Gamma Grumblings

G. L. Dartt

“What the hell have they done to my bridge!?!”

Janeway looked around in absolute horror. USS Millennium had spent the last six months in dry-dock, undergoing repairs and a maintenance overhaul after their last mission. Part of that had apparently included a complete restructuring of the bridge layout.

Janeway turned to Seven. “Do you see what they’ve done?”

“My ocular implant is functioning properly, Kathryn,” Seven said evenly and a trifle unsympathetically.

Janeway shot her an aggrieved expression and returned her attention to the bridge. It once held various levels, of which, the captain’s chair was located on the highest platform, overlooking the rest. Now it was completely on one level, with the command chair situated between the first officer's station on the right and another station on the left.

“This is the same as the Sovereign-class vessels,” she said, putting her hand on the back of the black leather. “Like the Enterprise-F.”

“Studies have shown that this provides the most efficient layout for bridge personnel to interact.” Lt. Mendez scratched his head nervously. Short, swarthy and handsome, the Utopia Planitia engineer had drawn the unfortunate duty of giving Janeway a walkthrough of her overhauled vessel. His cautious demeanor indicated that he had previous warning that she was unlikely to appreciate the changes and would need to be handled with care. “Unlike the Enterprise, Captain, the station on your right is not that of the ship’s counselor. It’s for your chief science officer, seeing as this is primarily a science vessel.”

In front of the command grouping, the helm maintained its central position, but was flanked by weapons on the starboard side, and operations on the port, angled so that all six main stations, when viewed from above, formed a rough oval. It made everything seem somewhat cramped and immediate, which was wonderful for a military vessel, but for a ship with a main purpose of exploration, and which would be away from the Federation for a year or more, it made things far too confined for Janeway’s taste.

“I don’t like it,” she said flatly.

“That’s too bad, Kathryn,” a voice advised from behind them, barely a second behind the hissing of the turbolift door.

Everyone turned to see the diminutive form of Alynna Nechayev step onto the bridge. Mendez immediately straightened, “Admiral on the bridge.”

Janeway merely crossed her arms over her chest while Seven’s ocular implant lifted slightly. Nechayev nodded briefly at Mendez and gratefully taking that as a dismissal, he made a quick escape.

“We’re doing over all our ships in this fashion, Kathryn,” Nechayev said once the lieutenant had left. “So, you’ll just have to bite the bullet and take it like a starship captain.”

“Great,” Janeway growled. She glanced at the station on the left. “That’s Seven’s station?”

Seven moved over to it to take a seat. Examining the console that curved around it with keen, analytical attention, she lightly pressed the touch pad and evaluated the data scrolling across the screen. “Acceptable,” she decided after a moment.

“There you go, Kathryn. Even the Borg find it acceptable. Can you do any less?” Nechayev’s tone was so arid, it sucked what little moisture remained from the atmosphere that was already a bit dry, the odor of newly worked titanium and fused circuitry still lingering.

Janeway glowered and Nechayev actually smiled. That gave Janeway pause. If the admiral was in such a good mood, going so far as to make a quip regarding Seven’s presence, there had to be a reason and she’d bet her last strip of latinum that she wasn’t going to like it.

“Lt. Hansen, have you checked out your lab yet?” Nechayev added silkily, her gaze never leaving Janeway’s.

Janeway lifted her chin. “That’s a good idea, Seven, go see what they’ve done to your labs.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Seven flick an assessing glance between her and the admiral and immediately rise to her feet.

“I will comply,” she said calmly. Retrieving the small carryall that she’d brought on board, she strode gracefully for the turbolift. Janeway suspected her use of Borg terminology was a subtle dig at the admiral who was always aware of her past, but didn't smile. Instead, she maintained her lock on Nechayev’s eyes, the pale blue even icier than Seven’s.

“I suppose you have the file for my new exec there,” she said, inclining her head at the padd Nechayev was holding in her left hand. Starfleet Command had determined that part of Janeway’s value to them lay in how well she trained first officers in the subtleties and intricacies of being a starship captain. She was expecting another officer like her last, a green commander with a troubled past who would try her patience at every turn.

