The Doctor carefully removed the blackened and torn uniform of a crewman who had gotten caught by the backwash of an overloaded power conduit and started in on the burned flesh beneath. Ensign Baytart had been on deck four where he had been covering transporter room one. Ensign Ashmore, who had also been shaken up, had dragged him into sickbay. The burns were severe but nothing that a dermal regenerator couldn't handle. Unfortunately, it was time consuming and particular care needed to be taken around the ensign's eyes and mouth. 
Around the Doctor, in the flickering lights of sickbay, powered by an emergency supply, various crewmembers lay on the deck or were propped up against the hull, waiting their turn in the triage set up by Sek. She determined who needed prompt attention and who could get by without it for a delayed period. Other crewmembers, uninjured, had converged on deck five and were helping out where they could, comforting those who were waiting and running supplies to the Doctor and Sek as they requested them, essentially filling the role of corpsmen.
The lack of internal communications bothered the Doctor but he really couldn't give it the attention he wanted. He could, of course, transport himself around the ship using his portable emitter to find out what was going on, but there were too many patients who needed him here. It would be irresponsible go running all over the vessel at random. He had to stay in his medical center and hope that the rest of the crew could bring the injured to him.
He looked up briefly as the doors opened to admit Neelix and two others from engineering. By the way the Talaxian deployed them, the Doctor understood that they were there for technical help and it eased his mind tremendously that at least engineering was coming back on line. For them to be dispatching technicians meant they could spare them, and that was one worry off his mind. Of course, he had heard nothing from the bridge.
He finished regenerating the skin of the crewman, leaving it pink and tender, but no longer vulnerable to the infection that was the deadliest threat when dealing with burns. Switching off the dermal regenerator, he picked up a hypospray and pressed it against the young man's neck. The stimulant worked quickly and the crewmember woke up. This, of course, was not the preferred method of dealing with a patient in recovery but he had no choice ... others waited and they needed this biobed for the next patient. Sek came over and helped the still groggy ensign over to the wall where others were taking a moment to recuperate completely. Then they got to their feet and headed out to resume their duties, knowing the ship was still in trouble. Those who were standing by to backup a specified duty, or were unable to get to where their stations were because of the breaches on decks seven and eight, stayed behind to help out in sickbay as best they could. 
One advantage in having all been together for six years ... people tended not to stand on rank or role in a crisis.
The Doctor cast a worried eye on the two other biobeds where two patients remained, unable to be moved. One had already been in sickbay when the whole crisis began; Megan Delaney, the wife of Lt. Kim and expecting her first child. The ensign was undergoing a certain amount of difficulty in the closing stages of her pregnancy, and now it seemed that the shaking she had undergone during the battle had not made things easier. Currently, she was fighting a quiet battle to keep from going into premature labor.
The other patient was also pregnant and the prognosis for her was much more serious. All the pregnant women had been instructed to go to the safe haven in the center of the ship where restraining fields could be snapped into place for the inhabitants. She had refused, demanding that she remain on duty and whether the Doctor liked it or not, that was her right as a crewmember. But she had not been restrained by any stasis field when the ship carried out its encounter with the enemy, unable to brace herself sufficiently in auxiliary computer control to prevent being flung heavily to the floor.
Now she battled to keep her child and Sek passed by the bed frequently, monitoring the situation closely and administering whatever treatment that might aid in Ensign White's struggle.
As he waited for his next patient to be prepped by the corpsmen, he took a brief instant to admire the slender form of his assistant. Her progression was such that she would soon be able to call herself a doctor. At first, he had been resistant to teaching her how to be a practicing physician, wondering peevishly why she couldn't be happy being his medical assistant. She pointed out in that calm, rational, infinitely patient way she had, that two doctors were far better than one for Voyager, particularly one who was specialized in obstetrics and pediatrics, considering the expected arrival of several new crewmembers in the form of offspring. Besides, as it turned out, she needed to be a doctor, it was part of her basic programming. For him to deny her that was to deny who she was meant to be. Faced with such overwhelming logic, not to mention that steely eyed determination she boasted...undoubtedly, B'Elanna Torres's contribution to her matrix...he crumbled before her demands and agreed to assist her in acquiring full access to the medical data banks.
Janeway had to be convinced, of course, but he discovered that she was less resistant than he. In fact, the captain's attitude toward holograms seemed to have undergone a marked change since he had first been activated all those years ago, and she was very encouraging to Sek, insisting that she develop as far as she could. He had actually wondered a bit at that, remembering well the captain's treatment of him in the beginning, when she had regarded him as nothing more than a tool, no more sentient than a tricorder or a spanner. Over the years, the Ocampa, Kes, and later, Seven of Nine, had helped Janeway see how her view was too rigid and narrow. Gradually, the captain had come to accept his development into a fully sentient being. Not so long ago, she had even placed it in the official record, according he and Sek all privileges and rights as full crewmembers of Voyager.
He decided that Sek was merely benefiting from the trail he had blazed, and that the ease of her acceptance was a result of the battles he had fought to gain the respect and trust of the crew. He was proud of that, and of her, as well. And tremendously gratified for the random sequence of events which had brought her into existence, granting him the opportunity to know her.
