Just Between Cigarettes, Whiskey
& Wild, Wild Women
G. L. Dartt
Captain Kathryn Janeway of USS Voyager regarded her reflection in the full length mirror of the dressing room, frowning faintly as she looked herself up and down. Her red and black Starfleet uniform had been replaced by a hoop-skirted dress in rich sapphire, complete with ruffles and a plunging neckline that showed off her shoulders and every bit of cleavage it could possibly manage. Beside her, also garbed in a similar dress, though deep wine in color, her chief of engineering made a few more adjustments and stared darkly at the captain.
"This is ridiculous," Lt. B'Elanna Torres grumbled.
Privately, Janeway agreed with her, but it was what the program required for appropriate costuming, and she had promised her spouse of almost a year that she would participate in a recreational afternoon on the holodeck. She just couldn't figure out what had possessed Seven of Nine to have chosen such a scenario. A Mississippi river boat working its way upstream to St. Louis in the late-nineteenth century was not the sort of thing Janeway thought Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, would have the slightest interest.
At least, the captain thought critically as she swished her skirt a little, this wasn't the first time she had worn such garments, so that ought to prevent her from falling over her hoops and making a fool of herself. In the first year of Voyager being lost in the Delta Quadrant, one form of recreation for Janeway had been a gothic holo-novel, where she had become very used to moving in the wide skirts. They just hadn't been this wide, or the bodice, this ... scandalous. She wasn't particularly big on this particular period of ancient history, of course, but if memory served, women who wore these sort of dresses could be consider a certain 'type', and Janeway didn't know how she felt about that.
What could Seven have in mind? she thought darkly.
She glanced at the Klingon who was shifting uncomfortably in her dress.
"We may as well face the music," Janeway suggested, gesturing to the door. The combination locker/programming area was next to holodeck one, and the two women had only to step across the corridor to enter the program. Supposedly, Seven, and Lt. Ro Laren, B'Elanna's current paramour, were already in the scenario, waiting for them.
"How did you become involved in all this?" she added idly as she lifted her skirts and moved gracefully across the deck, ignoring the startled looks from two passing crewmembers.
"Seven," B'Elanna said with a gusty sigh, compacting a wealth of meaning in that single word. She did not move as gracefully as the captain, but fortunately, it did not appear as if she would have any real difficulty. "She thought it would be 'enjoyable to participate in an historical adventure'. It's one of the new programs that came through with the last communiqué with Starfleet and is supposed to be pretty popular with the crew, though Tom keeps trying to get everyone into the one he's running in holodeck two. He doesn't seem to be receiving much support."
"Do you have any idea what roles we're supposed to be portraying in this program?" The captain felt a certain amount of trepidation as they entered the holodeck. The doors shut with a clunk behind them and disappeared, leaving the two women in a fairly accurate reproduction of a waterfront in a big city on Earth's Mississippi River.
Next to the wharf, a gracious steamboat rocked gently, its large swinging landing stage lowered to the dock so that cargo could be loaded, along with passengers' baggage. Music from the calliope, high and melodic, floated over the sounds of the dockworkers who were wrestling bags of grain and bales of cotton up the ramp. On the bow, the name of the Delta Princess was painted proudly in a large, flowing script, while the fittings on the boat gleamed golden and silver in the sun. Beyond the riverboat, the large expanse of water, the waterway of America, passed with stately ease, barring the way to the West, but allowing passage at the same time, its placid waters navigable to those riverboat pilots so admired by Mark Twain.
It was a good program, Janeway allowed as she took in her surroundings. The better the program, the more attention to detail was given by the creators, and this was greatly detailed in order to affect all the player's senses. The captain could feel a steady breeze on her face from the water, while the sun was bright as it poured down from a cloudless, azure sky. The combination of heat and humidity actually made her a bit uncomfortable in her layered garments as she and her chief engineer crossed the docks. There was the steady thrum of voices from all the people occupied in various tasks, and above them, the piping cries of birds sounded. A great many horses moved about the area, and the thud of their hoofs on wood and cobblestones made an interesting, audible counterpoint to the rest. Tickling the captain's nostrils was the sour-salt fragrance of a working waterfront, not precisely unpleasant, but not anything with which Janeway was particularly familiar.
"You're a gambler."
Startled, Janeway looked at B'Elanna, who was looking over the bustling scenario with tentative enthusiasm.
"Excuse me?"
B'Elanna glanced at her and grinned faintly, showing sharp edged teeth. Half-Human, half-Klingon, the young woman was known for her feisty temper and aggressive behavior, and apparently, this part of the scenario met with her approval at least.
"You're a cardshark," she elaborated. "There's a poker game on this boat and the best players, east and west of the Mississippi, have been brought together to play in a winner-take-all, poker tournament. I'm your secretary."
Janeway blinked at her. "Are you sure? This doesn't sound like the sort of thing Seven would be interested in."
B'Elanna shrugged. "I don't think she's playing a gambler. Ro has decided to play one of the boat's security people. She supposed to guard the tournament money that's stashed in a safe in the Grand Salon. The main lounge is also where the tournament is being held. Being able to utilize a projectile weapon is one of the required traits of the character, so she's happy. I didn't get much chance to talk to her over breakfast ... the messhall was too busy."
If there was the faintest trace of bitterness in the tone at the last, Janeway decided to overlook it. She was quite cognizant of the fact that all was not well in the romantic relationship between the Klingon and the Bajoran. Even if she hadn't been the sort to keep her finger on the pulse of her ship, Seven was quite ready to share all the lower deck scuttlebutt with the captain over their dinners together, but, it wasn't her place to comment on it, either as B'Elanna's captain, or as her friend. Janeway did wonder if Seven had some subtle plan afoot that the captain was unaware of. The Borg was not particularly known for being subtle, but she and B'Elanna were the best of friends, and if Seven thought she could somehow help the engineer's relationship by involving them all in some holoprogram, she'd do it in a minute. Janeway resolved to pull her young spouse aside as soon as she had the opportunity and ask some pointed questions about what exactly was going on here.
Speaking of her partner, Seven and Lt. Ro Laren chose that moment to appear, striding around a large stack of feed bags. Janeway's eyebrow began a slow progression up her forehead as she got her first view of her spouse's costume. Unlike B'Elanna and the captain, Seven and Ro were dressed in the 'male' clothing of this time period: dark shirts beneath tanned leather vests, denim trousers and boots with distinctively pointed toes. Both wore wide brimmed hats that rounded out their ensemblé, curved up at the sides, to shade their eyes. Seven had her mass of blonde hair tucked up under hers, giving her a boyish appearance. Strapped around her waist, low on her hips, she wore a black, tooled gunbelt, the ornate holsters containing two, pearl-handled Colt 45's. Her slender build was vaguely like a male, but nothing could disguise the full bosom beneath the shirt. Janeway wondered resentfully if Seven could wear an outfit that looked far more comfortable than a hoop skirt, then why couldn't she?
But she had to admit that her partner looked ... well, very sexy in the outfit, particularly in the way the Borg swaggered slightly as she walked across the dock, silver spurs clinking cheerfully on her booted heels.
"Ladies," the captain greeted, with a certain amount of reserve as the two joined them.
"Not ladies," Ro said sardonically. "In this program, Seven and I are perceived as men."
Janeway resisted the urge to roll her eyes and then noted that Seven's gaze was pinned on her chest. The young woman was frowning slightly.
"Kathryn, are you injured?"
Baffled, Janeway shook her head. "I'm fine. Why?"
"You seem ... swollen," Seven said with a certain amount of concern. "I know what size your breasts are and those are much larger."
Janeway blushed furiously, B'Elanna choked down a snort of laughter and Ro developed an intense interest in the Delta Princess.
"No, Seven," Janeway said, patiently, "it's just how the dress makes them appear." Since Seven was approaching this as a medical concern and not a sexual one, she had no clue that her words and actions could be considered inappropriate in extended company. Certainly, Janeway didn't want to start this recreational period off by squashing her partner's honest concern.
But god, sometimes Seven doesn't always consider the image of my rank, she thought ruefully. At this point in their relationship, Janeway didn't think much of anything could embarrass her ever again.
"Indeed?" the Borg said, with evident interest. "They have not been artificially enhanced by the program?"
"No, Seven," Janeway said, her voice so dry it sucked the humidity from the air around her. "They're all mine. They've just been ... lifted and pressed together. Not comfortably either."
By this time, Seven had moved closer to get a better look and was peering intently down at them, her nose a scant few millimeters from the defined crease as she examined the generous swells, apparently trying to discover how the effect was created. B'Elanna had turned away, her shoulders shaking silently as Ro busily chewed on her bottom lip. Janeway sighed.
"Seven," she said in a louder tone, "What's the purpose of this program? I know I'm supposed to be a gambler of some sort." She paused. "I don't think I'm that good a card player."
Nicely diverted, Seven straightened and regarded her partner. "The program will adapt to your skill level. In the beginning, you will be fed the proper cards to get past the first round. All you need to know is how the different combinations are valued and bet accordingly."
"What made you pick this program?" B'Elanna asked, wiping her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
Seven brightened. "It includes gambling, which Kathryn likes, it has weapons, which you appreciate, it has intrigue, which Ro will enjoy, and the scenery along the river is pleasant, which appeals to me," she said. "Lt. Paris recommended the 'Irish village' program he has been working on for the past six months, but I felt this would be more suitable for the four of us and provide more entertainment."
"Why am I here?" B'Elanna asked pointedly, before Janeway could object to her partner's assessment of her love for gambling. "What does a gambler need with a secretary?"
"Your true role is to find out information about the other players for Kathryn," Seven responded promptly. "There is supposed to be 'a mystery' in this scenario that you may be instrumental in uncovering."
"What do I do beyond guarding the money?" Ro asked shortly.
Seven frowned. "I am not entirely sure of your role. I do know that it has to do with the 'intrigue' portion of the game."
"I'm sure the program will take care of revealing things to our characters as we need to know them," Janeway offered. "If the role was offered to be filled, there's probably a good reason for it."
"Couldn't I play an engineer instead?" B'Elanna asked hopefully.
Seven frowned at her. "The riverboat's engineer is not offered as a role and that is probably a good thing. The steam-driven boats, as this is, were very vulnerable to boiler explosions. That made the engineer extremely important because he was usually the only one who knew about the pressure required to run the engines and the delicate balance between speed and safety. As a result, you would need to spend all your time down in the engine room, monitoring the gauges."
B'Elanna lifted a brow. "And that would be a bad thing?"
"You will enjoy this," Seven said firmly. "These characters provide the most pivotal roles in the scenario."
"If you say so." B'Elanna seemed unconvinced. She looked somewhat enviously at the two revolvers strapped to Seven's hips. "What's with the weapons, Seven?"
"I am Kathryn's bodyguard," Seven explained and drew the gun on her left side. She twirled it, aimed, shot the tip off a flagpole on a nearby building, twirled it again, and then slipped it back into the holster with one smooth motion. B'Elanna was tremendously dazzled and even Ro seemed suitably impressed. Janeway frowned.
"Why didn't you draw both weapons?" she asked pointedly. "What's the purpose of having two of you're only going to draw one?"
Seven regarded her, a faint pink appearing in her cheeks. "It was not required that I draw both." The captain had the unmistakable impression that she was avoiding the question.
"Wow, those tricks must look even more impressive with two, then," B'Elanna said insistently, her face alight with interest. "Show me."
Seven did not looked pleased at the demand, but obligingly, she drew her guns. Or at least, she attempted to. The barrel of the right caught on the holster, snagging in the leather and in trying to get it loose, she dropped it onto the dock where it discharged ... luckily in a direction where no one was standing. A small hole appeared in the nearby feedbag, and a golden stream of grain began to pour from the opening.
"I am more adept with my implant, which can be programmed by my cranial implant, than I am in actual manipulation with my real hand," Seven admitted as she picked up the gun and carefully placed it in her holster.
Janeway restrained her smile, aware that she had inadvertently put her partner on the spot. B'Elanna was not so circumspect or nearly as sympathetic, laughing uproariously in a bent over position as she held onto her ribs. Noting that Seven looked vaguely humiliated, Janeway patted her partner comfortingly on her forearm.
"Just remember to stay away from your right hand if you have to shoot anyone," she suggested gently. She did not mention that if Seven didn't, she'd be as apt to shoot herself in the foot as anyone who might be threatening the client she was guarding. "No one will be able to out-draw you on the left side."
Seven looked considerably cheered by her spouse's words and resumed some of her swaggering pose on the dock, raising her chin imperiously.
The Bajoran cleared her throat. "Can we get this thing started? We only have the afternoon."
"You should go on board first," Janeway noted, deciding that as long as she was here, she might as well participate to the best of her ability. "Since you work for our host and probably aren't supposed to know us, we'll simply have to figure out your role as we go. B'Elanna, you go in with her and take your place, mingle with the crowd, find out what you have to about the other players. Seven and I will make our grand entrance a little later." She noted the expression of pleasure in her partner's face at the captain's obvious willingness to play along and felt a warmth spread through her, realizing not for the first time, how important her opinion was to Seven.
Ro, on the other hand, did not quite roll her eyes, but the captain knew she wanted to as the other couple took their leave. Janeway had been very much surprised that the Bajoran had agreed to cooperate with this scenario in the first place, but then, who really knew what went on in that steel-trap mind of her command candidate at any given moment? For now, Janeway was content to take Seven's arm and allow herself to be escorted toward the riverboat, seizing the opportunity to have a few moments alone with her spouse.
"So," she asked pointedly as they made their way up the gangplank, "what are you up to, Seven of Mine?"
Seven swallowed hard, reminding herself sternly that what Janeway did not notice was usually by choice rather than because she was oblivious of it. Nonetheless, the Borg attempted her most innocent expression.
"Up to?" she repeated, with suitable blankness.
Janeway shot her a sharp glance from beneath her lashes as she walked beside her, obviously not accepting the Borg's attempt at avoiding the question. Preceding them down the corridor, the cabin boy leading them to their cabin, carried their baggage that had been waiting for them on the pier. That left the captain free to give Seven her complete and undivided attention.
"You know what I mean," the captain remarked, not letting her partner off the hook. She carried her parasol folded up, swinging it like a walking stick rather than gracefully resting it over her shoulder as the other females were doing in the program. "You're planning something with B'Elanna and Ro ... I can feel it."
Seven restrained a sigh. "Nothing concrete, Kathryn, but I am hoping that spending recreational time together will ease whatever is causing conflict between them."
"Annika, you shouldn't meddle in other people's romantic situations," Janeway warned.
Seven blinked. "That is an outrageous statement coming from you, considering your past history."
"And how often was I really successful?" Janeway retorted, not denying the accusation, but not allowing it to stymie her either. "Darling, romantic projects have a way of turning out badly."
Seven placed her right hand over the one Janeway had resting on the Borg's left forearm. "I thought I was one of your more successful projects," she teased, hoping this would divert her partner.
Janeway frowned. "That's different."
"How?"
"It just is."
Seven did not snort exactly, but she hoped that her demeanor made it obvious that she was not impressed with the captain's response.
"Fine," Janeway said stubbornly, her expression indicating that she had received Seven's meaning loud and clear. "But don't come running to me when it blows up in your face. Emotions are not anything to play with, Annika."
Seven squeezed the captain's fingers gently. "I am aware of that, Kathryn. I am not 'playing'. I am merely offering the opportunity for the pair of them to interact in a setting for entertainment. I know that having 'fun' can sometimes bring people closer together. It does for us."
Janeway seemed to consider that, her expression growing softer. "You're right," she admitted finally, with a bit of a sigh. "That's partially why I agreed to spend this afternoon with you. I know how important it is for us to 'play' together whenever we can." She offered her partner a brief smile. "I know you want to help B'Elanna, darling. Just don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out the way you expect."
"I will not." Seven became aware of her partner observing her closely, the level grey eyes shading to a lighter bluish tint.
"You have such a good heart, my love," Janeway said, her voice becoming a caress. "I adore you utterly."
Seven felt her cheeks grow warm. "It is not part of my role as your bodyguard to kiss you, or I would."
The captain arched her brow suggestively. "Maybe we can remedy that once we're in my suite. After all, a wild woman like me obviously doesn't hire a bodyguard simply based on one's ability with a weapon."
"A 'wild woman'?" Seven repeated, quirking her brow. "Explain."
Janeway's reply was forestalled by the cabin boy, who took that moment to indicate that they had reached the suite of 'Miss Kate', and the couple entered as the youngster, his task done, scooted off to some unknown destination. The room Janeway and Seven entered was luxuriously appointed, if primitive, with a large bed and another door that Seven obligingly checked out in her role as 'bodyguard'. It turned out to be an ensuite of some sort, though its fixtures were somewhat unfamiliar to her.
"Kathryn?"