Nechayev presented it to Janeway, the corner of her mouth still curved upward slightly. “Commander Tuvok, previously of Starfleet Intelligence. I believe you’ve heard of him?”

“Tuvok? You’re giving me Tuvok?” Janeway was thrilled, glanced down at the padd to confirm the posting and then, just as quickly, looked up again, deeply suspicious. “What’s the catch?”

Nechayev exhaled softly and gracefully sank down into the captain’s chair, crossing her legs. “We’ve decided that with your security chief and chief engineer possibly distracted by their new baby, and your chief science officer distracted by your personal relationship, a little Vulcan detachment was sorely needed during your upcoming mission to the Gamma Quadrant.”

Janeway pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing as she studied Nechayev’s narrow features. “That can’t be it,” she said after a moment. “There’s something else going on here.”

Nechayev abruptly looked pleased, as if Janeway were a particularly smart poodle performing a trick. “I told them you wouldn’t fall for such a transparent ploy. I know my captains better than that. They weren’t going to inform you until you got to Deep Space Nine where it would be too late for you to kick up much of a fuss.”

Feeling her heart sink even more, Janeway eyed the admiral. “What's the rest?”

“In order to traverse the wormhole and jump to the farthest reaches of known space within the Gamma Quadrant, Millennium must utilize entry and exit coordinates within the boundaries of Dominion space.”

“I’m aware of that.” The Dominion, ruled by a species of Changelings called the Founders, kept their subject worlds under control by the military presence of the Jem’Hadar and the administrative authority of the Vorta, both genetically engineered species that looked upon the Founders as gods. “I was under the impression that the treaty allows for passage through their space by our ships.”

“Not transition vessels,” Nechayev said. “I grant that the presence of Odo in the Great Link has tempered their suspicion of us somewhat, but their entire culture maintains a fear of us ‘solids’, particularly solids who so recently defeated them in the war by utilizing a biological weapon. They would only agree to our jump within their borders on one condition.”

Here it comes, Janeway thought sourly. “And that would be?”

“That a representative be placed on board your vessel for observational purposes, much as the Confederation did with Minister Jiidan on your last mission.” Nechayev suddenly looked as if she had tasted it something very unpleasant. Clearly, she didn’t like this any more than Janeway did. “A Changling and its entourage will be traveling with you.”

“Entourage?”

“Two Jem’Hadar soldiers and a Vorta named Weyoun. I think it’s the twenty-seventh version by now. They reproduce their administrators by cloning. There have been a few other field agents, but those aren’t encountered nearly as often at the Weyoun version.”

“And the Changling? Will it be Odo?” Janeway mentally crossed her fingers. She had met him on DS9 prior to Voyager’s fateful trip into the Bajoran badlands where he'd been serving as the station’s security chief and found him rather likable, despite his dour demeanor.

“No, when the Great Link issues a representative, it’s usually in the form of a small, middle-aged, almost frail looking female. Don’t trust it for a minute. It uses that form as a method of camouflage. It can change into anything at any time, including imitating one of your crewmembers.” Nechayev linked her fingers, resting them on her abdomen. “You have an advantage, Kathryn. You weren’t here for the Dominion War so you don’t have the…” She paused, searching for the proper words, “same personal history to influence your judgment while dealing with these beings as most of our captains do. But you’ll need to remain alert.”

Janeway shook her head. “This is going to be a lovely mission,” she said sourly. “Are we allowed to do any exploring and scientific research, or are we just supposed to play cat and mouse with our guests for the next year?”

“Don’t be snide, Kathryn. I don’t like it any better than you do but my orders are clear and so are yours.”

Janeway threw up her hands and walked toward the front of the bridge. The viewscreen was tuned to the outside, the docking array arching over the ship while pods and engineers in spacesuits flitted around the various docked vessels like insects drawn to a picnic table. Raking her fingers through her hair and leaving it disarrayed, Janeway wondered if she should have retired from command when the idea first came to her six months earlier. She still loved the thrill of scientific discovery and the lusty danger of exploration, but the political end of it was steadily wearing her down.

“Fine,” she said finally, a touch of resignation in her tone. “I suppose I’ve dealt with worse. But what are my options should it turn out they’re more than merely observers on this mission?”