The sound of a transporter whine invaded his thoughts and he looked over to see a group of injured materializing on the deck nearby. Immediately, he went over, knowing that Neelix and his team had tapped into the sickbay auxiliary transporter system, bringing it back on line and retrieving those they had left behind in engineering. The two holograms assessed the wounded engineering staff quickly, noting that two needed attention before the rest. With the help of Neelix, they got them onto the operating tables and set to work. He allowed Sek to do most of the work on the first, repairing the shattered bones of a lieutenant's leg, while he operated on the second, repairing the perforated organs where the ensign had slammed into the sharp edge of a engineering console. He checked occasionally on his assistant's work as he would any intern, but he was pleased to see that all the skills he possessed as part of his matrix were also part of Sek's. She may not have the full experience to be considered a full-fledged doctor yet, but she certainly had the ability.
He shook his head, refocusing on his patient. He noted that so far, no one had been brought in from the safe haven, and in fact, it was personnel from that area who had re-established the power supply to sickbay, bringing the emitters back online so that the emergency medical holograms could once again function. It comforted the Doctor to know that even though construction in that area of the ship was not yet complete, it had performed perfectly as a form of protection to whomever might be in it. It was a brief, shining success in a sea of darkness, and he allowed himself a certain amount of elation for that.
Their children would be safe, cocooned in protective restraining fields while the safe haven continued to maintain both power and life support when all other areas of the ship had failed. And if nothing else came from this senseless battle, at least they had that.
 
Ro Laren twitched her fingers, opening the panel just beneath her hand and touching the control pad that released the restraining field. She sat up gingerly as around her, others in security's elite beta squad did the same. Running around the large central room where cable and wires still dangled, she could see the crewmembers evacuated to this location also releasing their respective fields, and rolling off the shelves that folded down from the hull like bunks in a shuttle craft. Nearby, Samantha Wildman released Naomi. The child's field did not have an internal release for safety purposes. 
The experience had been very like an amusement park ride, dizzying and somewhat frightening when one considered that this was their ship ... their home ... that was being spun around so wildly. Ro had felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness as she lay pinned to her pallet, unable to move beyond clenching her fists. She hadn't made a sound though certainly, she had heard others cry out through the horrible sounds of stressed metal and minor explosions. Now, she tried to take stock of the situation.
Fortunately, it seemed that everything had worked exactly as designed and there were no indications of injuries ... just some very shaky crewmembers. A few meters away, two ensigns from geometrics helped one of their pregnant crewmates off the padding, the woman nodding that she was all right.
Ro took a deep breath when she realized that of all the people present in safe haven, her recent promotion made her the ranking officer.
"All right," she said in a ringing tone. "Has anyone tried communications?"
"I have," Davis said as the tall, sandy haired man rumbled over to the Bajoran. Muscular and solid, he was second in line and she felt better for seeing him up and around. "Communications are down. None of the internal sensors are working."
She nodded, expecting nothing less, yet was always hopeful. That hope was rarely fulfilled, she noted glumly. She noticed that others were gravitating to her, attracted by the note of command in her tone. Was she enjoying the sense of responsibility that abruptly weighed heavily upon her shoulders? She thought she preferred to be one of those awaiting her next command, waiting to be told what to do rather than having to make the decisions.
"Listen up," she said firmly, injecting a note of steel into her tone as they had so painstakingly taught her at the academy when she had returned to take advanced tactical training. Don't let anyone panic, she thought, and the best way to do that was to look calm and confident. She hoped fervently that she didn't appear as uncertain as she felt deep in the pit of her stomach.
"I want all unnecessary personnel to remain here until you receive an all-clear from the bridge. Obviously, this is the most protected place to be at the moment. Ensign Wildman, you're in charge. It might be a good idea to check out the replicators, see if they're online yet and if they're not, what it will take to bring them up to speed. We may have to consider the possibility of feeding the entire crew if the messhall has been compromised. Davis, you take a team and head for engineering. See how much help they require and how bad the rest of the ship is. Ayala, grab some people and check out sickbay. Try to get them up and running if they're not already. The rest of beta squad, with me. We'll try to get to the bridge, see how bad things are there."
To her gratification, no one argued or even looked particularly reluctant to follow her orders. Instead, they moved swiftly, without hesitation, carrying out what needed to be done, and seeming almost relieved that someone had taken command. Samantha Wildman took her child's hand, leading her to the far end of the room where the two replicators, independent of the ship's systems, resided. Other crewmembers started to sort themselves out, determining who would be best for what task with Ayala and Davis putting their teams together quickly. Ro took another deep breath and moved over to the nearest equipment cabinet, hoping it had already been stocked.
It had, meaning someone had been doing some thinking prior to evacuating a good percentage of the crew to the safe haven. Probably Tuvok, she decided as she attached the phaser to the fastening at her waist, and claimed a tricorder for herself. She strapped a lamp to her wrist, checking to make sure it was fully charged, and then passed out the rest of the available equipment to the others, making sure it was shared equally with all the teams, though Davis's team recieved all the rope. They could, after all, expect to be passing through decks that might be severely damaged. The projections had not being particularly promising for decks seven and eight. 
