Convoluted Counseling

G. L. Dartt

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective and now chief science officer of the Federation starship Millennium, approached the door to Holodeck Two with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. After an unsatisfactory session with the ship’s counselor a couple of weeks earlier, she had not made another appointment and probably would have refused Dr. Stone requesting that she make one. But being asked to spend some recreational time with her came as a surprise, one that was intriguing enough to accept.

Accessing the controls, Seven stepped through the door into what appeared to be a mountain setting, with towering fir trees and rock evoking Earth’s Rocky Mountains. In the distance, snowcapped peaks rose in stark backdrop to the foothills stretching before her, wide meadows full of wildflowers, dotted with solitary pine trees and sharp, granite outcroppings, edged by a thick, fir forest in the distance. As the door disappeared behind her, Seven paused, assessing her surroundings, conscious of the slight sense of artificiality. No matter how good the programming or attention to detail, it couldn’t quite make the final transition into believability, at least, when it came to outdoor scenarios. Seven thought it might be an olfactory failing, that the smells of dust and pine and wind and wildflowers were never combined in quite the right mixture to achieve a complete transition into conviction. Other than that, however, it was a very picturesque and pleasing location. She approved.

Down the rise from where she stood, she could see a rustic log cabin, small, with a front porch stretching its length, and beyond that, a corral with weathered, wooden rails. It was empty, the two horses it supposedly would contain, tied outside its gate. One was big and black, with graceful lines, while the other was a stocky, brown and white Paint. Both were tacked up in Western gear, tanned leather saddles with curved designs thrown on over southwestern patterned blankets, and bridles with curved bits. Counselor Stone tightened the cinch around her horse’s belly, making sure it was secure. Dressed in a cream-colored shirt and tattered jeans, Stone also wore the requisite pointed-toe boots and a matching black Stetson. Seven felt slightly out of place in her uniform as she started toward her. Stone noticed her approach and glanced up, smiling as she lifted her hand in a wave.

 “Seven,” she called. “Right on time.”

“I am always punctual, Dr. Stone.” Seven ran her eyes over the horse as she strode down the slope, taking an aesthetic appreciation in its beauty, particularly the fine, delicate shape of the head with its flaring, wide nostrils. It was an Arabian, she identified, lithe and long legged.  “I was unaware you rode.”

“I was raised on a ranch,” Stone explained as she finished the last adjustments to her saddle, “And riding by the age of three. These two happen to have been my favorite horses growing up. This is Shadow, and, the mare over there is Spark. I understand from your file that you also ride.”

Seven nodded. “I have, on occasion. Not in recent years, however.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

Seven considered it. “I do,” she decided finally.

“Then come take a ride with me.”

Seven felt her eyebrow rise. “For what purpose?”

“As a chance to get to know me better. As an opportunity to learn how to trust me.” Stone put her foot in the stirrup and rose smoothly into the saddle. She smiled broadly as she looked down at Seven. “For the sheer joy of being on a horse again.”

Seven hesitated briefly, and then nodded, moving over to the other horse that whinnied loudly as she mounted. Continuing to snort, Spark shifted uneasily beneath her rider and for a few seconds, the sensation of being on horseback again felt completely alien and strange to Seven. Then, muscle memory reasserted itself and she was once again comfortable. More than comfortable as it turned out. She felt happy, her spirits rising with a surge that surprised her and despite knowing none of it was real, she reached down and patted the horse on its thick, muscular neck. Though Paint was a breed all its own, it was clear that Spark also had Quarter Horse in her lines. As in all things she pursued, Seven had researched equines quite thoroughly once she’d decided to learn to ride.

“Last one to the ridge buys dinner,” Stone declared with an impish grin and spurred Shadow into a gallop across the meadow.

Startled, Seven watched her ride away before quickly following, digging her heels into Spark, who responded instantly with an abrupt, but amazingly speedy gait that quickly closed the gap between them until they were riding side-by-side. Pounding across the meadow, turf tossed up in their wake, they reached a shallow creek at the far edge, splashed through the shimmering water and then plunged up a dirt trail leading through the lush forest. Intellectually, Seven knew she was not actually moving at all, that the computer was utilizing a combination of light projections and gravimetric pressure to fool the senses, but it felt reasonably correct and after a few moments, she chose to accept it, losing herself in the pleasure of feeling at one with her animal.

 Finally, after several exhilarating minutes, they slowed to a brisk trot and then to a stately walk, the horses moving in perfect harmony. The creak of leather was louder than the sound of the hooves, which were muted by the thick mat of moss and pine needles beneath. Seven discovered she was smiling. Stone glanced over and returned the smile.

“You’re very good, Seven,” she complimented. “A natural.”

“You would not say that had you witnessed my first attempts at the pursuit,” Seven told her honestly.