“Eject them out of the nearest airlock.”

Shocked, Janeway turned and stared at the admiral who merely lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not being facetious, Captain. The Dominion nearly subjugated the Federation. They had their own reasons for doing so, and some might even say that they’re understandable reasons considering their history with solids, but I have zero tolerance for their presence on board one our premier vessels. If they’re a threat in any way, you have my full authorization to neutralize that threat in any manner possible.”

“I understand, Admiral,” Janeway said slowly. The Dominion War may not influence her judgment regarding the Founder envoy, but clearly, it had influenced the admiral’s, much as Wolf 357 had influenced her opinion of the Borg. Janeway would just have to play it by ear. In the meantime, she was glad she would have Tuvok’s dispassionate manner and impeccable logic to offer council.

She would undoubtedly need it.

​

Seven’s inspection of her labs did not take long. Starfleet had not altered anything of significance, which did not surprise her in the least. Her labs generated the highest personnel performance in the fleet, the efficiency of her organizational configuration overseen with Borg precision. With the added judicious tempering and compassion of her civilian liaison, a joined Trill named Dr. Lenara Kahn, who enjoyed the practical experience of several lifetimes, it was almost a perfect operation. One did not tamper with near perfection, not even those flawed humanoids in Starfleet Command who liked to meddle simply for the sake of meddling.

Still, Seven wondered how much improvement she could achieve with her personnel this year. It was a personal goal she set at the beginning of each mission, and one she usually attained.

After checking her office and placing two small sculptures and an image of herself, Janeway and their dog, Jake, on the shelf behind the chair, she picked up the now empty carryall and headed for the captain’s quarters. The couple always liked coming onboard a day or so before the rest of the crew began reporting for duty, allowing them the chance to acclimate before their duties kept them too busy for the more domestic arrangements of shipboard life. But it felt strange to wander around the huge, mostly empty vessel. The only other people on board were a small engineering team from Utopia Planitia making a few last-minute adjustments here and there. Although powered up, the massive impulse and warp engines were in standby, making the corridors and rooms almost echo with the absence of the pervasive hum that existed when the ship was traveling through space.

Upon entering her cabin, Seven dropped the carryall on the top of the kitchenette counter and went into the bedroom where she found the two totes that had been beamed over from the Utopia Planitia base earlier, containing the personal possessions that she and Janeway deemed necessary for their physical and mental stability over the upcoming year. In Seven’s tote were several more images of loved ones, including two of her mother, two more sculptures of which Seven was particularly fond and Janeway absolutely loathed but tolerated for her sake, and a large selection of organic herbs and spices that would enable her to indulge in her favorite hobby of cooking. There was also a container of sexual aids that Seven placed carefully in the compartment built into the head of their bed, located next to the titanium bar fastened firmly through the headboard to the bulkhead itself. Drawing out a couple of silky gowns she had selected to pique Janeway’s attention sometime in the future, she hung them neatly in the closet next to her dress whites.

As she was unpacking the captain’s tote that contained several hardcover books, a slate-blue blanket that smelled strongly of their home in San Francisco and a tattered old blue teddy bear that Seven lovingly placed in the bedroom display cabinet in a prominent central position between her sculptures, she heard the door to the outer quarters hiss open. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled as Janeway appeared in the doorway.

“Who is our first officer this year?” she asked, suspecting from the expression on Janeway’s face that it would be another officer much like Kiera Kelly, inexperienced, opinionated and so rough around the edges that Janeway would be required to knock off several just to be listened to.

“Commander Tuvok will grace us with his presence over the next year,” Janeway replied evenly, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe.

Surprised, Seven stopped what she was doing and stared at her. Tuvok was one of Janeway’s closest friends, and Seven had even discovered a bit of a father figure in him during their time on Voyager. To have him on board as first officer should have created elation in the captain, not circumspection. “Why are you displeased?”

“I’m not displeased about Tuvok coming aboard. God, it may be all that gets us through the next year.”

Seven closed the display cabinet and focused her full attention on her spouse. “Explain.”

“We have some observers on board during our mission to the Gamma Quadrant,” Janeway said and proceeded to tell her about the addition of the Founder and her entourage.