After making a quick sweep through the safe haven, making sure she hadn't overlooked any injured people or anyone that might be useful elsewhere, Ro headed for the airlock situated in an alcove set off from the main room. There were two such exits in total, with the other leading to a shaft that ran directly down to the shuttle bay. The one Ro was at led out to the main corridor of deck five. She hoped that she wouldn't have to put on one of the environmental suits hanging limp in their nearby compartment, the white, bulky outfits ready and waiting behind the glass door.
"Confirming pressure," Crell, the Bolian, said, checking the readings on the display. "Atmospheric integrity is maintained, but readings indicate a lack of viable life support. You can breathe out there, but only for a few hours."
Ro was glad that this area of the ship maintained it's own independent life support and power supply. "I guess that's the first priority then. Restoring life support." She looked back over her shoulder at Ayala. "Your team may have to run a power supply from here to sickbay. I think the auxiliary transfer unit has been installed but I'm not sure."
"We'll manage," he said confidently.
She nodded and indicated to Crell to cycle the lock. She and the rest of the beta squad crowded inside and waited there until Crell was able to release the outer hatch. The group spilled out into corridor, and without waiting to see how the other teams were dispatched, Ro led her squad through the corridors to the nearest access ladder leading to the upper decks. The air was thick with dust, and it was unnaturally quiet. The only sounds were that of their footsteps in the carpet and the rasp of their respiration.
"The controls are fused," Crell said, after checking over the hatch in the upper deck. "Manual override isn't functioning. Tricorder readings indicate that deck hasn't been compromised."
"We'll try the turbolift shaft," Ro told him. They left the alcove and took another corridor, forming up in front of the sealed doors that led to the turbolift. She used her tricorder to check the pressure on the other side, making sure that it existed, and then reached behind her. A pry bar was placed carefully in her hand without having to ask, and she mentally sent a message of thanks to Tuvok for demanding high standards of training here in the Delta Quadrant, regardless of the fact that not all his people were Starfleet.
She attacked the doors, prying them open. Handing the bar back, she stuck her head gingerly through the opening. She looked down a total of five decks to the turbolift that rested motionless where the shaft curved slightly into the secondary hull. She wasn't sure if it was jammed, but it certainly wasn't going anywhere without power. There did not seem to be any hint of escaping air, and she couldn't detect the shimmer of a force fields thrown up by the automatic systems. Hopefully, that meant the decks below had not been breached to the extent that all atmospheric integrity had been compromised. She swung around, groping for the ladder until finally finding purchase in the recess that ran along the side of the shaft. She made sure her tricorder and phaser were firmly affixed to the connections on her waist, and started to climb.
As she neared deck one, she could see the scorched damage still scarring the shaft from a previous encounter with hostile aliens, though the mangled car had long since been removed and the functionality of the turbolift restored. She decided that they had been running into far too many hostile aliens lately and she wondered if things would only get worse. Or were there actually beings out there who didn't want to exploit or destroy Voyager?
When she reached the doors leading to the bridge, she activated her tricorder. To her relief, it indicated lifesigns on the other side of the portal as well as a viable atmosphere. But the manual override to the entrance didn't work, undoubtedly still damaged from the prior explosion. She made a note to tell B'Elanna about it the next time she saw her.
"Pass me the bar," she called down and the item was sent up to her, hand over hand, by the team who were on the ladder beneath her. "Why the hell am I always crawling around in turbolift shafts?" she added in an aggrieved mutter as she waited, but no one answered her.
She felt the cold metal pressed into her hand and she gripped it tightly as she used it on the stubborn hatch. Dangling precariously from one arm wrapped around the rungs, her feet perched uncertainly below, she grunted as she worked steadily, wondering if perhaps she should have given way to Crell, who had superior upper body strength. Finally, she managed to wedge the flattened end into the crack far enough to get some leverage, and pulled hard, prying open the doors. It wasn't long before some helping hands appeared, and the Borg mesh on one identified immediately who it was.
"Seven," Ro gasped as the young woman helped her through the opening.
"Lt. Ro," Seven greeted calmly, just as if they were meeting in a corridor.
"What's the status here?" Ro frowned when she saw Harry Kim and Chakotay stretched out on the deck, completely unconscious, while Tuvok swayed uncertainly at the tactical console. Susan Nicoletti, looking shaken but still game, covered operations while Tom Paris painfully hunched over the helm as he tried to bring it back online. The captain was in her command chair, but it was clear it was taking all her energy just to maintain her wits.
"Crell," Ro said in a low voice, stepping down onto the lower level. "Take over for Commander Tuvok. I'll cover the helm. The rest of you get these people to sickbay."
She stopped in front of the captain who looked up at her dazedly. Seven sat down in the first officer's chair beside her, regarding her spouse worriedly.
"Captain," Ro said, speaking slowly and distinctly to the battered woman. "Deck five has been secured, a team is restoring sickbay and another is on their way to engineering. Safe haven reports no casualties, but we don't know about the rest of the ship. We are prepared to relieve the bridge staff if necessary."
Janeway nodded minutely, almost as if she were afraid that she would pass out if she did anything beyond that. "Take the helm, Lieutenant," she said in a husky tone. "Deploy your people." Since they were already deployed, all that meant was that Janeway was supporting the Bajoran's decisions to this point.
Ro turned, hesitating beside Tom who glanced up at her, clearly unwilling to give way to her. The strain around his eyes and the way he held onto his ribs indicated he was not really capable of hanging on much longer.