Stone laughed even though Seven had not intended it as a witticism. “We’re all a bit clumsy the first time. What made you decide to learn how to ride?”

Seven immediately thought of her protégé, Icheb, who had discovered the pastime on a ranch in Arizona, owned by a cousin of Voyager’s first officer, Chakotay. Icheb’s enthusiasm for the hobby was so acute that it had inspired Seven to accompany him to the ranch and attempt the activity. Her initial attempt had been less than perfect, but over time, she became quite adept, as was the case with most activities she tried. However, she did not know how to describe the situation to Stone without also having to clarify her relationships with her Voyager crewmates or the Borg children, which would be a lengthy explanation indeed. She finally decided on a phrase that Janeway often utilized.

“It is a long story.”

“Oh, okay.”

They rode in silence for a few more moments and Seven wondered if there would be further questions but it seemed Stone was quite comfortable with the lack of conversation and it was Seven who felt the urge to break it.

“You said you grew up on a ranch. On Earth?”

“Yes, in the North America section called Alberta,” Stone explained readily. “My parents loved the outdoors. They weren’t quite Traditionalists, but they didn’t have an affinity for modern technology, either.”

“Kathryn’s parents are Traditionalists,”

“You must find the culture strange.”

“No, I find it appealing on many levels,” Seven said, before she could stop it. She wondered how Stone made it so easy to reveal confidences she wouldn’t normally indulge.

“In what way?”

Seven frowned. “I am unsure. It is … comfortable.”

“Perhaps even comforting,” Stone pointed out easily. “I understand you’re very close to your in-laws.”

Seven realized that must be in her personnel file. “I am,” she said. “They are family.”

“Family has become a very important concept for you,” Stone said. “Understandable.”

Seven glanced over at her. “How so?”

“You grew up with unlimited voices,” Stone said. “After your time with the Borg, you needed more voices and creating family ties was an important part of the process of becoming Human. It must have been devastating to lose those voices after the initial encounter with the Guardian of Forever.”

Seven reined in so sharply that Spark threw her head up in protest, rearing a little to remind Seven that if she wanted, she could dump her on her head with a second’s notice. Despite herself, Seven stroked the animal’s neck in apology and allowed Spark to drop her head and snuffle the forest floor though there was little grazing available. She shot a look at Stone who returned it calmly.

“How do you know this?”

“Obviously, I received authorization to access the classified files.”

“From Kathryn?”

Stone inclined her head. “Yes, the captain was the one who gave me the logs.” She glanced around. “There’s a clearing ahead. Shall we get off and sit awhile? Let the horses graze?”

“They do not require sustenance,” Seven insisted, suddenly feeling contrary, though she didn’t understand why. Is this not what prevented their last session from being successful? Isn’t this exactly what she wanted to discuss? “They are not real.”

“Still, I’d like to stretch my legs,” Stone replied with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a horse. The muscles are taking a little while to catch up. Not to mention the effect it's having on my butt.”

Seven hesitated, and then nodded shortly. Nudging Spark with her knees, she prompted a trot and before long, they had exited the forest into a small clearing, the long grass and wildflowers waving enticingly. A small brook bubbled through a rocky outcrop, and they paused near it, dismounting. Seven discovered she was also somewhat stiff, muscles knotted as she took a few steps. Tying the reins around the saddle horns so that they would not interfere with the horses grazing, the women let them loose. There was no fear of them running off, of course. The holoprogram wouldn’t allow it.

 Perched on a nearby boulder, Stone regarded Seven steadily. Seven, for some reason, found it difficult to look at her directly, and instead, regarded the mountains in the distance, tracing the rocky spires with her eyes. Stone didn’t provoke any conversation, simply allowed Seven to find a place where she could speak.

“The alternative timeline was repaired,” she managed finally. “Subsequently, the events involving the Guardian became irrelevant.”

“We both know they aren’t irrelevant,” Stone said gently. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

Seven turned on her, suddenly angry. “You tricked me. This was to be a recreational interaction.”

“No, we’re just riding and talking,” Stone said as she lifted her hands and looked around at the results of the holoprogram. “I’m off duty, after all. I just wanted to let you know you can talk about it if you want. You’re no longer restrained by regulations. But if you don’t want to discuss this, we can certainly talk about something else. The new Velocity league that just started, for example. Are you joining that? I understand you’re pretty good.”

Seven faltered for a moment, trying to recapture the thread of the conversation. Unlike most people who understood she preferred to remain on topic, Stone seemed intent on jumping around. It was annoying.

“I am very good,” she said dismissively. “I am Borg.”

“What does that mean? You are Borg.”

“It means I have superior physical and spatial abilities,” Seven explained. “I cannot join the league. I would be far better than everyone else.” She paused, searching for the words. “It would not be fair.”

“Being fair is important to you?”

Really, she asked the strangest questions, Seven decided. “It is expedient. Were I to defeat everyone with such superior acumen, it would generate ill feelings among the crew.”

