Just Between Rest & Recreation
G. L. Dartt
The tapered silhouette of USS Voyager warped through space, the stars seeming to fly past the large windows that dominated the ready room. Standing before them, sipping her coffee slowly, the compact, auburn-haired Captain Kathryn Janeway gazed pensively at the dark reaches of the space laying between her and the Federation. Stranded for the past six years in the Delta Quadrant, it had fallen on her rather slender shoulders to get her ship and crew home. It was not always an easy weight to carry, but now the end seemed to be in sight and she discovered that the burden did not lie as heavy as it once did.
At the moment, however, they were in somewhat unfamiliar space. All of the Delta Quadrant was unfamiliar, of course, but for the past three years, they generally had charts and projections drawn up ahead of time before entering a new sector. The ship's astrometrics officer, Seven of Nine, could usually mine her memories of her time as a Borg drone for information based on the knowledge of thousands of assimilated species. Unfortunately, a little more than a week ago, Voyager had been flung twenty light-years into another sector by a technologically advanced species who had not found Janeway's sense of humor to be particularly funny. Since then, the astrometrics department had been working overtime to recalibrate the long-range sensors and produce charts detailing the quickest route back to the Federation.
That also meant that the captain had not seen her spouse for more than a few moments at any given time as the young woman threw herself into the task with the same discipline and dedication she brought to everything else in her life. For Janeway, who loved the Borg dearly, it was becoming increasingly intolerable, even as she knew that these tasks had to be done.
What they needed ... what the entire crew needed ... was some concentrated rest and recreation, she thought idly. The problem was finding a suitable planet on which to set the ship down, though it was not a decision to be made lightly. Condition Blue tended to leave Voyager in quite a vulnerable position. To find a planet safe enough to land on was not a task high on the list of priorities for astrophysics, nor did Janeway want to add to the already stressed department's workload. But the fact remained: they all needed some downtime. For the past few months, ever since some brief leave on Balleyport space station, and an even briefer attempt at a vacation that ended when Janeway and Seven were captured by a promoter who wanted to put Seven in his 'sports entertainment' program, the ship had been careening from one adventure to another, with little time for the crew to stop and catch their breath. R&R had consisted of crewmembers negotiating additional hours in the holodeck, or an extra day off here and there. That was not the sort of thing that promoted truly beneficial, long-term relief.
The captain and Seven had been under particular stress, beginning with the whole misunderstanding regarding the fate of the Borg children, continuing through crash landings on ice planets to most recently, a situation where the captain had switched bodies with her chief of engineering. It had not been easy for Janeway, but she suspected that it had been even more difficult for her spouse. Seven needed some time away from all the things that had been happening, a certain amount of space to gain some much needed perspective, and the captain was determined to provide that for her.
It was just a matter of figuring out how.
The chime of her door interrupted her thoughts and she turned her head. "Come."
The door slid open to reveal the tall, darkly handsome first officer, Chakotay, and she turned fully, waiting as he ascended the short flight of stairs to the ready room's upper level. He moved lightly for a man of his bulk, but there was a certain set to his shoulders that indicated a deep-seated fatigue. Even the tribal tattoo over his left brow seemed to droop with a certain weariness. Not long ago, he had requested a formal leave of absence and as yet, she had been unable to grant it.
"Commander," she greeted, reaching out to accept the padd he held out for her.
"The report from astrometrics," he explained as she scanned the information there. "They've just completed the final charts, and we should be able to plot a relatively secure course through this sector."
She nodded, taking another sip from her cup. "Any possibilities of an uninhabited, Class M planet we can use for shore leave?"
She raised her eyes, seeing surprise and what also might have been gratitude in his gaze. "We haven't exactly been looking."
"Put Harry on it. I don't want to load any more onto the astrometrics department, but I really would like to provide a full leave to the crew. It's been too long."
"Agreed."
"Anything else?"
He handed her another padd. "Regarding the students in the Starfleet courses."
She read the padd, her eyebrow rising in astonishment.
"Graduation?"
"From the first phase, anyway." Chakotay and the senior officers had set up a series of educational courses to provide Starfleet training for those crewmembers who wanted to be more than merely 'provisional officers' when they finally returned to the Alpha Quadrant. The first officer had taken on a significant teaching role with those Maquis and Delta Quadrant inhabitants, and it appeared that his efforts were about to bear fruit.
"Goodness, Seven didn't mention this at all," she noted, studying the recommendations for where the next phase of education should take the students. At this point, it was customary for cadets to channel themselves into specialized fields; medicine, engineering, operations, sciences, or command. Of course, most of these students were already working where they were best suited, and had been for the past six years on Voyager. These courses were more a formality than anything else, but as Janeway knew, sometimes formalities could be vitally important to someone who was striving to achieve certain dreams and aspirations.
"The courses are not officially finished until this final testing period," Chakotay corrected quietly. "But Tuvok, the Doctor and I, fully expect Seven, Neelix, Tabor Jur, White and Ayala to pass with flying colors."
Janeway stared at him, wondering why he had picked out those names specifically from a class of fifteen.
"They're the only ones interested in pursuing it to official status," he elaborated. "The rest of the students aren't required to be formally tested before they graduate."
Janeway blinked, staring at the padd. "Where did the time go?" Though the ten months of classes provided had certainly not been as extensive as four years of study at Starfleet Academy, most cadets did not spend three to six years actively serving on an actual Starfleet vessel before attending a class, either. Any one of the names listed here were quite deserving of full status within the command chain of Starfleet at this point. "Do you have any recommendations as to rank?"
"'Ensign' will suffice for Neelix. Although he has certain aspirations of eventually joining Starfleet's Supply & Service area, he seems willing to remain as our cook and morale officer. With Seven being a departmental head, however, and, for all intents and purposes, a senior officer, she should carry the rank of 'lieutenant', at least. As for the other three, I see no reason why they simply can't maintain the ranks they have, and change them over from provisional officer insignia to Starfleet pips."
Janeway lifted her head, meeting his gaze squarely. "You and B'Elanna haven't, even though you have graduated from the Academy and Lt. Torres had more actual Academy training than any of the others in the class."
He took a breath. "Depending on how things go in the future, B'Elanna and I might end up needing to do just that," he admitted. "But for the time being, Tabor and Ayala are prepared to accept a full commission in Starfleet, unlike the rest of the Maquis in the classes who seemed to be taking them just to fill time. As for Seven and Neelix ... maybe you should think about issuing uniforms as soon as they've graduated."
"Science for Seven and operations for Neelix?"
"That's where we thought they would fit best," Chakotay agreed.
Janeway nodded. "As soon as you have the test scores, let me know, and I'll issue a memo as to the new status of the graduating cadets, along with the new insignia and uniform patterns." She eyed her first officer curiously. "It seems to me that a certain celebration is also in order."
He grinned faintly. "My thoughts exactly, but it would be preferable if we could surprise Neelix as well."
Janeway imagined the reaction of the stocky Talaxian being presented with his uniform complete with single pip, and had to agree. "I'll see what Ensign Wildman and Sek have to say. We probably won't be able to organize a party as well as Neelix can, but I'm sure we can come up with something appropriate."
She looked thoughtfully after her first officer as he left the ready room and retrieved her cup from the table, pouring herself a fresh serving from the silver thermos. She tried to imagine Seven of Nine wearing a Starfleet uniform and felt her chest swell with pride. Of course, she had seen her partner in a uniform before ... during a temporal incursion that never really happened though she remembered it all vividly. She felt a headache threaten as it always did when she was considering temporal incidents, and resolutely decided not to think about it. Instead, she drank her coffee and wondered if Seven would be as keen in her appreciation of receiving a commission as Neelix undoubtedly would be.
A few hours later, after going over a few possible shore leave possibilities with Chakotay, she wrapped up the last of her work and headed for deck three, leaving the bridge in the hands of Tuvok,
Voyager's Vulcan chief of security. Jake, the couple's Irish Setter, was waiting for her when she arrived at the quarters, his bushy red tail waving cheerfully. She patted him and glanced around, wondering why things were so quiet since her partner should have been off duty by now. A quick glance in the bedroom revealed the answer. Curled up between the sheets, the sleeping Seven rested her cheek on her hands, looking very young and vulnerable. So deep was her slumber that she didn't stir, not even when Janeway paused on her way to the ensuite to deposit a kiss on the Borg's temple and draw the blankets more securely about the blonde woman's shoulders.
The captain changed out of her uniform into a black t-shirt and trousers before returning to the living area to retrieve Jake's leash. Together, they left the quarters, the dog trotting neatly by the captain's side as she led him to the turbolift, descending to deck eight where cargo bay two had been transformed into a small park.
She released him as soon as they were inside, the dog streaking across the artificial lawn, pausing to sniff at all the various trees and bushes anxiously. Of course, every instinct probably told him to mark his spoor on each one, just as dogs had done throughout existence, but somehow ... and Janeway had no clue how because she had never heard of it being done before, and she had certainly trained more than her share of pups ... Seven had taught him to limit it to sniffing only.
Janeway was still astounded every time she saw the aberrant behavior pattern, but she was suitably grateful for it. After all, the only way they could keep a pet on a starship was if certain natural behavior was curbed. She found a place under a tree, leaning back against the smooth bark as she watched Jake lope around the park, greeting everyone he came across and quickly getting involved in an impromptu disk toss with two ensigns from geometrics. Janeway inhaled deeply and glanced away, noting who else was availing themselves of the park at this time. Across from her, on a checkered blanket, the stocky ship's messhall specialist and morale officer, Neelix, shared a picnic dinner with Ensign Wildman. However, it did not seem to be any sort of a romantic encounter. Instead, a profusion of padds littered the ground around the couple, and there was every indication that the blonde biometrics officer was drilling Neelix on the information contained in them.
Neelix was obviously preparing for the final round of examinations for his classes. If Commander Chakotay thought he would pass with flying colors, the Talaxian was not as certain, his brow furrowed, his gold eyes narrowed as he studied intently.
Janeway smiled, wondering if Seven was also preparing for the finals or if she merely intended to assimilate them. The reminder of her partner made the captain long for home, and after making sure that Jake had finally tired himself out, she clipped his leash back onto his collar and headed for the exit.
Seven of Nine woke as she felt a warm, familiar body join her in the bed, smooth skin sliding over her back sensuously, arms wrapping comfortingly around her. She sighed, inhaling deeply as she opened her eyes. It was dark, the lights lowered to night standard in the couple's bedroom.