The captain came over and peered around her spouse, smiling. "Creative programming, Seven. Technically, in the 19th century, one would use a chamber pot and a basin for ablutions. But most holodeck participants don't really enjoy that sort of awkwardness, so a more modern ensuite has been added." She pointed at the low, squat porcelain bowl. "That's the waste disposal unit. Over there is the sink, with running water no doubt. They obviously tried to make it look archaic, at least."
Seven regarded this, tilting her head slightly. "This must operate on the same principal as Jake's devices, and alleviates the need of having to exit the holodeck in the event of ... biological necessities."
"Of course, these programs can be set for absolute accuracy, but I know very few people who actually want to live in primitive conditions; they just want to pretend for a limited amount of time."
There was a brief jolt beneath their feet and looking out the nearest porthole, they discovered the boat was drifting away from the wharf. The paddlewheel made itself felt through a steady sort of thump that one was able to ignore after a few moments as it blended into the background.
"We're off," Janeway noted, somewhat unnecessarily. She glanced at her spouse. "How long do we have?"
"By coordinating all of our holodeck time," Seven explained, "I was able to secure four hours."
"Then we should probably get started," Janeway said, then paused, smiling impishly at her partner. "Before we do, I believe there was the matter of a kiss?"
Seven raised an eyebrow but obligingly reached out for her partner, enfolding her in her arms. After a brief struggle with the hoop skirt and the gunbelt, requiring a few adjustments, they were able to arrange themselves into a position where they could embrace comfortably. Seven looked down into her partner's classic features, smiling faintly as she saw the shade of the captain's eyes ... a deep blue ... and gently covered Janeway's mouth with her own.
A blissful eternity later, Seven finally drew back, regarding her spouse avidly. Janeway had her eyes closed, a half-smile ghosting over her lips. "Suddenly," the captain said huskily, "I'm enjoying this program a lot more." She opened her eyes, searching the Borg's face. "You are remarkably attractive in that outfit," she added. "You should know that."
"Indeed?" Seven was pleased. "That was not my intention when choosing it, but I gladly welcome such an observation."
"Well, it's good for a wild woman to have a sexy bodyguard. It fits the image perfectly."
"That is the second time you have referred to yourself in those terms," Seven noted. "Elaborate."
Janeway smiled. "Darling, women in this era did not habitually participate in poker games, or for that matter, make themselves present in such a male-dominated type of situation unless they were the type of women to have 'loose morals'."
"'Loose morals'?" Seven was further confused.
"I'm portraying a woman of questionable class. I probably spend my own money, choose my own friends, drink, smoke, have intimate contact out of wedlock..."
Seven blinked. "You have always done that, except for the smoking part." She paused. "I do not like it when you smoke."
Janeway laughed. "I know, but in this time period, it was considered unsuitable for women to act like that. Only men were allowed to conduct themselves that way."
"You mean, with free will?"
"Exactly." Janeway lost her humor for a moment. "In fact, women were not even allowed to vote in what was considered this 'great democracy'."
"That is horrible," Seven burst out. "We should not participate in this scenario."
Janeway patted her arm comfortingly. "We're just pretending, Annika, but you should know that as a woman who is obviously rich, independent and 'wild', I will probably be treated a certain way." She paused. "You can't shoot someone just because they offend you or me. That would make us lose the game."
Seven nodded unhappily. "Very well."
"Darling, don't take it so seriously," Janeway told her. "Like the ensuite, there will, no doubt, be variations for the comfort level of the participants. It's just a holoprogram." She smiled. "And it's good for us, every so often, to look back and see how far we Humans have evolved from our primitive beginnings."
Seven wasn't entirely convinced, but she allowed herself to be soothed by her spouse, especially since it was too late to set up another scenario. Their only real choice would be to cancel the program and try to reschedule the holodeck for another day or attempt to join Lt. Paris's program. She really didn't want to do either, particularly since the captain seemed so willing to participate in this one. Janeway could not get away from her duties for an entire afternoon very often and Seven was not ready to waste this opportunity. Frowning, the Borg hitched up her gunbelt and pulled her hat tighter over her eyes, aware of the captain observing her with amusement.
"We need to proceed to the Grand Salon," Seven explained to her. "That is where the tournament will take place. You have already paid your entry fee and the chips will be waiting for you." She paused. "Do we need to review the rules of poker?"
"I know how to play poker," Janeway said with a certain amount of satisfaction. "And since you're telling me the cards are going to go my way, at least at first, this ought to be a lot more fun that the games I took part in during my Academy days."
Seven felt a sudden qualm as she realized that Janeway appeared to be looking forward to this a bit more than the Borg had anticipated. She wondered if she had just uncovered another questionable habit of her partner and stifled a sigh as they left the suite. As they headed out onto the deck, Seven offered her right arm to the captain, who graciously took it, leaving the Borg's left hand free in case she needed to 'draw'.
The lounge they entered was large, with windows lining the bulkheads to reveal a view of the Mississippi flowing grandly around them. Some were open to let in the scent of magnolia as the delicate lace curtains wafted in the cooling breeze which passed into the room. A large crowd thronged the salon, far more men than women, and the couple easily spotted B'Elanna as she worked her way through the crowd toward them.
"Lieutenant," Janeway greeted, her voice laden with amusement. "Having a good time?"
"I've been propositioned twelve times, threatened twice and generally sneered at by six of the passenger's wives," the engineer informed her. "All in all, I'd rather be your bodyguard, Captain. Then I could sneer back at some of these people and not get thrown out of the program."
"What did you learn of the other players?" Seven insisted, ignoring her friend's digression. In truth, this was a perfect role for B'Elanna who was adept at ferreting out information ... though many considered such a skill one of gossip rather than data finding.
B'Elanna sighed and motioned with her head. "From what I can tell, you only have four real competitors. The first is Colonel Summers. He's the guy with the pointy beard, dressed all in white. For some reason, he smells like fried chicken to me, but rumor has it that he's not as genteel as he likes to put on ... nor is he really a colonel. I do know that there's a spring loaded blade at the end of the cane he uses, because he was showing it off to some women. Someone else told me that he had made his money on the black market during the 'war' and in Alabama, shot a man for trying to hold an ace up his sleeve, even though the other player was unarmed."
"What war?"
"The civil war between the northern and southern American states," Janeway explained gently to her partner. "It's irrelevant to this scenario, but will probably be referred to now and again by the other characters. Even though, in this time frame, it has been over for quite some time, it's still keenly felt in particular geographical areas. Indeed, there are even some places on Earth in the 24th Century that still refer to it."
"The woman across the room is called Ruby Lil," B'Elanna continued, nodding at a fleshy woman with thick, raven hair piled high on her head. She was dressed in red and her face displayed innate intelligence, though the eyes were a little too knowing and worn from age. "She's supposedly retired and living off her wealth from running a 'house' of some kind in Washington, DC." She paused, puzzled. "Everyone seemed to say 'house' in a certain manner as if they expected me to recognize what they meant. I played along, but I have no idea what they were talking about."
Janeway didn't say anything either, but Seven had the unmistakable impression that the captain knew exactly what the inflection on 'house' referred to. It occurred to the Borg that Janeway was quite familiar with certain historical periods of Earth's history, mostly because of the 'romance' novels the captain read extensively; a secret vice that only Seven was aware of and that this must be one of those periods. It was good that at least one of them had a certain amount of cultural knowledge. It would make the game more enjoyable if they didn't continually make temporal errors and thus force the program to try to adapt to their mistakes. It would 'play smoother', this way.
"The tall, dark man over in the corner is Michael Sullivan," B'Elanna explained, indicating a ruggedly handsome man, who was keeping to himself. He was dressed in a black suit which was finely cut, and he had a thin cigar clamped between his teeth. "He's from Ireland, pretty smooth, a charming sort of guy ... he's one of the ones who propositioned me, but unlike the others, he utilized a little imagination with it and took the refusal charmingly. But someone told me he carried a small revolver in his jacket and has been known to use it." The engineer shot a look at the captain. "You might want to make a point of not being alone with him. His type can get you to do things before you really know what you're doing."
Janeway smiled thinly. "I know the type."
Seven frowned.
"The last guy is James Brophy," B'Elanna concluded, tilting her head at a bookish, balding man standing near a long table. "He doesn't look like much, but he's supposed to be a really amazing accountant. He figures the odds really well and bets accordingly. He might not kill you physically, but he'll strip you financially bare in a matter of minutes if he gets on a run." She paused. "There's something about him that sets my teeth on edge, though. I don't like his eyes. He's like a Human version of a Ferengi."
"I'll take that under advisement," Janeway said dryly. "Is that all the players?"
"There are twenty others," B'Elanna explained, nodding at crowd. "But those are the ones you need to keep an eye on. Chances are, you'll all end up at the center table in the final round."
"I understand." Janeway rubbed her hands together, her eyes alight. "So when do we get started?"
She had barely finished her sentence when a man with considerable bulk hefted himself up onto the dais, in front of the safe where Ro Laren stood guard. Seven thought the Bajoran looked bored and she hoped the lieutenant would not leave the scenario before it really became involved. The man raised his hands, and the murmur of conversation in the room faded and died.
"Welcome to the first, annual Delta Princess Poker Championship," he said, with an accent which Seven could not identify. "I'm your host, Beau Jennings, and it's time to get this show underway. All the entry fees have been paid and the chips are waiting at the table for our players. There's no time limit and while a player may withdraw at any time, the remaining portion of the initial entry fee will not be refunded. Players are expected to withdraw when they are out of chips or acceptable currency. No credit will be extended. There are three elimination rounds with the top two players going on to compete in the next one."
"So the chips we're playing with for the first $5000 are really his," Janeway noted cynically. "When they're gone, you have to start putting in more of your own money if you want to stay in." She nodded. "Where's the sponsor part?"
"He's providing the boat," B'Elanna remarked. "The food, the drink ... the invitation to the best players around."
"The winner," Jennings continued. "Will be the last one standing and that gentleman... or lady... will be awarded an additional grand prize of $10,000."
Seven did the math. Considering the amount of players, even allowing for the hiring of the boat, Mr. Jennings was still walking away with a considerable profit ... indeed, a virtual fortune in this time period. She wondered why these professional gamblers and idle rich would have agreed to such a deal, and then noticed the light of competition that was reflected on many of the faces in the crowd ... that same sense of anticipation that Janeway displayed. Yet, there was undoubtedly something more to the scenario than the mere competition of the tournament. Why, for example, did Janeway's character require a bodyguard? Seven puzzled over it as she followed Janeway deeper into the room, the women mingling with the crowd as the Borg made a point of always keeping close to the captain's elbow.
She was surprised when she glanced out the nearest window and noticed that it was abruptly night. Apparently, time was being compressed by the program, and she was curious as to the reason.
Too many questions, Seven decided. She would just have to wait to find out the answers, thus discovering that she was feeling a certain sense of anticipation herself.
Harry Kim leaned back in the command chair on the bridge and tried not to look as satisfied with himself as he felt. After all, it wasn't that often that he got to take the conn in the middle of the alpha shift. He had many opportunities to cover the gamma ... or the graveyard shift, as most called it ... rotation, but rarely the alpha shift with the senior staff members on duty. Indeed, normally it would be Tuvok who should be sitting here as the senior officer, but the Vulcan had declined, wanting to work on drills for his security team which he was monitoring through the tactical station. He had not wanted to be distracted by holding the conn at the same time. Of course, Chakotay was off-duty in order to cover the later shift this rotation, and aft of the command level, Susan Nicoletti was covering ops, but Tom Paris was still covering the helm. Being able to sit behind the sandy-haired helmsman and know he would have to follow any orders Harry might give him if he so chose, was rather pleasant for the young lieutenant.
"Status," he said crisply.
"Same as it was twenty minutes ago," Tom said, amusement and a little exasperation lacing his tone. "Will you quit asking, Harry?"
"It's my duty to know what's going on with the ship," Harry responded primly.
"Then look at the damn monitor next to your chair," Tom suggested. "That's what it's there for."
"Mr. Paris is correct, if otherwise unacceptable in his manner toward the commanding bridge officer," Tuvok noted, without looking up from his station. "It is illogical to keep interrupting your bridge crew to be given information that could more easily and quickly be discovered on the monitor, Mr. Kim."
Harry felt properly quashed, but he forced himself not to react to the Vulcan's comment. After all, he was the one who was in command. But he did resolve to wait at least thirty minutes before he asked for another update. He inhaled slowly and tried not to twitch. The disadvantage of working the alpha shift, of course, was that he just wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. At the ops station, he would be constantly busy, and when taking the command chair during the gamma shift, he could relax, joke and talk with the rest of the covering bridge staff who were ranked below him. With the alpha shift, he was acutely aware of his position, and felt considerably more anxious, as if he should be doing something important, even if he wasn't sure what that was.
He tried to remember how Janeway covered the bridge, always sitting in her chair with elegant ease, her face placid, her legs usually crossed casually, even in the most extreme of emergencies. How often had he glanced at her during a crisis and immediately felt himself calm perceptively when he viewed that controlled demeanor? He wondered if she would share her secret of maintaining her command mask with him if he asked.
Perhaps he could even make it worth her while, he decided. There was a time when he never would have imagined the captain as being the sort of person who would confide in him, but since she and Seven had started babysitting Harry's son every so often, she had seemed more approachable to him. And certainly far more Human, becoming flustered on more than one occasion while looking after the baby, who admittedly, could be considered a little bit of a terror, particularly since he had learned to crawl. Maybe they could swap data, Harry thought, Janeway's tricks regarding command for his tips on how to herd the youngling about one's quarters and not lose half the decor in the process.
He spared a thought for his little boy who was with some other Voyager children in Safe Haven, being looked after by assigned caretakers while the parents were on duty. It was a bustling area with three or four youngsters present at any given time, and sometimes when he dropped by, either to pick up or drop off his son, he was always struck by the thought that it might be fun to have another child as soon as possible. Then, he thought about his wife, Megan Delaney, who was currently working in astrophysics, and that idea died a quick death. She loved her son, but her career was as important to her as Harry's was to him, and two children really would require one of them to leave the alpha shift to provide the proper care. Harry didn't want to, and he knew Megan didn't either so they would just have to wait until they returned to the Alpha Quadrant.
Megan had temporarily transferred over to ship operations when they first started dating, but when she became pregnant after a mutated virus had swept through the ship, disabling the crew's birth control implants, she and Harry had decided to get married. Living and working together all the time turned out to be a bit much, so Megan had returned to the department where her twin sister, Jennifer, also worked. That gave the couple some proper distance throughout the day, and made seeing each other at night all the more special.
Harry discovered he had a rather silly grin on his face and wiped it off. Being married and becoming a father had done wonders for his personal life, and now that Voyager was in regular contact with the Federation, he had decided that it was time to start looking at developing his career. Even he couldn't stay a lieutenant forever and if they made it back to the Alpha Quadrant within the next year or so ... as most of the crew apparently now felt was a done deal ... it behooved him to start preparing for what that entailed. He loved Voyager and was proud to serve Captain Janeway, but the fact remained that prior to getting stuck in the Delta Quadrant, he had certain career goals as a Starfleet officer that he was still young enough to aspire to. That meant a transfer to bigger and hopefully more challenging things than covering ops on an Intrepid-class Scout vessel.
Even command wasn't that far out of the question. He knew that Janeway herself, had not decided on that course until she was in her late twenties. He still had plenty of time.
Captain Harry Kim. It had a real nice ring to it, and the truth was, now that he had a son to provide for, there was a part of him that needed to be someone Little Harry would be proud of.
"Picking up something here," Tom Paris said, abruptly.
Jolted out of his thoughts, Harry straightened in the chair so quickly that he felt a twinge in his lower back. He swallowed hard and managed what he hoped was a completely even tone.
"Could you be more specific?" He was rather proud of that one.
"It is a spatial anomaly," Tuvok reported, having immediately switched over from his monitoring of his drills to that of the exterior sensors. "A class four nebula with an unusual energy discharge." He paused. "Perhaps we should contact the captain."
"It's just a nebula, Tuvok," Paris noted. "Do we need to call for help every time something different appears in space? All we have to do is go into it a few thousand kilometers, run some scans for astrophysics and save the visuals for anyone who missed it. Then we'll continue on our course, without having to call a red alert."
Tuvok looked faintly annoyed and Harry decided that this was precisely his moment to show that he was really in command.
"Mr. Paris is correct," Harry said, confidently. "I think we can handle this. Why disturb the captain on her afternoon off or Chakotay who is probably asleep, when we don't have to? Proceed with full scans into the nebula."
He was quite pleased when everyone complied without any further questions.