"I have it, Mr. Paris," she said softly.
He stared at her a moment, and she saw something else there in his eyes, something beyond just having to give up his station to her before they dropped and he lurched out of the chair. Heading for the turbo shaft on his own two feet, he refused assistance. She took a breath and sat down at the helm, wondering what that had been about. Behind her, she could hear the low tones of Seven urging her spouse to go to sickbay with the others. Obviously, the Borg was worried enough to be pushing it beyond the captain's initial refusal, which Ro thought was quite unlike Seven.
"No more," Ro heard Janeway say in an unmistakable tone, still low but easily discernable with the lack of underlying atmospheric and engine noise.
"Very well," Seven responded in a very even tone that did not entirely conceal her annoyance. Ro refused to look back over her shoulder, sensing rather than actually seeing Seven replace Nicoletti at ops, allowing the younger woman to accompany the rest down to sickbay. The Bajoran ran a quick diagnostic of her board, wincing at the multitude of red lights appearing on the touch pad but aware that Paris had already done a lot to repair the damage to his station.
The lights around them suddenly brightened and abruptly, there was a hiss as the fans began to clear the haze from the bridge. It was a sound normally lost in the constant hum of warp drive but now, it seemed unnaturally loud.
"Captain," Ro said as more lights began to appear on the flat pad in front of her, "navigation is coming back on line. Helm control is re-established."
"Let's hear it for Klingon ingenuity," Janeway muttered and Ro felt a wash of pride for the woman down in engineering though she wasn't entirely sure why. After all, the Bajoran was hardly responsible in any way for B'Elanna's great skill and engineering ability. "What about communications?"
"Still no response," Seven reported from ops. "I am initializing the external sensors. Channeling through the view screen ... now."
The large screen at the front the bridge that had been solidly, depressingly blank, flickered and gave way to the backdrop of stars and a spreading mass of what could only be their prior opponents. Twisted metal, expelled gasses and various other shapes drifted lazily in the uncaring vacuum of space.
"Man, we got 'em good," Crell muttered from tactical in a sort of admiring tone.
"Sensors are detecting the presence of a debris field consistent with the destruction of three vessels of the size and type we encountered," Seven recounted. There was a pause and she added with a hint of surprise, "No indication of organic materials."
"They were robot ships," Janeway said quietly, with what Ro thought might be relief.
"Captain, impulse engines are back online," the Bajoran said suddenly with elation, the readings streaming rapidly across her board. She waited expectantly for confirmation from the captain, and when there was nothing further, she looked behind her. Janeway was bent over, blood leaking from a corner of her mouth. "Captain?"
In a flash, Seven was around the ops console, and leaping down the short flight of stairs in one bound to catch Janeway before she toppled out of the command chair. The Bajoran, half risen out of her seat, was astonished at the speed Seven was capable of attaining, and she sat back down with an expulsion of breath, staring at the Borg in shock. With infinite tenderness, Seven gathered the captain up in her arms and straightened. Her icy blue eyes pinned Ro with glacial firmness. 
"As ranking officer, Lt. Ro," she noted coolly, "you have command. I shall return to assist on the bridge as soon as I have taken the captain to sickbay."
As Ro gaped at her, Seven touched the controls on her wrist and disappeared in a burst of emerald sparkles and silvery lines.
"If she could do that all along," Crell noted sardonically from his post, "why didn't she just take them to sickbay before we even got here?"
Ro raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever tried to remove a captain and bridge crew from their posts when they didn't want to go? Besides, until we got here, they had no way of knowing deck five was still intact." She steadied herself, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do now.
"Crell, yell back down the shaft. Tell them we need someone up here to cover operations and the helm."
He frowned. "I thought you were covering the helm."
Ro exhaled audibly. "Not anymore, apparently."
Uncertainly, she got up and walked back to the command chair, sitting down with an uncomfortable sense of displacement and trepidation, and wishing that she had stayed in her nice, safe, restraining field.
 
Captain Janeway opened her eyes, the light searing painfully into her pupils, and she blinked as tears rushed to fill them. Inhaling deeply, she tried to determine how much damage she had sustained, pleasantly surprised to see she hadn't. Then she realized that meant she had probably been kept unconscious for awhile. She sat up abruptly, the room spinning nauseatingly about her and she had to grip the edges of the biobed tightly to keep from falling off. She swallowed hard, driving back the sickness that rose to the back of her throat. Closing her eyes briefly helped and kept her from heaving. 
"Captain." Sek hurried over from the biobed where Tom Paris was sitting up. The hologram reached out to catch the captain, supporting her until she regained her bearings.
"Report," Janeway demanded huskily.
"Voyager is in orbit around an uninhabited world," the Doctor said, moving over as Tom Paris joined them, obviously feeling a great deal better than the last time Janeway had seen the helmsman. "Most of the systems are back on line and Commander Chakotay informs us that we should be able to get underway in approximately another week."
Janeway absorbed the information, her face tightening. "How long was I out?"
"A few days," Sek said in her musical tone. "You and Mr. Paris are the last to recover from the injuries sustained in the attack. Everyone else has been released back to their quarters."
Janeway felt embarrassed by that, as if it had been a form of weakness on her part though she endeavored not to show it. Tom grinned at her wryly, almost as if he understood what she was feeling.