Seven mulled over the information thoughtfully. “I look forward to speaking with this individual,” she decided. “From what I have heard of the Great Link, it is somewhat similar to the Borg Collective mind, only completely organic. I am most intrigued.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” Janeway threw up her hands and went over to the bed where she flopped down on the mattress, still bare of linens. Linking her fingers behind her head as she sprawled over the cushioned surface, she developed a petulant expression that Seven found both amusing and somewhat adorable. “I don’t need this, darling. We have enough to worry about as it is, jumping into the unknown.”

Seven tilted her head, trying to determine what was truly disturbing her spouse. “The political ramifications may be disturbing for some on board,” she ventured.

“Any crewmember who served in the Dominion War is going to find it hard to understand, that’s for sure.”

“But is it any different from our first mission with Commander Zar and those who had served in the Maquis?”

“Of course, it is, because he was on our side and the crew knew that despite their personal biases. I have no guarantees that this Founder and her people aren’t here purely for espionage purposes. Not to mention having a couple of Jem’Hadar soldiers around to provoke any hotheads.” Janeway gnawed on her bottom lip, eyes narrowed. “I’m going to lose some of my crew over this.”

Seven sat on the edge of the bed, frowning at her comment. “Millennium is one of the premier postings in the fleet. I fail to see any crewmember determining the course of their career on the basis of…” she hesitated, “a lingering emotional attitude over a conflict that has been resolved.”

“Don’t underestimate ‘emotional attitudes’,” Janeway said dryly. “They can move mountains, particularly when humans are involved.”

“Inefficient,” Seven was suddenly worried about her science department. She could not afford to lose certain scientists and still maintain her current level of performance. It was doubtful any replacements would adequately meet her stringent requirements, particularly from the civilian sector.

Janeway, now that Seven appeared as concerned as she was about their imminent mission, immediately looked more cheerful. “Well, we’ll manage. We always do.”

Seven exhaled audibly in exasperation and returned to Kathryn’s tote where she pulled out the captain’s dress whites and a few elegant outfits that she hung in the closet. At the bottom of the container, she discovered a small, gaily-wrapped package with her name prominently displayed on the tag. She looked up at Janeway. “What is this?”

Janeway rose onto her elbow, smiling faintly. “A welcome-on-board gift for my favorite chief science officer.”

“I am your only chief science officer.” Seven resumed her seat on the bed and began to open it, barely containing her eagerness. She loved presents, particularly unexpected ones. As she detached the paper from the box and opened it, her eyebrows lifted. Lying on the velvet cushion, a delicate bracelet sparkled green and silver in the lowered illumination. “It is lovely.”

Janeway reached out and retrieved it from the box, bringing over Seven’s left hand so that she could fasten it around her wrist, the gems blending into the Borg mesh in a complimentary and attractive fashion. “I thought it might enhance what’s already been enhanced,” she added quietly.

Suddenly moved to tears by the caring gesture, Seven wrapped her arms around Janeway and pulled her onto her lap with powerful ease, holding her close. “Thank you, Kathryn,” she whispered. “I love it. And I love you.”

“You’re my heart, Seven of Mine,” Janeway told her, nuzzling her ear. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“I will not.”

Janeway drew back and gazed into her eyes with a particularly vulnerable expression, cupping Seven’s cheek in the warm palm of her hand. “I’m so glad you’re with me on this journey.”

Seven kissed her, loving her so much that words failed her. So she kissed her again, wanting her to know just how much she meant to her. Janeway returned the kisses readily, lips parting to allow their tongues to touch, moving gently against each other with a sweet and burgeoning passion.

“I should have made up the bed before I attended to unpacking,” Seven murmured as Janeway trailed down her neck, kissing her throat.

“I don’t think we need sheets,” Janeway told her, her respiration quick and hard. Pressing Seven back against the mattress, her body moved over Seven's as she unfastened her uniform tunic. Somehow, between the deep, desirous kisses, they undressed each other, pausing to caress each new area of revealed flesh with ardent affection. By the time they were naked and unencumbered, skin on skin, they were both so aroused that it would take very little to lift them to a mutual plateau of profound pleasure. With unspoken accord, they slowed their caresses, wanting to prolong their experience for a while longer.