Janeway decided that she was actually enjoying herself. The first round of the tournament was over with her doing quite well, winning her table easily. The chips were stacked high by the time she and the second place finisher had sent the other players packing. It did seem that the program was shading the cards her way, and her 'lucky' streak garnered some attention, including a few dark looks from certain of the other players, particularly those who quickly lost their entry fees to her as well as any additional funds they could manage. To complement her chips, Janeway now had in her possession several items of male jewelry ... watches, cufflinks and rings ... two deeds, one to a mansion in Atlanta and the other to a plantation in New Orleans, as well as the sole ownership of twelve horses of 'fine blood'. It was a situation that accorded her a great deal of smug satisfaction, and she stifled a grin as she wormed her way through the crowd, looking for her companions. It was interesting how old skills, sitting idle for years, had reawakened with such little effort, and she was sure she had won some games entirely on her own without the computer's input, utilizing timely bluffing and astute play.
Of course, once the program determined her skill level, it would naturally adapt to meet the demands of the scenario, undoubtedly becoming more difficult in future rounds. She headed for the buffet offered to the players and spectators. Seven and B'Elanna were already there, fully indulging themselves with 'hush puppies', jumbalaya, okra, grits, corn bread and a host of other 'southern' dishes. The unique aspect of holographic food was while it tasted accurate ... and frequently delicious ... it was still made up of light and photons, making it literally calorie free. One could eat and eat and literally starve to death in a holodeck, something that made the device perfect for maintaining one's optimum weight if one had a genetic trait for overeating. For real nutrition, the Voyager crew would have to leave the holodeck or make a special request through the replication system, but for now, it was just fun for Janeway to nibble and 'fool' her stomach into thinking it was being filled.
Janeway turned her head as she became aware of Ro standing beside her. The officer had appeared almost as if from thin air, and with an effort, the captain forced herself not to start abruptly.
"Laren," she greeted quietly.
"There's something going on here," Ro said, in a very low voice. She was turned away, looking in another direction, and was speaking out of the corner of her mouth. "Within the boundaries of this scenario, of course. I think my role is a little more significant than I thought. I'll need to talk with you all privately, at some point."
Her interest piqued, Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Understood," she said, and moved over to where Seven and B'Elanna were, leaving Ro to melt back into the crowd.
"You know, I have to admit, 'Miss Kate', that this is a lot more entertaining than I thought it would be," B'Elanna said as she wiped her fingers on a napkin. "Who knew a card game could be so much fun to watch? I thought that guy would swallow his tongue when you laid out that full house and took the pot ... along with his 'granddaddy's gold watch'."
Janeway smiled faintly. "I have to say, I'm having a good time as well." She touched Seven on the elbow and the Borg turned to her briefly. "This was a good choice, Seven."
The Borg beamed and Janeway realized how little it took from her to make her partner happy. She resolved to do more of it in the future.
"I do believe there's more going on here, than just a poker tournament, though," B'Elanna added, scooping up some potato salad as she resumed the conversation with the captain. "I keep hearing people talk about certain 'financial difficulties' that Jennings has been having. It must be significant if it keeps popping up as a topic of conversation."
Janeway nodded. "Ro also mentioned that she wants to meet with us as soon as we have the opportunity. Apparently she's uncovered something as well." Her attention was abruptly taken by a young woman who had appeared next to the Borg, and was gazing up into Seven's face with what could only be considered amorous interest.
"So tell me," the young woman said breathlessly, her chest heaving accordingly. This was possibly a daughter of one of the spectators, very fresh, pleasant and absolutely chock full of Southern charm. "Why do they call you 'Seven'?"
To Janeway's great surprise and amusement, Seven responded to the query by pulling her Stetson lower over her pale eyes and attempting to look dangerous. "It happened in Dodge, 'Miss Maggie'," Seven revealed, obviously drawing on the cover story the computer had contrived for her. "That is the total number of 'varmints' who ambushed me in a 'shoot-out'. I was required to terminate them with my 'shooting irons'. I have been called Seven ever since the day they carried seven 'pine boxes' up 'Boot Hill'."
Janeway covered her mouth with her hand. It would not do to laugh, especially since the Borg was attempting so hard to play her role, but the captain was very hard-pressed at that moment to maintain her composure. The young ingenue fluttered and cooed, obviously impressed with the story, or perhaps it was Seven herself in that gunslinger outfit. Janeway lost a certain amount of her amusement as 'Maggie' then placed her hands on the Borg's biceps and pressed her abundant cleavage against Seven's chest, saying something to her that the captain could not quite hear, but put a certain amount of pink in her spouse's cheeks.
"Ahem, Seven," Janeway said to the vaguely startled Borg. "I need you to ... uh, check out something for me." She glared at the Southern belle, and faced with the intensity of a Janeway red-hot, level-ten command 'look', the young woman quickly made her excuses and found another place in the room to be.
B'Elanna, who had been watching this with bright eyes, snickered. "It's just a hologram, Captain."
"She was bothering Seven," Janeway said primly.
"She was not bothering me," Seven corrected immediately. She paused, and added thoughtfully, "But she was considerably more tactile than was required for our conversation."
"That's 'cause she wasn't having the same conversation that you were having." B'Elanna batted her eyelashes mockingly. "Ooh Seven, 'varmints'?"
"It is what the computer instructed me to reveal if anyone asked about my unusual designation." Seven quirked an eyebrow at Janeway. "Were you jealous, Kathryn?"
Janeway pursed her lips. "Not at all."
Seven's pale blue eyes narrowed skeptically, but she didn't pursue it, for which Janeway was suitably grateful. The captain breathed a sigh of relief and turned around, running directly into the suited expanse of Michael Sullivan, who caught her gracefully in his arms.
"Now where's a pretty little filly like you off to in such a hurry," he asked in a soft, Irish brogue, his dark eyes twinkling merrily. "The night is young, and we have so much in common. I noticed your winning streak, lass. Perhaps we could discuss it over a wee drop?"
"Take your hands off me," Janeway said pleasantly. "Or the only 'wee drop' you'll be having will be for anesthetic purposes."
"Whoa." Raising his hands defensively, he released her. The grin still hovered over his finely shaped lips. "Why so feisty, lass?"
"Problem, 'Miss Kate'?" Seven said, appearing suddenly beside her spouse. Janeway was very aware that the Borg was radiating a quiet, menacing aura ... and for real. It reminded the captain of the Seven she had been introduced to in an alien prison where her partner had been in full alpha mode, protecting Janeway with everything the young woman had. Normally, a hologram would not be that perceptive, but apparently, Seven was displaying enough antagonism in her icy gaze to startle even this collection of photons, and he immediately backed off, paling a little.
"My mistake," he said and faded into the crowd.
B'Elanna's mouth had dropped open. "Damn, Seven, where did that come from?"
Seven, completely composed once more, merely quirked her eyebrow at her friend. "I am unsure as to what you are referring to."
B'Elanna glanced at the captain and Janeway shrugged, trying to convey that she didn't know what was going on either. She wasn't sure it was entirely effective, but B'Elanna subsided and Janeway heaved a silent sigh of relief. She took the opportunity to follow her partner who had drifted away, finally tracking her down outside the crowded salon on the deck beneath a star-studded night sky. The full moon shone silver over the Mississippi, and the hot, humid night evoked feelings that were far away from poker and the potential mystery posed by the holoprogram. Seven was leaning on the rail and Janeway found a spot beside her, resting her elbows on the wooden beam. The cries of a night bird sounded mournfully over the river that was so placid, it was like liquid glass, the surface shimmering in the dim illumination. The hum of insects and the lap of water against the boat's hull completed the scenario of the riverboat hitched up against the bank for the night, and Janeway had a sudden, irrational urge for a cool mint julep. Or better yet, a long, cool Borg beauty served with ice.
She forced herself to enjoy the moment of tranquility, restraining her baser impulses.
"This is nice," Janeway noted finally, softly, afraid to unduly disturb the peacefulness.
Seven curved up one corner of her mouth. "Acceptable." She snuck a look at her partner. "Were you jealous?"
Janeway smiled crookedly. "Maybe just a little ... unappreciative of a sweet young thing like that. You?"
Seven raised her chin and inhaled deeply. "I found him ... disturbing. Were you attracted to him?"
"Perhaps under different circumstances," Janeway allowed honestly, knowing anything less for her would simply complicate things. Seven would pick up on any dissembling in her voice and be far more disturbed by it than she would be by any plain and unvarnished truth from the captain. Smiling, Janeway reached over and hooked her arm under Seven's, resting her head on the Borg's shoulder. "He's sort of my 'type', and possibly there's a little chemistry that comes from some primitive part of a person, mindless, directionless, initiated by god knows what." She squeezed her hold on Seven's arm. "But you'll note that I'm out here by your side, and that choice is always going to be the same, no matter what ... wherever you are, my darling, that's exactly where I want to be. Forever."
Seven smiled faintly and brushed her lips over Janeway's forehead. "Being with you is my choice as well."
"So how long do we have left?"
"Another two hours."
"Hmm," Janeway said. "Shame really, when we could be spending those two hours in our quarters ... finding other ways to entertain ourselves."
Seven nudged her. "You are enjoying the poker. Indeed, I suspect that is partially why you are so amorous. Your love of winning inspires such increased interest in lovemaking."
A short bark of laughter sounded from the captain. "That's true, but the longer the program progresses, the harder the games will get and the more chance there is that I will lose." She lowered her voice and stepped closer to Seven, running her hands lingeringly along the young woman's biceps, pressing her own measure of cleavage against the Borg. "You know what happens when I lose ... all that 'interest' fades correspondingly. Do you really want to risk missing out on all this ... energy I currently possess?"
Seven quirked an eyebrow. "I shall 'take my chances'," she allowed with a faint smile. "Besides, you would have to be defeated badly to completely lose your 'mood' once you have developed it. Normally, it just grows more intense the longer its gratification is delayed. That is something that I find ... worth waiting for."
"Oh, my," Janeway said, chuckling as Seven tucked the captain's hand under her arm and they strolled back to the salon. "You do think you have me pegged, don't you?"
"I do," Seven allowed with assurance.
Janeway did not respond to that, merely squeezing Seven's forearm affectionately.
"Miss Kate, I must say, I like your taste," a voice said from the shadows of the pilot house as they approached the salon. They paused before reaching the light that spilled golden and warm through the door, looking inquiringly into the dark.
Janeway frowned faintly as she saw a glowing red ember. The possessor of the cigarette stepped out into the light, revealed to be Ruby Lil, her dark eyes raking Seven up and down approvingly. Didn't Ro say that Seven and she were perceived as 'male' in this scenario? Janeway reminded herself. It was somewhat disturbing for these women to keep assessing her partner as a piece of prime stud on the hoof. It aroused certain, primitive defense mechanisms within her, the desire to raise her hackles and display just who exactly possessed the young woman.
"Tell me, Miss Kate," Ruby asked, smoke wreathing her lined face, "where does one ... 'hire' ... such a versatile young protector?" The cigarette was attached to a long, elegant holder which she used to gesture for emphasis.
Janeway smiled, or at least, showed all her teeth at the other woman. "Being in the right place at the right time. So your play goes well?"
"As well as yours," Ruby responded, baring her own teeth. "Perhaps if we have the opportunity to sit across from each other, you might find yourself putting up your ... 'bodyguard' as your stake."
Janeway raked the woman up and down with a glance. "I don't think you have anything to offer of the same value," she noted, a decided edge in her voice.
"You might be surprised," Ruby said, her dark eyes narrowing. "We're both women of the world, Kate. I'm not sure where your 'house' was located, but obviously, you ran it with the same skill as I ran mine. And we both know that when it's all said and done, a body ... any body ... is just another form of currency."
Janeway inhaled deeply. "No, it's not."
She squeezed Seven's elbow and obligingly the Borg, who had remained silent during this exchange, resumed her interrupted journey to the salon. Janeway was trembling a little with irrational anger ... this was only a holoprogram, after all ... and a deep sadness that permeated her soul. Yes, Humanity had come a long way, but it behooved her to remember that in many parts of even the enlightened Federation, circumstances still forced individuals into lives that were not positive or affirming, just like this display of Earth's primitive, though not so distant, past.
"Kathryn?"
"It's alright, darling," she said softly as they entered the crowded room, the people swirling as they settled back into their places for the next round of the tournament. "Sometimes, something will strike me the wrong way." She forced a grin. "But I guess I've figured out what my background story is. I really should have accessed the computer character profile before playing."
"Was the conversation so disturbing?" Seven was still confused. Obviously she had picked up on Janeway's unease but did not understand the cause. Janeway wasn't really sure she completely understood it herself, but she patted the Borg's hand reassuringly.
"It wasn't what was said, but what wasn't." She flashed her spouse a bit of a smile and released her as she took her place at the table, glancing around at the next, tougher round of opponents.
Forcing herself to relax, she schooled her face to impassiveness and waited for the first hand to be dealt.
Seven frowned as she watched Janeway settle into her game and looked around to see where B'Elanna was. She couldn't spot the Klingon from her vantage point in the crowd around Janeway's table, nor could she see Ro. Instead, an unfamiliar male stood next to the safe, obviously Ro Laren's relief in the guarding duties. Of course, that left the question of where the Bajoran was.
Seven hoped that she was with B'Elanna and that they were enjoying themselves.
"I'll see your fifty," Janeway said, diverting Seven's attention back to the game. "And raise you twenty-five."
The Borg did not quite comprehend the appeal of poker, but she knew that the captain understood it and relished it thoroughly. Indeed, though Janeway's face held her best command mask, impassive, infinitely calm, Seven could see the pink suffusing the back of her spouse's neck. The way the long, elegant fingers seemed to almost caress the stiff pieces of cardboard she held in them or lifted the tumbler of whiskey and soda next to her, Seven knew without a doubt, that Janeway was truly having a good time. More than anything else, Seven wanted her partner to enjoy herself while participating in the holoprogram, particularly since she knew the captain had only agreed to it because she thought it would make Seven happy. The Borg was glad that she had chosen this program and not the one offered by Lt. Paris.
Seven did not think Janeway would have found much to interest her in a quiet Irish village named Fair Haven.
She was suddenly aware of being observed and she looked around curiously. At the next table, Ruby Lil had folded and was waiting for the rest of that hand to be played out. To occupy herself, she was regarding Seven closely, and when the Borg's eyes landed on her, she smiled invitingly and moistened her lips, dropping a wink to her. Startled, feeling her face grow hot although she was not entirely sure why, Seven quickly turned her attention back to her partner's table.
Perhaps she should have paid closer attention to the computer when it indicated that her character was considered to be 'an attractive prize' to the various players. She thought that meant that they would attempt to hire her away from 'Miss Kate', not that they would look at her in the exact same manner that Janeway did whenever Seven stepped out of the shower, wet and flushed, with disarrayed hair ... as if the young woman were a tasty morsel to be consumed. Of course, if the couple had sufficient time to spare, the captain usually made a point of doing so.
Seven hoped that no one would attempt to escalate their reaction in the way that Janeway had the privilege of doing, or the Borg would be forced to utilize the weapons resting on her hips, as well as the ones that came naturally to her implants.
"I fold." The tone was disgusted and the owner of it glared at Janeway as the captain looked inscrutable and neatly lay her cards face down on the table to rake in the pot. He was a well dressed young man, a fop from some wealthy family and obviously being beaten by a woman did not set well with him. "What did you have?" he demanded, reaching over to flip the cards.
Janeway put her fingertips on them, forestalling the attempt. "You folded," she said in her best command tone. "You only get to see them if you call."
His face twisted. "Listen whore, no...Urk!"
Seven's Borg mesh hand closed on his throat and lifted him into the air, his feet dangling a good foot off the ground. She stared into his bulging eyes, his face turning a decided shade of blue.
"Seven," Janeway said coolly. "Put the obnoxious little man down."
Seven hesitated ... it was only a hologram after all ... but she knew the captain's position about this sort of thing and truthfully, once she had picked him up, he had ceased to be an active threat. She frowned and gently lowered him to the ground, where she released her grip on him. His knees buckled and he staggered away, hand on his throat as a couple of his friends helped him out of the salon. Janeway, with the remarkable presence that only came from being a Starfleet captain, carefully shuffled the cards in her hands, ignoring the fact that every eye in the salon was now on her and her bodyguard.
Then, from the next table, Ruby Lil began to applaud ... a sort of sarcastic applause ... but the clapping was gradually picked up by the rest of the crowd, accompanied by a few whistles and cheers before dying away as people got back to the tournament. Seven felt extremely self-conscious throughout it, and she knew she must be blushing furiously.
"That was amazing, Seven," B'Elanna said, appearing at the Borg's elbow.
"It was merely a hologram." Seven glanced at her friend. "Where were you?"
"Talking to the deck-hands and crew. I'll tell you, Seven. If you really want to find out what's really going on in a ship, talk to the lower decks."
"What did you discover?"