“Is that what you believe, or simply what you’ve been told?”

Seven started to respond, hesitated, and shook her head. “I do believe it.”

“But is that fair to you? It isn’t your fault you have superior skill. There are others on the ship, Vulcans, Bolians, and other species physically superior to Humans, who will dominate the league simply because of natural ability. That won’t prevent them from participating, nor will it prevent those Humans who appreciate a challenge from wanting to play them. Of course, it may subsequently provoke those superior players into creating yet another league, an elite one in which they can enjoy true competition, but it would be perfectly understood by the rest of the crew. They would even applaud it and want to witness such matches. In the end, it’s the competition that’s truly what sport is about.”

“Sport is irrelevant.”

“On the contrary, sport is a very natural pursuit among many species. It’s more than just an idle hobby, it’s a way of finding out about yourself. Playing games is a way to measure your own wellbeing. Having fun is a way to measure your happiness. Play is important.” Stone leaned forward. “Tell me, Seven,” she said earnestly. “How do you feel now, after riding? How do you usually feel after playing a game of Velocity, win or lose?”

Seven considered the question. “I feel … better.”

“So, can we agree that sport and play are important to you? To your continued wellbeing? And can we ask why you don’t pursue more opportunities to feel good?”

Seven started to speak, stopped, began again. “I do not know.” She thought about the previous week. “I have been dancing.”

“Dancing?” Stone seemed delighted with the response.

“At the Nexus. I have been going after the termination of my duty shift.”

“With the captain?”

“On my own, or with colleagues,” Seven admitted. She tried to explain why, when she wasn’t entirely certain herself. Or why she felt so guilty about it. “I have not told Kathryn. I allow her to assume I am working a double duty. But I only want to dance.”

“Ah, and dancing with the captain becomes something else?”

Seven nodded, something clarified deep inside. “I do not always want it to be…” She trailed off, uncertain.

“Does dancing with your spouse inevitably lead to lovemaking?”

“Yes.”

“And you just want to dance without explaining why you don’t want more. So, you dance with people where it’s understood it will never become anything more.” Stone shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that, Seven. You just like the activity. Nothing says you are required to share it only with your spouse.”

“Yes.” Seven felt relieved suddenly. “But it is an activity that we enjoy together. I do not know why I wish to do it without her.”

“Well, that’s something we could talk about later.” Stone glanced up as a quiet ping reverberated through the meadow, and rose to her feet. “My free time is up, I’m afraid. I have to get back to work, I have a client coming in.” She looked back at Seven. “We’ll have to do this again, sometime, Lieutenant. I don’t have anyone to ride with, and I enjoyed this very much. Thank you for coming out with me.”

“I enjoyed it, as well,” Seven admitted. Then added hesitantly. “I believe I require more sessions with you on a professional level.”

“Just make an appointment. Unfortunately, I’m booked this afternoon. Shall we try for tomorrow?

Seven nodded. “Yes, I will make the request.”

“I’ll see you, then.” Stone lifted her head. “Computer, End Program.”

The world around them dissolved, leaving them standing in a large room that rose two decks, made up of black tile lined in glowing blue. They were on the other side of the room from the door, though, in the program, it seemed as if they had been riding for miles. Seven felt a certain disconnect as she and the counselor exited.

She wasn’t entirely sure it was from the holoprogram.

Janeway wondered if she should have brought along some security, but it irritated her that there might be some place on her ship where she wasn’t free to go unescorted. That irritation was enough to have her at the door to the ship’s guest quarters on deck twelve without involving her chief of security. Besides, if Ro was as good as Janeway assumed she was, Ro would know where the captain was and be properly prepared. That it amused Janeway was a little bit of a bonus.

She and Seven had discussed the possibility of Seven making the first overture to the Changeling, but Janeway hadn’t seen a lot of her wife lately, and it was possible Seven hadn’t had time to put the plan in motion. Besides, Janeway shouldn’t be relying so much on her to undertake such delicate missions. It put too much pressure on Seven, and the one thing she didn’t need now was more pressure, especially from her wife. It was difficult enough being married to the captain of a starship. And maybe if Janeway had given Seven more space in the past, it would have allowed her the freedom to find herself without all the current angst. It did occur to Janeway in her darker moments that who Seven might find wouldn’t necessarily be who Janeway was used to. Still, anything would be better than the unhappiness Janeway had sensed from her over the past month.

Shaking off her melancholy and taking a deep breath, Janeway pressed the chime for admittance. It wasn’t answered immediately. When the door finally hissed open, it was the Vorta, Weyoun, an impossibly slender man, with upswept, ridged ears and discomforting eyes, who stood there. His prissy manner was evident just standing there, and Janeway felt an immediate aversion, no doubt fueled by the knowledge that he was a clone, genetically enhanced for intelligence and humanoid characteristics. Originally, it was thought in the Federation that the base species was similar to that of a weasel. Janeway readily believed it.