As they lay together on the mattress, stroking each other with easy familiarity, Seven stared into Janeway’s bluish gray eyes, her wetness like the finest of silk on her fingers and thought there could be no better place than where she was.

“This is probably our last chance to indulge without the possibility of interruptions,” Janeway murmured, her fingertips swirling over Seven in ever decreasing circles, centering on the tip of her ridge.

Seven pressed two fingers into Janeway, basking in the sensation of clinging walls surrounding her, feeling her squeeze in response. Moving her thumb firmly over her, she kissed her, nipping lightly at her bottom lip. “We have indulged considerably during our leave. Perhaps the reduction in opportunity will only enhance the appreciation of our encounters over the next year.”

“That’s my Borg, always looking on the bright side.” Janeway groaned loudly as Seven moved in and out of her with slow precision. “Oh, darling, that feels so good.”

Seven spread her legs wider as Janeway fondled her with a stronger touch, and their conversation deteriorated to urgent moans and some rather profane instructions from Janeway to be both quicker and deeper in her caresses. Seven complied, loosing herself in her own rising enjoyment as Janeway’s fingers moved over her with superb insistence.

“Oh, Annika, I’m…I..” Janeway arched against her, a husky cry tearing from her throat. Tremors rippled through her, her wetness pulsating around Seven’s fingers, and briefly, her caresses became erratic as she lost her rhythm, unable to maintain it. Seven closed her eyes, hovering on the brink in exquisite delight during the brief interruption before Janeway found her tempo once more, rubbing firmly over Seven with shattering result. Seven jerked and gasped, her left hand digging deeply into the mattress, though she was able to keep from tearing the fabric and the poly-foam beneath.

Afterward, settling into the warm afterglow, they lay together on the bare mattress in perfect harmony, nuzzling gently with soft kisses and tender touches of love and affection. “I’ll miss being able to do this anytime the mood strikes us,” Janeway whispered.

“Anticipation will make our interaction more intense,” Seven predicted. “Particularly after our first senior staff meeting. Know that when I look at you, I will be imagining what it would be like to lay you down on the table and feast upon your body.”

Janeway laughed. “You are positively evil, my love. How am I supposed to keep a straight face during those departmental meetings now?”

“It will be a challenge of your command abilities,” Seven said, nipping playfully at her earlobe. “One must always be challenged to improve.”

“Just so long as you remember that the whole time you’re giving your initial report, I’ll be imagining you bent over while I use my tongue on your---”

“Kathryn!”

“What, you can give it, but you can’t take it?” Janeway poked her in the ribs and then laughed as Seven rolled her over and began to tickle her lightly. “All right, all right! I yield!” Still smiling, Janeway settled into her arms, stroking her face lightly with her fingertips. “So, do you want to try out Earth or Mars for dinner?”

“There is a new restaurant in Marsport,” Seven suggested. “We could invite Laren and B’Elanna to dine with us.”

“Assuming they could get a sitter,” Janeway reminded her and smiled at her expression. “Welcome to the reality of parenthood, darling. You can’t just pick up and go on the spur of the moment. Everything has to be carefully planned.”

“Inefficient,” Seven said fretfully. “In the Collective, we placed infants in maturation chambers until they were able to function independently.”

“Be sure to suggest that to B’Elanna, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Seven hesitated, realized Janeway was being facetious and squeezed her admonishingly, provoking another husky laugh. Seven didn't share her amusement, thinking back over the past few months and the changes that had occurred in her friends. She adored Miral, but occasionally, when she became fussy and started leaking various fluids from her orifices, there was a part of Seven that was quite glad to hand her back to one of her mothers. She wondered if the alterations in B'Elanna and Ro's personalities since Miral’s arrival were because they could not so easily hand her over to someone else’s care. “I understood intellectually what having offspring would do, but that does not encompass the actual reality of it.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Janeway had sobered and was watching her steadily, expression patient, as if knowing Seven was working something out.

“Have you noticed that B’Elanna and Laren are not…” Seven paused, trying to clarify her thoughts. “They do not seem as friendly toward us. And B’Elanna is different now. She only talks of Miral, never of engineering and science.”