B'Elanna brightened. "There are more undercurrents going on in this room than in the river." She lowered her voice and looked around covertly. "You know Ruby Lil? Rumor has it that she has something on Jennings, and there's some connection between her and Michael Sullivan as well. Colonel Summers has been seen talking a lot with James Brophy, while there's even some speculation about Ro's character. I can't wait to see what she's got to tell us."
Seven noted that her friend seemed to be enjoying herself now, and she carefully stifled her small smile. Instead, she quirked her eyebrow. "It seems that having more information serves only to confuse matters."
"Yeah, well, that's a holoprogram," B'Elanna noted casually. "The more convoluted the scenario, the better the game."
Seven nodded slightly, her eyes narrowed as they swept the room, alighting on the various beings that B'Elanna had pointed out.
"What of the man who just threatened Kathryn?"
"Minor character." B'Elanna shrugged. "I doubt he'll be back."
Since Seven's experience with holoprograms was fairly limited, she had to take B'Elanna's word for it, but she was not entirely reassured. She rested her hand on the butt of her left weapon and edged closer to Janeway, making sure no one else attempted to accost her charge, something she would do in this role even if Kathryn wasn't her wife.
This round, she saw, was more difficult for the captain, losing one or two hands for every three she won. Yet, instead of lessening the captain's enjoyment, it appeared to increase it. Obviously, a distinctive display of Janeway's competitive side, though when asked, the captain always claimed not to be the slightest bit competitive. Seven knew better of course. She was vaguely amused by the expression of determination on her partner's face, and the ill concealed pleasure at how her pile of chips were slowly, but steadily increasing. How much of it, the Borg wondered, was the program shading cards to Janeway's benefit and how much was the captain's own skill? Seven supposed she would never know ... unless she engaged the captain in a game herself.
Seven examined that thought from all angles for a moment, wondering how hard it would be to convince the captain to play with her? Perhaps if she put something other than chips up for stakes, she could entice her partner to agree to a hand or two. Had anyone had ever used items of the clothing one was wearing to gamble with? The would provide an interesting twist to the rules of the games, Seven decided.
After they had completed their time in the holodeck and were back in the privacy of their quarters, Seven would suggest a round of poker with the captain, utilizing the version she had just created. The Borg's body tingled pleasantly at the thought.
The pleasant tingling stopped as a sudden jolt almost took her off her feet and she staggered briefly, forced to catch her balance on the table surface. She instantly and instinctively reached out and grabbed Janeway, holding her in her chair and preventing her from tumbling to the floor as so many others had, including B'Elanna who went head over heels into a group of other people.
"We've run aground," someone yelled from the other side of the room.
Seven frowned and Janeway rose quickly from her seat, both of them moving swiftly toward the door.
"I thought we were already up against the river bank," the captain noted as they spilled out into the sunshine. Seven blinked, feeling somewhat confused by these time shifts.
"While you were playing, the scenario altered to day and we began to move again," she explained as the two women moved to the bow. Because they had retained their feet, they were not caught up in the general exodus that followed them, and were able to find a good spot on the rail. A crew was working to slide the Delta Princess off the sandbar that had snagged the flat-bottomed boat. It was a fairly entertaining exercise in leverage and maneuvering and the crowd was properly appreciative of the efforts put forth by the crew, yelling encouragement and derisive comments accordingly.
After a few moments, Janeway frowned as she looked at all the activity. "You know, that was quite a jolt. More than running aground would seem to indicate. I wonder if the holoprogram is malfunctioning. We did have a problem with that wave front."
"I'm sure it was designed to attract our attention," Seven remarked. "If there were really a problem of significance, the bridge would have picked up on it and contacted us."
Janeway considered that for a moment, and then nodded with a brief smile. "You're right. I won't call Chakotay and interrupt our play."
"Thank you," Seven replied with genuine gratitude.
B'Elanna appeared next to them. "I wonder why this happened now. What purpose would it have in the scenario?"
"To get everyone out on the deck?" Janeway suggested idly.
There was a pause, then both women, captain and engineer, looked at each other with dawning suspicion.
"To get everyone out of the lounge?" B'Elanna returned sharply, already turning back.
Seven frowned, trying to keep up with the other two, not understanding their unease but realizing that they had been correct when a series of screams sounded from the interior of the riverboat. There was another large movement in the crowd, this time to return to the salon and again, Janeway and Seven avoided most of it by being a few steps ahead of the rest.
They paused inside at the sight that greeted them, prudently standing clear of the door as other people poured into the room. The ingenue who had flirted so shamelessly with Seven was kneeling near the dais, crimson staining the front of her dress as she bent over a motionless form. The safe door was gaping open, the interior empty, and it was obvious that all the tournament money had been removed in what appeared to not only to be a murder, but a theft as well.
Seven followed Janeway as the captain quickly made her way to the hysterical girl and lifted Maggie bodily to her feet. Seven flinched with astonishment as Janeway slapped the belle across the face a couple of times, the sound of the palm hitting her cheek unnaturally loud in the stunned silence. The Borg certainly hoped that Janeway would never have cause to attempt to calm her down in that manner ... it looked as if it would be painful. But it did seem to work and the girl ceased her screaming and began to sob.
"What happened here?" Janeway asked with authority.
"He's dead, he's dead," Maggie moaned over and over.
Seven thought that was rather obvious as she took note of the bloated body of Beau Jennings stretched out on the floor, a large pool of blood spreading realistically around him from a gaping gunshot wound in his chest.
"Did anyone hear a shot?" Ruby Lil noted logically from the crowd.
No one spoke up and the fearful looks and shaking heads indicated that this was to be the 'mystery' of the scenario. Seven shot a glance at B'Elanna and noted that the Klingon's eyes had lit up, no doubt at the inclusion of violence to the program, as well as the air of terse excitement permeating the area.
"How did you find him?" Janeway asked, shaking the girl slightly.
"Oh, daddy," Maggie cried. "Oh, daddy."
"Oh brother," B'Elanna muttered. "The girl was his kid? Now things get really complicated."
The girl shook loose of Janeway and dashed toward Seven who caught her in her arms automatically, holding her gingerly as she wept copiously on the Borg's chest.
"You have to protect me, Seven. I'm sure I'll be next."
"Why?" Seven asked logically.
"Because, I know Daddy's little black book is gone. I know that's what this is really about ... not stealing all the tournament money. He told me that he had important information in it about the players."
Seven frowned.
"It was probably not the most prudent course to reveal that in front of everyone," she told the girl which caused Maggie to fling her arms around Seven's neck, clinging to her most uncomfortably. Disconcerted, the Borg glanced at Janeway to find a rather dire look on the captain's face, and when Seven returned it with her best 'what can I do?' expression, it did not seem to placate her partner significantly.
"You have to protect me," Maggie sobbed, pressing various bits of herself against Seven who tried to gently pry her off. "You're a bodyguard."
"I am already otherwise engaged in that capacity."
"Let's just calm down here, shall we?" Janeway said, a trifle waspishly.
"Agreed," a ringing voice rang out over the crowd.
Startled, everyone looked at the dais where Ro Laren appeared. The Bajoran raised her hand and displayed a shiny badge of some sort in her palm. "U.S. Marshall," she identified herself firmly. "I'm here to track down a racketeer, but I will find this murderer as well. You can count on that."
Her dark eyes swept the crowd in challenge, her stance one of extreme aggression as her hand hovered over the butt of her gun.
"Oh, that figures," B'Elanna said with sincere disgruntlement, hands resting on her hips. "Everyone else gets all the good parts and I'm left just standing here."
Harry Kim picked himself up off the deck where he'd been flung and stumbled back to the command chair.
"What the hell was that?" he muttered, before straightening his shoulders. "Report!" he added in a clearer tone.
Tom Paris frantically ran his hands over his board. "I don't know. One of those energy strands from the nebula seemed to react badly with the shields."
Tuvok raised an eyebrow and Harry wondered if the Vulcan had even been staggered by the jolt which had briefly rattled the ship. "It appears to be a random energy surge. I suggest we withdraw and continue our observations of the nebula from a safer distance."
"Do it," Harry barked and wondered how long he would continue to maintain the conn now?
After all, both Janeway and Chakotay were bound to have felt the jolt and the lieutenant was surprised that they hadn't contacted him yet. That stray thought was answered when the doors to the turbolift hissed open and Commander Chakotay bounded out. A big, burly man with dark, handsome looks and a bearish frame, he immediately took command without so much as a glance at Harry who obligingly moved off the command level and back to the ops station where he relieved Nicoletti. The lieutenant moved over to the engineering station as Chakotay leaned over Paris' shoulder, sweeping the helm readout with intent eyes.
"What's going on?"
"A little bit of unexpected turbulence from the nebula," the helmsman responded promptly. "We've withdrawn to a safer distance."
"Why wasn't I or the captain contacted when we encountered this anomaly?" Chakotay asked in an even, if somewhat foreboding tone.
"The current bridge crew is fully capable of studying a nebula without further supervision," Tuvok noted logically before Harry, who had felt the question keenly, could respond. Gratefully, the ops officer shot a look at the Vulcan, who of course, did not acknowledge it.
Chakotay regarded the Vulcan for a moment, then nodded briefly. "What about the captain? She still should have contacted the bridge to find out what caused that jolt."
That was odd, Harry realized and he ran a check of the captain's location.
"Captain Janeway is currently in the holodeck." He paused, checking some readings about that signature that made him feel a little weak. "Uh, Commander, it's possible that she either can't contact us or in fact, did not notice the jolt, assuming it was part of the program."
"What?" Chakotay left his place near the helm and moving up to the raised area aft. "What are you talking about?"
"Internal sensors indicate that the energy strand sent a surge through the ship's power grid, including the holodeck's," Harry said unhappily. "There's a disruption in the matrix. I've been trying to contact the captain, and while it's possible she might have left her communicator in her quarters, the ship's internal communication system should have alerted her to my hails."
"Keep trying," Chakotay said, studying the readings. He frowned as a line of data crossed the screen and he reached out, freezing it for further perusal. "This doesn't mean what I think it means, does it?"
Harry swallowed. "The grid is malfunctioning. We can't shut the program down and neither can they. The doors have been sealed to casual entry." He raised his eyes, meeting the dark, concerned gaze of Voyager's first officer. "Indications are, the holodeck safeties may have been compromised."
"Of course they have," the first officer groaned. "Just once, why can't an energy surge simply shut the scenario down completely and open the doors by default? Why do they always make the program run amuck and seal the holodeck off from the rest of the ship? What the hell were the Starfleet engineers thinking when they designed the damned thing?"
Harry hesitated. "Sir?" he asked, hoping he wasn't expected to offer an answer to that ... though he had formulated several theories over the years to just those questions.
Chakotay grimaced. "We need to find a way to tell the captain about this. Keep trying to punch a message through to her. If we can't get her out of there immediately, she'll have to be warned not to test those safeties too often. Send an engineering team to deck six to try to force the doors open manually."
"Aye, sir."
Harry set the necessary commands into place and attempted to realign the internal communication system with the disrupted hologrid, trying to match the frequency so that he would be able to contact Janeway, even if it was through one the characters generated by the scenario matrix.
He found himself wishing desperately that he hadn't ordered the ship into the nebula.
Captain Janeway frowned, her arms crossed over her chest in abject dissatisfaction. The bridge had finally been able to punch through a signal to the crewmembers in the scenario, overriding the interference being generated by the disrupted holo-emitters. It had come in the form of the cabin boy who had ran up to 'Miss Kate' and informed her ... in technical language that was quite out of keeping with the scenario ... what had happened on the bridge. It had taken the Voyager captain a few seconds to understand what he was talking about, especially since they were in the middle of a crowd surrounding a dead body, but when she realized that they couldn't stop the program or even get out of the holodeck, Janeway was livid.
"You know, if one added up all the incidents involving holodecks and programs running amuck," she snapped, "it occurs to me that no sane captain would ever have the damned thing on her starship."
"Actually, I've always thought that was part of its attraction," Ro said dryly, leaning against the mantle of a fake fireplace. The four Voyager crewmembers had retired to Miss Kate's cabin, hoping that there, at least, they could speak freely, independent of the other characters in the scenario, particularly Miss Maggie who had finally needed to be spirited off to her room by Michael Sullivan, accompanied by a Doctor from back east who intended to sedate her. Janeway and Seven were sitting on the bed while B'Elanna had appropriated the only chair in the room.
"The potential for the emitters to malfunction, I mean," Ro continued. "Trapping the participant in the scenario and having to play the game for real is supposed to lend a certain ... appeal to using it. At least, I've read that in journals regarding holo-addictions."
"Not for me," Janeway said darkly, even as she wondered why Ro Laren would be interested in reading psych papers. It was an aspect of the woman she had not known before nor would have even guessed. "Holodecks and reality shouldn't mix. It's ... unscientific."
"Never had a holo-crush, Captain?" B'Elanna asked curiously, in the sort of tone that indicated she knew what she was talking about. "Even when you were young?"
"Never," Janeway said dismissively. "I know it's normal for teenagers to develop romantic inclinations for holo-characters when puberty sets in, but I never did. After all, it's not real and no matter how hard one attempts to confuse the issue by additional programming, the object of one's desires is just that, an object. It's not even as if we're talking about sentient beings like the Doctor or Sek. They're in a situation that requires them to exceed their programming, not to mention the fact that their matrixes are considerably more sophisticated than the average holoprogram character. Holodecks are for entertainment purposes only, not something on which to develop an emotional dependence. In fact, after awhile, they're not even much fun."
She paused.
"I know I'm definitely not having any fun." She regretted her words as she saw the shadow cross Seven's face, wishing she could take them back. "The fact remains that with the safeties off, the weapons that everyone seems to be carrying can kill us as easily as they can kill the other characters in this scenario. 'Real' is a relative term, when one is talking about projectile weapons."
"This is a somewhat dangerous scenario," Ro pointed out coolly. "There's already been one murder and undoubtedly, the 'fear' element has been added to the basic programming. Also, it's clear that the scenario is not running within the 'General' default setting."
Janeway had suspected as much, but she still couldn't figure out why Seven would program the specifications that way.
"The 'danger' level is listed in the upper medium band," Seven said beside her, her tone considerably subdued. "That is partially why I chose it. I thought that would increase its appeal to both you and B'Elanna."
The Klingon shot her a sympathetic look before turning her attention back to the captain. "So what do we do ... play it out?"
"That does seem to be the standard procedure in these sort of malfunctions. By completing the game, the scenario should shut down automatically and provide an exit."
"That means we have to discover who the murderer is before he, or she, strikes again." Ro paused, eyeing them all. "I assume that none of you had anything to do with the untimely demise of our host?"
Janeway grinned crookedly at the Bajoran. "I'm afraid not. Otherwise, your character could just arrest one of us and finish the scenario. I'd gladly confess to the crime, if I thought that would work."
"I do not believe it would," Seven said quietly. Janeway glanced at her and reached over, patting the Borg's hand comfortingly, as she realized how much her partner was blaming herself for having initiated the holo excursion.
"We'll just have to treat this as an away mission, under pre-warp civilization observation protocols."
"Blend in," B'Elanna said, reciting from memory. "Fulfill our roles and do not interfere with the inhabitants." She paused and shook her head. "With all due respect, Captain, that won't work in this situation. The program is keyed to us as the players. We'll have to actively participate to win."
Janeway sighed. "That's a good point. I hadn't thought of that." She frowned and spared a few seconds to once again fume over how much she hated malfunctioning holodecks ... almost as much as she hated temporal distortions. Shaking her head, she dragged herself back to the problem at hand. "All right, we have to solve the murder. Who would have cause to kill Jennings?"
"The four people we discussed earlier, Captain," B'Elanna said and repeated what she had told Seven earlier. "It's obvious there were connections between all those characters. We have to find out exactly which connection contains enough dangerous implication to incite a murder."
"All right," Janeway said, her tone brisk and commanding. "You and Ro find out what you can about Brophy and Summers. Since Ro is apparently some kind of law enforcement agent, she will have an authority with them that the rest of us might not have. By the same token, because of my character's background, Seven and I may have more success with Ruby Lil and Sullivan. Talk to the suspects directly if you have to, but be prudent about any face to face confrontation ... they are all armed and unless otherwise proven, must be considered extremely dangerous. We'll all meet back here as soon as we can."
B'Elanna and Ro nodded, then exited the cabin. Seven stood up to follow and Janeway reached out, snagging her hand and turning the young woman around to face her. The Borg hesitated, regarding the captain with a certain amount of confusion. "Captain?"
"Annika, none of this is your fault," Janeway told her intently. "It has nothing to do with you."
"I am aware of that," Seven responded coolly and Janeway smiled faintly.
"Maybe up there." She touched Seven fleetingly on the forehead. "But you don't know it here." She placed her hand on the Borg's chest, over her heart. "I'm just reminding you that arranging this holoprogram outing was a great idea, and up until the energy surge which disrupted it, we were having a wonderful time."