"Kathryn?"
A soft sound of amusement in her ear. "I certainly hope so," Janeway muttered as she settled her nude body against her partner. "Were you expecting someone else?"
Seven nudged her spouse with her elbow as she recognized that she was being teased and snuggled back against the smaller form. "What is the time?"
She had finally finished her duties at 1400 hours and had gone directly to bed as soon as she returned to her quarters, having spent the past week working double and triple shifts along with the rest of her department. They had needed to completely recalculate where they now were as compared to where they had been, and determine the safest and most expedient course back to the Alpha Quadrant from this new starting point.
"2230 hours," Janeway replied, nuzzling the back of the young woman's neck.
"Did you have dinner?"
"Yes. What about you? Would you like me to get you something?"
"No, I am not hungry." Her voice trailed off as she yawned. "I am still tired."
"You should be, love," Janeway assured her quietly and hugged her. "You and your people did exceptionally good work in a very short period of time. I'll make sure that's noted in the logs."
Seven squeezed the hand in her own as her answer rather than speak, feeling the drowsiness steal over her again. Janeway kissed her cheek sweetly.
"Go to sleep," the captain instructed, humor edging her tone. "We should be arriving at an uninhabited Class M planet within the next three days and I expect it to be the perfect place to accord the crew some R&R. Consider yourself off duty for the next three rotations ... beginning now."
Seven tightened her grip again. "What of you?"
A regretful pause. "I'm afraid I'll have too much to do. With Chakotay requesting a formal leave of absence, I need to supervise the skeleton crew who will cover the ship while it's operating under Condition Blue." She pressed her lips against Seven's temple. "I'm sorry, love. I know that you were hoping for us to have some time to ourselves."
Seven shifted, rolling over onto her back so that she could look at her partner. "It is acceptable to spend time with you under any circumstances. Perhaps I could also accept duty for the next three rotations."
"You don't have to do that," Janeway protested, her head raised, her weight supported on her elbow. "Darling, after all your hard work, you deserve some time off."
"Time off is not very enjoyable without you. In any event, during Condition Blue, Voyager does not require the same careful attention as it does while traveling through space. It would be pleasant to have a regular routine of duty where we could work together each day, then return to our quarters every evening. The extra replicator rations I earn while covering the crew's R&R would also be useful."
Janeway considered it, then smiled faintly. "That's what I love about you, darling, you have a way of always looking on the bright side. After all the upheaval lately, perhaps a light routine will be as much a vacation as a full leave." She paused and pulled Seven closer. "But I do promise, Annika, you and I will go off alone together ... soon."
Seven heard the slight trace of remorse in the captain's voice and she reached up, stroking Janeway's cheek. "Kathryn, being with you is enough." She hesitated. "Please, do not feel guilty. Do not make me regret telling you of my wish."
Janeway's eyes narrowed, then she exhaled audibly. "Sorry, darling," she said ruefully. "I know that's why you didn't want to tell me in the first place." She relaxed against the bed until she was pressed against Seven's side, nestling her head onto the Borg's shoulder. "But I will find a way to do this ... not from guilt, but because I love you."
Seven closed her eyes and snugged her arm around the smaller woman, pulling her close.
"I love you too, Kathryn."
"But I still want you to take tomorrow and the next day off," the captain insisted.
"Very well," Seven murmured, too tired to argue about it.
She felt Janeway place her hand on Seven's upper chest, the fingers stroking her skin soothingly, and the Borg let herself sink down onto the firm support of the mattress. The captain's breath was a warm rush across the hollow in her throat, while the rich, auburn hair was a soft texture upon which to rest her cheek. It made it easy for weariness to draw her down into a safe, dark area, the rhythm of her partner's heart lulling her into a deep, peaceful sleep.
When she woke, Janeway was gone. Seven realized she had not only slept through the captain getting out of bed, but also preparing for her shift and leaving the quarters. It occurred to the Borg that she had become so accustomed to certain things over time that she no longer woke at the slightest sounds or motion as she once had. As long as it was Janeway making the noise, her subconscious recognized it and was not disturbed. Of course, when the captain had been transferred into the body of B'Elanna Torres, the exact opposite had occurred. Every time Janeway had moved in the night, Seven would wake, disconcerted and alarmed, feeling as if something was horribly wrong. Inevitably, she ended up going out on the sofa in the living area so she could get what little sleep she could manage. It hadn't been easy for either of them, but they had made it through somehow.
They always did.
She smiled faintly and stretched luxuriously beneath the blankets. Despite the fact that Janeway was not there to share her leisure time, Seven had progressed enough on her path back to Humanity that she could appreciate a couple of days without duties. She knew there were still plenty of things that needed to be addressed; spending time with the Borg adolescents, refreshing her memory on the lessons from her Starfleet courses in preparation for the final examinations, working out the delicate balancing act of the ship's park in hopes of adding birds to the environment, and finally, finding some time to examine the various containers in the couple's closet. Janeway had noticed that they were starting to stack up and mentioned that they should think about discarding some of the items. Seven would rather be the one making the decision on what needed to go rather than allowing her partner do it. Janeway could be quite single-minded when it came to getting rid of things she didn't feel she needed.
For all that, however, Seven remained exactly where she was, trying to appreciate the fact that while she should attend to all of those things, she didn't have to attend to them. It was uncharacteristic of the excruciatingly efficient Borg, but she had been exploring certain avenues of Human behavior recently, and finding value in not doing anything at all was one that had intrigued her. She was especially aware of it since discovering that some of her most satisfying and appreciated interactions with Kathryn took place when they would spend hours simply sitting or lying together, sipping wine, talking quietly and listening to music. She wondered if being idle was something she could manage on her own without the presence of her partner to fill her senses and fully occupy her attention.
She was also aware that she had been under a certain, constant stress for quite some time, hearkening as far back as an encounter with an alien who had impersonated her mother. The most recent incident, where Janeway and B'Elanna had switched bodies, had almost completely broken Seven's vaunted Borg discipline and control.
Looking back on it, Seven realized that she had not had any time to reconcile the roller coaster ride of emotions she had been experiencing, nor had she any place where she could go to try to make peace with them. The one area on the ship which she had most considered hers, the single, solitary place where she could go to be alone ... just as Janeway had her ready room or the cockpit of the captain's yacht docked beneath the ship ... had been taken over by the Borg adolescents. It shouldn't have bothered her, Seven thought, but it had. As for her quarters, only now was she starting to feel at home here again after it became a place of strife and uncertainty stemming from the incident with the Borg infant.
She finally rolled out of bed, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. She discovered that made a certain amount of difference in her energy level, and in the shower, programmed for hot with a massage action, she very quickly began singing lustily at the top of her lungs. She spent several moments luxuriating in the steaming rush of water, and then dried off before returning to the bedroom where she drew on her black, silk robe, disdaining the need to get dressed in any other kind of outfit. Out in the living area, Jake greeted her with interest, his head tilted slightly, ears perked as he regarded her, almost as if he could sense she was attempting something new.
She keyed in a replicator program for breakfast, materializing an omelet, hash browns, toast and some Canadian bacon, far more breakfast than she was used to. She ate it by herself at the dining table over several padds which contained the information she required for her upcoming Starfleet examinations. Replete, she spent the rest of the morning working on the deck eight park projections, coming up with ideas on how to integrate a pair of hummingbirds into the delicately balanced environment.
After skipping lunch, she spent the afternoon cleaning out the couple's walk-in closet. That was where Janeway discovered her when the captain finally returned home after a full day on the bridge. Seven was sitting cross-legged on the deck, surrounded by souvenirs, knickknacks, artworks and odd bits of clothing that she didn't believe either of them would wear again after the various alien celebrations that had required them. She glanced up at the captain, who had crossed her arms over her chest and was leaning against the doorframe, a small grin touching the corner of her mouth.
"What are you doing?"
"Cleaning," Seven replied honestly.
Janeway pressed her lips together as she regarded her steadily. "You have dust and dirt all over you. Your robe is dangerously close to covering nothing at all, and everything that was stored neatly in five containers is now spread over most of the closet. Which part actually has to do with 'cleaning'?"
"You are teasing me," Seven replied in a dismissive tone as she returned to trying to determine if the couple really required a metal sculpture from Veris II.
Janeway nodded in acknowledgment of the accusation, her blue eyes sparkling as she looked around again. "Tell me, have you managed to bring yourself to throw anything out?" The question was asked in the sort of sardonic tone that indicated she believed Seven was incapable of doing any such thing.
Insulted, Seven pointed to the pitifully small pile in the corner. "Those may be recycled for their energy," she explained with wounded dignity.
Janeway uttered a short bark of laughter, and Seven glowered at her, which made the captain smirk even more.
"I suppose you could do better," the Borg pointed out coolly.
Janeway spread out her hands. "You know I want to throw it all out. Most of it is ... well, junk ... for lack of a better term."
"Kathryn," Seven objected in outrage, "every item has significant historical value."
Janeway picked up a spider-like sea shell from Denora VI. "I don't even know where we got this or more importantly, why. If there's no memory association, there's no value, Annika."
Seven crossed her arms over her chest, offended. "I picked that up while on the beach."
"Why?" Janeway insisted.
"Because it was ... aesthetically pleasing." Seven hesitated. "Do you not remember Denora VI?"
"Oh, I remember Denora VI just fine. It was a beautiful beach. But the shell provokes no particular memory at all for me. It looks like it could have come off any beach."
Seven stared at the deck stubbornly. "Denora VI was where we kissed by the stone outcropping as the tide came in. The shell was resting in a crevice right next to your hand as you leaned against the boulder. It was shaded pink in the light of the sun which was setting with the full red spectrum, making your hair appear as if it were touched by fire itself." She felt a suspicious catch in her throat. "Place it in the discard pile," she added unhappily.
There was a pause, and then she heard Janeway move to her, picking her way gingerly around the various items before kneeling down next to her partner whom she wrapped up in her arms.
"No, it doesn't go in the discard pile, Annika," the captain said huskily, her voice muffled in the Borg's hair. In her hand, she still held the shell, cradling it carefully in her palm. "I don't believe any of these things do, despite what I said. I promise that when we return to the Alpha Quadrant, I'll build you a home big enough to display them all, and when we're both old and grey, you can tell our grandchildren the story behind each and every one of them."
Seven allowed herself to relax into the loving embrace. "You think I am being irrational," she said as she accepted the shell from her partner.
