dryly. "Thomas Junior. He's six months old now."

"Oh." Janeway felt the heat of embarassment rise in her cheeks.

"Harry's still on the Hood," Chakotay added, obviously realizing he was up on current events far more than his former captain. "He's a senior lieutenant now. Tuvok just completed a mission for Starfleet involving the Orion Syndicate. The Doctor is currently on a book tour with his third novel."

"I did see the Doctor the last time he was on Earth," Janeway admitted. "He's become quite the celebrity and we didn't have much of a chance to speak."

"The rest seem to be doing all right in their various postings and positions," Chakotay concluded, spreading out his hands. "I haven't heard anything else of particular note." He suddenly seemed tired and sad. "People move on."

"Yes," Janeway said softly. "They do."

There was a silence then, the two former starship officers staring at the desktop between them, lost in thought. It was Chakotay who shook himself out of it first, leaning across the desk and covering Janeway's hand with his own, looking at her with an odd intentness.

"In any event, I hope that we'll be able to spend some time together, Kathryn, particularly now that I'll be living in San Francisco. I certainly intend to entice you out to dinner once in awhile."

"I'd like that," she said quite honestly.

"How about tomorrow night?" he invited. His eyes turned dark, as if he were looking at her in some new way. Or perhaps it was in the same old way, dusted off again now that they were in close proximity and he no longer had any restrictions, either professional or personal, holding him back.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay," she said ruefully, though for some odd reason, she didn't feel the least bit regretful. "I'm leaving first thing tomorrow morning for an assessment tour of the planetary bases in this sector. I won't be back on Earth for at least six months. May I take a rain check?"

"Of course," he said, obviously trying to be gracious about it, but showing the disappointment in his face. "It was really good to see you again, Kathryn. I don't want to lose touch like this ever again."

"I agree," she said as she tried to disengage her hand without making it obvious. "I've clearly missed a lot of things the past few years. I think it's time I made some changes in my life."

Before straightening and turning to leave the office, he dared to lean over and kiss her cheek, something he never would have done when she was a starship captain. Janeway watched him go, but her bluish-grey eyes were not focused on his retreating bulk, or on what his farewell gestures might have meant. Only one thought dominated her thoughts.

Where the hell was Seven of Nine?

​

Sunshine flooded the shoreline of the broad river flowing through the capital of Betazed. Still recovering from the deprivations it had experienced during the recent Dominion War when an occupying force of Jem'Hadar, Cardassians, and Breen had run rampant through the peaceful world, the planet's scars were brutally evident in various places in the city. Fortunately, things were inextricably returning to normal through the willingness and hard work of a people anxious to move on.

Standing before the large, ceiling-to-floor-length windows that defined the lobby and overlooked the grounds which sloped to the graveled shore, Seven of Nine took a moment to study the view. The city skyline across the broad expanse of water was an elegantly designed pattern of silver towers and spires set against the azure sky and reflected in the shimmering surface of the river. Betazed architecture was light and airy, designed to compliment its natural surroundings rather than the other way around. Utilizing transparencies in liberal amounts, simulated natural products such as wood and stone were predominant in the framing. The landscaping around the buildings was extensive and deemed as important to the site as the structure itself. All types of vegetation were encouraged in the urban flow, from the towering penta trees that offered shades of soothing emerald, to the lush flowering bushes and hedges that bordered the brilliant white walkways and streets. Seven allowed herself to absorb the picturesque whole, savoring the nearby flowerbeds that filled the air with delicate perfume, basking in the beauty of their colors.

Taking a pause for aesthetic appreciation was not something she would have done during her eighteen years as a drone in the Borg Collective. It wasn't even necessarily something she would have done as astrometrics officer on the starship Voyager. But since returning to the Alpha Quadrant and experiencing many things, including an affair with an older man who had a deep appreciation of nature, Seven was far from being the person she had been in either position.

"Seven of Nine?"

Seven blinked and immediately refocused her attention on the job at hand. She had selected Betazed as her destination after leaving Trebus over a year ago because of its proximity to the Federation's central systems. It was to be only a temporary stopover until she decided what to do and where to go, but the planet was hungry for skilled workers, and when Seven inadvertently found herself assisting in one of the smaller reconstruction projects, she discovered it was greatly satisfying to her on a personal level. Before long, she was offering her talents to the largest reconstruction company on the planet, and, shortly thereafter, her abilities caught the attention of the government's Minister of Restoration. He quickly snatched up the Borg, offering her a position of respectable remuneration and prestige to work for the ministry as an efficiency expert. Seven didn't require either credit or glory, but she did appreciate the chance to work in different parts of the capital city, interacting with a variety of beings, both native and alien.