"Guess next time, we'll learn to stay in our seats."
"Let's hope there won't be a next time," Janeway returned, though, even as she said it, she knew how wildly optimistic that sentiment was. "Casualties?" she added, wanting to get all the bad news out of the way first.
"I need to input those records." Sek discreetly excused herself.
"I'd better go see if they need me for duty," Tom offered lamely and headed for the exit, not looking back as he vacated sickbay entirely.
Janeway steeled herself, knowing this did not bode well, at all.
"I lost one patient," the Doctor said softly. "There was simply nothing that could be done."
That was a great deal better than Janeway had been anticipating and she relaxed slightly, the tension leaving her body. Considering the battering the ship had undergone, it was amazing that there hadn't been multiple casualties ... a testament to her CMO's great skill, no doubt. She firmed her jaw, mourning the death of that crewmember but infinitely relieved that there hadn't been more who died in the performance of their duties.
"Who was it?"
"Timothy Charles White," the Doctor told her, and when she looked blankly at him, not recognizing the name, added in an infinitely gentle tone, "He was stillborn."
That struck her with the power of fist to the stomach and once more, she had to clamp down hard to prevent nausea from rising in her throat.
"I see," she said unsteadily. "The mother?"
"Ensign White has fully recovered ... physically," the Doctor remarked. "As is to be expected, her emotional and psychological recovery will take a great deal longer. Sek and I are monitoring the situation."
"I'll have a talk with her," Janeway murmured, though she didn't know what she would say. This was a kind of loss she couldn't conceive, let along be able to speak as someone who truly understood.
She swung her legs over the edge and attempted to stand up, and the Doctor somewhat belatedly reached out a hand to support her. The deck rolled briefly beneath her feet before settling down into the nice flatness she was used to.
"Am I physically capable of resuming command?" she asked flatly, in a tone that brokered no dissembling.
The Doctor hesitated, then frowned. "Technically, you can, but Captain, you need more rest. I really do need to keep you here for further monitoring. You received a considerable blow to the head, and although I repaired the damage, you're still not fully recovered."
"Unacceptable, Doctor. I need to get back to work. I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine."
If holograms could cry from sheer frustration, she was sure that's what he would have done.
"Captain, I warn you, if you collapse, I'll have no choice but to remove you from command for as long as I deem necessary. I have the authority to do it. Do you really want to risk that?"
He stared at her steadily and she returned the gaze, evaluating his sincerity. She was impressed by the intensity of it, his eyes refusing to look away.
"I understand." A part of her was outraged by his presumption, while another appreciated the strength of will the Doctor was developing, respecting the fact that he was truly coming into his own as her CMO. "But you won't have to."
He nodded unhappily, clearly not believing it but apparently accepting that he had little choice. He stepped aside to let her at the uniform that Sek brought out from the office. The medical assistant undoubtedly knew how this discussion was going to end before it began. Forcing herself to be gracious, the captain accepted it, aware that her crew had come to know her very well ... perhaps too well since they seemed to know what she was going to do before she did it. She wondered where her spouse was and it suddenly struck her that she didn't even know what time it was.
"Time?" she said shortly, pulling her pants up.
"It is currently 0154 hours," Sek responded, standing by as if ready to offer her assistance. Janeway supposed it was also to make sure she didn't keel over again. The Doctor had discreetly made himself scarce, aware that the captain did not appreciate him hanging around while she dressed even if ... in his words ... 'she didn't boast any anatomical traits he hadn't already seen before'.
Janeway paused, blinking as she absorbed that. It was early morning, barely into the gamma shift and it occurred to her that perhaps that was the real reason the Doctor was releasing her from sickbay. Chances were that the alpha shift officers like Chakotay and Tuvok, with whom she needed to speak the most, would be in bed after a long, hard day of supervising repairs. She would be hesitant to wake them just to brief her, and undoubtedly the Doctor knew that. She shot a disgruntled look in the direction of his office, tempted to call an emergency senior staff meeting anyway and make sure they all knew it was due to the Doctor. But even if she were the sort to disregard her staff's well being, it would still be petty. Janeway sighed and pulled her sweater over her head, before drawing on the tunic.
Finally, she pulled on her boots and nodded a polite farewell to Sek as she headed for the turbolift. She was pleased when it appeared without delay, and she stepped into it, appreciative of the work her crew had done to make things functional so quickly.
"Bridge," she said, stubbornly deciding to check that out, at the very least. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine."
"Seven of Nine is in the captain's quarters."
They would be together soon enough, she consoled herself, though a tiny part of her was a little put out that the Borg had not been right next to the captain's biobed when Janeway awoke. There was a time, she remembered, when Seven wouldn't have been pried from her injured partner's side, short of being phasered and dragged off. Marriage certainly produced familiarity, she concluded glumly. And 'familiarity breeds contempt'.
She walked out onto the bridge, noting the open panels and dismantled consoles. The science station looked completely rebuilt and she stifled a sigh. The ship needed a long stretch with no further encounters with hostiles, though the odds of that happening were probably not very good. She held her hand up as Lt. Kim rose from the command chair, preventing the young man from handing the conn over to her.
"I'm just here to get an update," she said. "The Doctor wants me to go directly to bed."