Seven seemed to consider her words, then nodded reluctantly. "I understand."
"I hope so," Janeway said, squeezing her partner's hand gently. "Let's go solve this murder."
"We should speak with Miss Maggie," Seven suggested as they left the cabin and headed for the upper decks. "If she has any pertinent information to share, the program will insure that she will at this point."
"You just like how she flirts with you," Janeway noted mildly, trying to inject a little more 'fun' into the situation, still feeling a little bad about inadvertently hurting her partner's feelings.
Seven shot her a startled look, and then seemed to realize that the captain was teasing her. She colored faintly, though her facial muscles relaxed as her eyes lightened perceptibly.
"You may ask the questions, in that event. I will be sure to do the talking with Mr. Sullivan."
Janeway laughed. "Touché."
But their attempt to communicate with Miss Maggie was stymied by the fact that she was still sedated. Janeway decided that it meant the character had already given them all the information that was pertinent to their investigation up to this point. Obviously, they had to find that 'black book' she had been talking about earlier, before receiving any further help from her.
They exited onto the deck and made their way to the salon where the body had been removed, though a crimson patch still stained the wooden floorboards. Several of the players and spectators stood around, talking in low tones and Janeway noted idly that the boat was once more underway.
"I wonder if, while we were beached, the killer got off the boat," Janeway mused out loud.
"If so, that would mean one of our prime suspects is missing, which would solve the crime quickly. It would simply be a matter of demanding the boat be turned around and we would take up the chase at that time." She paused. "I do not believe the scenario would run that way. The description of the scenario is that it takes place entirely on an authentic Mississippi riverboat."
"There is that." Janeway looked around and frowned. "I don't see any of our suspects here." She attracted the notice of one of the players. "Have you seen Ruby Lil or Michael Sullivan?"
He smirked, stroking his goatee. "I suspect you can find them in the same place, ma'am," he drawled. "In her cabin."
Janeway paused a second to fix him with a stare as she identified the implication, which caused him to drop his eyes and look away. Frowning, the captain dismissed him from her mind as she looked over at Seven who had been listening to the conversation. The captain took note of the cabin boy lurking amid the crowd, staring with fascination at the red splotch on the deck and she reached out, putting her hand on the back of his neck. This obviously scared him, the child starting convulsively, and Janeway immediately gentled both her voice and body language, as she did whenever confronted by young people, patting him soothingly on the shoulder. "Can you lead us to the cabin of Ruby Lil?"
He stared up at her with scared, wide eyes. "Yes, ma'am." He led the captain and Seven back to where the crew quarters were located. In front of one of the nondescript doors, he paused and looked at her expectantly. Janeway stared back at him with bafflement, wondering how to get rid of him. Seven solved that by retrieving a coin from her shirt pocket and tossing it to him. He snatched it gratefully out of the air and scooted off.
Seven regarded the captain with a bit of condescension. "For someone with an interest in historical data, you are woefully uninformed of certain social rituals ... such as exchanging currency for services rendered."
Janeway poked her partner in the ribs with her thumb. "That's why I have you along," she responded lightly. "To cover the details that don't interest me."
"Ah," Seven remarked, as if she had experienced some doubt about her true purpose in this scenario.
Janeway knocked resoundingly on the door, waited a second or two to allow the inhabitants of the cabin to make themselves halfway presentable, and then stormed in, her best command mask on. She was unsurprised to find the pair in a certain state of dishabille ... she was starting to realize that this was an 'adult' scenario, after all ... but she was surprised that the only 'garments' they had grabbed were weapons. Sullivan was standing naked by the bed, his fist full of a small derringer that was pointed directly at the captain. Behind Janeway, Seven belatedly realized that her partner was being threatened and went to draw her own weapon, forestalled by the captain's quick grab at her hand.
"We don't want this to escalate to a 'shootout'."
Seven hesitated, then relaxed marginally. Sullivan also tilted his head, and then dipped it in apparent agreement.
"Violence is rather messy," he said, to Janeway's relief and carefully lowered his weapon ... if unable to lower anything else ... as Ruby Lil followed suit. Though the ex-madam did keep her revolver in plain sight, resting it on her lap as she sat up in the bed, glaring at the intruders.
"I'm here to discuss the murder," Janeway announced. Seven, meanwhile, was observing all this with extremely interested eyes, particularly the Sullivan hologram. It abruptly occurred to Janeway that Seven had probably not had the opportunity to witness a Human male in all his aroused glory before. "Put some pants on," she added irritably to the hologram.
With remarkable aplomb, he returned her stare evenly, his lips curving up in that charming grin as he reached over and picked up his trousers, pulling them on. As he did, the captain noted impassively that even though he was a trifle on the 'large' side, the wonder wand was still a vast improvement on these generic 'default' characters the holodeck kept coming up with as potential sexual possibilities for the players of the program. Janeway was beginning to suspect that this particular character had been activated to match one of the profiles in the computer, belonging either the captain, B'Elanna or Ro Laren, because she doubted Seven had ever filled one out. It was probably her own since she kept coming into contact with him in provocative ways. The profiles contained the various personal preferences of each participant, including tastes in romantic partners. Janeway realized she was going to have to update her file, something that she had neglected to do since the first year she had been in the Delta Quadrant, particularly if she continued to play these scenarios with Seven. The computer would have to be informed that what once might have interested her while spending time in the holodeck was not at all suitable now.
"Why are you talking to us about the murder?" Ruby asked. "We had nothing to do with it."
"Maybe not, but I do know you had information regarding Jennings that could have resulted in murder." She eased her tone, trying to make it more confidential. "We're both women of the world, Lil. If he felt threatened, he might have attacked you. It would be perfectly understandable for you to 'defend' yourself."
Ruby didn't bite, snorting slightly in derision. "Nice try, but like you, Michael and I rushed out onto the deck as soon as we got up off the floor. Neither of us could have killed him." She offered a sweet smile to the Irishman. "Of course, afterward, I was distraught and Michael kindly returned with me to my cabin to soothe my nerves."
Janeway noted sardonically that, from all indication, it looked as if he had been 'soothing' her quite nicely before she and her spouse had interrupted.
"But you do have potentially damaging information regarding Mr. Jennings?" Seven persisted doggedly, not being diverted as Janeway occasionally was by the various twists and turns of the scenario.
Ruby looked Seven up and down and visibly licked her lips. "For you, good-lookin', I'll tell you." Janeway felt her blood pressure rise. "Beau used to be a regular client of mine in Washington ... that's why he invited me to this tournament. But he could never keep his mouth shut in bed, and I found out some interesting things about how he made his money in the war. He used to channel weapons and food from the north into the south with some help from a Yankee accountant."
"James Brophy?" Janeway asked sharply.
Ruby stared at the Starfleet captain placidly. "I didn't get a name." The captain knew, without a doubt, the woman was lying through her teeth. She was taken aback as Ruby leaned back against the pillows and allowed the blanket to drop, revealing a still quite impressive bosom, which she enhanced by inhaling deeply. "Now that this tedious business is out of the way, I don't suppose I could interest you and your bodyguard in a bit of fun? When was the last time you enjoyed a good foursome, Miss Kate?"
Janeway flushed and Seven quirked an eyebrow.
"'Foursome'?" the Borg repeated, clearly intrigued.
"We're done here," Janeway said sharply. "Let's go." She turned and left the room, as Seven, along with the raucous laughter of the two characters, followed in her wake.
"This scenario is more 'adventurous' than I expected from you, Annika," Janeway muttered as she and Seven made their way back to their cabin where they were supposed to meet their companions. "Why did you choose the 'adult' setting?"
Seven blinked, unsure of what the captain was referring to. "We are all adults, Kathryn," she said, with some confusion. "That is why I accepted that option when it was offered by the computer." She paused. "Why?"
Janeway shook her head. "It's just that the three settings, juvenile, general and adult, make the scenario play differently depending on which one is chosen," she explained. "'Adult' provides a great deal more opportunity for sexual encounters than the other settings do."
"Between the characters, you mean," Seven said and nodded sagely. "I did realize that Mr. Sullivan and Ruby Lil had been copulating prior to our arrival. Is that significant?"
Janeway sighed and Seven realized that she was still missing something here, probably to do with social interaction. That was an area she was still a little weak on as she progressed on her path to Humanity.
"Darling, it's designed so that we, as the players, have more opportunity to participate in such things," the captain explained patiently. "There can be sexual interaction in the 'General' parameters and that's why it's usually the default setting, but the player has to initiate it. In the 'adult' parameter, the characters will often initiate it and that setting is generally not used in a program shared with ... uh, friends like B'Elanna and Ro. As for what Ruby meant by a 'foursome', she wanted you and me to join her and Sullivan in having sex."
Seven stopped and stared at her partner, who also paused when she realized the Borg was no longer walking beside her.
"Is that logical?" the Borg asked curiously, trying to envision how it would work. "To want to have sex with more than one person at a time?"
Janeway smiled briefly. "Well, it's more in the range of having sex for the sake of sex, which we've discussed before." She tried never to hide or be embarrassed by such frankness with her partner, though it had taken her a while to achieve that level of comfort with it ... forced into it by Seven's brutally straight-forward persona. "Nor is it something that's for everyone. I've always considered more than two people at any one time to be an indulgence in physicality rather than true intimacy and that's why it's never really appealed to me. But similar situations are why many people use the holodeck, and safe sexual exploration is the primary reason the emitters were invented in the first place."
Seven considered this revelation carefully. "Would you consider the idea if it were more intimate?" she asked uncertainly, still trying to comprehend what Janeway was talking about. "I would not care to share such intimacy with holograms, but B'Elanna and Ro are our friends and..."
"Oh, my god, Seven," Janeway responded immediately, grabbing Seven by the arm and startling the young woman considerably. "Please don't repeat that to anyone. It's one thing to consider sexual escapades like that in the holodeck, but in real life, the potential for great emotional harm to the participants is very much present."
Seven was bemused by the captain's strong response. "I do not understand. I would feel more trust with our friends in sexual exploration than I would with holograms. If you wish to pursue the idea of enhancing our love life..."
Janeway calmed a little, though her eyes remained intent. "Darling, intimate relations are intimate relations, regardless of where they occur, and should remain between us, not with others." The captain took a deep breath. "I appreciate that you're just exploring an idea here, Annika, but take a moment to remember how making love really is. This would not merely be an extension of 'variety for variety's sake' like trying to have sex in your Borg alcove or using the wonder wand. This would be the ultimate intimacy extended to two other people. How would you really feel about sharing what is just between us with others, regardless of who they are?"
Seven tried to carry it out to its conclusion and was left dizzy at where her speculation took her once she allowed herself to really consider the possibility. "I would not like it," she admitted weakly. "Not even with our friends."
Janeway nodded and took a moment to hug her. "I'm sorry I reacted so harshly, darling, but you slipped from discussing the recreational use of the holodeck into something far more involved without considering the ramifications. I just wanted to stop you before you went too far without thinking it through. Or bringing it up in a conversation with anyone else ... particularly someone who doesn't understand you as well as I do."
Seven hugged her back. "Is physical intimacy always this complicated, Kathryn?" she asked into the auburn hair.
Janeway laughed. "It is if it means anything. Darling, you've learned that sex simply for the sake of sex is different than making love. And you've learned that being in love is far different than merely being attracted to someone. You just have to learn what situations require what application."
"I will consider this carefully when I have the opportunity. You have given me much to think about."
Janeway did not look particularly pleased by that, which Seven understood to a certain degree ... her thoughts generally led to ideas and some of her ideas were not always appreciated by her spouse.
"I promise to discuss anything I might conclude with you, first."
"All right," Janeway said with some relief.
They resumed their journey back to the room, and Seven was surprised when she saw B'Elanna already there waiting for them. She thought the captain was also surprised and unpleasantly so.
"Where's Ro?"
B'Elanna looked disgusted. "I don't know," she said flatly. "She told me that since she was the U.S. Marshall, she should check out Brophy on her own because that's how the scenario would be won, and then disappeared before I could argue. One second we were walking together through the lounge, and the next, she had just faded away into the crowd."
"Yes, she's rather good at that," Janeway said with annoyance. "But I didn't want anyone going off on their own. It's too dangerous."
Seven wondered why? Janeway had been notorious for taking off on her own as captain of Voyager, and if it weren't for Seven's determination to share everything with her partner, to the point of insisting she be allowed to accompany the captain everywhere in the past year or so, the compact redhead would still be doing it, even after being married. Seven suspected that this was a case of Janeway seeing her own reflection in the Bajoran ... the Borg knew that the traits that were most annoying to someone, were actually those that one disliked in themselves.
"What did you find out before she disappeared?" Janeway asked.
"That Summers is scared to death," B'Elanna revealed. "He was as white as his suit and seems to think he's next on the list to be picked off. Apparently, he had some kind of deal during the war involving the black market."
"Which involved a Yankee accountant," Janeway finished, her tone clipped.
"James Brophy?" Seven asked, looking at her partner.
"It all seems to be pointing in that direction."
B'Elanna looked worried. "If that's who Ro went after, she could be in a lot of trouble."
Janeway's eyes flashed, and Seven knew her partner was truly angry now. She didn't envy the Bajoran who would inevitably be subjected to one of the captain's lectures once she returned. Since the verbal reprimands could peel the paint off Voyager's hull, Ro would finally understand what both Seven and B'Elanna had learned the hard way in the past ... one did not cross Captain Kathryn Janeway lightly.
The captain moved over to the porthole, looking out for a moment. When she turned around, her face had set into one of absolute determination, her eyes, a solid granite. "All right, we need to find this Brophy and neutralize him. Seven, I want you to stay here in the event that Ro returns. B'Elanna, you're with me. Seven, give her your gun."
Seven was not pleased by this plan at all, but she didn't think she should object so quickly on the heels of Ro's defiance of the captain's wishes. If they had been alone, however, she would have argued, and at length, refusing to let Janeway out of her sight, particularly since she suspected that the captain was actually trying to keep her out of harm's way by insisting she stay in the room. But Seven knew that command was a delicate thing at times, and she did not want to disrupt it unduly, particularly in front of another crewmember ... even if it was B'Elanna, their friend.
Setting her jaw, she carefully removed her gun from her right holster and handed it to B'Elanna.
"Take care of her," she said quietly, staring into the startled, dark eyes of the Klingon.
"My word on it."
Seven looked at Janeway and it seemed the captain suddenly understood what she had requested of her partner, having the grace to look slightly abashed. It occurred to Seven then, that possibly Janeway had not thought about what she was ordering, just that she had chosen B'Elanna to go with her, perhaps for Ro's sake. Of course, it was not proper for Janeway to explain it to her either, at this point ... not in front of the engineer.
"We'll be back shortly," the captain did say quietly, just before they left.
Seven still refused to soften the glare she offered her partner, even with her speculation, and when the other two left, she crossed her arms over her chest, fuming visibly. It was a half hour later before there was a thump at the door and she went over to it, opening it carefully.
Ro Laren, a crimson stain spreading from a wound in her shoulder fell rather than walked through the entrance. Seven caught the cursing Bajoran and carried her over to the bed, shutting the door behind them with her foot.
"Lieutenant," Seven asked anxiously as she eased the wounded woman down onto the mattress. "What happened?"
"Ran into an ambush," Ro grunted as Seven carefully peeled back the vest and shirt to reveal a blackened and bloody hole in the upper part of the Bajoran's shoulder. "I think it missed the bone and fortunately, it exited out the back."
Kathryn will not be pleased, was the first thought that crossed the Borg's mind as she viewed the ragged injury. Her somewhat limited medical training received from the Doctor rose to the front of her mind and she quickly went over to the ensuite, wetting a clean cloth with cold water and bringing it back to press against the Bajoran's wound, attempting to stop the bleeding.
Ro hissed through her clenched teeth as Seven applied the makeshift pad but the Borg did not have much sympathy for her and she suspected that the others wouldn't either. It was one thing to defy Janeway's wishes. It was a totally different state of affairs to be damaged while doing so.
"I think it was Brophy," Ro said as Seven attempted to clean away the very real blood with the holographic cloth. "I followed him down into the cargo hold and he shot me from the shadows. I must have passed out for a moment because he wasn't there when I woke up. I don't know why he didn't finish me off. I didn't even get a shot at him in return."
Seven felt her mild worry flare into a full blown concern. "The captain and B'Elanna have gone after him and you." She regarded the Bajoran evenly. "I am limited in what I can do for you medically."
"I know." Ro took a breath. "I see a bottle of liquor over on the dresser. Pour it on the wound and that will help sterilize it."
Seven regarded her for a moment skeptically, but she went over and retrieved the bottle, pouring the golden whiskey liberally over the wound. It must have stung badly because the stoic Bajoran cried out and covered her eyes with her forearm as Seven bound the wound more tightly.