"Not at all," Janeway told her apologetically, pressing her lips against the young woman's temple. "I think you've developed a sentimental streak as big as all of space and I'm sorry if I dismissed that. The truth is, I utterly adore this side of you, and I need you to make up for the part of me that forgets how important it is to be able to hold pieces of our past in our hands."
Seven hesitated, then turned her head so that she could kiss the captain. "I love you, Kathryn," she murmured against her lips. Her partner could be terribly hardheaded at times, the Borg thought, but when Janeway finally realized it, she usually managed to be absolutely adorable in her apology.
"You're my heart, Annika," Janeway responded softly, with great sincerity. "Now, let's put these things back exactly where they belong."
The bright sun shimmered off the cheerfully burbling water, dancing sparkles of light across the creek. The water was ice cold, but the hip high boots were insulated, keeping Chakotay's legs warm as he stood up to his thighs, casting his line into the shallows across the current. Beside him, trying hard to imitate the smooth flow of the first officer's motion, the Borg adolescent, Icheb, sent his line spinning into the stream, his narrow face intent.
Chakotay glanced at him and grinned, the boy returning the smile as he tried to cast again. For someone who had never held a fishing rod before, the Borg youngster wasn't doing too badly at all. It was doubtful they would be able to catch a fish for their supper, but that was why Chakotay had gathered some extra foodstuffs from Voyager before the Delta Flyer had dropped them ... along with their supplies which included a canoe ... off in the wilderness.
Behind where they fished, a camp had been set up in a small clearing, protected on the lee side of some rocks and pine trees. It was a lovely setting and Chakotay had been duly satisfied with it when he first stood on the banks of the crystal clear stream. The tricorder readings had promised lifeforms in the area that were suitable for consumption, and a check of the climatic conditions revealed that this area was in the early part of summer, a perfect time to do some communing with nature.
Voyager's first officer had not planned on taking Icheb with him on this spiritual journey when he first applied for his leave of absence, but over the past few weeks, he and the boy had become very close. In fact, Chakotay had discovered a somewhat surprising affinity for parenthood in himself, a certain aspiration to be a good role model for the young man as Chakotay's father had been for a discontented young boy so many years ago. As for Icheb, he seemed to have found a man to replace his own parent, a teacher whom he could look up to in this new, confusing existence as an ex-drone on a starship moving ever farther away from his home and all that he had known. The way Icheb's eyes had lit up at the invitation remained with Chakotay, and Icheb's face, rapt while the first officer had regaled him with stories of his own youth, had left a warm spot inside the older man. Chakotay felt filled with a sense that he once again held a true purpose in life.
It was a purpose he desperately needed because for some time, he had felt that his life had been cast adrift, particularly as Voyager traveled closer and closer to returning to the Alpha Quadrant.
Now that they were in contact with the Federation, and with the news that the Maquis had been officially pardoned, Chakotay was uncertain where his future path would lead him. Indeed, the entire time he had served as Janeway's first officer, there had always been the thought at the back of his mind that he would have to face charges for his actions as a Maquis, that he would have to answer for his abandoning of his role as a Starfleet officer. He had prepared himself for that battle, readying himself as a warrior, only to discover that there was no battle to be fought ... not against the Federation, not against Starfleet, not even against the Cardassians any longer. That war had left him far behind and now there was only a future where his people were gone, his compatriots, other than those on
Voyager, were dead or starting new lives of their own after being released from prison, while the colonies that they had fought so hard to protect in the Demilitarized Zone had been totally eradicated.
He still remembered how he felt when he received that letter from his cousin, that not only had the Maquis been destroyed by the Cardassians and their new allies, but that all the worlds in the demilitarized zone had been claimed completely by the Dominion and given to the Jem'Hadar as training grounds. Any colonists that might have escaped the initial strikes, were soon hunted down by the new, biogenetically grown warriors as part of their development into full, adult soldiers.
The Maquis had fought for nothing, Chakotay thought bleakly. After a war that had involved the entire Quadrant, the very thing that had helped precipitate it was no more. For sheer futility, perhaps the Dominion could teach a thing or two to the Borg on what it really meant. Yet, the Dominion had been defeated, and Voyager could now expect to return to a Federation and a Starfleet which was considerably different than the one they had left six years earlier, not only territoriality, but politically as well. What kind of place could he find for himself there ... or was there any place at all?
"I have one, Commander," Icheb yelped suddenly, his voice rising in excitement.
Chakotay's dark thoughts disappeared as if they had never been, and he quickly splashed over to assist the youngster who was gamely trying to pull in the fish which had struck the bait. The first officer didn't try to take the rod from the younger male; he merely steadied Icheb's slender frame and offered encouragement.
"Easy now," he said, a broad smile on his face as he watched the boy reel in the large salmon-like creature. "Let it do most of the work. Don't snap the line."
Eventually, Icheb managed to bring the fish into shore and a quick pass with the tricorder revealed that it resembled a salmon in more than looks, apparently providing as tasty a repast as any Earth fish.
"Well, done," Chakotay told the boy, who beamed. He slapped him on the back companionably, then started back to the campsite. "Come with me. I'll show you how to clean it."
"Why was this so exciting?" Icheb asked earnestly as they walked across the springy grass which grew on the bank. "It seems an illogical pursuit, yet when I captured the fish, I felt as if I had accomplished something great."
"You had," Chakotay explained as he slapped the still gasping fish down on the flat top of a convenient boulder. "You ensured your survival. The sense of self-preservation is strong in everyone, and when one engages in something as basic as securing one's own food, rather than relying on technology or someone else, it gives you a sense of control over your own destiny. Give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he will eat for a lifetime." He placed the keen edge of the knife against the white belly of the fish. "However," he added gravely, "you must also be conscious of your place in the food chain and be grateful to this creature that it gives its life for yours. Respect its place in the circle of existence."
He showed Icheb how to offer thanks for the bounty the fish would give them, teaching him that from death, came life, to never take it lightly. It was one of the first lessons his father had taught him, and sometimes, over his life, he had felt that the lesson ... and the spirit of his father ... had slipped away from him.
Today, however, it was as if his father was watching over his shoulder, acutely present on this world so far away from where they had been born. As he guided Icheb in the ways of the tribe, he started to realize that he had accepted more than just responsibility for the lost boy. He was beginning to rebuild the tribe destroyed by the Jem'Hadar, for as long as the lessons of his people could be passed on, they would never truly die.
Tonight, after they had feasted on the fish, he would show Icheb how to contact his spirit guide. It would be the first step on a road that, hopefully, would lead them both to a new home.
B'Elanna Torres watched the sunshine move slowly across the tangled sheets, streaming in through the viewport above the bed she shared with the Bajoran, Ro Laren. At the moment, Ro was lying on her stomach across the bottom of the bed, allowing that sunshine to fall across her back, making her smooth skin glow warm and golden in the defused light. The Klingon blinked lazily, leaning back against a stack of pillows, a smile of satisfaction and contentment on her face. The couple had volunteered to join the skeleton crew during this time in order to accumulate the extra rations granted such dedication. However, it had turned out to be very light duty, and since they had offered to cover the gamma shift, their days and evenings were free to totally immerse themselves in each other. They had even had the opportunity to go outside a few times to spend some time hiking in the forest and among the rock formations which surrounded the valley where Voyager had landed.
This day, however, they remained inside, waking up in each other's arms before sharing a leisurely breakfast in bed. After making love a few times, now they were simply enjoying the opportunity to laze around their quarters. For some reason, it felt like they had more time together while working Condition Blue, even though the actual duty shift was the same length as a normal shift. What they didn't have to face, however, was the strain of constantly being recalled to duty to attend one problem after another, that a ship traveling through space often caused. They only worked the eight hours, logged off promptly as the chronometer turned, and did not need to spend any extra time on jobs that only they were expected to accomplish.
"Hey," the engineer said, reaching out with her foot and drawing her big toe lightly along Ro's ribs. "Are you asleep?"
Ro made a soft sound of amusement. "No." Her head was resting on her arms, and the one eye which was visible to the Klingon, abruptly opened to regard B'Elanna indulgently. "Did you want something?"
"You," B'Elanna noted. "But that's sort of a constant craving. Actually, I was wondering if you were in the mood for lunch about now?"
Ro laughed softly. "That sounds good." She paused. "Are you on the menu?"
B'Elanna grinned. "I could be."
"Come here," Ro said, stretching out a long arm to grasp B'Elanna by her ankle and draw her closer. The Klingon laughed, half growling with arousal as she allowed the Bajoran to pull her down the bed until she was sprawled over the lean form. She kissed Ro sweetly, being careful to control her enthusiasm. Just as the Bajoran had developed a more assertive approach in her affection in order to please B'Elanna, the Klingon had tempered her aggressiveness and discovered a new pleasure in being extremely gentle and loving with the other woman.
Ro was smiling warmly at her when they parted. "You're pretty wonderful, did you know that?"
B'Elanna felt a shiver of sheer joy ripple through her. It was unfamiliar but welcome. "I'm always glad to hear it. You're not so bad yourself." A brief shadow crossed over the Bajoran's dark eyes and B'Elanna hugged her a little tighter, needing to make it go away. "What?"
Ro blinked, as if surprised her companion had noticed, then smiled again, a little sheepishly this time.
"It's just ... I'm so incredibly happy right now. It's just such an unusual state for me that I keep waiting for the inevitable bad thing to come along to take it away."
B'Elanna hesitated, then brushed her lips over the ridge on the Bajoran's nose. "I used to be like that. Never letting myself be too happy because I knew it just couldn't last." She reached up and stroked the other woman's cheek with gentle fingertips. "But you know what I've learned? It's okay to be happy every so often. We need to enjoy the good moments to the fullest, and not worry about when they're going to end. I mean, they will end, everything does ... but that doesn't mean that we won't have more, or even that we'll end up having more bad times than good. It just means that we should appreciate what we have when we have it."
Ro regarded her steadily. "You're right, but it's a hard habit to break."
"I know," B'Elanna responded with a smile. "Believe me, I know." She bent down and kissed her again, allowing all her love to rise to the surface and be transmitted through her lips. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was hold her lover and protect her and keep her safe from all the things that could cause her pain. The Bajoran seemed to sense that and enfolded B'Elanna in her arms, hugging her tightly.
For long moments, the pair just snuggled together, staring into each other's eyes and trying hard to live in the moment. Finally, B'Elanna chuckled.