“Having a child changes a person, Annika. Priorities shift. That child becomes the most important thing in the universe.”

“Will they be able to carry out their duties in an efficient manner?”

“I wouldn’t have accepted them back if I didn’t feel they could.” Janeway rested her fingertips on Seven’s lips. “But darling, Klingon babies, because of their physiology and environmental evolution, tend to develop quicker than Human or even Bajoran babies. Miral isn’t quite as advanced because she’s a hybrid, but she’s still the equivalent of a eight-month-old, even though she’s only four months. It’s more intense for B’Elanna and Ro taking care of her during this time, but this initial process will also be over much quicker for them. Don’t be surprised if, between their duties and their new responsibilities as parents, B’Elanna and Ro have to temporarily let go of other things in their lives, including their friendship with us. During that time, you’ll have to show how good a friend you are by accepting the fact that their time and energy is severely limited.”

Seven absorbed that. “I understand, Kathryn, but it is a difficult transition.”

“And one that we may have to go through ourselves someday.”

Seven, conscious of Janeway’s new interest in parenthood thanks to a recent two-week period when a temporal anomaly placed her in a close contact with her ‘son’, hugged her close. “One day,” she promised. “After you are truly finished with command and I no longer wish to explore the four quadrants, we will expand our family.”

Janeway smiled and kissed her. “Until then,” she agreed. “Now, about dinner?”

Seven glanced down at their tangled, nude bodies, moist with sweat and intimate fluids. “Like this?”

“Don’t be silly,” Janeway admonished, wiggling away and sliding off the mattress. Smiling faintly, Seven watched her walk toward the ensuite, appreciating the play of muscles in her gluteus area before rising from the bed and going after her.

Anxious to savor these last few hours of unencumbered togetherness before her command took Janeway’s full focus once more.

Ro Laren leaned back in the chair in the conference room, glancing once across the table at her spouse. B’Elanna looked a little tense, undoubtedly because this was the first time they’d both been forced to be away from their little girl at the same time. They had arranged their shifts so that B’Elanna had Miral through the day, and Ro was the main caregiver in the evening, with both at home between 0000 and 0800, but because they were members of the senior staff, there were occasions…conferences, red alerts, transition jumps, and away missions…when they had to be on duty at the same time. Fortunately, Millennium was one of the few vessels in Starfleet that boasted a large civilian contingent, and because of it, families made up a significant number of the support crew. Extensive child care facilities were part of the ship’s overall organizational structure, with crewmembers assigned to duties devoted solely to looking after the children while their parents were needed elsewhere.

Still, it didn’t make it any easier to know Miral was down in a daycare on deck thirteen, spending the day with several other youngsters. B'Elanna and Ro knew this time with her would be brief compared to Bajoran or Human babies and Miral was growing so fast. They didn’t want to miss anything, not her first steps, or her first words or anything of that nature. Though once Ro and B’Elanna became used to trusting the care of their child to someone else, perhaps they would be able to reschedule their duty shifts and catch up on their sleep.

Ro couldn’t remember ever being so tired, not even during those dark days in the Maquis, or before that, growing up in the internment camp on Bajor. It seemed like she hadn’t made it through a whole night for four full months and B’Elanna was equally exhausted in attending to Miral’s needs. Ro knew they were fortunate she’d been born early in their six-month leave. They’d had four months to adapt without anything else demanding their time. Reporting to Millennium the day before had changed that, and the Prophets only knew how it would work out.

“I’ve just received word from Deep Space Nine.” Janeway slouched comfortably in her chair at the head of the table, looking keenly alert even as she appeared completely relaxed. Supreme confidence in one’s place in the universe could do that for a person, Ro thought without rancor. “Apparently, Lt. Nog has accepted a posting there, as well a promotion to senior lieutenant. We wish him well, of course, but it leaves us a little short at the helm position.”

“Is this to do with our anticipated guests?” Pulaski asked keenly. The ship's chief medical officer regarded the captain with a faint grin. Ro wasn't sure if the acerbic doctor was needling Janeway slightly or not and in truth, she was never sure. Having known her since she'd been a green cadet at Starfleet Academy, the snowy haired Pulaski wielded a certain authoritative influence over Janeway that no one, not even the admirals at Starfleet Command possessed.