"You realize of course, that the whiskey is actually a product of the holodeck and has no medicinal purpose whatsoever," Seven remarked once she finished. "But if you enjoy the pain of having it poured on you, I will certainly not deny you."
Ro stared at her. "Are you upset with me, Seven?"
Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Mildly annoyed because of the possible danger your actions might have caused the captain." She paused. "You have much larger concerns than my attitude toward you."
The door flew open and Seven was relieved to see the captain, escorted by B'Elanna, enter the room. The engineer made an odd sound when she saw Ro and she immediately went to her. Seven observed the captain from the corner of her eye and prudently removed herself from the line of fire as Janeway stared forbiddingly at the Bajoran lying on the bed.
"Did you discover anything?" she asked her partner, as she took the stained cloths to the ensuite, hoping to get in the question before the fireworks started.
"Nothing," Janeway said flatly, not shifting her gaze from the Starfleet officer on the bed. "Mr. Brophy seems to have disappeared ... or was frightened off."
"Captain..." Ro began.
"No," Janeway overrode the woman's words. "I could give you a long lecture, Lieutenant, though certainly I must take into account the fact that we are off-duty, and that I did not give you specific orders as to what I wanted or expected." She stepped closer to the bed and stared into the Bajoran's eyes, speaking her next words with deliberate precision. "But you've been in Starfleet too long to maintain this level of foolishness. Going off on your own was stupid. I can't afford to have stupid people under my command."
Seven felt a shiver go up her spine at both the tone and expression, extremely glad that neither were directed at her. She did recoil a little when Janeway looked at her.
"I'll need you with me, Seven. You and I will do a systematic, deck-by-deck search for the suspect. B'Elanna, remain here with the lieutenant and make sure Mr. Brophy does not attempt to finish what he started."
Seven shot one last look at the Bajoran who looked very pale against the white sheets, and dutifully followed her captain out of the room.
"You're really angry at me, too, aren't you," Ro said as she watched B'Elanna move about the room in agitation, going to the door and then back to the window again. "Is it because you have to stay with me rather than go with the captain and Seven?"
The Klingon shot a look over her shoulder, glaring at her.
"The captain was right, you are stupid."
Ro felt anger flare, fueled by the throbbing in her shoulder. "Look, I admit, in retrospect, it wasn't the smartest thing to go after Brophy alone, but I'm a security officer while the rest of you aren't, and I work better alone." She paused. "Plus, logically the law enforcement character generally has to capture the villain in order to win the scenario."
"That's all justification and you know it," the engineer said, in a suddenly weary voice as she went over and sat down in the room's only chair. "Ro, we're all on our own out here in the Delta Quadrant and the only way we make it through, is to work together. That's a lesson I learned quickly here and I'm surprised you haven't after six years with Captain Janeway. Not to mention the fact that you're not in security anymore, and even if you were, I would think that you could trust me to watch your back."
The reprimand stung, and the tired, almost defeated tone of the Klingon saddened and shamed the Bajoran in a way that B'Elanna's angry tone had not. Ro swallowed hard, and stared at the foot of the bed.
"'Lanna, I'm sorry," she said, speaking with difficulty. "You're right, it was stupid. I guess ... I just didn't want to have to worry about your safety when I went after the guy. That's why I left you behind. I ... I worry about you ... every bit as much as Janeway worries about Seven."
B'Elanna sighed. "I think I can understand that, but you'll note that Janeway took Seven with her this time. She doesn't take unnecessary chances just to play hero." Her voice faltered a little. "She's got too much to lose now."
Ro blinked rapidly. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I still don't feel like I have much to lose so I try to take the threat on myself, rather than let someone else do it."
"But you do have a great deal to lose now," B'Elanna said, staring at her intently. "Your career, the respect of people like Janeway ... people like me."
Ro felt that one deep in her heart. "I know," she said, feeling helpless. "I'm sorry." She inhaled deeply. "I'm just not used to ... having someone in my life."
"Then what will it take for you to get used to it?" B'Elanna said, getting up from her chair and sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed next to the lean woman. She studied the Bajoran's face with dark eyes. "You know, I've been learning a lot about myself in my sessions with Sek. Your idea about us going to see her was a good one."
Ro, confused by the seeming change of subject, cleared her throat uncertainly. "May I ask what you've learned?"
B'Elanna looked away, her eyes distant and sad. "I learned that no matter how much I love someone, I always try to keep something between them and me. If something doesn't make itself available, I'll make something up. It's always someone else's fault when things don't go well, and it's easy for me to haul out whatever the thing is and say, 'see, I knew you didn't really love me after all'."
Ro felt as if she had been hit on the side of the head by a spanner.
"That's quite a discovery," she managed after a few awkward moments passed.
"It was to me." B'Elanna refocused her eyes on the Bajoran. "I've decided that I don't want to build walls around me anymore, Laren. Especially not to keep you at a distance. I want to build bridges."
Ro inhaled slowly. "That's good to hear." She hesitated, and then forced herself to match the young woman's honesty. "I've learned a few things about myself, too."
B'Elanna did not speak, merely waited patiently for the other woman to continue.
"It's not easy, Lanna," Ro said softly. "I've been alone for a long time, and whenever I did let people get close, it turned out to be a disaster." She blinked again, wondering at the burning in her eyes. "I've let so many people down in the past, and I guess I'm scared to death to let anyone close to me, to let someone rely on me, because I believe in my heart that I'll only let them down. That's why it hurt so much with this Tuvok thing. Finally, I let someone rely on me, I did my best to come through for them and actually managed to succeed. But when I told you about it, it felt like you turned it on me, you made it into something it wasn't."
B'Elanna bowed her head. "I'm sorry. Laren, I felt like it was something that I could use to ... I don't know, protect myself, I guess. Something that I could use as proof that you didn't really love me."
Ro laughed bitterly. "Funny, I thought it meant that I could finally love you completely," she said painfully. "By being able to come through for Tuvok, it meant that it would be safe for you to rely on me. It meant that I was ready to be everything you needed and wanted, rather than just be someone who couldn't be trusted completely. I could give you my whole heart because I knew now that I wouldn't let you down. But that's not how you saw it at all."
B'Elanna shook her head. "What a mess." She reached out and stroked Ro's cheek with more gentleness than she had ever shown to the Bajoran before. "I've come to understand that we're totally different people, that why I do the things I do, aren't why you do them. That's a hard thing for me to get used to."
"I know," Ro replied, captured by the burning gaze. "Sometimes I think we'll never find enough common ground to be together, but then..."
"Then?" B'Elanna invited.
"I think about being without you, and that hurts so much," Ro said, her breath catching and it was like something had ripped open inside her. "So I keep trying, but I just seem to hurt you more and I don't want that. I care too much for you to want to hurt you."
B'Elanna sniffed, moisture glinting in her eyes. "You're not hurting me. I'm hurting me and I'm not going to do that any longer. It's not too late," B'Elanna added, her voice open and aching. "I love you, Laren. I couldn't stand losing you."
Ro felt her chest hurt with a fire that did not come entirely from her injury. "I love you too. I'm sorry I left you behind, B'Elanna. I don't want to leave you."
"Then don't." Carefully, B'Elanna reached down and kissed Ro gently, a bare brush over the Bajoran's lips. Ro was made dizzy from it, but she didn't falter, returning the kiss as best she could. "Don't try to protect me. Don't do crazy things that might get you killed. Don't go around believing that the things you do have nothing to do with me, because everything you do affects me ... just as everything I do affects you."
"I won't," Ro said, having to force the words past the obstruction in her throat. "I swear I won't ever again, Lanna."
"That's all I'll ever ask of you," B'Elanna whispered. "And it will be a request. I won't demand that you be something you're not anymore, bangwI'. I just want you."
"What does that word mean?"
B'Elanna tilted her head slightly, regarding her with soft eyes.
"It means 'beloved', Mate of mine. The only one who shall ever be."
Incredibly, Ro felt moisture spill from her eyes, something that she had always been able to hold back before and a sob tore through her insides. But as hard as she tried to resist, it was impossible and there, cradled in the Klingon's arms, she wept for the first time in as long as she could remember.
Janeway was aware of Seven regarding her surreptitiously from the corner of her pale blue eyes as the couple entered the empty lounge and made their way up onto the dais.
"You have something to say?" she invited as she knelt next to the open safe.
She wondered idly where the rest of the characters in the scenario was. A quick glance out the windows revealed that it was night once more, and she guessed that perhaps it was very late at night, or very early in the morning. Perhaps the scenario had a purpose for getting rid of everyone else. She hoped so, because searching the riverboat certainly hadn't worked. It would have been more efficient of course, if they could have split up into teams and searched from opposing ends, but after the attack on Ro, Janeway was leery of having anyone isolated from the rest of the holodeck participants. If Ro hadn't gotten herself wounded, they could have done a coordinated sweep that would have caught him easily.
Janeway was still vastly annoyed with the Bajoran and not just because of the implied defiance. She wondered if she had overestimated the Bajoran's willingness to abide by her command ... or in fact, anyone's command?
"I do not like being left behind."
Janeway sighed and glanced over at her partner, having expected this. "I know but I was mobilizing my crew in the best way I knew how. I wasn't trying to protect you. I thought that B'Elanna might be able to come up with a technical way to find him, but she wasn't able to access the holodeck controls."
Seven considered that, then nodded stiffly. "Then I withdraw the comment. I erred in my assumption."
Janeway, despite her mood, flashed her partner a smile. "I've learned better than to think I can protect you darling. In fact, you're the one who always ends up protecting me."
Seven blushed. "I am sorry, Kathryn," she said, a little more sincerely. "I was mistaken in my judgment."
Janeway raised her hand, waving it off. "Annika, if the purpose of the crime was to kill Jennings," she said, refocusing them on the topic at hand, "why steal the money?"
"Perhaps it was not stolen," Seven noted reasonably. "Perhaps there was no money to begin with."
Startled, Janeway turned and looked at her. "No money?" she repeated slowly, thinking about that. "What makes you come to that conclusion?"
"It is not a conclusion, it is speculation," Seven corrected. "It is assumed that there was money in the safe, but I did not see it nor, as far as I know, did anyone else. Not even Lt. Ro who was supposedly guarding it."
"Well, this just gets more confusing," Janeway said, putting her hands on her hips and regarding the safe in bemusement. "They say that there's only two reasons to murder; love or money. That boils down to greed or passion. Which one killed Jennings?"
"I suspect if we knew the 'why', we would know the 'who'," Seven suggested. "B'Elanna mentioned that Jennings was having 'financial difficulties'. Perhaps that was part of it? Perhaps he was killed because he could not make good on his debts?"
Janeway considered that. "Maybe, though dead people are even worse at making good on their debts so perhaps it was something else. And it doesn't explain where Brophy went."
"Ro said he ambushed her down in the cargo hold. Perhaps he returned there."
"Back to the scene of the crime?" Janeway said without enthusiasm. "Maybe you're right." She took another look around the lounge, then shrugged. "We're certainly not finding anything out here."
She and Seven left the salon and headed for the riverboat's interior. Janeway had to force herself to remember that this was a very real danger ... the attack on Ro was proof enough ... but right now, she was becoming decidedly bored and wanted nothing more than to simply be out of the holodeck. Scientific mysteries were one thing, something that intrigued and piqued her curiosity, but this sort of roleplaying was entertaining only in limited doses. It was even more tedious when she was being forced into playing it rather than it being voluntary on her part. At this point, she thought she would easily kill just to be back home in her quarters and in a nice hot bath.
When they arrived at the hatch which gave entrance to the deck below, Seven stopped the captain from entering first, pressing an arm over her chest to stay her momentum.
"Let me precede you. My physiology is better suited to withstand a projectile wound."
"Not if the projectile hits you between the eyes. I'm a smaller target." But she had to allow the logic of her partner's statement even as she disliked the whole idea of it immensely.
Seven carefully withdrew her weapon, which was sufficient to raise Janeway's adrenaline level, and suddenly the captain wasn't bored at all as she followed Seven down into the hold that smelled mustily of grain and cotton. The bales and sacks were stacked high, creating a maze that caused them to move carefully. They stopped in a small open area where a dark patch stained the floor.
"This must be where Ro was attacked," Janeway whispered, and then wondered why she was whispering. Seven must have wondered as well, because she offered her a vaguely bemused look.
The silence was oppressive and the captain felt a shiver of dread go down her spine even as she knew how foolish it was. Still, with the holodeck safeties off, one could be killed just as easily with a bullet to the heart as by a disruptor beam. But, oh, what a stupid way for a Starfleet captain to die, she thought irritably. Or worse, for the woman she loved to die. Not to mention the fact that Ro was damned lucky she hadn't been killed while messing around.
That reminder made the fear disappear as a slow, dull anger began to rise within the compact captain. A hologram had attacked one of her crewmembers, and by god, she would simply not stand for that.
"Give me your weapon," she said shortly to her partner.
"No," Seven responded, looking at her in surprise.
"Seven, give it to me." Janeway kept herself from stamping her foot, but just barely.
Seven held it out of the captain's reach. "I am perfectly capable of wielding this weapon," she said stubbornly. "Furthermore, my manual implant is programmed to use it efficiently while you are unfamiliar with utilizing a projectile weapon."
"Seven, I'm ordering you to give me your weapon," Janeway repeated, her voice a command whip this time.
Seven stared at her, visibly outraged and hurt, but finally, with great reluctance, she handed her gun over, butt first, to the captain. Then she promptly looked up. "Computer, supply me with another loaded weapon," she instructed. "One that I had concealed in my vest prior to leaving the suite." Immediately, a bulge appeared in Seven's pocket and she drew out a compact silver pistol, not as large as the one she had just given Janeway, but apparently just as deadly.
Janeway was mortified that she could have simply made the same request rather than pull rank on her partner. But she didn't say that, merely offering Seven a look that was half-exasperation and half-apology as they resumed their exploration of the cargo bay. She had known that the players could always request more equipment as long as a crucial event within the scenario wasn't occurring ... as apparently, crawling around in the cargo hold was not ... but it had slipped her mind. She supposed it hadn't occurred to her because the safeties were off, and the last thing she wanted was to create more weapons. It was still a lapse in judgement that she hadn't needed to indulge. Seven had not said anything further either, but the expression on her face spoke volumes to the captain who suspected she'd be paying for this one in the near future.
There was a sound at the far end of the hold and both women froze, exchanging a glance. Janeway made a motion with her hand, indicating that Seven should take the starboard passage through the cargo while she took the other. Seven looked stubborn again, but nodded, easing between two stacks of grain as Janeway crept along the wider passage, necessitated by her skirts that could not go into narrow corners easily.
Concealed in an obscure section of the hold, they discovered James Brophy, barely alive, blood spilling from a wound in his stomach. His beady eyes were slitted against the pain, and he attempted to raise his gun when he saw the two women but was unable to complete the motion, the weapon falling down onto the wooden deck with a muffled thud.
"Just wonderful," Janeway said without pleasure as she watched Seven prudently kick the gun away from the fatally wounded man. "More complications."
He motioned for the captain to come closer and distastefully, Janeway realized she would have to get down on the deck next to him, no doubt making a mess of her skirts in the generous pool of gore. Sighing, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose, she knelt beside him, putting her ear next to the trembling lips.
"Black book ... in my belt..." he whispered, making a motion with his hand toward his abdomen. Then he expired in a properly dramatic, holographic manner, eyes rolling back in the head, a gout of blood spurting from his mouth, body slumping realistically to the deck. Janeway rolled her eyes, and wondered how long he had been required to wait until someone had found him so he could deliver his message and die.
"This is becoming tiresome," Janeway muttered and pulled open the accountant's sodden clothes, finding a money belt wound tightly around his waist. It would have been easy to overlook it without his directions because it was obscured in the blood from his wound. The thin fabric had not deflected the bullet at all as it tore through it and him.
"Why the hell couldn't he just tell us who the killer is, since it's obviously not him?" she sniped, as she worked at the band of material. Snugly contained within the inside pocket of the money belt, there was a small notebook and with two fingers, she eased the damp pages out gingerly. She handed it to Seven before wiping her fingers fastidiously on her petticoats. "Tell me what's in it."
Seven eyed her indulgently and holstered her gun before carefully peeling apart the pages of the tattered and bloodied notebook. "Much of the writing has been obscured," she informed her partner, "but it appears to be Jennings' diary or ledger. There is a list of figures indicating that Jennings owed Mr. Brophy a considerable amount, but that he intended to make good on them with the results of this tournament."
"So Brophy had no reason to kill Jennings?" Janeway mused out loud.
"Perhaps we were operating under a faulty assumption." Seven continued to work her way through the book, raising an eyebrow at one point. "There is a notation about Michael Sullivan in here."
Janeway went over to her, peering down at the book as she tried to read it upside down.
"It has a question mark next to his name, and another question beneath. 'Does Maggie know?'" She looked blankly at her partner. "Know what?"