"With good reason," Kim noted in a low voice so that the other crewmembers working on the bridge wouldn't overhear. "You were really banged up, Captain. If I could respectfully suggest--"
"No, you may not," she interrupted firmly. "I may have to take it from the Doctor, Mr. Kim, however ..." She trailed off, fixing him with a significant look, which he easily deciphered.
"Message received," he said, with a wry grin. "Still, Captain, at this point, there is not much more to be done. The repair teams been working triple time to finish the main problem areas, and what remains is basically cosmetic; putting panels back together again, things of that nature."
Janeway studied him closely, trying to determine if he was telling the truth or trying to pull the wool over her eyes. He looked back with his best angelic expression, his dark brown eyes as innocent as a new born babe's.
She sighed. "I don't believe you for a minute but I'm not going to battle my crew just to be given a useful job, not this late at night." She glared. "But I won't forget this ... 'conspiracy' any time soon." 
"I admit to nothing." He paused. "Have a pleasant night, Captain."
She eyed him briefly but she knew when she was defeated and turned without another word, leaving the bridge.
"Deck three," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest as the lift descended. As she entered the corridor that led to her quarters, she tried to figure out how she felt about this sudden protectiveness toward her by the crew. It had been growing steadily since her marriage to Seven and while she appreciated it, there was also a part of her that wondered if it wasn't a dangerous precedent. That as captain, she was becoming too much a part of the community instead of leading it. She heaved a sigh. They simply did not cover this sort of thing in any of the command training she had received.
Of course, she noted with sincere self-disgust, how many captains managed to get their ship lost for this long? She had to be the first to have accomplished that dubious honor. She entered her quarters in a very dark frame of mind and was greeted promptly by her pet, Jake, who slipped off the couch and bounded over to her.
"At least, you're glad to see me," she said in a deliberately loud voice as she patted the Irish Setter, but that caused no reaction from anyone else in the cabin. She went into the bedroom, feeling hurt and neglected and generally stressed ... all of which immediately disappeared when she saw her partner.
Seven was curled up in the center of the bed, completely unconscious. There were dark smudges staining beneath her eyes and a hint of strain to the proud forehead, lines furrowing her brow. To the captain's surprise, the Borg was wearing a shirt, which was quite unusual for Seven who normally either slept nude or wore pyjamas. Then Janeway took a closer look and realized it was her t-shirt, the one she had been wearing the night Seven had returned home from her away mission. It occurred to Janeway that she had tossed it onto the floor of the closet after returning from the holodeck, rather than recycling it. She wondered if it had been recycled at all or if Seven was wearing it with the captain's scent still on it, just so she could feel closer to her spouse?
Tears stung Janeway's eyes and she moved closer, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed as she stroked the Borg's cheek gently. It was a measure of Seven's exhaustion that she did not stir, not even at that touch. Janeway inhaled deeply, feeling ashamed at her momentary lapse of faith in her partner and she bent down, kissing Seven tenderly on the temple.  Standing up, she went into the ensuite where she washed the medicinal odors of sickbay off herself before returning to the bedroom. She crawled onto the mattress next to her partner, wrapping herself around the lanky Borg with utter weariness.
Sleep came quickly and her last thought was that maybe the Doctor had been right. She did need rest. The only problem was, so did the rest of her crew. How much longer could Voyager maintain this pace of renovation and hostile encounters?
 
Seven woke up beneath the soft weight of her spouse, automatically snuggling closer and wrapping her arms around the compact form. It actually took her a few moments to remember that the captain was supposed to be in sickbay and not draped all over the Borg. She glanced down at her spouse anxiously, wondering if Janeway had snuck out of sickbay without the Doctor knowing, but she discarded that notion after a moment's consideration. At the very least, sickbay would have contacted her to find out if she knew where the captain was. 
She inhaled the sweet fragrance of her partner deeply, feeling warmed by it in a way that few other things could provide and tilted her head so that she could look into her partner's face, taking note of the hints of strain and tension that even sleep could not smooth out. She reached down and gently brushed her lips over the captain's forehead, kissing gently along the hairline. Kathryn stirred, mumbled something inaudible and raised her face, pressing into the Borg's kisses.
"Annika?" she murmured.
"Kathryn," Seven responded ruefully. "I am sorry I woke you."
"I'm not," the captain replied drowsily, tightening her embrace as she buried her face into the hollow of Seven's shoulder and neck. "I missed you while I was injured."
"You were unconscious," Seven pointed out accurately. "You were incapable of missing me."
"I still missed you," Janeway insisted. "It was all saved up for when I finally woke."
Seven felt vaguely ashamed. "I am sorry I was not there. I intended to regenerate only briefly before---"
"Shh," Janeway interrupted, reaching up to put two fingertips against the Borg's lips. "I could tell you were absolutely exhausted last night. And how would you know that I was going to regain consciousness then? Not to mention the fact that I bullied the Doctor into releasing me early."
"You did?" Seven asked with mock surprise. "I find that difficult to believe."
Janeway blinked, raising her head as she gazed at Seven suspiciously. "You're teasing me."
"Yes," Seven admitted readily. "You are 'cute' when you are being teased. You develop an expression of disgruntlement that is quite entertaining."
Janeway growled deep in her chest. "I'm only allowing you to get away with that because I absolutely adore you. You know that."