“Possibly,” Janeway allowed mildly, “but in the long run, it’s irrelevant. We need to replace him. I’m going with Tom Paris as our chief helmsman.”

“But he’s only Human,” Tuvok pointed out in a practical tone. “He won’t be able to navigate us through the transition jumps.”

“Ro has helm experience from her time on the Enterprise,” Janeway said. Startled at hearing her name, Ro lifted her head to meet her captain’s gaze. “You’ll be taking us through the jump, Laren. I’m not prepared to trust it to anyone else.”

So much for catching a catnap or two during the transition, Ro thought glumly. “Aye, Captain.”

“Hopefully, we won’t have to worry about the transition effects after this mission,” the Doctor added. The EMH, though not in charge of sickbay on Millennium as he had been on Voyager, still enjoyed the privilege of attending senior staff meetings, if for no other reason than Pulaski having someone to get her coffee when she requested. “Starfleet Medical, in cooperation with several other departments, is working very hard on a relaxant that will neutralize the symptoms of jump sickness.”

“Believe me, it can’t come soon enough,” Janeway said dryly, sparking a few smiles around the table.

Lt. T’Shanik, the Vulcan operations officer, leaned forward to give her report on the status of her department and Ro took the opportunity to take a quick nap with her eyes open, a useful trait she had acquired during her advanced tactical training. It wasn’t so much sleep as it was a deep trance, relaxing every muscle and restoring a portion of her physical resources. It lacked the true replenishment of REM sleep, but it allowed her to function at something resembling her normal performance levels. Across the table, B’Elanna frowned at her, knowing what she was doing and envying her bitterly. Despite their best efforts, Ro had been unable to teach the technique to her. Meanwhile, Ro bitterly envied Seven who, with just a thought, could dispatch a surge of nanoprobes through her body and completely revitalize her physical and mental reserves, allowing her to function at peak performance for an additional twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

“What of the science department?”

Ro woke up at Janeway’s question and glanced down the table at Seven who lifted a brow. “I have lost two scientists from astrometrics and biometrics respectively.” Her cheeks were a bit pinker than usual, and frowning, Ro glanced back at the captain, who was staring at Seven with a lidded gaze and a particularly intense expression on her face. Ro wondered what was going on. “One accepted a position with Deep Space Five. The other was a last-minute withdrawal, stating our upcoming mission in the Gamma Quadrant and the inclusion of a Founder on board as the primary reason for resigning the post.”

“It’s not the Founder I’m worried about, it’s the damned Jem’Hadar,” B’Elanna growled. “It’s like having a couple of Hirogen on board. Do we really have to accept them?”

“If we want to traverse their space, it’s part of the deal,” Janeway said evenly, in a tone that brokered no disagreement. “I’m assured that the Jem’Hadar are only here as a form of honor guard, and not for military purposes.”

“A military purpose is their sole reason for existing,” T’Shanik noted. “Forgive me, Captain, but we should not underestimate the danger.” Though stationed far from the front during the war, she had lost many friends and colleagues in the fighting.

“We don’t, Lieutenant,” Janeway said, “and neither does Starfleet. That’s why I have the first officer I do.”

Everyone glanced at Tuvok, who looked unperturbed at the attention. Ro was just glad to have him on board in any form, feeling a great sense of relief to know she would not have to shore up any shortcomings in the exec position, nor have to worry about the needs of her department. Tuvok, having served in Starfleet Intelligence, knew well what she required to do her job properly and would allocate the necessary ship’s resources to her at a moment’s notice. She would need that unconditional support with a Changeling, a Vorta and two Jem’Hadar on board.

Ignoring the glances, Tuvok addressed his attention to Seven. “Replacements?”

“After transmitting my request to Starfleet Command,” Seven replied. “I was informed that a civilian scientist, supervising a project on Betazed, volunteered to fill one of the positions. Other than being assured that the scientist’s qualifications are acceptable to serve on board a starship, I know nothing about him or her. In the meantime, we will be rendezvousing with the USS Cochrane to accept the transfer of Lt. Richard Jenkins, a exobiologist to join biometrics.”