"We must look pretty silly, making moon-cow eyes at each other."
"Probably," Ro murmured, her classic features unusually soft and vulnerable. "But I don't care."
"I don't, either," the Klingon responded. She closed the distance between them, covering the Bajoran's lips with the most gentle kiss she could manage. Ro returned it readily, her lips parting beneath the engineer's, welcoming her taste and touch.
Slowly, their hands began to move over each other, languidly exploring familiar territory that responded with keen enjoyment and pleasure. The sunshine made a fitting accompaniment both to their mood and to the fact that their future seemed to look so bright. If either of them continued to contemplate dark premonitions, then neither brought it up for further discussion. For B'Elanna, it was an affirmation of all that she had been feeling for the past few weeks, ever since the couple had moved in together.
That finally, she had found her place in the universe and it was in the arms of this Bajoran woman who had so utterly captivated her, heart and soul.
Janeway leaned back in her command chair, studying the data streaming across the computer console that she had turned toward her. At the fore part of the bridge, the blast shield had been drawn back to reveal a large window behind the normal location of the viewscreen. The ship had landed in a small, green valley between two mountain ranges, while a small lake, including a waterfall, completed a natural vista that was absolutely stunning, a spectacular view for those who still had to work during the ship's downtime. Through the large ceiling port above, sunshine streamed into the bridge, the circle of light falling over Janeway's feet, the ultraviolet rays illuminating the interior of the command center in a way that the
Voyager crew was simply unused to.
So far, the planet discovered by Harry had provided all the recreation potential the captain could have hoped for, and at any given time, eighty-five percent of her crew was outside. Janeway, Lt. Ro, and Commander Tuvok split the bridge duty every day into three shifts of eight hours while the rest of the volunteer crew counted up the extra replicator rations they were receiving for eschewing their leave at this time to cover the few stations the ship required during Condition Blue.
Janeway took a break, inhaling deeply as she stretched and glanced around. At the tactical station to her right, Ensign D'Vor concentrated on his board, experiencing his first opportunity to pull bridge duty, even though a Condition Blue was probably the only time he ever would. On the other side of the bridge, Seven of Nine worked at the science station on her slipstream project, while the rest of the stations were left unmanned, though certainly, they could be covered quickly enough in an emergency. There was no real need for Seven to be on the bridge, of course, but since it needed to retain power all the time, it was more energy efficient for her to work from the bridge station rather than in a lab or astrometrics.
Janeway was simply glad of the company while she covered the bridge, and as a result, duty was a pleasure rather than a chore ... particularly when she could glance over and catch the eye of her partner who never failed to sense when she was being watched and would reward the captain's scrutiny with a warm glow in her pale eyes and sometimes even a faint smile.
Despite being on duty eight hours out of the day, the couple still had many opportunities to take breaks throughout the shift. They would retire to Janeway's ready room for a leisurely lunch or grant themselves fifteen minutes here and there to enjoy a cup of herbal tea together as they discussed Seven's slipstream project or other ship's business. They also spent time working on the vessel's ongoing projects, with Janeway offering her unique take on the park project in particular. One such suggestion had totally confused the young woman until she realized that the captain was not serious at all, whereupon she managed to maintain the joke until she had the perfect opportunity to reverse it on the captain. It delighted Janeway and completely shocked D'Vor, who was astounded to see the captain suddenly bend over, holding her ribs as she laughed and snorted, leaning weakly against the science station.
Shaking his head, the young man dared to espouse the opinion that perhaps the couple should have taken shore leave after all, which made Janeway laugh all the harder. She was still amused by it now, hours later, as she ran various scans of the ship's operating systems through her console, monitoring their output.
"You know, you were absolutely right, Seven, this is like a vacation."
She looked up to see the Borg smile faintly. "It is."
Janeway held the gaze for a few moments more, enjoying the play of deffused sunlight over the narrow face adorned with Borg implants. Abruptly, the captain was overcome by an unexpected and powerful desire for her spouse, acutely aware of Seven being only a few feet away, yet literally untouchable. It was a unique and refined sort of torture, one that Janeway rather enjoyed as she desperately tried to come up with a way to get her partner alone. She wondered if she dare ask D'Vor to take a run to the engine room with some reports? Of course, that would hardly be subtle under a Condition Blue. It was entirely possible that she would just have to force herself to wait until after their shifts. She peered at Seven from beneath her lashes, absorbed in how the Borg moved, how every tiny motion of the young woman was a dance of sheer beauty and grace.
The vision caused Janeway to reach up and hook a finger under her collar, feeling quite warm. Perhaps if we just take a few moments for some kisses? That would probably hold her until they could return to their quarters. She frowned faintly and shot a look at D'Vor, who remained intent on his tactical console, apparently oblivious to the steadily increasing temperature of the bridge.
She needed a logical reason to have Seven accompany her into either the ready room or the conference room. The problem was, the more she tried to think of one, the more ludicrous any excuse sounded to her. There was simply no way she could legitimately ask Seven to absent herself from the bridge at the same time as she, and not have it look exactly like what it was ... a blatant attempt at very unprofessional behavior.
"Captain," Seven said suddenly. "I have completed my preliminary report on the new modifications of the integrity fields. If you have a moment, perhaps we could go over them?"
"Of course," Janeway said smoothly, standing up. "Let's go into my ready room. D'Vor, you have the bridge."
"Aye, Captain," he replied with surprise and not a little excitement that he had been accorded such an honor. His chest puffed out three sizes and she tried not to smile as she passed him.
The door of the ready room had barely closed before Janeway had her arms wrapped around Seven, pressing her up against the bulkhead and kissing her deeply. There was a brief moment of hesitation, almost surprise, then Seven returned the kiss avidly, her lips parting to allow passage for her partner to taste her fully.
"Oh, darling," Janeway murmured after they finally parted for breath. "That was good thinking."
"What was?"
"The excuse about the field modifications," Janeway said, her hands moving freely over the young woman's body, delighting in what could be one of the few remaining times Seven would wear such a skintight outfit. Soon enough, the Borg would be wearing a Starfleet uniform that, while holding its own attraction, would simply not show off every line and curve of the young woman as the biomesh suit did.
Seven looked puzzled. "It was not an excuse, Kathryn. I did wish to go over the modifications with you." She paused. "You assumed another motivation?"
Janeway chuckled. "Let's just say I was trying to find a reason to get you alone. Your timing was impeccable."
"Ah," Seven noted, comprehension lightening her eyes. She tilted her head as she regarded her partner. "You are feeling amorous. It must be 'that' time of the month."
"I don't know anything about any certain time of the month, but I am feeling very amorous." Janeway drew her hands over Seven's hips and down her legs, stroking lightly. "I don't know if I can hold out another few hours before I can be with you."
"Yet," Seven noted, grasping the wrists gently, "you must." She smiled and guided the captain's arms around her waist, moving them away from temptation. "Anticipation is acceptable. You enjoy that as well."
"I do," Janeway said, nuzzling Seven's neck, just above the line of her outfit, though she was very careful not to leave a mark. "But it will make the remaining hours seem unbearably long."
"Then we should not indulge this."
Janeway lifted her face, feeling Seven's breath flow warm over her face. "Do you want me to stop?" she whispered, her lips barely brushing against the Borg's.
Seven lowered her head. "No."
Janeway smiled, and kissed her spouse passionately, pressing her body full length against the lean, lanky astrometrics officer. Seven's hands cupped the captain's buttocks firmly, pulling her groin tightly against the Borg's. Janeway felt the sharp chill of arousal shoot through her as she moaned softly into her partner's mouth. She couldn't seem to get enough of the young woman, kissing her so deeply that she thought she would tear the very breath from the Borg's lungs.
Both were shaking when Seven, keeping precise track of the time, pushed the captain away. "You are difficult to resist, Kathryn," she gasped, her bosom heaving in a most delightful manner. "Perhaps we should violate protocol after all."
"I would say something about resistance being futile at the moment," the captain noted as she deliberately took a few steps back, clenching her fists as she felt the blood sing in her veins. Her whole body was literally throbbing and she knew that her eyes must look a little wild at this point. "But that's your line." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "We can't make love, darling. It would be inappropriate, not to mention the fact that I can't leave D'Vor in command that long. Not even during a Condition Blue."
"A few more hours," Seven promised, and handed her a padd. "The modifications."
Janeway laughed, a short bark of amusement. "I'll go over them."
Seven swallowed hard, touched her hair to make sure it had not come loose, and then vacated the ready room hastily, as if afraid that if she didn't leave now, she wouldn't be able to. Janeway gripped the padd tightly, using the solidity of it to help center herself. She honestly didn't know why these occasional insane moods came over her, though she suspected it had a great deal to do with a delayed reaction to stress, something that the couple had experienced more than their share of lately. Before her relationship with Seven, such moods displayed themselves in bouts of imprudent or irrational behavior, shortened temper or even periods of depression and guilt.
Now, she channeled them into stolen moments of passion with her spouse, giving rein to her wilder, less mature side to ease the pressure inside. She hoped that this was a lot healthier for her, and for the ship and her crew as well. She knew that Sek, the ship's counselor, would love to know about the power of the impulses, but the captain had no intention of ever allowing the hologram that close to her. Only Seven was allowed to see them.
Certain that she was once more in control, she inhaled deeply, and returned to the bridge. D'Vor seemed a little disappointed at her relatively quick return, which was exactly what she wanted, and she moved over to her command chair briskly where she sat down, crossing one leg neatly over the other. She rested her hands lightly on the arms of her chair ... the very picture of an alert and competent Starfleet captain.
The fact that her nipples had hardened painfully against her sweater or that there was definite moisture dampening the juncture of her legs, could not be detected, and she was appreciative that, unlike a man, such physical manifestations of arousal were not readily apparent. She swallowed and deliberately did not look back at her spouse, choosing instead to go over the field modifications as she had promised. The next few hours would be difficult enough without reminding herself of what awaited her.
That didn't keep her from fantasizing, however ... at length and in intensive detail, involving several bridge stations, a couple of accessories and at least one anatomically impossible position that not even Seven could manage in reality.