"I do," Seven assured her, finding Janeway's lips and kissing her tenderly. "Now, I am being serious, Kathryn. How do you feel?"
Janeway hesitated. "Like someone used me for a disc in a Velocity match."
A shadow crossed Seven's face and she hugged her partner very gently. "I am sorry."
"I'll survive," Janeway responded dryly. She drew back, studying Seven's face. "How do you feel?"
"I am very tired," Seven replied honestly. "And frightened by your injuries. I am frustrated by the slowness of the repairs and angered by these continued unprovoked attacks by aliens who refuse to communicate with us. And I am greatly saddened by the loss of Ensign White's offspring."
"And that," Janeway agreed sadly, "Is pretty much how everyone on the ship is feeling right now."
"What can we do?"
Janeway exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. "I don't know," she said softly. "I've tried granting various sections of the crew alternating leave, but that's been working for progressively shorter periods of time and seems to be unduly delaying the renovation. Only the original shore leave was truly successful and somehow, I don't think the ship can afford to grant a total leave again. We need to find a place to feel completely safe again, Annika, even if it's only for a little while. I just don't know if a place like that exists in the Delta Quadrant."
"This planet seems fairly secure," Seven noted.
"Because it's uninhabited, but that doesn't protect us from an attack from space. With this latest incident, we have to be constantly aware of being in hostile space. That would only defeat any leave I might grant. In the meanwhile, we're working ourselves to death to get the repairs done." She paused. "I shouldn't have turned around to face them so quickly. Something might have come up had we kept fleeing ... something that would have kept us from having to fight. I should have granted the crew more time to come up with a better solution."
Seven was alarmed at the tone in Janeway's voice, the note of despair. She pulled the captain closer and burrowed her face into the auburn hair until her lips were next to the captain's ear.
"Kathryn, you made the tactically correct decision. We could not escape by fleeing, we could not hide from our attackers, we could only turn and fight. Our only chance of success was doing it when we did. And we were successful."
"Ensign White's baby died," Janeway said and now her voice was full of tears. "That isn't a success, Annika."
"Do not forget to factor in all the variables. Ensign White chose not to go to the safe haven with the other pregnant women. Kathryn, all those who accepted the protection of the restraining fields Lt. Kim developed, were unharmed. Even Megan Delaney recovered quickly from her second onset of false labor and was able to return to her quarters." The Borg rubbed the captain's back lightly. "Kathryn, do not overlook our successes while you dwell on our struggles. This encounter proved the effectiveness of the security area in protecting the ship's crew, even though it is not yet complete. The restraining fields are a useful invention that should be incorporated throughout ship, particularly on the bridge."
Seven inhaled slowly. "I do not hold Ensign White responsible for her child's death," she added quietly. "That responsibility rests with whoever programmed those war vessels to attack us. But perhaps it was not a prudent decision to remain on duty, even though it was Ensign White's right to do so."
Janeway swallowed audibly, sniffing slightly. "I'm sure she knows that now. She may never recover from that decision. It's a guilt she'll carry forever."
Seven rubbed her cheek against the captain's. "I know it is the sort of guilt that you feel at times, Kathryn, but you cannot hold onto it as if it were a cherished item. You must learn to leave it behind when it becomes counterproductive ... as it did when we were in the Void. Kathryn, you once told me that not all decisions are a question of right and wrong. Sometimes they are a matter of choosing that which is less wrong. Even then, sometimes one does not always choose correctly. You are only Human, my beautiful Kathryn."
Janeway drew back, looking at her sadly, her blue-grey eyes shimmering with tears.
"Yet, Kathryn," Seven said, her throat closing as tears stung her own eyes, "you are still the most perfect thing I have ever beheld ... because of your Human imperfections and how hard you strive to do what is right in spite of them."
"I don't feel very perfect at the moment," Janeway husked.
"I know. You are tired and frightened and frustrated. You are hurt in more than just body, you are hurt in your soul. I am afraid I cannot find a way to heal that for you. I wish that I could." 
"Oh, darling," the captain replied, her face soft and wistful. "You are healing it. Just being here with you is healing it. You provide a haven for me that no one else can, and while I may not have said it lately, you are absolutely my heart, Annika. With you, I'm strong in a way that I'm not without you. I can be more compassionate and more Human than I have ever been before. You give that to me. Don't ever doubt it."
Seven bent her head, feeling the tears slide down her cheeks. "Sometimes it is very hard, Kathryn. Sometimes, I wish only to take you far away from Voyager, away from the responsibilities and duties that demand so much of you. It is hard to always have to share you with the ship and I hate how it makes you feel when things do not go perfectly for it and the crew."
Janeway stroked her partner's hair gently. "I don't have the answers," she responded softly as Seven hugged her. "I'm not even sure of the questions, Annika. All I know is that I love you. How I managed without you is something that absolutely baffles me. Sometimes I feel selfish being this happy while Voyager remains in the Delta Quadrant And maybe in the end, there are no answers. Maybe when it's all said and done, all we can do is just accept what is and try to live with it."
She fell silent, long moments passing as they held each other tightly, trying to find a peace in this moment of quiet togetherness.
Seven exhaled finally. "I must go. I am required to assist B'Elanna in reconstructing a conduit which was ruptured. It was bypassed but we need to restore it before we resume our journey."