“Excellent.” Janeway linked her fingers on the smooth surface of the table. “B’Elanna, what about engineering?”

“No losses of any note, Captain, and a couple of new cadets fresh out of the Academy for me to train.” She paused. “Is there any hope of getting Icheb assigned to me next year?”

“I’ll be sure to make the request.” Janeway favored her staff with a benevolent expression. “We’ll be breaking orbit at 0800 tomorrow. We’ll pick up the remainder of our crew along the way to Deep Space Nine. Once there, we’ll layover for a day and a half for supplies and to complete any last-minute transfers. After that, we’ll enter the wormhole. Once we’re in the Gamma Quadrant, we’ll lay in a course for the Founder’s planet and pick up our Changeling envoy and her staff. We’ll make a transition jump from the Founder’s system to the furthest most point they have coordinates for.” She smiled broadly. “Then the real fun begins.”

As they left the conference room, Ro drifted over to B’Elanna who was waiting for the turbolift. The chief engineer smiled wearily. “I’ll pick up Miral.”

“Why don—” Ro began, and then stopped.

“What?”

“I was going to suggest that maybe I could pick Miral up after my shift ends. You could take the opportunity to have a nap.”

“I don’t want someone else looking after my child,” B’Elanna flared, her voice dropping to a low growl so that no one else could hear, though Seven did glance over briefly.

“It was just a suggestion,” Ro said, firmly reining in her temper.

B’Elanna started to say something else, paused and then softened, looking a bit sheepish. “I know. I’m sorry. But that’ll come soon enough, Laren. I want to hold off on it as long as possible.”

“Fair enough,” Ro said, patting her on the arm. “I’ll see you at shift change.”

She had arrived early for her shift so that she could log off duty in time for B’Elanna to get ready for hers. She suspected that brief period of changeover would be all they’d be seeing of each other for the time being, but they knew it came with the territory when they made the decision to return to Millennium.

Shaking her head and still wondering why B’Elanna had been so adamant about returning to space, Ro headed for the new station located to the left of the helm. After familiarizing herself with the new board, checking out the new controls for the phaser banks and finalizing her initial bridge schedule for her assistant security chiefs, she contacted M’Reek and told him to meet her on deck seventeen so that she could check out the latest version of the photon torpedoes.

By the time she had logged off and headed for the new quarters she and B’Elanna had been issued on the family deck, near the main entrance to the ship’s Safe Haven, she had used up all the energy her brief nap in the conference room had provided. Wearily, she entered the cabin where she discovered B’Elanna stretched out on the couch, sleeping peacefully while her daughter slumbered equally as peacefully on her belly. For a moment, all Ro could think was that having a nap so late would mean Miral would be up through the night, leaving both her and her mother cranky and out of sorts, but then she looked at the two beings she loved most in the world and immediately softened.

Moving quietly, she went over to the sofa and carefully picked up Miral, lifting her up into her arms. B’Elanna snorted and stirred at the disturbance, but didn’t wake up, turning her head and resuming her sleep. Miral didn’t stir either, other than to snuggle into Ro’s arms, curling up like a kitten. Ro smiled fondly at her and kissed her soft curls before she carried her into the bedroom where she placed her gently into her crib.

Then, straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she went out to the living area and shook B’Elanna awake, barely avoiding a halfhearted swing from the still groggy engineer.

“Ughh,” B’Elanna said and forced herself up into a sitting position. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned widely, causing Ro to follow suit. “Damn it.”

“Sorry, but you have to report to duty.”

“I know. I’m late.” Exhaling gustily, B’Elanna staggered to her feet and headed out the door without so much as a backward glance at her spouse.

Ro went over to the replicator and programmed in some raktajino, needing the boost it offered her system. She managed to consume a salad, though her appetite remained sparse at best and finished off a new tactical procedure paper issued by Starfleet Command. She was on her way to bed when Miral woke up and demanded her attention.

Sighing quietly, Ro gathered up her daughter and headed for the changing table, wondering why she and B’Elanna had thought having a child would somehow complete their lives as opposed to completely disrupting them.