If Tuvok noticed that Janeway seemed in a hurry to turn command over to him when the end of the shift finally arrived, he did not mention it ... for which Janeway was suitably grateful. She entered the turbolift with Seven and D'Vor, keeping her eyes focused firmly on the doors. As soon as they opened, Janeway was striding briskly down the corridor for her quarters. She heard Seven make a pleasant, if hasty, farewell to the young man, and then the rapid tattoo of the Borg's heels on the deck that indicated she was hurrying to catch up with her partner. Janeway was already shrugging out of her tunic as she entered their cabin, and she dropped it behind her, tugging impatiently at her sweater which she pulled over her head in one easy motion. By the time she got to the bedroom, she was hopping on alternate feet as she removed her boots.
Finally naked, she turned around to discover her partner entering the bedroom, her arms full of the captain's discarded uniform.
"You're not undressed yet?" Janeway asked with honest disappointment.
"Not when I must pick up after you," Seven said pointedly on her way to the ensuite. "Enjoy the anticipation, Kathryn."
"If I enjoy it any more, I'm going to explode," Janeway told her plaintively as she crawled onto the bed and stretched out on her back.
Seven reappeared in the doorway, a smile edging her full lips ... still fully dressed.
"I believe that I shall take Jake for a walk outside. There is still some daylight remaining before nightfall."
"Seven!"
The growl was almost inarticulate. Would her partner really do that to her? Janeway thought frantically. The desperate expression on the captain's face must have rewarded the Borg's teasing enough however, and Seven relented, her smile widening as she reached up to the back of her neck, unfastening the biometric outfit.
"You're going to make me suffer for this, aren't you?" Janeway muttered as she watched Seven slowly, and with cool deliberation, remove her suit, revealing her body, millimeter by agonizing millimeter.
"I understand that Humans consider patience to be a virtue, Kathryn," the Borg said primly. It was rare that she had the captain so perfectly at her mercy, and it was clear that she was not going to waste it.
"I could start without you," Janeway warned.
Seven paused, her outfit still modestly held up to conceal her breasts. "Indeed?" she said, obviously intrigued. "That would be acceptable. Proceed."
"Dammit," Janeway yelped and took a swipe at her partner, grabbing at the outfit. The Borg quickly danced out of range.
Obviously, Seven wanted there to be absolutely no question as to who had control this night, the captain thought, and decided that she needed to come up with a quick way to change that.
Seven regarded Janeway through narrowed eyes, ready to leap away again the second the captain made a grab for her. The captain was quite agile, not to mention deceptive. Just because she was lying quiescent at the moment, staring at Seven with burning eyes, did not mean she wouldn't make another attempt to remove the Borg's biometric outfit without permission. Seven had no intention of issuing that permission ... not tonight. Tonight, she was in command and she wanted Kathryn to be very clear about that.
"If you persist in aggressively pursuing me, I shall not remove my outfit."
"I'll be good," Janeway promised, with every evidence of sincerity.
Seven eyed her briefly, then slowly began to disrobe again. Despite her heightened awareness, she was quite unprepared when Janeway abruptly lunged at her and succeeded in snagging a sleeve taht she hung onto with grim determination.
"Kathryn!" Seven yelped and pulled back, but all that resulted was the young woman losing her grip on her outfit, the biomesh peeling off her body. She stumbled over the garment tangled about her feet and fell back on the lounger behind her.
Triumphantly, Janeway yanked the rest of the garment from her and tossed it joyously aside before leaping on the Borg.
"I've got you now!"
"You do not," Seven informed her firmly and utilized her Borg-enhanced strength, something she rarely did with the captain.
Before Janeway quite realized what was happening, Seven had their positions reversed and the captain pinned to the bed, unable to move ... though she certainly tried. She struggled mightily against the left hand holding her wrists immobile, the Borg's larger frame covering her and not letting her up.
"Seven, let me go!" she yelped in outrage.
"No. You deceived me. You said you would 'be good'."
Janeway opened her mouth to protest, seemed to reconsider and attempted to look bashfully regretful instead.
"I'm sorry," she said, in the tone of voice that Seven knew was not the slightest bit remorseful. "I won't do it again."
"I do not believe you," Seven told her, feeling a sliver of hurt ripple through her. She looked down at the captain with unforgiving eyes, wondering what she would do with her now that she had her pinned. If she let her up, Janeway would think that she had 'won', but at the same time, the Borg certainly did not want to spend the evening holding the woman down on the bed.
"Seven," Janeway demanded, trying command authority when neither wheedling nor outrage worked. "Release me."
"No," Seven said again, stubbornly, frowning.
Stymied, Janeway stared at her, her face sobering as if becoming aware that they weren't playing anymore. "Why not?"
Seven was forced to think about it, realizing that she had slipped from teasing to being slightly angry, but not really understanding why. Silently she released Janeway and moved away, sitting up on the edge of the mattress.
"What just happened here?" the captain asked in confusion, rising up on her elbows.
Seven stared blankly at the bulkhead, feeling completely adrift. She wasn't sure why she had become so annoyed with her partner, but suspected that it had to do with Janeway trying to take control of the situation ... just as she always did. The Borg swallowed hard and refused to give in to the tears stinging her eyes.
Quietly, Janeway drew on her robe and moved over until she was sitting next to her partner. Seven didn't look at her, even when the captain draped the Borg's own robe around her shoulders. The atmosphere of heightened sexual tension and playful excitement, which existed only moments before, had drained away as if it had never been, leaving Seven with only a sense of loss and depression. She was aware of Kathryn looking at her with soft grey eyes, concerned about her spouse's abrupt change in mood.
"What's wrong?" the captain asked gently.
Seven inhaled slowly. "I do not know," she responded in a low voice.
Janeway looked baffled, at a complete loss for words. There was a pause, an uncomfortable silence that lay between them like a dark cloud, unfamiliar to them both.
Finally, Janeway reached over and took the Borg's hand in her own, cradling it between hers gently. "If I did something wrong," she said uncertainly, "I'm sorry. I was ... it was just play, darling."
"I know." Seven swallowed, her chest aching. "Sometimes, you refuse to let me do things my way." She knew that wasn't very articulate, but she didn't know how to say it any better than she did.
Janeway considered that for a moment. "When I grabbed your outfit, I kept you from undressing the way you wanted," she said, the tone slightly tentative, as if she were thinking out loud. "I wouldn't let you control how you wanted to make love. Instead, I tried to control it."
Seven bent her head unhappily. "That should not be anything that would cause me to become angry. I know you were just being playful."
Janeway bent her own head, shame crossing her classic features. "It probably wouldn't upset you under normal circumstances, except that lately, you're more than a little sensitive about me ... deciding how things should be for us. Even when it's something small. Or maybe it's especially when it's something small because we've worked out the big things as much as we can."
Seven didn't like the conclusion, but her innate honesty had to allow its validity.
"Yes."
Janeway didn't seem any happier now that she had worked it out.
"I guess," she allowed after another pause, "that this is something we should have expected. In the meantime, I need to be more sensitive in certain situations."
"And I must remember not to be as sensitive," Seven agreed glumly.
Janeway slid her arm around her spouse's waist, leaning against her. "I'm sorry if I tried to force the issue inappropriately. It's only because I want you so much, but I know that's no excuse."
"I ... I wish it had not made me angry," Seven responded, putting her own arm around the smaller woman, hugging her.
"Maybe you had reason to." Janeway's voice lowered further. "Sometimes I want to be in control too much. Not only is it hurtful to you, but it costs me in the long run, as well. We could be making love right now, but because I was too impatient when things didn't go as quickly as I wanted, I acted without considering your feelings or what you might want." She closed her eyes and buried her face into Seven's neck. "I'm sorry, darling. Honestly, I am."
"I know, Kathryn." Seven turned her head, resting her cheek against the captain's temple as she wrapped her other arm around her spouse. "I regret that this incident occurred. Especially how it has made you unhappy."
"Oh, darling," Janeway said ruefully, her voice muffled, "you don't make me unhappy at all. Just being with you makes me feel so good. Once in awhile, we're not going to be on the same page at the same time, but when that happens, we'll just have to find a way to fix it. That's all we can do. Otherwise, know that you make my life complete, regardless of any emotional turmoil we might experience."
Seven bent her head. "Do you still wish to make love?"
Janeway laughed, though there was little humor in it. "Maybe we should just have dinner, darling," she suggested wryly as she drew back to look at her spouse. "Take some time to regain our bearings."
Seven nodded, relieved. "That is probably a good idea."
The Borg finished pulling on her robe and followed Janeway out into the living area where the young woman replicated a light meal of chicken and rice. They began their dinner with little enthusiasm, though, as the meal progressed, Janeway's appetite seemed to increase. Seeing that, Seven's did as well, and by the time she had served the dessert and coffee to the captain, the mood had become less tense, though still quiet.
"Darling, this is wonderful," Janeway said finally, as she dug into her ice cream and blueberry pie.
Seven nodded, but did not say anything. She knew the compliment was Janeway attempting to make up. Not that she thought the captain was being insincere, just that it did not have the same effect of filling her with pride and pleasure as such words normally did.
"You're still angry with me, aren't you?" Janeway asked sadly, after a moment of continuing silence from the Borg.
Seven was surprised. "No," she corrected, trying hard to explain it. "I am not angry, I am annoyed. Nor is it specifically about you or what happened this evening. I am more displeased with the circumstances which have brought me to a point where such an inconsequential thing could generate this level of irritation in me. Most of the time, I can understand and channel my emotion, but tonight, for whatever reason, I ... cannot."
"Some emotion can't be channeled, Annika," Janeway said slowly, toying with spoon. "Or necessarily understood every time. Perhaps sometimes you feel what you feel and both of us just have to allow for that." She scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and pie. "Darling, there have been plenty of times when I've acted in a way that you simply didn't understand, and the fact is, sometimes I didn't understand it either. But we got through it with patience and tolerance."
"Yet, every problem has a root cause, Kathryn," Seven insisted.
"Yes, it does," Janeway responded evenly. "And honestly, we know deep down what the real cause of this is. However, it's not something that can be resolved entirely. There's no complete closure with it. That's just something we have to accept, though that acceptance isn't going to be easy ... or immediate. That's the other thing we have to acknowledge."
"What must we do in the meantime?" Seven asked, dismayed.
"Live with it," Janeway said simply. She raised her eyes to meet the Borg's, staring at her intently. "Be kinder and more considerate of each other. Be quicker to take responsibility for any inadvertent hurt, be quicker to forgive any perceived slight, and just remember above all that we love each other completely. That will get us through it."
Seven thought about it, then nodded. "That is acceptable. I will try hard to remember that, Kathryn."