“Greetings, Captain,” he said breathlessly, as if he had been exercising. Except, that was his natural tone, Janeway suspected. “How may I be of assistance?”

“I would like to speak with Omono,” Janeway said as pleasantly as she could.

“May I ask in regard to what?”

Janeway felt her face freeze. “No, you may not,” she said. “Please inform your superior that I’m here.”

“One moment.”

And to Janeway’s utter outrage, rather than invite her to wait inside, the door slid shut in her face. She possessed a natural respect for every guest’s privacy, of course, but this was her ship and she was not about to be left standing on the doorstep like a peon. Overriding the door, she entered the quarters, discovering that the immediate living area was empty. To her right was a conversation space with comfortable sofas in Starfleet blue upholstery, while near the large viewport looking out onto the stars, there was a small dining area with a replicator, table and four chairs. Two doors opened into bedrooms to her left. One was open, allowing her to see Weyoun’s back. He was speaking to someone hidden from view, and as he turned, he started abruptly when he saw Janeway standing there, her hands linked behind her back at parade rest.

“Captain?”

She smiled charmingly at him and took a seat in the nearby armchair. “I’ll wait here, shall I?”

“Of course.” He looked uncertain and turned back into the bedroom. Janeway wondered if the Changeling was in her humanoid form, one that resembled a diminutive, middle-aged female with blank, unfinished features, or if she had been in some other form, perhaps even her natural, gelatinous state, though the captain doubted the Founder would ever allow the Vorta to see her that way.

It took a few more minutes, and Janeway was tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair by the time the Changeling, in her usual humanoid form, finally appeared, Weyoun hovering anxiously at her shoulder. Janeway rose to her feet, forcing her most charming smile.

“Have you come to interrogate me, Captain?” Omono’s tone, while not exactly challenging, wasn’t particularly welcoming, either.

Janeway swallowed back her initial response, hoping nothing showed in her expression. “On the contrary, Omono, I’m here to invite you on an away mission,” she said mildly. “We’re approaching the Wadi system, and I understand the Dominion have encountered them on several occasions.”

“We have,” Omono allowed. She hesitated, and then moved over to the sofa, sitting down in a way that evoked fluidity. Motioning at Weyoun, she indicated he should leave and after a brief pause that displayed obvious trepidation, he bowed briefly before disappearing into the other bedroom, the door sliding firmly shut behind him.

 “You surprise me, Captain,” Omono continued. “I assumed after our previous encounter, you would not wish any further interaction with me.”

Janeway bared her teeth in a smile as she resumed her seat in the armchair. “It’s come to my attention that perhaps we got off on the wrong foot,” she said, as graciously as possible. “I appreciate that shifting shapes is part of who you are, and I should honor that. Perhaps not when you imitate a member of my crew, but certainly your abilities are something to be admired in general.”

It was hard to read emotions on the smooth planes of Omono’s face, but Janeway thought she might have surprised her. Certainly, it seemed her body language relaxed a little. “Thank you, Captain,” she said finally.

“Are you interested in accompanying us to the Wadi homeworld?”

“In truth, Captain, we’ve always found the Wadi to be…frivolous.”

Janeway blinked. “Frivolous?” she repeated, thinking it an odd choice for describing the Wadi. “May I ask, why aren’t they part of the Dominion?”

“We did not choose to incorporate them into our union,” Omono said and her voice grew perceptibly cooler. Clearly, she did not intend the conversation to go much farther in that direction.

Janeway wondered why. Was it because the Wadi weren’t worth conquering, or more interestingly, was it possible the Dominion simply couldn’t conquer them, for some reason? The Federation really had no idea about the Wadi’s level of technology. In fact, all that was really known about them came from a single previous visit by the Wadi to Deep Space Nine where they hadn’t participated in any kind of diplomatic exchange with anyone. Instead, they had visited the local bar run by a Ferengi named Quark, and played some dabo, before involving him, the station’s commander, Benjamin Sisko, first officer, Kira Nerys, science officer, Jadzia Dax, and the station’s medical officer, Dr. Bashir in another game called chula. The Wadi hadn’t repeated the visit and no one in the Federation had seen them since.

When it became clear the previous day through subspace chatter that they were about to encounter them again, it seemed an excellent opportunity. Janeway immediately transmitted a greeting that indicated their interest to discover more about them, and to her delight, the Wadi had quickly responded, inviting Millennium to alter course and visit their homeworld a few parsecs away.

“Why not?” Janeway asked carefully.

“They play games, Captain.”

“Games?”

“Constantly,” Omono explained. “Everything is a game to them. We did not feel it was in our best interest to extend our interaction with them.”