"Do you have the specs for the computer network?" she asked the young man who had requested her attention. Shorter than she, stocky and solid, with the dark hair and black eyes typical of the planet's inhabitants, he took no offense of her abrupt nature as he handed her the requested padds and blueprints.

Betazoids tended to behave with a candid straightforwardness that Seven found quite refreshing after the confused and muddled social deportment utilized by other species. Though they rarely delved deeply into the minds of others, they did utilize their natural telepathic ability to scan the surface thoughts of those they encountered as effortlessly as they used their eyes to see and their ears to hear. While the average Betazoid was not prepared to decipher the chaotic soup, liberally laced with subconscious fears and neuroses, that made up the minds of most aliens, Seven's linear and precise thought processes did not cause the usual psychic headaches. Plus, she was perfectly capable of exhibiting the type of brutal honesty that was the social norm on the planet. By this time, her co-workers tended to look on her as one of their own, even if she couldn't read their minds as they could read hers.

Spreading the blueprints over the partially constructed desks that would eventually become the reception area of the lobby, Seven studied them intently, trying to determine if they would be acceptable as a final draft or if they required further alteration. She was currently functioning as a sort of troubleshooter, with her and her team dispatched to various reconstruction projects around the city to streamline and reorganize their operations, particularly those involving offworld elements. Not afraid to do immediately what was required of her, from terminating the employment of the construction foreman's second cousin who had been hired through nepotism, to thoroughly assessing the standards of various suppliers right down to the quality of their paperclips, Seven was scrupulously fair and impartial, and the people she encountered recognized that, even if they didn't always like the results.

Seven knew she did her job as she did everything else; with great efficiency and little passion. Passion, apparently, was something that she was denied, no matter how hard she strived to acquire the trait. She supposed it had been the real motivation behind her futile pursuit of a relationship with Chakotay. Romantic passion was purportedly the strongest of all, and Voyager's first officer had best fit the parameters of what she was supposed to be looking for in a potential mate.

She paused in her assessment of the specs, wondering why his name and face had suddenly entered her mind. She had not thought of Chakotay for months, not since she had left Trebus. She repressed a minor shiver of mingled shame and apprehension as she remembered how close she had been to marrying him. How could she have allowed herself to take it so far? It was one thing to have doggedly pursued a quest of emotion and sensualism in the hopes of one day achieving total 'Humanity'. It was something else to involve another person in that pursuit, oblivious to his needs and requirements for a happy existence. It had almost been too late before she realized that it was not merely her feelings or lack of them that should be the primary consideration while making her way through life.

If nothing else, her relationship with Chakotay had been invaluable in teaching her what was truly needed to achieve perfection for herself. Ironically, it had been the various ceremonies and events leading up to the wedding that granted her the necessary insight. All the discussion of love and commitment, the advice offered so freely and unsolicited by others around her, the constant bombardment of what a marriage was purported to be and what it actually was when the romance was stripped away, made her realize that she did not possess nearly enough of an emotional tie with Chakotay to make it succeed.

In that failure, perhaps she did discover how to love in some small way. Love, she understood, meant placing the well-being of the other ahead of herself, not to the detriment of her own self worth, but in the enhancement of it. She realized that she would never feel for Chakotay what he apparently did for her, and he deserved better than that. A marriage between them, although she was readily prepared to endure it for however long it took to meet the social demands of her Human Collective, would ultimately cause pain and dissatisfaction for him, particularly once he had moved past the hormonal-induced passions motivating his desire to marry her. Her withdrawal from the proceedings caused no little consternation for all involved, but she knew it was the proper decision. Though her analytical dissection of the relationship in subsequent discussions had done little to ease the volatile parting from Chakotay, and it had been with considerable relief that she acquired passage offworld.

Time served to prove the validity of her conclusions. Once she departed Trebus, she found it easy to resume an existence that did not include Chakotay. She suspected that would not have been the case had her feelings been spontaneously generated, rather than carefully and meticulously formulated through a desire to become more like the others in her new Collective. There was only one lingering uncertainty from that time, a comment flung at her amid the bitter recriminations and impassioned pleading for her to reconsider, an accusation put forth by an increasingly upset Chakotay that still confused Seven.

"This is really about Janeway, isn't it?"

The comment had seemed so out of context that Seven couldn't even respond. She had merely stared blankly at his angry face before the conversation resumed along other, more heated lines that were easily dissected by her unwavering logic.

But every now and again, usually at the most unexpected times, the charge popped up like a nagging ache in her head, raising more questions than answers, and making her feel as if she had left something undone. Of course, then she would start to think about Kathryn Janeway, and that disturbed her in a way that she could scarcely bear. Seven had not liked what she had seen in the admiral prior to her departure from Earth, and wasn't sure why Janeway had become so different, only that little was left of the dynamic and passionate captain who had rescued a drone from the Collective in defiance of all common sense.