"I will, too, darling," Janeway said, her face gentle. "My word on it."
Seven looked at her, feeling a deep love and tenderness rise within her so strongly, that she felt like crying. Instead, she offered her partner a tremulous smile, which made the captain smile in return, her eyes shading to blue. They held the look intently for a few moments, and then Janeway moved to finish her melting dessert while Seven took the remainder of the dirty dishes to the recycler. At the counter, the young woman pulled out a bottle of wine and poured a glass for her partner, then acquired a tall glass of cold, spring water for herself. They took their drinks over to the couch where they snuggled up together, Janeway leaning back against the Borg as they listened to a selection of music that Seven had chosen.
The Borg kissed the captain's temple gently. "Kathryn, you are a most wonderful spouse. Please do not believe anything different, despite how I may act on occasion."
Janeway reached up and put her hand against the Borg's cheek. "Darling, if I manage to be sometimes, it's only because you inspire it."
Seven turned her head to kiss the palm lingeringly, allowing herself to heal from this minor bump in the road their lives had taken. Janeway purred, and placed her wine glass on the coffee table before turning over so that her front was pressed against Seven. Gently, she kissed the hollow of Seven's throat.
"I absolutely adore you."
Seven smiled and tilted her head back, allowing her partner greater access to her neck. Obviously, her partner was still amorous, but Janeway was taking her time, seeming to wait for Seven to indicate that she could proceed before moving on to the next step. As the captain tenderly kissed along the line of her collarbone, the Borg carefully set her water on the ledge of the viewport above them, then wrapped her arms snugly around the captain's compact body, delighting in the weight resting on her.
"Annika?" Janeway's voice was questioning, her eyes tentative as she glanced up to meet her partner's gaze.
"Yes, Kathryn," Seven whispered. "Please."
Janeway smiled briefly, then rose to kiss Seven's mouth sweetly, trying to show how much she cared, how much she needed her. Seven returned the kiss, her lips parting to allow the gentle touch of her spouse's tongue against her own.
This was much better than how it had been in the bedroom, the Borg decided. Now Seven felt cherished, rather than merely desired, and while the difference was subtle, it was still quite a telling one. She was glad that she had followed her instincts earlier, allowing herself to be angry rather than simply swallowing it and putting it aside for Janeway's sake. She knew that she needed to be more conscious of what she required from their relationship, and more outspoken when it came to her goals and desires.
Perhaps if she had always been conscious of that, the couple would not have found themselves in the mess they had regarding the Borg infant.
She reached up and cupped her spouse's face in her hands, holding her in place as they kissed again, deep, loving kisses that made the young woman's head spin and Janeway moan softly into her mouth. The captain shifted her weight to the back of the sofa, leaning on her right arm as she wormed her left hand between them, untying Seven's robe, drawing it back, and then untying her own to open it. The feel of the captain's warm, soft body was indescribable, and this time it was Seven who moaned blissfully as Janeway pressed her exposed curves full length against the Borg, continuing to kiss her deeply.
A sharp tug at Seven's robe let her know that they were not going to be able to enjoy themselves out in the living area, and she drew back from her partner's lips, looking over to see that Jake had the corner of the terrycloth material firmly between his jaws, yanking on it playfully.
"No," she told him sternly, retrieving the sodden end as Janeway offered a husky laugh.
"We should know better," the captain said, shaking her head. "He hates to see us play with each other, especially when he's not included."
She rose from the young woman and stood up, her robe still hanging open to reveal her body which Seven regarded appreciatively. Hesitantly, the captain held out her hand. "Time for bed?"
"Indeed," Seven agreed, accepting the grasp and allowing her spouse to pull her up from the sofa.
She snugged her arm warmly about her partner's waist as they went into the bedroom, sealing the door firmly behind them.
Sparks flew up into the night sky as various crewmembers sat around the bonfire situated in the main clearing that was surrounded by away mission habitats. A great many of the crew had simply set up their campsites in the valley where the ship had grounded itself, leaving them close to the amenities of technology, yet far enough away to feel like they were truly on vacation. The water in the lake was pristine and clear, and the waterfall was just the proper height for diving into the deep pool below.
Tom Paris strolled up from the water's edge, a towel draped around his neck, droplets still streaming off his torso as he walked over the springy turf to his habitat. He could have remained on board the ship, of course, but even he was a little tired of being surrounded by the grand lady named Voyager after all these months. He loved space and found piloting the lively ship everything he could have wanted out of life, but there was no question that breathing fresh air and having time to himself on a planet's surface was renewing.
He finished toweling off next to his habitat, removed his trunks and pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and drawstring pants to protect himself against the cooling, evening air. Across the clearing, he noticed Neelix sitting in front of his own habitat, several padds around him as he studied their contents. Curiously, the pilot strolled over, collecting a couple of beers from the communal cooler along the way.
The Talaxian glanced up as the pilot approached, smiling as he was offered a bottle by the young man. "Tom," he greeted cheerfully as he accepted the ale. "Enjoying the leave?"
"Yeah, it's been too long," Paris said as he sat on a downed log nearby. He nodded at the padds. "You look like you're still working."
Neelix tilted his head, his golden eyes glowing slightly in the reflection of the fire. "Not work, study. I have three final examinations for my Starfleet courses. Assuming I pass, I'll be able to accept a commission."
He was clearly apprehensive about it and Tom patted him on the shoulder. "You'll do fine. I heard Chakotay tell the captain that no one works harder in class than you do. That counts for a lot, Neelix."
"Really?" the Talaxian asked, seeming torn between being pleased at the compliment, and astounded that the first officer would be telling the captain of his progress. He paused, almost as if he had to look for the proper words, a decidedly unusual state of affairs for the affable and gregarious Delta Quadrant native. "It's important to me that I do well."
Tom regarded him evenly, realizing that the stocky alien meant exactly what he said, that being able to accept a commission was currently the most important thing in his universe. The pilot found himself remembering how easy it had been for him, as the son of an Admiral, to get into Starfleet. He had to pass the entrance requirements of course, but it was just assumed from the time he was old enough to walk that he was going to apply to the Academy and excel at all the challenges and demands of being a Starfleet officer. It occurred to him that perhaps it had come a little too easily. Perhaps if he had kicked around the universe and seen the other side a little more when he was younger, as Neelix had, he wouldn't have taken it so much for granted.
Perhaps he would have even developed enough common sense to avoid the circumstances surrounding the crash that had cost the lives of several of his wing mates and ended up with him being cashiered out of the service. If it hadn't been for Janeway granting him another chance, he had an uncomfortable suspicion where he would have ended up ... and it was not pleasant.
"You'll ace the exams," he said with assurance.
"I hope so," Neelix said fervently.
Tom frowned. "You know, even if you don't get in, it's not the end of the world. You're a pretty resourceful guy, Neelix."
The Talaxian seemed to have trouble looking Tom in the eye and the lieutenant frowned.
"Neelix? Hey, talk to me, buddy. Remember, who ended up getting thumped by the Spurnge together?"
Neelix nodded, acknowledging the bond which had formed between them after that adventure. "To be perfectly honest, I've been worried about how I would do in the Federation. I know I always had delusions of being a diplomat for the Delta Quadrant, but honestly, how could I? I speak for no government, I don't even have a planet that I can call home." He looked down at his feet, looking distinctly unhappy. "When we were traveling, it was easy to pretend that I had such a future ... but now that it looks like we're actually going to make it to the Alpha Quadrant soon, things have changed."
"Not just for you," Paris offered softly. "Once we were in regular communication from Starfleet, it really made things immediate for everyone on board. Attitudes changed radically."
"The past started to affect the future again," Neelix said and there was a tone in his voice, a note that Tom recognized as one he heard from his own heart more than once, of opportunities that slipped through one's fingers, of a chance not accepted, even though it would not be offered again.
Tom eyed him cautiously, then studied the mouth of his bottle. "I don't mean to pry. Just tell me to shut the hell up if I'm crossing the line."
Neelix took a long swallow of his ale. "Go ahead."
"Uh, Samantha," Tom said shortly, and left it at that.
What might have been pain crossed the Talaxian's spotted features. "We're friends. We both love Naomi. I'm honored that I was able to help them both while on this journey."
Tom didn't like the sound of that, and supposed that Neelix liked it even less.
"There were rumors."
"I know," Neelix replied shortly. "They weren't true."
There was a pause, a drawn out silence of unspoken understanding.
"But you wanted them to be," Tom said finally.
Neelix inhaled deeply. "I guess I did, but when the communication packets from Starfleet started coming in, suddenly the life she left behind was the life that lay in the future."
"Her husband."
"Her husband," Neelix repeated in a dead voice. "Naomi's father."
"And you think being in Starfleet is going to change any of that?"
"Not for Samantha and me," Neelix said. "She still loves him and they're already talking about how it will be once she's back. But I still have to find my own future." He shrugged his solid shoulders. "Starfleet seems like my best choice. As a trader, I have no contacts in the Alpha Quadrant, and frankly, those Ferengi seem too much for my negotiating skills." He looked at his weathered hands. "Maybe this way I can stay with some of the people I love."
Tom guessed that was probably the best any of them could hope for. It occurred to him that while life hadn't been particularly easy in the Delta Quadrant, it had been a great deal simpler than would be the case in the Alpha Quadrant.
The two men sat in the flickering light from the bonfire, thinking heavy thoughts and wondering what lay ahead for all of them.
Ro Laren leaned back in the command chair and contemplated the stars through the circular port above her. It didn't happen under normal circumstances, but in a Condition Blue, a crewmember was able to appreciate Voyager in a way that was impossible in space. First and foremost was the unique silence. A ship traveling in warp or even at impulse, had a distinct hum, the indication of constant power throbbing through the vessel's veins. The ship at rest provided little beyond a few minor beeps on the bridge as consoles monitored the ship, while most other noises sounded unnatural, echoing slightly in the corridors in this normal atmosphere ... as if Voyager were just a large building rather than a vessel capable of dancing between the stars.
Ro smiled at her rather poetic turn of phrase, wondering what was inspiring it. Probably her new responsibilities as the ship's 'rover' and her relationship with B'Elanna Torres, she decided. Lately, it had seemed that her life was so wonderful that even her ingrained reserve was giving way to a more openly emotional woman. A situation that was so unusual that she was left with the thought that things were going too well for her. Despite what B'Elanna had said about being happy when one had a chance, a part of Ro continued to be very wary of such a thing.
When was the other shoe going to drop?