Now Janeway couldn’t wait to get to know them better. Clearly, they had confounded the Dominion in some fashion that made them intriguing indeed.

“Does that mean you won’t be joining us?” she prodded delicately.

Omono wavered, and then dipped her head. “Actually, Captain, while the Dominion have little interest in the Wadi, it would be beneficial for me personally to observe your methods of diplomacy and interaction with other species. That is why I’ve been placed on this mission.”

“That was my understanding,” Janeway agreed. “Odo wants our people to achieve a true acceptance of each other. We can’t do that if we don’t learn to put misunderstandings aside and look to the future. Learn how to work together”

“Does that working together allow me to alter my form?”

“Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it?” Impatient suddenly with the verbal sparring, Janeway felt the beginnings of a headache feather her temples, and rose to her feet. “Be in Transporter Room One at 0800 tomorrow morning.” She forced another smile. “I’ll see you then.”

Wondering who had gotten the better of the exchange, she took her leave of the guest quarters and headed back to the bridge. She had barely exited the turbolift when she discovered Commander Ro standing just outside, waiting for her. Clearly, the security chief had been monitoring the situation, and from the foreboding expression, hadn’t much liked it. Janeway resisted the urge to smile.

“Commander,” she greeted silkily.

“Captain, a word if I may.” Ro’s tone was tight, and clearly unhappy.

Janeway paused and regarded her, calculating just how unhappy she’d made her. Realizing she needed to smooth things over a bit, she graciously inclined her head toward the door leading to her ready room. “After you,” she invited.

They were barely inside when Ro turned to her. “Captain, it’s come to my attention that you visited the Founder,” she said. “Unescorted.”

Janeway felt her lips twitch again as she went over to retrieve her thermos from her desk. Rummaging around a nearby table, she found a mug emblazoned with the crest of Starfleet Command, and glanced inside, determining it wasn’t too dusty. She poured herself a cup of coffee, taking time to appreciate the heady roast odor that rose, tickling her nostrils. Finally turning back to her security chief, who was now practically vibrating with intensity, Janeway leaned back against her desk and took a long, languid sip, thoroughly enjoying the moment.

“Your security detail has the quarters and surrounding corridors under constant surveillance, Commander, and besides, it’s not as if Omono or her entourage are about to do any overt harm to me.”

“I still should have accompanied you,” Ro insisted. “Captain, I can’t do my jo---“

“Your job does not include babysitting me every single minute on my own ship, Commander,” Janeway interrupted, and now there was a lash of command lacing her tone. “Look, Laren,” she added, softening a bit when she saw Ro’s tiny wince. “I understand having the Dominion envoy on board puts a lot of extra pressure on everyone, but they’re here, now, and we’re just going to have to deal with it. Part of that is finding a way to interact with them. I don’t think isolation is the answer.”

Ro looked as if she wanted to say more, but her jaw firmed and she managed a nod. “Aye, Captain,” she said stiffly.

“I invited her along on the away mission tomorrow. Has there been any further contact with the Wadi?”

“No, just the coordinates for their space station, and that they were looking forward to seeing us,” Ro allowed. Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Are you sure it’s a goo---I mean, do you think the Founder will be able to contribute anything to the mission?”

“I’m not sure,” Janeway allowed. “But I’d really like to know why the Wadi aren’t part of the Dominion. I don’t know if it’s because they were too strong to conquer or if there’s some other reason, other than just because they like to play games. In either event, it’ll be interesting to see how they react to the Founder, and her to them.”

“I see,” Ro said. “Should I increase security on the away team?”

“Again, I don’t see what benefit it would be for her, or her people, to act in any kind of overt manner. She might come up with something subtle to undermine our diplomatic efforts, but having more security wouldn’t counter that. We’ll just have to keep our wits about us.” She took another swallow from her mug, savoring the hint of chocolate underlying the strong blend. “How are we doing with the metamorphic detectors that B’Elanna and Seven were working on?”

“B’Elanna showed me the prototype,” Ro said. “It’s not been thoroughly tested yet, but I’ll take it along with me. It might give us an edge if we need it.”

“Assuming it works,” Janeway allowed. “In any event, Seven will be with us, and she can always detect the Founder in whatever form she’s in. It wouldn’t hurt to have Dr. Stone along, either. She might be able to detect something the rest of us can’t see.”

“Captain?”

Ro was obviously surprised and Janeway couldn’t blame her, considering how she and Dr. Stone had initially interacted, a prickliness that Ro had easily detected. But the captain was coming to appreciate some of Stone’s talents. The previous evening, she had come home to discover Seven trying to stretch out muscles abused by an unexpected horseback riding holoprogram she’d shared with the ship’s counselor. Despite her soreness, Seven also seemed considerably more positive in her demeanor and informed Janeway that she would be pursuing further sessions with the counselor.  Janeway took that as a good sign.

 She offered a small smile. “Anything else, Commander?”