"Obviously, that is something we must ask Miss Maggie since the next few pages are too damaged to read." Seven regarded the body thoughtfully. "Ro indicated that she had not fired a shot at him prior to passing out from her wound, yet she seemed convinced it was Brophy who attacked her. Why would he then, in turn, be shot by someone else? And if he was shot for this black book, why did the killer leave it behind?"
"Maybe they were frightened off before they had a chance to search for him," Janeway suggested. "It appears that there was a lot of weapons fire going on down here and maybe they were afraid that if they stuck around, they'd be discovered?" She took another look at the crime scene. "It looks as if Brophy was able to stumble or drag himself to this spot. Perhaps he was able to hide from his assailant, and the killer gave up before he or she found him."
"Perhaps," Seven allowed uncertainly. She regarded Janeway, her pale eyes suddenly alight and Janeway suspected that an idea had suddenly occurred to her partner. She wasn't sure, considering the situation, if she was going to like it or not. "Kathryn, this black book appears to be the key. If we release the information that I have it, perhaps the killer will come to us rather than us futilely searching for him ... or her."
"Use yourself as bait, you mean?" Janeway stared at her. "I don't like that idea at all, Annika."
"I presume if you were the one being utilized as bait, it would be an acceptable plan in that event?" Seven returned, a trifle acerbically.
Janeway hesitated, then realized by her pause and the sardonic look in her partner's eyes that she had just answered the Borg's pointed sally. "Fine, but only if we prepare this properly. I don't want to have to drag a bullet-riddled Borg to sickbay, is that understood?"
"Quite," Seven replied, just a touch smugly.
Janeway dug her thumb into the young woman's ribs as she passed her and ignored the small sound of amusement Seven made as they headed out of the cargo hold, leaving the body behind.
Back in the suite, Janeway noted that Ro's eyes seemed unusually reddened, as did B'Elanna's, but the captain did not comment on it as she filled them in on what the couple had learned.
"Have you spoken to Maggie yet?" B'Elanna asked. The captain noted how close the engineer was sitting to Ro and she wondered if, in some insane way, Seven's plan to reconcile the two had worked. She didn't know how, but if it had, she was aware that she would never hear the end of it.
"Not yet," Janeway said. "I wanted to prepare Seven a little. I would also rather make the girl the target rather than Seven, so we'll have to create a big show of giving her back the black book. Then we'll keep an eye on her and grab whoever makes an attempt on her life."
"How will we accomplish that?"
Her partner was also looking at her curiously, and Janeway favored her astrometrics officer with a bit of an evil grin.
"You wanted to roleplay, Seven," the captain told her. "I'm going to give you a chance to do it for real."
B'Elanna and Janeway concealed themselves on the floor of the salon beneath the buffet table, hidden by the heavy tablecloth that hung to the floor. Through a slit in the musty cloth, the Klingon could see Seven of Nine standing with, what the Borg undoubtedly thought was casual disregard, and B'Elanna decided was very reminiscent of a cat about to pounce on a canary. Hopefully, the holograms were not so discerning. She worried briefly about Ro but she knew the Bajoran was more than capable of taking care of herself, particularly since she had barricaded herself in the suite and had been fully equipped with several additional weapons before they had left her.
She glanced over at the captain who was studying the Borg like a hawk, her blue-grey eyes the exact color of slate, and the Klingon nudged her gently with her elbow.
"Are we having fun yet?" she whispered.
The captain laughed ruefully. "I know, this is insane, isn't it? But it's the best I can come up with in a hurry. The fact that Maggie is coming here for a 'secret meeting' with Miss Kate's bodyguard, whom she's been trying to get into bed since the scenario began, should get around the boat very quickly. I sent the cabin boy to her with the message. He's obviously designated as the message bearer in this program since Harry was able to utilize him for communications link, so hopefully the killer will find out as well. When and if he shows up, we can jump him. I know I'm damned tired of hanging around this holodeck and it doesn't appear that your engineering crew is going to be able to unseal the doors."
"To be fair, Captain," B'Elanna pointed out, "have you ever known an engineering team in the history of the 'fleet to be able to unseal holodeck doors when there's a malfunction? I sure would like to know what Starfleet Command had in mind when they designed the damn things."
"I would guess privacy," Janeway remarked with a sigh. "We both know what a holodeck is traditionally used for, and people have a distinct interest in maintaining a strong seal on the door in that event."
"I hadn't thought of that," B'Elanna admitted, trying not to blush. As earthy as she prided herself in being, this was the captain she was talking to. "I guess there is an enhanced locking mechanism on the doors that isn't standard issue for other areas of the ship."
"Not to mention that I know for a fact Seven has, in the past, used Borg encryption codes to seal it," Janeway said. "The malfunction probably scrambled those as well. I guess I am being too hard on your team, Lieutenant."
As intrigued as she was by this little tidbit of information, B'Elanna still did not have the courage to ask why Seven would feel compelled to utilize such a method to seal the door above and beyond the regular locking codes. She did wonder if the captain had been with her and what exactly they had been doing in the holodeck to warrant such privacy. Occupied with these possibilities, she didn't notice the Borg signaling to them until Janeway nudged her sharply with her elbow.
B'Elanna felt her adrenaline level rise and she narrowed her eyes, waiting for whomever would come through the door, the Borg's enhanced hearing detecting the footsteps long before either the captain or the engineer had. She expected it to be Maggie Jennings and had that expectation fulfilled when the delicate Southern belle strode gracefully in the room.
"Seven," the girl's dulcet tones greeted, somewhat anxiously. "I received your note. You have information about my father?"
Her eyes seemed fixated on Seven's face with a certain amount of wariness that did not quite make sense with a character who should be trying to lure the Borg into bed. For some reason, B'Elanna suddenly didn't think that Seven would have much luck with seducing the girl ... even if she had any experience at it.
"I wanted to let you know that I have found your father's black book," Seven told her, reaching out to put her hands on the young woman's arms and regarding her with an odd expression. B'Elanna identified it as a rather poor attempt at a provocative leer. "Now that we have it, I shall be able to protect you from the killer. I know it must be one of the other players."
B'Elanna shot a glance at Janeway and the captain shrugged lightly. After all, this was Seven. The Borg was not known for being able to carry off a deception easily. The most she could manage was an arrogant and superior look, which had worked well with the Devore Imperium when they were searching the ship a year or so ago, but probably would not succeed in this situation. It was possible that the holoprogram would allow for that and adapt accordingly. In either case, Seven's purpose was to acquire the trust of the young woman in the hopes that she would offer more information about what might have been in the writings that they had been unable to decipher.
So it was with disappointment that B'Elanna watched Maggie suddenly back away from the Borg, regarding her with no little trepidation. "You have daddy's book? Did you read it?"
Seven pulled it out of her vest and showed the book to the young woman. B'Elanna felt a decided tingle of dismay shoot down her back when a small pistol suddenly appeared in the young woman's hand, aimed directly at the Borg's heart. That was something no one had expected, and B'Elanna could feel the captain tense in alarm next to her.
"Miss Maggie?" Seven asked coolly, raising an eyebrow. She had to be aware that things were going horribly wrong, B'Elanna thought frantically, because she was reverting back to her Borg mannerisms, as if they would somehow protect her. "I do not understand."
"Take your guns out and put them down on the floor slowly," Maggie said, her voice hard. Seven hesitated and the young girl raised the gun for emphasis. Carefully, Seven reached down and drew out her weapons, laying them down on the floor by her feet. "Kick them over there." Seven obeyed and B'Elanna cursed under her breath that the Borg had kicked them in the opposite direction from where she and Janeway were hiding. Maggie gestured with her gun. "Now give me the book."
"Explain," Seven demanded as she carefully tossed the book over to the girl.
"Daddy's power came from this book. I knew I had to take it from the safe along with the money or it could ruin any chance I had for a future. He kept secrets on everyone in it, including me."
At that moment, Michael Sullivan entered the room and when Maggie offered him no more than a glance, B'Elanna realized that the Voyager crewmembers had been completely on the wrong track in solving this murder. The Irishman and the Southern belle had been working together.
"When I told Daddy that Michael and I were going to be married, he threatened to cut me off," the girl continued to the Borg who was listening intently. "So I had to take the money from the safe before we ran off together." She paused, tears forming in her eyes. "I didn't mean to kill Daddy, but he interrupted me. I don't know why he wasn't out on the deck with everyone else. He was supposed to be, but Michael couldn't keep him out there."
Or sent him back in to catch Maggie in the act, B'Elanna thought furiously, with an enlightenment that came far too late.
"What was Brophy's role in all this?" Seven asked, looking uneasily between the girl with the pistol and the other hologram.
"He found me standing over Daddy before anyone else came in. Daddy owed him money, and when he saw that he was dead, he tried to make me pay him. But, I had already hidden the bag, so I told him that there was no money, that Daddy had taken it himself and paid off another debt. He didn't seem to believe me. Instead, he took the book from me and told me that if I didn't find a way to pay him, he would use the information in it the same way that Daddy did. I was supposed to get the money somehow and bring it to him in the cargo hold. He slipped out and that's when I started to scream ... to try to throw people off the scent. I told Michael about Brophy and he tried to take care of it for me."
"I told the U.S. Marshall where Brophy could be found and I hoped he would arrest him on the warrant he had, or better yet, shoot him," Sullivan added in his brogue, which was not nearly so charming now. He lit a cigarette, the smoke wreathing his face. "After all, Brophy's wanted, dead or alive, back in Washington for his double deals with the South, but unfortunately, Brophy took out the Marshall which meant I had to take care of Brophy. But he got away before I could get the book back from him."
"Where's the money now?"
Sullivan shrugged. "Maggie has it.". He cast an approving look on his partner in crime. "She didn't even tell me where she had hidden it."
"But now it's time for us to leave," Maggie added, "and when I get the money from beneath the dais, Michael and I will be free to live happily ever after."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes and wondered how stupid the holograms had to be to make this scenario work.
"It's under that dais?" Sullivan asked sharply.
"That's why Brophy believed me when I told him there had never been any money in the safe. He never saw me hide it and I certainly didn't have it anywhere on me." Her face twisted distastefully. "Though he still searched me. Mr. Brophy was no gentleman." She handed her weapon over to Sullivan to cover Seven while she reached down and pried open a panel, revealing a secret compartment containing a bag of money. When she straightened, the weapon was now covering her and from another door, Ruby Lil appeared, also holding a gun.
"Wait until they're closer together," Janeway hissed in a barely audible voice to B'Elanna who felt her heart lurch as she realized the captain was working on a plan.
"We'll take that, my dear," Ruby told the astounded girl, as she crossed the room and grabbed the bag from the Southern belle's suddenly nerveless hands. "You won't be needing it where you're going and frankly, Michael and I can find better uses for it."
"Michael?" Maggie was as clearly surprised by this as the Voyager crew.
"Sorry, lass, but when I came up with the idea to steal the money, it was really the book tucked in the bag that I wanted."
"Among many other things that will be useful in future blackmail attempts, it contains information that Mr. Sullivan had worked with Ruby Lil in Washington," Seven spoke up and B'Elanna rather wished she hadn't, since that meant the holograms were now looking at the Borg again. Though she did wonder how the astrometrics officer had come to such a conclusion. "Indeed, Jennings was killed for the book, just as you claimed, Miss Maggie. You simply never realized that you were used as their weapon of choice."
"Michael was one of my best boys in Washington," Lil boasted. "And it wasn't me that Beau liked to visit, little girl, it was Michael." She smiled evilly at Maggie's pale face. "Yes, child, he had both you and your father."
Maggie looked devastated and Sullivan looked vaguely apologetic. "Here now, lass, it wasn't anything personal, you see. It's just business."
"You bastard." She snatched for something in her skirts, somehow able to pull out another pistol which she fired at the prostitute, barely missing Seven, who prudently turned her body sideways to make a smaller target. She quickly edged away from the startled Sullivan.
"On three," Janeway hissed at the same time. "We throw the table."
Startled, B'Elanna glanced at her but swiftly curled up to get her legs beneath her, placing her hands on the underside of the table above them even as Janeway mimicked the motion.
"One," Janeway muttered, inhaling deeply. "Two. THREE!"
The last was yelled as both women uncoiled together and the table, propelled by a Starfleet captain who was terrified for her partner, and a Klingon engineer, who was working up a rather nice rage, was launched across the room, crashing into Maggie and Ruby Lil. Seven took advantage of this distraction to leap on Sullivan, wrestling him to the ground. Unfortunately, the holoprogram ... just to make it interesting ... adjusted to the Borg's enhanced strength and increased the hologram's matrix to match it. It was something that the computer did quite often to make a scenario 'fair', but at the moment, the Voyager crew could do with a little less 'fair' and a lot more advantage as abruptly, the Borg found herself with a far stronger opponent than she was used to. Frantically, both she and the hologram scrambled to gain possession of the weapon and more than one bullet was triggered by their conflict, fortunately to impact on the ceiling or in the walls. As yet, neither had been able to bring it to bear on any of the other combatants.
B'Elanna did not have much time to observe her friend before she found herself with problems of her own. She leaped onto Miss Maggie, who was crawling out from under the table, only to discover that the young woman was no lady. In fact, she was more reminiscent of a Klingon targ, all teeth and claws which she used with equal measure on the engineer. B'Elanna struck her several times with respectable body blows but the woman seemed immune to her punches and very quickly, the Klingon was being throttled by the genteel Southern belle as they rolled about the floor. From the corner of her eye, she saw Janeway in a rather nasty scrap with Ruby Lil. The ex-madam was doing her best to cave in the captain's head with a shattered table leg, and Janeway was utilizing her best dockside brawling technique to avoid the wild swings. There was no question that the outfits the two Voyager crewmembers were wearing were severely affecting their ability to fight while the holograms did not seem to have the same concern. Apparently Starfleet martial arts trainers had not considered the need to fight in hoop skirts and low bodices while the holographic programers had.
B'Elanna's vision was growing dark when there was a series of loud bangs, and Miss Maggie's hands fell away from her throat, the girl slumping heavily onto the Klingon. Gasping for air, the engineer shoved the dead weight off her and rolled to her feet, looking across the room, her eyes widening with astonishment. Standing in the entrance, her face pale as freshly driven snow while bright crimson stained the bandage around her shoulder, Ro Laren regarded her battered crewmates sardonically. She was leaning weakly against the door frame and she used the barrel of her smoking gun to tip her hat back from her dark eyes.
"Like I said, as the U.S. Marshall, I'm the one who has to finish the scenario. I'm the hero." She twirled her weapon as neatly as Seven had managed in the beginning and holstered it on her hip.
Janeway rolled out from beneath the body of Ruby Lil and staggered over to where Seven was untangling from Sullivan's corpse. All three were liberally covered with the blood of their foes, and it was obvious by the ginger way everyone was standing that no one had escaped without bumps and bruises.
"That's one way to end things," Janeway offered, a trifle testily as she helped Seven to her feet where she promptly leaned on the Borg for support. "Kill them all and let the program sort it out."
"Probably should have done it sooner." Ro lowered her eyes. "My fault for taking myself out of the scenario. It won't happen again."
Janeway stared at her for a moment, then nodded as if deciding something. "See that it doesn't."
B'Elanna swallowed painfully and shifted her feet, aware she had pulled something in her left calf. She cleared her throat, wanting to break the sudden, terse silence. "So why hasn't the scenario ended?" she rasped, rubbing her neck gingerly.
"Perhaps because no one has said 'End Program'," Seven suggested.
At the Borg's words, an exit abruptly appeared at the end of the lounge and the doors obediently slid open to reveal an astonished and frustrated engineering team who had been working futilely on the locking mechanism. B'Elanna moved over to Ro and offered her arm.
"Can I escort you to sickbay?"
"Maybe you'd better carry me," Ro returned, and promptly passed out, the Klingon barely able to catch her before she hit the floor.
Janeway, groaning loudly as she and Seven entered their quarters, began to tug at the outfit she had been forced to wear for the holoprogram. Now ripped and stained, it made her look as if she had been dragged over a kilometer of bad road. The entire scenario, in the end, had required eight hours to complete. Seven knew that was too long to spend in the holodeck even if the captain had been enjoying herself, which was certainly not the case during the final four hours. The Borg slipped past her partner and into the bedroom, heading for the ensuite where she activated the tub, the hot water gushing into it from four nozzles. She added some of the salts and bath oils that the captain enjoyed so much, filling the air with a light, woodsy fragrance that served to clear her head as she stacked a pile of fluffy towels on the shelf nearby.
"Oh, darling, you've read my mind," Janeway sighed as she appeared in the door, still struggling with her dress.
Seven went over to her partner, working at all the archaic hooks, buttons and stays that the captain was wearing, dismayed at the bruises and scrapes over Janeway's body from her tussle in the salon.