"Seven of Nine is the civilian liaison to our project. She was once part of the Borg Collective."

Seven easily heard the words from the group of people stepping off the turbolift at the far end of the lobby behind her, though she didn't look up from her task. Starfleet was constantly giving tours to one official entourage or another, and while she was expected to be polite to them, she didn't go out of her way to greet them. Hopefully, they would pass her by without requiring that she indulge in useless small talk.

"Seven?"

The sound of that voice was totally unmistakable even as it was completely unexpected, despite Seven's thought processes only moments earlier. Stunned, Seven straightened so quickly that the blood drained from her head, leaving her feeling faint. A jumble of emotions and thoughts cascaded through her mind, a myriad of concepts that made her brain patterns muddled and confused. The sudden rush of mental chaos caused the rest of the Betazoids in the area to turn in alarm, staring pointedly at the Borg before turning their attention to the compact form inspiring such a huge burst of emotional static. Seven ignored the scrutiny as best she could while turning to face the woman behind her.

"Admiral," she greeted coolly.

Janeway offered Seven that typical half smile, a crooked curve of her mouth that combined humor and wry self-deprecation in one expression. Seven suddenly found it difficult to see, her vision blurring, and it took an effort to realize it was because she had ceased respiration. Carefully, she resumed that biological function, drawing in the warm, scented Betazed air in slow, measured inhalations until the dizziness receded.

"It's so good to see you again," Janeway said, reaching out her hand.

Seven accepted the handshake, feeling the warmth of those long fingers in her own, and she grasped them carefully, as if she were holding the most delicate of flowers, before finally releasing them as was socially dictated. It occurred to Seven that she was literally out of control, doing little to stem the overpowering feelings and sensations that were threatening to shut down her cortical implant and knock out her co-workers with excruciating migraines. With a decided effort, she damped down the surging tide of emotion, though she did note in a small corner of her brain that while she had always been required to construct such emotions through conscious effort when dealing with Chakotay, they generated with overpowering strength while in the proximity of Janeway. She supposed she would learn something very important about herself if she cared to examine just why that was, even as another part of her quaked at the thought of what she might discover.

She certainly hadn't been ready for such discoveries on Voyager where this woman had been her mentor, her captain, and her friend.

"It is good to see you," Seven responded. "Why are you here?"

The Starfleet personnel accompanying the admiral, two junior officers who were clearly trying to impress the flag officer while giving her the tour, bristled at the question that had been uttered in the Borg's typical flat tone of inquiry. Janeway merely smiled brightly, revealing the flash of white teeth framed by wine-colored lips.

"I've missed that Borg bluntness."

"Have you?" Seven tilted her head. "Yet you have not answered the question."

Janeway actually laughed then, that throaty, wonderfully familiar laugh, and lifted her hand in a gesture to indicate the structure around her. "I'm here to assess the reconstruction of Starfleet's planetary base. Part of my duties as an admiral."

Seven felt oddly disappointed. She wasn't sure what else she thought might have brought the admiral to Betazed, only that Janeway's response had been strangely dissatisfying, as if she had hoped and expected to hear something else. Perhaps that Janeway had come looking for her, though even as Seven thought it, she dismissed it as being entirely foolish.

Janeway looked at her, and her classic features suddenly developed that oddly vulnerable expression, the one that Seven had occasionally been privy to in the Delta Quadrant. It usually occurred when the two of them were alone, and the captain was trying very hard to convey something about humanity to her. Seven didn't know what the lesson was, in this case, but she was suddenly very eager to find out.

"I can't tell you how pleased I am to hear that you're the civilian liaison to this project. How long have you been working on Betazed?"

"I have lived on the planet for more than a year," Seven explained.

"Ever since you left Trebus?" While Janeway's gaze was sympathetic, there was also a subtle sense of evaluation at the same time. Seven wasn't sure what Janeway was trying to discover from her, but for some reason, she suspected the reason would be intriguing.

"Yes. This was my first stopover after leaving the Federation border."

Janeway seemed about to say something more before she checked herself and looked up into the sky. "It's late," she said casually. "Will you be off duty soon? Would you care to have dinner with me?"

Seven lifted her left brow. "I would enjoy that immensely. Allow me to complete a few details here, then I shall meet you."

"Any recommendations? After a year, you must know all the best places to eat in the city."

Seven felt her lips twitch. "Langoli's. If not the best, then they are certainly the most efficient in their service."

To her surprise, Janeway recognized that Seven was joking, and smiled broadly.

"Langoli's it is. I'll meet you there at 1900 hours."

"I look forward to it," Seven admitted with complete and utter honesty.