Clearly taking it as the dismissal it was, Ro shook her head. “No, Captain. Thank you.” She turned on her heel and left the ready room, returning to the bridge.

Janeway stared after her thoughtfully, continuing to sip her coffee and wondering whether she had complicated matters unnecessarily by inviting the Founder along. Still, as she told Ro, Seven would be there, and that was all they needed to keep Omono under control.

In truth, having Seven there was all Janeway ever needed. Again, she felt the same odd perplexity edge her thoughts. Putting her beloved spouse’s current state of mind aside, Janeway realized she couldn’t be happier, both personally and professionally. Though she hadn’t wanted the Dominion envoy on her vessel, secretly, in the deepest part of herself, she couldn’t deny it added a little dash of spice to this voyage to the Gamma Quadrant, relieving any tedium that might exist between missions. Having Tuvok as her first officer this year had provided a comfort level she hadn’t enjoyed in the ship’s previous explorations of the Delta and Beta Quadrants respectively. Lt. T’Shanik was developing quite nicely as an attentive and promising command cadet. All Millennium’s discoveries to date had provided scads of valuable scientific information to bring back to the Federation. And since her encounter with the Guardian of Forever, Janeway had never felt more serene, more content with her choices. Though she understood the event was traumatic, in truth, she had laid to rest some deep and damaging demons regarding her father, Justin Tighe and the events at Tau Ceti Prime. Demons that had plagued her entire adult existence. She now knew with certainty that this was the life she was meant to be leading, that all her previous choices had led to this time of personal peace.

But for Seven, the Guardian of Forever had shown her an existence that was nothing but tragic and since then, she had experienced an unusual difficulty in finding her center again. She was hurting, and because of that, no matter how happy Janeway felt otherwise, a large part of her hurt as well. The result was this confusing morass of combined joy and misery, of hope and despair, of love and loss, all the while feeling terribly guilty that she didn’t feel as bad about her recent temporal adventure as Seven currently did.

She drained the last of her coffee. As much as she wanted it to be otherwise, there wasn’t anything more she could do about it. She had to trust Seven, had to trust in their love. Seven would find her own way, and until then, Janeway would just have to be patient and let her go. In the meantime, Janeway would concentrate on her ship and doing her duty.

If she enjoyed it, that was just something she had to embrace, as well.

Finished with her final client of the day, Sydney dutifully recorded her notes into the database and leaned back in her chair, rubbing the back of her neck to ease the tightness there. A request for a new appointment from Seven was on her calendar, and she considered her gambit with the riding holoprogram to be quite successful. Besides, it had been fun to ride again. The smaller ships she’d been serving on didn’t have holodecks, only the occasional holosuite, and those weren’t really designed for big scale programs like riding for kilometers without repeat of scenery. Instead, they were restricted to low level interactive games or encounters with holo-characters within a finite space. The difference between seeing a play in a local theater or experiencing a full blown sensory experience of a big city stage show, as it were. Being on horseback again had been restoring, and she hoped it had been the same for Seven.

A chime at her door surprised her and she disabled the lock with a touch of her screen. “Come.”

She was surprised when the ship’s security chief appeared. The tall, willowy Ro moved with a deadly grace as she entered the office and at Stone’s gesture of invitation, sank into the opposite chair. Short, dark hair, held back by a red band, framed angular features and large dark eyes. A distinctive rippled ridge at the bridge of her nose was indicative of her Bajoran heritage, as was the single earring that dangled from her right ear.

“Commander,” Stone greeted. “How may I help you?”

“I want you to accompany us on tomorrow’s away mission,” Ro said, without preamble. “I’ll need your assessment of the Wadi.” She paused, her dark eyes narrowing. “And of the Founder. The captain has invited her to join the away team.”

Stone felt her eyebrows rise. “I see,” she said slowly, feeling her stomach twist. “I’m glad to offer what assistance I can.”

“Transporter Room One at 0800,” Ro replied. But that didn’t seem to be the end of it. Instead, she remained seated, regarding Stone gravely.

Stone immediately recognized this game and didn’t react, keeping her expression one of polite inquiry. Inevitably, it was Ro who glanced away first, and the counselor suspected that was not something that happened often with the formidable woman. She wished she could access Ro’s file, but lacked the ability to do it without being completely obvious about it, which would only provoke Ro to make an immediate exit. Stone could remember some details from her initial perusal after coming on board. For example, she knew Ro was married to the ship’s chief engineer, B’Elanna Torres, and that they had a very young daughter, Miral. That this was their first starship duty since Miral’s birth, and that both had tempestuous upbringings, Ro in a Bajoran internment camp during the Cardassian Occupation, and B’Elanna as a Klingon hybrid from a broken family, raised by her grandmother. Stone was intrigued by the coupling, wondering how much they had resolved the issues of their background or if they continued to impact on their current lives. She didn’t know offhand how much counseling the two women had received over the years, though she suspected in Ro’s case, she would have required a certain amount before being able to apply to Starfleet.