"Oh, Kathryn."
"Hey, we won, remember," Janeway said with a weary grin. She stepped out of the undergarments and lowered herself into the tub with a groan of honest relief. "Oh, god, thank you, darling. This feels absolutely sublime."
"You are welcome." Seven took a moment to stroke the back of the captain's neck lightly, feeling the shiver of fear for her spouse echo through her. Now that they were home, she could allow herself to react to what had happened ... or rather, what could have happened. "Relax, now."
She quickly stripped off her gunslinger outfit, tossing it into the replicator to be absorbed back into the pattern buffer, and took a quick shower before drying herself off. She pulled on her black silk robe and went out to the living area where she retrieved a bottle of wine and poured a generous glass for her partner. Back into the ensuite, she knelt on the tiles next to the tub and tucked her long legs underneath her body. Leaning against the edge, she smiled faintly as she regarded her partner. Janeway was leaning back in her bath, her eyes shut and a blissful expression on her face as she soaked in the scented water. The captain's eyelids fluttered opened as she sensed her partner nearby and she smiled warmly as she accepted the glass of wine.
"You're too good to me, love," she said, sipping it with evident pleasure.
"Not 'too good'," Seven said ruefully. "My plan for our afternoon of recreation turned out to be far less than perfect."
Janeway laughed huskily. "That's why we keep trying, Annika." Reaching out with her fingertips to put them under Seven's chin, she drew her face closer, kissing the Borg gently, lingeringly, tasting of wine and not a little enticement. "Perfection isn't the goal, it's in the trying to achieve it."
"Ah," Seven murmured. "I am glad you explained that."
"And the truth is, it wasn't all that bad. I actually had some fun now and again, even after it went all wrong."
Seven sighed. "I wish I had understood the roles better. If I had been aware that the 'guard with a secret' was the 'hero' of the scenario and thus, was the one required to solve it, I would have asked that you take it." She paused. "You have always been my hero, Kathryn."
Janeway smiled, stroking the Borg's cheek lovingly. "Darling, you're mine. Besides, I don't think the roles were locked in that tightly ... any one of us could have ended the scenario by solving the crime. The role merely determined the level of difficulty and as the U.S. Marshal, Ro could get away with simply shooting all the killers once they revealed themselves. Our real problem was that none of the rest of us had a clue who the killer was until it was far too late. Technically, it was a loss for us and the scenario would have reset with a new killer, if Ro hadn't stepped in and finished it. We'd probably still be in there, otherwise."
Seven still felt dissatisfied. "I should have researched it further."
Janeway cupped the Borg's chin in her palm. "Love, recreation is just that. It's meant to be fun and I don't want you to make yourself responsible for whether I enjoy myself or not. That's not your job. Instead, let's just appreciate the fact that we were able to spend the afternoon together." She raised an eyebrow. "And pat yourself on the back because I believe your little plan to have Ro and B'Elanna make peace seemed to work, if how they looked in sickbay is any indication."
Seven blushed. "Perhaps overall, that part of the day's plan was a success."
Janeway laughed. "You were lucky. Don't let it go to your head."
"I shall not, Kathryn," Seven promised gravely, but she allowed her amusement to show in her face.
The captain regarded Seven intently, her eyes deepening their color, her gaze growing lidded with sensuality. "So now that it's over, why don't you get in the tub with me? I need you to wash my back."
Seven raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Wash your back?"
"You know I can't reach the really dirty spots," Janeway said as she reached down to tug at the tie of Seven's robe, trying to loosen it.
"I was not aware of that," Seven said dryly as she allowed her partner to cajole her into the bathtub, slipping out of her robe and into the hot water behind Janeway. "Now I know why you married me."
"That and your cooking," Janeway agreed as she hummed happily and wiggled to make room for her partner, the water sloshing slightly as they positioned themselves. Seven nuzzled the nap of Janeway's neck, wrapping one arm around the captain's abdomen as she groped around for the sponge with the other.
"Drink?" Janeway asked, offering her partner the wineglass over her shoulder.
Seven took a sip, feeling the liquid filter down her esophagus and spread warmth throughout her body at an unnatural pace. "The food in the holodeck was not real. We should not drink anymore ... not until we can have dinner."
"Hmm, I wondered why this seemed to be hitting me so hard," Janeway agreed. "I forgot that we haven't really eaten since lunch." She placed the half-full glass carefully on the shelf beside them and leaned comfortably against Seven, preventing the Borg's attempt to scrub her spine.
"How can I wash your back, if you are pressed against me?"
"You can't," Janeway responded cheerfully. "Wash my front instead."
"Ah," Seven said, seeing where this was going. Of course, she had seen where this was going about two hours into the scenario when the captain had been flirting with her on the deck of the riverboat. "Where is the soap?"
Janeway shifted. "I think I'm sitting on it," she said, fishing around with her hand under the water until she came up triumphantly with the bar the Borg had tossed in the water when she got in. It was an antibacterial soap containing aloe and other herbs that would promote healing and soothe bruises. She handed it to Seven who immediately lathered it over her sponge, making sure she had plenty of the medicinal suds on the fabric.
Then the Borg began to rub the cloth gently over Janeway's chest and shoulders, down over her breasts and belly, enjoying how the soap slipped slickly over the pale skin dusted lightly with freckles. Janeway put her head back on Seven's shoulders, purring audibly as her partner helpfully washed away the last of the grime acquired in the holoprogram, including a little real blood from a few small cuts on the captain's arms and shoulders.
Seven frowned as she carefully cleaned them. "I should have insisted the Doctor examine you while we were in sickbay," she said softly, bending down to kiss each wound gently. "Ro was not the only one who required treatment."
"For this?" Janeway didn't open her eyes. "Not a chance. You make me feel far better than the Doctor ever could, anyway."
"The soap will not be enough. I require the use of a dermal regenerator. I also need to prepare our dinner."
She made an abortive attempt to get out of the tub, stymied immediately as Janeway refused to let her up. Water sloshed over the side as Seven slipped back into the bath with a thud.
"No," the captain told her, turning around so that she was lying on top of Seven. Deliberately, she took the sponge from the Borg and tossed it aside as she wrapped her arms around Seven's neck and kissed her passionately. "I certainly don't need dinner when I have you, my darling. Nor do I need a device to heal these few bumps and bruises. Don't you know that you do more than feed and heal my body? You feed and heal my heart and my soul. You are everything that I could ever want or will ever need." She kissed her again, deeply, longingly, almost as if she wanted to absorb the young woman into every pore.
Pleased by the poetic, if uncharacteristically romantic, outburst of her spouse, Seven returned the kiss with steadily increasing interest. Her arms embraced the slippery form as she hugged Janeway close and she inhaled her partner's warm breath into her lungs, basking in its full-bodied elixir. Janeway moaned softly, impossibly deepening the kiss even more, pressed so tightly to the Borg that it was difficult for Seven to determine where she left off and the captain began. It was obvious that not only was her partner reacting to Seven in her accustomed fashion while taking a bath together, but the danger they had been in. Emerging triumphant from it had greatly enhanced her desire. Seven found her respiration markedly accelerated when they finally parted as Janeway's hands moved restlessly over her, making no secret of her intent.
"Here?" Seven murmured, knowing better than to try to temper this. The most she could do was try to keep up. "Or in bed?"
"Mmm, such a hard decision," Janeway whispered, nibbling over Seven's throat and jaw, as she stroked the Borg's sides and hips. "Bed is probably better. I don't want to risk drowning, and I certainly don't want to drown you."
"No," Seven agreed with a smile. "We do not want that."
The women rose from the tub, finding fluffy, oversized towels to dry each other off amid slow, lingering caresses and kisses that grew hotter with each passing second.
"You were so sexy in that outfit," Janeway told her as they stumbled into the bedroom, still hanging on to each other.
Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should retrieve my hat and boots," she responded as she pulled the bedding down with one hand, hugging Janeway to her with the other arm, "to wear as we make love."
Janeway laughed as they fell onto the sheets, limbs entwined. "That won't be necessary. You're sexy out of the outfit as well." She tightened her embrace. "And I don't want you to go anywhere at the moment."
Seven smiled and kissed Janeway's neck, suckling a bit to create a mark that she then soothed over with her tongue. "I will not leave you," she promised softly. "Not now. Not ever."
"I'll hold you to that," Janeway told her, pulling her up so that she could access her mouth again.
Seven happily complied, settling lightly on top of her partner as she funneled all her concentration into kissing Janeway; tender, whisper-soft kisses that alternated with deeply demanding ones, tasting her beloved partner thoroughly. It was something the young woman believed she would be more than glad to indulge in all night, and for a good long while, it seemed that Janeway would allow it. But eventually, the captain's caresses became a bit more urgent, more needful and Seven reluctantly left the tender mouth to trail slowly down the captain's body.
Seven never tired of this particular exploration over familiar ground, deeply appreciative of every millimeter of flesh she passed over, showing that appreciation with kisses and licks and the occasional nibble, using her fingertips to stroke any areas that her mouth missed. Janeway gasped and moaned, not ashamed to vocally offer her gratitude for what Seven was doing, arching up to the Borg's lips and tongue, sometimes holding the young woman's head in place to prolong the attention before eventually releasing her so that she could continue the pleasurable journey down the captain's form.
Seven was mesmerized with textures and shapes, the soft roundness of womanly curves, the smooth plane of muscle and bone, the velvet softness of tender skin, the wiry strength of hair that she nuzzled, soft against her cheeks. The scent was intoxicating, alluring, drawing her ever downward until she reached moisture and sensitive flesh, plunging into it with an eagerness that both startled and pleased her partner who voiced her approval in less than elegant terms.
The Borg was used to such verbal outbursts and merely smiled as she laved the sweet center with lusty attention, alternating with the most delicate of touches, drawing out Janeway's desire until Seven could no longer ignore the demanding hands tangled in her hair, pulling her face tight to this pool of pleasure. Obligingly, she intensified her oral caresses, directed them to specific areas, knowing exactly what was needed and how much. Her spouse cried out, fluttering around the skilled tongue, her body a perfect bow of ecstasy before collapsing back onto the mattress in a sweaty heap, unable to respond any further to Seven's touch beyond involuntary twitches that the Borg persisted in inciting until it was more discomfort than pleasure.
Then, and only then, did the young woman make her languid return journey, soothing over the quiescent and sated body, until she was once more relaxing comfortably on the captain, kissing her deeply.
"You, my love, are an absolute treasure," Janeway whispered against Seven's lips.
"Better than winning the grand prize of a poker tournament?" Seven asked teasingly.
"Oh, darling, better than when I graduated the Academy, better than when they gave me my fourth pip, better than when command of Voyager was handed to me ... better than the day we eventually pull into orbit around Earth."
Suitably impressed with her place in Janeway's list of priorities, Seven smiled and kissed her partner again, knowing that Janeway's flavor lingered on her mouth, still keen and obviously accepted willingly by the captain, who devoured the Borg's lips. Now free to indulge in her own desire, Seven curled her body over Janeway, burying her face in the warm hollow of her spouse's neck and shoulder, bringing her knees up on either side of Janeway's hips and lifting herself up enough for the captain to touch her lusciously with her long, elegant fingers.
Seven moaned, delighting in the tactile pleasure swirling over her craving, the fingertips dipping into wetness teasingly, then tracing further afield to touch the circular orifice, not penetrating either, merely indicating that she could, until Seven was almost insane from it.
"Kathryn," she whispered, "please."
"What do you want, darling?" Janeway asked, voice husky and commanding in the Borg's ear. "This?" She rubbed Seven's swollen and aching node firmly, sending a rush of sheer pleasure through the young woman. "This?" Two fingers, penetrating briefly, thrusting deep, making Seven gasp and groan with need. "This?" A gentle probe, a single insertion done with care and love, intimately exploring, heightening Seven's anticipation.
"Yes. All of them. Everything."
Janeway nuzzled her. "Everything," she promised. "I want to give it all to you, my darling."
The captain slid down a little on the bed, granting her better leverage and Seven curled up even more, hovering over Janeway protectively even as she surrendered utterly to her. Janeway brought her other hand up, and Seven made a sound, involuntary, deep, midway between a moan and a cry as her partner took her, gentle fingers slipping with aching slowness into her, both entries in perfect rhythm as Janeway's thumb circled and fondled the tiny erection until Seven felt herself lost in pleasure and delight. Fighting for breath, her forearms cradling Janeway shoulders ... but palm down so that her left hand dug into unfeeling mattress rather than vulnerable flesh ... she shivered uncontrollably over her partner. It seemed that she trembled on the brink forever, before it was too much to stave off any longer and Seven shuddered again and again as the spasms took her, shook her, let her go finally, sobbing from the release.
Carefully, Janeway withdrew, wrapping her arms around the larger body looming over her and pulling it down onto her, obviously welcoming her partner's weight on her in this moment of complete helplessness. Yet, even then, Seven tried to keep the greater part of her mass on her elbows and knees.
"My darling," Janeway crooned. "My wonderful, most precious darling. I love you so much."
Seven sought out her partner's lips, kissing her with her whole soul, feeling the pounding of her heart gradually ease, the need for breath grow less.
"I love you, Kathryn."
Janeway held the Borg's head between her hands, holding her still as she kissed her until Seven thought she might pass out from the sheer bliss of it.
Then, gradually, they relaxed and Seven, cradling Janeway in her arms, rolled them over until they were on their sides. She reached down and pulled the blankets up around them, creating a warm haven for them as they snuggled in the center of their large bed, feeling infinitely at peace. They basked in the afterglow, gentle touches of lips and soft strokes of fingertips, but Janeway was still a little restless, not falling asleep as Seven would have initially expected. Instead, she kept shifting, looking out to the other room and there was an expression in her eyes that Seven had learned to recognize.
"Mmm, Seven of Mine," Janeway mumbled finally.
"Yes, my Kathryn," Seven replied, amused both at the new appellation Janeway had bestowed upon her in recent days and because she knew what was coming.
There was an embarrassed pause. "I'm hungry. Can we have dinner now?"
The sound that came out of Seven then, surprised her and startled her, but was oddly familiar, nonetheless. Not to her, in particular since becoming a Borg drone, but one that she had heard many times from others. Now, in herself, she could not prevent it, and indeed, did not want to.
Seven laughed out loud, fully and with happy pleasure, as she hugged her partner.
"I thought I was all you would ever need," she reminded playfully.
She eased her embrace, drawing back to realize that Janeway with looking at her with wide, delighted eyes, a huge smile on her face as she stroked Seven's cheek, cupping her face in her palm.
"I'm so glad I was here for this," the captain said throatily, her eyes glinting with moisture. "Hearing your laugh is so incredibly wonderful, my darling."
Seven chuckled again. "It was inevitable that I would remember how sooner or later, particularly since I have been married to you."
Janeway laughed herself. "When I figure out whether that is a compliment or an insult, I'll respond to it."
"It is a compliment," Seven told her, sobering slightly. "You bring me such joy, my Kathryn. Is not laughter a result of joy?"
Janeway smiled at her tenderly. "It absolutely is, my darling."
She cradled the Borg's face in both hands and kissed her, apparently trying to convey just how much she loved her through this touch of lips and Seven thought that indeed, true joy was being with her spouse ... regardless of what circumstances they found themselves in, even a brawl on a riverboat with some very wild, wild women.
Epilogue
Ro Laren glanced over at the body slumbering peacefully in the bed next to her. She had not been all that surprised when B'Elanna had waited for her until the Doctor had finished his ministrations, but she was very pleased when the Klingon had insisted she spend the night in the engineer's quarters, simply to make sure the Bajoran got the proper amount of sleep. This was the first time the couple had gone to bed together simply for the sake of holding each other rather than for an energetic round of shared pleasure, but Ro certainly wasn't complaining. Not only had there been a lingering ache in her shoulder that not even a dermal regenerator and a bone knitter could completely remove, but she was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Curling up in B'Elanna's arms and going to sleep had been sheer heaven.
Now, waking next to the Klingon, Ro realized how very much she had missed this intimate contact with the other woman ... in some ways, more intimate than they had shared before ... and how much she wanted it to continue. Carefully, she eased over, resting her head on the more compact woman's shoulder. B'Elanna stirred and muttered something before going back to sleep, but her arms crept warmly around the Bajoran and held her tightly, letting her know that even while she wasn't awake, she still wanted Ro close to her.
Ro wanted that, too. The only question in her mind was; had they managed to achieve a peace where they could work on that as a full time thing? Or were there still issues they had to resolve between them? She worried that in her mind for a while, then decided it wasn't worth staying awake for. Not when B'Elanna's body was so warm and firm beside her, not when her heart demanded that it beat in rhythm with the Klingon's.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to sleep, knowing that the morning would arrive soon enough. There would be plenty of time to work the rest out.
Now that both truly believed that they could.
The End