Ro believed that there was a balance in the universe; that if one was extremely happy, then the crash, when it inevitably came, would be correspondingly bad. It behooved her not to allow herself to be too happy. On the other hand, she also had to allow that, if there was indeed such a balance, the Bajoran had experienced far more low times in her life than true happiness and perhaps it was simply her time to have things go well. Then, there was the fact that one tended to make their own fortune in life, so perhaps the thought of happiness and pain being measured out on some kind of cosmic scale, was a futility she was indulging for no good purpose, and she should just stop worrying about it.
She chuckled and stretched out her legs, finding the captain's chair a bit uncomfortable since it had obviously been worn in by a smaller, more compact woman. The Bajoran was tall and lanky, slim hips and long legs, more angular than the stocky Klingon with whom she shared her life. Sometimes she wondered what the beautiful and brash B'Elanna Torres saw in a toughened string bean like her.
She glanced around, feeling a bit lonely, suddenly. The rest of the bridge was empty, the gamma shift being lightly manned at the best of times. Now, she ran the functions through the console next to the command chair, monitoring the levels of power output that the ship was maintaining. Only a few hours remained before the alpha shift would relieve her.
The beep from the panel surprised her and she jumped slightly, before leaning forward to take a closer look, her fingers briefly touching the touch pad to draw up the information. What she saw made her eyes widen and the rhythm of her heart speed up.
Immediately, she slapped her hand to her comm badge.
"Bridge to Captain Janeway."
"Janeway here," came the slow reply, though the captain did not sound as if she had been asleep.
"Incoming message from Starfleet." Ro activated the fore viewscreen, the blast shield having been closed for the night and the large panel restored to its normal position, dominating the front of the bridge. "Captain, it's live. I'm responding now."
"On my way," Janeway said crisply, but Ro was already answering the hail from the Federation.
The Bajoran scrambled quickly to her feet as she saw the face of Admiral Owen Paris appear on the screen in front of her.
"Admiral," she greeted evenly, though her heart was pounding. "Lt. Ro Laren, gamma shift conn officer. Captain Janeway is on her way."
"I see, Lieutenant," he said with a faint smile. "Well, I've always had the knack for dragging people out of bed at the best of times. It's nice to know I still have my touch, even contacting someone across the quadrants."
"Uh, yes, Sir," she responded, realizing that there was little else she could say. She was aware of him intently studying the area around her.
"Lt. Ro, are you the only one on the bridge? Is Voyager that undermanned?"
"No, Sir. We're currently under Condition Blue." She paused. "Shore leave, sir," she added lamely. Even though Starfleet personnel were certainly entitled to it, and this crew in particular after all they had been through lately, there was still something uniquely awkward about being caught with most of the crew off duty ... as if they were shirking it in some way. Undoubtedly a holdover from the more militaristic side of the Federation that Starfleet also represented.
To her relief, the Admiral laughed. "I'm glad to hear that, Lieutenant. I would hate to think the crew of Voyager has had no R&R over the past six years. After going through the last group of logs from the most recent communiqué, I'm especially pleased. Your ship tends to have more than her share of encounters."
"Yes, Sir," Ro responded, wishing desperately that Janeway would hurry up. Though the captain had probably been in bed and needed to get dressed first, the Bajoran thought irritably that Starfleet captains should be a little quicker than this at running for the bridge when they were needed.
He lowered his brows. "Actually, Lieutenant, I'm rather glad that you, specifically, are the officer holding the conn. There's someone here who wants to have a few words with you."
"Sir?" Ro was rocked. She couldn't imagine anyone who would want to speak with her, unless perhaps it was a judiciary officer planning to charge her formally with desertion and conduct unbecoming an officer. She just couldn't imagine wasting precious communication time for something like that. She wasn't that big a criminal, was she?
"Stick around, Lieutenant," he ordered as the turbolift doors hissed open behind her.
"Yes, Sir." Glancing back, she saw Janeway and Seven exit the lift, the captain still looking a trifle mussed, but far more presentable than being yanked out of bed would have made many others appear. Seven, of course, looked as sleek and immaculate as always, in her plum, biomesh outfit.
Ro dipped her head briefly at her commanding officer and discretely made way for the feisty captain as Janeway gracefully descended the short flight of stairs from the upper level. The woman's eyes were a bright bluish-grey, and they glinted with keen anticipation as she addressed the admiral.
Feeling uncertain, Ro quickly moved over to the tactical station, out of range of the viewscreen, but able to see and hear everything clearly. She paid close attention, filing it all away in the proper order because she knew that B'Elanna would demand a complete recounting of the events taking place.
If Starfleet was able to transmit live feeds, the Bajoran thought furiously, that could change things considerably. No longer was Voyager lost and alone, it was once more part of the fleet at large. Unquestionably, there would be more than just contact or information exchanged; the brass would likely start issuing orders and addressing certain things that the crew of Voyager had forgotten or, in the case of some the Maquis, had never known. Janeway's decisions would immediately be evaluated, rather than separated by time and distance. On the other hand, Ro thought sardonically, what would they do if they didn't like how the captain was accomplishing things? Call Voyager into port and demand Janeway hand her ship over to a new commanding officer?
She glanced at the diminutive redhead standing there before the viewscreen, every line of her body one of absolute authority and bearing.
What did this really mean for Voyager?
Janeway rolled over in the early hours prior to morning watch, draping her arm heavily over the incumbent form of her partner. The captain was half awake, uncertain what had awakened her, but finding it a pleasant prospect in this warm cozy nest of blankets and Borg stretched out beside her. Idly, her hand traced the slope of Seven's left breast, enjoying how it filled her palm, how the tip hardened sweetly beneath her touch, even though the young woman was still sleeping.
Or was until the captain's explorations woke her up.
"Kathryn?" Seven's voice was slightly slurred, muddled by drowsiness.
"Mmm, right here, darling," Janeway murmured, snuggling closer.
Seven made a soft sound of pleasure and rolled towards her, wrapping her up in her arms. They kissed, a slow, melting, entirely devoted kisses ... still drowsy, yet implicit in their promise of what could happen. Janeway hummed in the back of her throat as she ran her hands languidly over her partner's body, feeling desire rise within her, losing herself in the sensation of being with the woman she loved.
"Bridge to Captain Janeway."
Janeway groaned in dismay and drew back from her partner, twisting so that she could reach her comm badge that had been left on the night stand.
"Janeway here," she told Ro Laren, recognizing the voice of the bridge officer.
"Incoming message from Starfleet," Ro responded. There was a pause. "Captain, it's live. I'm responding now."
Janeway blinked, any drowsiness that might have lingered disappearing without a trace. Before now, the communiqués from Starfleet had come in the form of audio streams or compressed communication packets that had to be decoded and expanded later. This indicated that they had somehow managed to boost the transmission enough to include a visual contact.
"On my way," Janeway said, excitement coloring her tone.
Seven was already out of bed and into the ensuite where she retrieved Janeway's uniform, handing it to her spouse as soon as the captain flipped back the sheets and stood up. As Janeway pulled it on, the Borg affixed the comm badge to the captain's tunic, and fastened the four pips to her collar, in between donning her own biomesh outfit and pulling her hair back in an austere bun. Not for the first time, Janeway was astonished by the Borg's sheer efficiency.
"Have I ever told you how convenient it is to be married to you?" Janeway asked as the couple hurried from their quarters and entered the turbolift. She raked her fingers through her hair, hoping that would be enough to tame it.
"Frequently," Seven responded.
Janeway grinned as they stepped onto the bridge, then her face sobered as she saw the fore viewscreen revealing the imposing features of Admiral Paris.
"Admiral," she said smoothly as she took command simply by stepping down on the command level. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ro fade back to the tactical station. "It's amazing, but you've managed to catch us during a rare period of shore leave."
"So Lt. Ro informed us," Paris said. He tilted his head. "How many times have I managed to pull you out of bed in the middle of the night?"
The captain offered her most charming smile, aware of Seven's sharp glance at her, knowing that the Admiral's comment probably sounded far worse than how he had actually meant it. "More times than I can count. May I ask how you've managed to boost transmission to be able to accomplish this?"
She did notice that there was a slight delay in the transmission that simply wasn't present during the same kind of communication in the Alpha Quadrant, but she supposed that was to be expected.
"Thank Mr. Barclay." Behind the admiral was a rather slender man who had to be the renowned engineering lieutenant who had made this all possible. To her amazement, he waved and grinned sheepishly.
She inclined her head graciously. "It seems we have a great deal to thank Mr. Barclay for."
"In any event, it was somewhat of a surprise to us that we managed to get through tonight," Paris explained. "Once Mr. Barclay told me what he had in mind, I did my best to find some people in the area who would help make the attempt worthwhile."
"Just being able to hear from you is worthwhile, Admiral."
The Admiral's eyes warmed as he regarded her. "I have to admit, Captain, it's good to actually be able to see you while I speak with you."
"It does make a difference, Sir," she replied, though she was acutely aware that her hair must be slightly mussed and her features still slightly blurred from just waking up. "Sometimes, relayed messages don't always provide the same ... sense of home."
The Admiral nodded. "I don't suppose my son is anywhere handy?" Paris added the question with a casualness that Janeway thought was a little forced.
"If you could stand by a moment." She glanced back over her shoulder at Seven. The Borg was already on it, hands moving over the board, and the thin whine of the transporter was heard as a semi-naked Tom Paris appeared on the upper level of the bridge. He had on a pair of thigh-length shorts and nothing else, his feet and chest bare, his sandy hair mussed while in his hand, he clutched his comm badge.
"A little warning would have been nice, Seven. Why did you..." He trailed off as he saw the viewscreen. "Dad?"
Janeway shot a look at Seven. "Didn't you tell him what was going on?"
Seven regarded her blandly. "There was not enough time."
The captain resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and turned her attention back to the viewscreen. Tom, despite his disheveled appearance, was speaking with his father easily, as if there had never been a history of acrimony and harsh words between them. Janeway was glad to see it, having learned over time that life was too short to hold onto grudges or wounded pride. The young pilot had turned out to be a fine officer, and if the Admiral didn't recognize that, he wouldn't be much of an officer ... or a father.
"I have to cut this short, Tom," Paris said finally, with real regret. "We only have a limited time and there are a couple of other people who want to pass on some personal messages."
"I understand." Tom hesitated. "It was good to see you again."