Of course, there were those people that managed completely on their own, surviving their beginnings to develop into fully functional, completely healthy and happy adults, developing the tools needed to cope through instinct and life experience. Stone didn’t run into those people very often. Most possessed baggage of some sort or another.

Finally, Ro broke the silent standoff. “Counselor, do you have a lot of experience with children?”

“I do have a certain amount of training in that area,” Stone admitted. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been assigned a ship with a civilian crew compliment.”

“I see.” Ro paused again, and Stone maintained her aura of calm, welcoming serenity. “I think I’ve been having a few problems adjusting to motherhood.”

Stone offered a small smile, one of compassion and understanding. “Having a child can turn a person’s world upside down. Even if you think you’re ready for it, inevitably, you’re not. Is there some area where you feel particularly stressed?”

Ro shook her head fretfully. “Not stressed, exactly.” She seemed ready to say something else, stopped, held up her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get into anything. I’ll work it out.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Stone reminded.

“I know, but…” Ro frowned.

“What?” Stone prodded gently. “That’s why I’m here.”

“I know, it’s just that I feel…as if I’ve failed in having to discuss this. I should be able to handle one little girl. I shouldn’t need to have someone else fix the situation.”

“Oh, I can’t fix things, Laren,” Stone told her easily. “That’s not my job.”

Ro appeared taken aback. “No?”

“Not at all.” Stone paused for a second, gathering her thoughts. “Look at it this way, Commander, we’re all a product of our amassed experiences. Imagine, if you would, that who we are is a structure that we’ve built over the course of time. The foundation is laid when we’re young, and those experiences determine the strength or weakness of the materials being used. Some people are fortunate enough to be able to build on solid granite, with the very best materials possible, of brick and high-quality mortar holding the whole thing together. Others must improvise, using mud and pebbles on shifting sands. As we grow older, we start to erect the walls, the framing of our structure, along with doors that we either allow to stay open to walk through with ease, or lock down tight, never to open. The windows that we look out onto the world beyond, either of the clearest, smoothest glass or through thick bars of rusty metal. The roof we use to shelter ourselves, either tightly sealed against the weather, or sagging and battered, exposed to the elements. Maintenance of this structure is lifetime commitment. And occasionally, once the structure’s in place, regardless of how strong or weak the materials with which it may have been constructed, something comes through, some experience or event smashes out a window, or blasts a hole in the roof or washes away the foundation. Are you with me, so far?”

Ro nodded, though she still looked a bit perplexed that she was still sitting there. “I am, Doctor,” she said. She managed a bit of a smile. “So, you’re like a building contractor?”

“More of a consultant,” Stone offered, retuning the smile. “Like the materials we use to construct our lives, our experiences and how we deal with them determine the strength of tools we possess. Some of us are fortunate to have the very best devices of the highest technology. Others have only the simplest implements; a bit of string to measure with, a stone to hammer in the crooked nails, a stick to pry away the bad bits. Using those tools, we try to repair any damage that life inflicts. Sometimes we can’t and it remains a gaping injury in ourselves. Other times, we just spackle over it, hiding it from the outside world. And sometimes, we manage to repair it in such a way that we’re left stronger than ever.”

Stone leaned forward, spreading her hands in emphases. “All I can do, Commander Ro, is put the tool box in front of you. Inside, there’s a whole range of new and better tools. But I can’t make you open the box, I can’t make you want to pick up the tools and I certainly can’t tell you which tools you need to pick out. All I can do is give you a way to open the box, and help you figure out which tools might work best for you and how you might be able to use them in the future. It’s up to you to use them to make your structure as strong as possible, or make any repairs that still linger.”

Ro considered that for a long moment. “Very well, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I’ll think about what you’ve said. In the meantime, you should prepare yourself for tomorrow. We don’t know a lot about the Wadi and should be ready for anything.”

“I try to be, Commander,” Stone said gently.

Though the counselor knew it was impossible to be ready for everything, or even most things. She’d served long enough in Starfleet to know that, and as she entered the transporter room the next morning, she discovered that she was walking lightly on the balls of her feet, as if she was about to go into battle. Ro and two of her security team were already there, along with Seven of Nine and Lt. Rekar. They nodded a greeting to the counselor and Ro handed Stone the standard away mission issued devices; a tricorder, a small mission pack and finally, a phaser. Stone secured the last in the waist of her tunic with confidence. She was good with weapons, particularly old-style projectile guns. During the war, officers wore phasers all the time as standard issue. After the ceasefire, the regulations changed and Stone, despite her acknowledgement that the use of weapons meant a complete failure of diplomacy, missed having one tucked away in her belt. She knew she was an aberration in Starfleet, especially since she was a counselor, but that didn’t change her mind. A phaser was a damned useful thing to have.