Janeway tightened her grip. "Annika, we will get through this. We just have to keep sight of the light at the end while we're struggling through the tunnel."
"I shall endeavor to remember that. You must as well. Do not forget how far we have come in a very short time."
"I will," Janeway promised. She managed a weak smile. "Though you may have to remind me once in awhile."
"I promise," Seven whispered. Gently she kissed Janeway and released her. "I must go."
Reluctantly, Janeway allowed Seven to roll away from her while she remained on the bed. The young woman went into the ensuite, showering quickly and pulling on her biometric outfit. When she returned, Janeway was lying on her back with her hands over her eyes as if her head ached. Concerned, Seven went around to that side of the bed to sit on the edge beside her spouse.
"Kathryn?"
"I'm all right, Annika."
"No, you are not," Seven said, ignoring the tone of command. She reached down and pulled the captain up into her arms, hugging her as if she were a child. "You are the most important person in the universe to me. I need you to look after yourself. Does your head hurt?"
Janeway was silent for long moments. "Yes," she said sheepishly.
"I will escort you to sickbay before I join B'Elanna in engineering."
"That isn't necessary. I'm fine."
Seven felt her annoyance flare into a real anger at her partner. "It is necessary," she said coldly. "And you are not 'fine'. I will escort you, or I will carry you. It is your choice. I will not allow you to be in pain because you have an irrational need to prove your strength ... or worse, because you have an irrational need to 'punish' yourself when things go wrong."
Surprised, Janeway drew back, studying her face closely. "You're really mad at me."
Seven looked stern. "I always become angry with you when you act this way, but perhaps I have not allowed myself to show it in the past. Now I must, because obviously, you are not learning from this particular mistake. Voyager does not need a captain who pretends to be indestructible, Kathryn. It requires a captain who is healthy and knows how to look after herself. To do otherwise, is selfish."
Janeway stared at her as if she had never seen her before. Then she looked down unhappily. "I'll get dressed."
Seven was unhappy as well, waiting until Janeway returned, dressed in a fresh uniform.
"I don't mean to be such a hard ass," Janeway murmured as they left the bedroom and crossed the living area.
"I know," Seven replied shortly. "But you are."
The Doctor bustled across sickbay as soon as he saw them enter the medical center.
"I have a headache, Doctor," Janeway said, as he led her to the biobed.
Running a probe over her, exhasperation colored his features. "Captain, this is exactly what I meant. You're physically exhausted and your body is breaking down because of it. I'll have to keep you here in sickbay if you cannot allow yourself to rest."
"You must do this, Kathryn," Seven said without mercy. "I cannot neglect my duty to see that you take care of yourself. We both know that left to your own devices, you will find an excuse to return to active duty earlier than you should."
Janeway glared daggers at her, but the Borg refused to give ground.
"I'll need to speak with Chakotay," the captain said grudgingly, after a long moment.
Unperturbed, Seven touched her comm badge.
"Sickbay to Commander Chakotay. The captain requires your presence."
"On my way."
Seven thought Janeway looked like a particularly recalcitrant child as they waited for the first officer's arrival, her arms crossed over her chest and her jaw set stubbornly. But the fact remained, she was going along with it, accepting the necessity of spending a few extra days in sickbay.
It was a battle Seven never anticipated winning. And a victory she knew was based purely on the heart.
 

Captain's Log, Supplemental 

Voyager has resumed course for the Alpha Quadrant after laying over two weeks in orbit around the planet geometrics has christened Anyport which is, of course, short for Anyportinastorm. It's come to my attention that there are a great many uninhabited planets in this sector that are capable of sustaining intelligent life, yet do not. It concerns me even as I am grateful for the haven provided by this world as we undertake the most pressing of our repairs. I wonder if it is because the Borg have been through this sector, assimilating the inhabitants and leaving behind their empty planets, or if this new threat we recently faced is responsible.
We do not know where the ships that attacked us came from, who was controlling them, or what purpose they had. Investigations of the debris field have given us very little in the way of clues other than the fact that they were heavily armed and built for an aggressive purpose.
Without knowing, it is impossible to determine if we'll run into these ships again. In that event, we must be prepared to defend ourselves the instant they appear and to that end, Tuvok and his security teams are working overtime to develop strategies and tactics that will be effective against them. If there is indeed, a next time, we will not be caught unaware and hopefully will not sustain the damage that we did in our last battle.
After spending three extra days in sickbay, I now feel at peak efficiency. Sometimes I wonder if I should have gotten rid of those Borg nanoprobes from my system. They kept me going at times when I otherwise couldn't, removing the toxins from my bloodstream on a continuous basis. I guess I'm going to have to accept that I no longer enjoy the superhuman endurance of that time, nor even of my youth where all-nighters were a thing of pride rather than a shameful admission to my spouse.
Perhaps the other thing I must accept is that my spouse and crew insist upon taking care of me, even when I don't take care of myself. I was taught that a captain must remain separate and aloof but apparently, that cannot apply in the Delta Quadrant. Like it or not, I'm a part of a larger community, and the community decrees that I look after myself, whether I want to or not.
It is a battle that I cannot win, so reluctantly, I must surrender to the inevitable.
But perhaps it is time for such a loss. Even Starfleet captains need to accept help once in a while.

The End

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