The two other security officers were introduced as Lt. D’Or, a slender, Bajoran man, and Ensign Morris, a solidly built Bolian woman with blue skin and a pugnacious expression. Both carried phaser rifles and looked extremely competent.

The door slid opened as the captain entered with her exec, Tuvok. The tall, dark Vulcan nodded as Janeway offered some final instructions and then took up a place next to the transporter officer. The ship would be in his hands while the captain was gone and Stone suspected that even he felt a little pang at having to stay behind.

“Where’s Omono?” Janeway demanded as she accepted her equipment from Ro.

She sounded irritated and Stone involuntarily glanced at the door as if she could will the Changeling to appear. It took ten more minutes and a query to the computer before the Dominion envoy showed up and immediately there was another problem.

“No,” Janeway stated firmly. “I invited you along, Founder, not your goo---bodyguards or your assistant. They have to remain on the ship.”

One of the Jem’Hadar shifted provocatively and the other one quickly held up a hand, indicating which one was in charge. Solid, muscular and reptilian, they looked menacing just standing there. “That’s unacceptable, Captain Janeway,” the leader rumbled.

 “That’s how it is, First,” Janeway said flatly.

Ro glanced at the captain and then back at the Jem’Hadar. “I have this detail, Tular,” she said in an intent tone.

He hesitated, then dipped his head stiffly. “I accede.”

Weyoun was less easy to pacify, but Janeway’s implacable insistence that it was just the Founder or nothing, eventually won the day. As if there had been any doubt to anyone, Stone mused silently. She was beginning to understand that while the Founders might be considered gods by their followers, Captain Janeway was purely a force of nature. She didn’t move in mysterious ways. She was blatantly obvious in the way a hurricane was, elemental and profound, with no question about what the result would be if challenged.

Finally, they were poised on the transporter dais and Stone felt the same mix of trepidation and anticipation she always felt when she was about to have her molecules scrambled and sent a staggering distance away in mere seconds. Glancing around, she took note of the expressions of her fellow away team members. Janeway and Ro were serious, but calm, and she doubted they felt anything at all about the transporter process. Seven was expressionless, her brilliant blue eyes distant and unconcerned, the silvery shape of her ocular implant and the one at her right ear glinting in the overhead lighting as she stood tall, hands linked behind her back. The handsome Rekar fidgeted slightly, as if not sure he wanted to be there. Behind him and Stone, the Founder appeared small, positioned as she was between the two security guards.

Appearances were deceiving, Stone knew, as she turned her gaze forward again, firmly controlling the sharp pang of antagonism that rose within her like a poison. The Founders were as dangerous as they came and were responsible for the deaths of millions in the war with the Federation. How many Starfleet personnel did Sydney know personally who had perished in the various battles with the Jem’Hadar? How many fellow officers did she witness die while serving on the front lines, unable to save them? How many shattered ships and equally shattered crews had she encountered, trying to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of yet another Dominion attack?

Despite all the training, intellect and Federation morals, there was a part of her, even now, that wanted nothing more than to take out her phaser and shoot down the Founder, along with the insipid Vorta. As for the Jem’Hadar, she wanted to do more than just kill them. She wanted to skin them alive and make new boots out of them.

But because she was more than the sum of her experiences or irrational prejudices, she managed to keep any of the hatred roiling in her stomach like acid from reaching her expression. Or for that matter, affect her in doing her job. She understood that the war was over, that peace had been established between the two civilizations, and that as a Starfleet officer, it was her duty to uphold that peace in every way possible. But sometimes it was hard to overlook the blood she’d seen spilt.

No, she wouldn’t ever raise a hand to harm those who were so recently her enemies, but she dearly hoped she wasn’t placed in a position to ever have to save them. Because she wasn’t entirely sure what she would choose in that moment.

Squaring her shoulders, she stared ahead as the world dissolved around her, feeling the unmistakable sensation of the transporter cascade over her in a tingling shower. Then reality appeared around her, and she immediately knew something was wrong. Rather than the space station where they were supposed to meeting the Wadi contingent, they were outside, materializing in a small clearing surrounded by jungle. Nor was the away team intact. Only Stone, Seven, Janeway and the Changeling were there. Rekar, Ro and her security detail were gone.

“What th---” Janeway began.

“Kathryn!” Seven interrupted, reaching over and throwing an arm around the captain, pulling her down and away from the bolt of energy that sizzled through the air where Janeway had been standing.

“Run!”

 Even as Stone shouted it, everyone was already in motion, the counselor sprinting after Seven and Janeway who had plunged into the nearby jungle. Stone didn’t know who was shooting at them, or why. It was enough to know they were and that retreat was the only option for the away team if they intended to survive.

A prospect that was currently very much in question.