"You, too, son." The Admiral's eyes were suspiciously bright as he glanced over at Janeway. "Captain?"
"I'm here, Admiral," she said, aware of Tom moving away. She kept half an eye on him, wondering how he was taking this, and thus, was not listening as closely as she otherwise should have been.
"There's someone here to see you, Kathryn."
The use of her first name caught her attention, and she looked back at the screen, her eyes widening in shock.
"Hello, Kathryn. Annika, I'm so glad to see you again."
Seven offered a smile as she descended from the upper level, taking up a position next to Janeway who stared and stared, completely speechless.
"Hello, Gretchen," Seven greeted, nodding formally at the tall, slender, snowy-haired woman on the screen. "I am pleased that you were able to be a part of this contact."
The Borg's hand snaked out suddenly to grab Janeway's elbow, and dimly, the captain realized she must have been swaying slightly. Certainly, she was in overload at seeing her mother. A wealth of questions, comments, and emotions threatened to overload her mind, and she suspected she had the makings of a completely astounded expression on her face. It was probably a good thing that the bridge was completely clear of any witnesses, other than her wife and two protégés in the form of Tom Paris and Ro Laren.
"Mother," she managed. "It's so good to see you." Her voice sounded stiff and unnatural, but it was the best she seemed able to come up with at the moment.
"We don't have a lot of time," Gretchen said, smiling warmly at her daughter. "I just wanted to let you know how much we love you, and how much we're looking forward to seeing you come home."
"We doing our best to make that happen, Mom," Janeway responded honestly.
"I know you are, darling. Phoebe sends her best. I know she'll regret missing this, but I was one of the few people currently in San Francisco that Owen was able to contact and bring here to Starfleet Command on such short notice."
Janeway wondered briefly what her mother had been doing in San Francisco. Was she living there now? What had happened to their home in Indiana? Too many questions and too little time to ask during such a brief and tenuous connection. But for the life of her, Kathryn couldn't think of anything else to ask that she needed to know right at the moment. So, instead, she stared at her mother, absorbing the sight of her into every pore so she would remember this moment after it was over.
"I miss you, too, Mom," she said softly.
Gretchen seemed to be staring at her as well, the moment stretching on into a few before both seemed to realize at the same time that they were taking up precious transmission time with silence. Janeway's mother raised her head, shifting her gaze to Seven of Nine.
"Take good care of her, Annika."
"I shall," Seven promised quietly.
"Until we see each other again, my darlings," Gretchen said, and stepped back.
Admiral Paris reappeared.
"Thank you, Admiral," Janeway said, managing an even tone, though it was not easy.
"You're welcome, Kathryn," he said. He glanced to the side, then cleared his throat. "I have someone here who wishes to speak with Lt. Ro."
"Ro?" Janeway echoed in surprise, and she looked back at the Bajoran who looked extremely uncomfortable and not a little baffled herself. "Of course."
Ro moved down to the lower level and regarded the screen expectantly. Janeway raised an eyebrow as an intense, distinguished man in a captain's uniform appeared, his bald head gleaming in the subdued light. She heard Ro take a quick intake of breath ... a gasp of shock really ... while Seven lifted her head with a certain amount of respectful surprise.
"Locutus," the Borg murmured.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard looked at the women from the viewscreen, his dark eyes steady as they centered on the Bajoran in particular. Janeway understood suddenly that this did not concern her or Voyager at all, and she took Seven's arm, drawing her away from the lower level, affording Ro what little privacy there was, considering the communication was up on the viewscreen for everyone on the bridge to see and hear. Across the bridge, Tom Paris looked on with undisguised curiosity.
"Captain Picard," Ro said, her voice unnaturally precise.
Janeway had noticed that the more stressed the Bajoran was, the more reserved and cautious she became. Right now, it was as if Ro's skin no longer fit her properly, like she was ready to jump out of it at any moment. The sheer tension radiating from the woman was enough to provoke a sympathetic tightness in the captain's temples, creeping down her neck and across her shoulders.
"Ro Laren," Picard said quietly. "It's very good to see you again."
Janeway could see Ro swallow hard, the movement in her throat clearly visible.
"I would not have expected you to say that to me, Sir," the lieutenant admitted after taking a few seconds to compose herself.
He lowered his head, peering out at her from beneath his brows.
"I suppose ... I could understand why you would think that, but it would be inaccurate. Whatever has occurred, I still consider you to be one of my officers."
Fascinated, Janeway realized that Picard was as ill at ease with the situation as the Bajoran officer was. She didn't know the other captain that well, but the few times she had met him, his reserve and steely composure had been the thing she remembered most. Here, however, he seemed to be having a hard time hanging onto either.
"I ... that means a lot, Captain," Ro said softly. "I ... I know I let you down..."
He held up his hand, stopping her uncomfortably. "It's in the past. Whatever has happened is history and, while it can't be changed, I know that we both learned from it." He paused. "I have to admit, I was quite surprised ... and gratified ... when I discovered you had been in the Delta Quadrant all these years. I was very much afraid that you had been one of those swept up in the extermination of the Maquis by the Jem'Hadar."
"How I ended up on Voyager is ... a long story." Ro glanced desperately over at Janeway, as if seeking guidance, and the captain offered her the best compassionate, supportive expression she could manage. To her surprise, it seemed to work, and she saw Ro square her shoulders beneath the band of red she wore.
"Captain Janeway has been gracious enough to grant me another chance, Sir," Ro explained to the man who had been her mentor and CO. "I hope that I will be able to serve her in a way that I was unable to serve you. I do want you to know, however, that I will always regret not being able to complete the last mission you assigned to me ... not that I made the choices that I did, but that I disappointed you so badly in the process. I should have had the courage to face you with my decision at the time."
"To be honest, Lieutenant," he said, a trace of sadness edging his tone, "it's possible I wouldn't have understood ... not then. After the events of the past few years, however, I've come to understand why, occasionally, one has to answer to a higher calling than our roles in Starfleet." He raised his head. "In the meantime, I have offered my recommendation to Starfleet that they uphold the reinstatement granted you by Captain Janeway, and drop any charges that might have been pending. I've also updated your service records on the Enterprise using the logs from Voyager. Your post at the helm will be waiting for you whenever you get back."
Janeway was outraged. They hadn't even returned to the Federation and already other captains were trying to lure away the people she had worked so hard on rehabilitating. She glared indignantly at the screen.
Ro glanced over at her in that moment, and then smiled faintly as if seeing the thoughts reflected in the redhead's face. She seemed a little more self-assured as she looked back at Picard.
"I'm sorry, Captain, but in that case, I would like to request a formal transfer to Voyager and Captain Janeway's command. As much as I cherished my time on the Enterprise, and was honored to serve under you, my future lies on another path." She paused. "I am sorry if that disappoints you yet again, Sir."
"It hasn't," he informed her. His dark eyes tracked over to Janeway. "It seems that you've acquired one of my officers, Captain Janeway."
"She's an asset to my command." Janeway didn't bother to add that once they were in Federation space again, she would undoubtedly lose Ro as well, this time to Starfleet Intelligence. Suddenly, everything seemed so immediate, as if they were returning tomorrow, and she had to forcibly remind herself that they still had thousands of light-years to go.
Admiral Paris came back into view and Janeway straightened. "Captain, we have to end this, though I want you to expect some increased contact for the next little while. Dr. Brahms, of the Theoretical Propulsion Group, has indicated that they've made some real breakthroughs in the problems that have been keeping Voyager from using the slipstream drive to return home. Starfleet has requested that they place a priority on this project, and I'm sure that between your people and hers, you'll be able to apply any solutions they come up with as soon as possible. Expect a full report included in the communications packet we're transmitting now." He hesitated, his eyes softening.
"We haven't given up on you, Kathryn."
"No, sir," Janeway responded, her throat tight. "Thank you, sir."
"Starfleet out."
The screen flickered to reveal the official symbol of the United Federation of Planets, a circular starfield of worlds surrounded by olive branches.
At least, that hadn't changed, Janeway thought. She was aware that Seven was over at ops again, downloading the packet being transmitted and rerouting it to astrometrics where she would decompress it later. Across the bridge, Ro seemed stunned, lost in thought, her head bent, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the deck.
She was the first of many, Janeway thought. Suddenly, with Starfleet able to offer live transmissions to their ship, the Federation just got a whole lot closer ... nor was it entirely in a figurative sense either.
What would the next communication bring?
Seven of Nine worked diligently at her board in astrometrics, decompressing, decoding and organizing this latest packet from the Federation. Apparently, word had spread about the communiqué, and she noticed that as soon as she transferred the various personal letters and information to the workstations of the crew, the files were immediately accessed, as if each crewmember was anxiously standing by with a remote link, waiting for the download to finish. She suspected if she looked out at the campsite that had sprung up near the lake, she would find everyone sitting quietly near their habitats, studying their padds eagerly, seeking news from home. Indeed, the only one who had yet to access his copy of the official Maquis pardon was Chakotay, and that was because, she suspected he had not taken any equipment with him on his retreat other than the communicator that he activated only to check in with the ship every so often. He could not yet know about the contact with Starfleet that had arrived in the early hours of the morning.
Once Seven was finished categorizing and transferring the files, she accessed her own particular station, noting that, in addition to letters from both Gretchen and Phoebe, there were several notes, files and recommendations from Dr. Leah Brahms. Seven decided that she would share the information with B'Elanna and Harry as soon as possible, but in the meantime, she took a moment to briefly skim most of the contents.
She raised an eyebrow at the suggestions put forth by some of the research team. At least three were immediately applicable, and it was possible that they had even solved the integrity field problem that had been a major roadblock in Voyager's attempt to adapt the slipstream drive for their own use.
A certain part of her was disconcerted by that, and she was busy trying to track down the reason for her sense of dismay when the door hissed open and Janeway entered. The captain regarded her closely as she approached the workstation, and, pausing on the other side of it, she placed her hands on the top of the console as she tilted her head slightly. Her eyes were soft and curious.
"What's wrong?"
Surprised, Seven glanced at her. "Nothing is wrong. Why would you ask?"
Janeway smiled faintly and lifted a long, elegant finger, touching the Borg on the bridge of her nose, between her brows. "Because whenever you're bothered by something, a little furrow appears right there, at the corner of your implant."
Seven exhaled slowly. "I do not know what is wrong. I was reading some of the suggestions that Dr. Brahms' group proposed to address the integrity field problem."
"They don't make sense?" Janeway prodded lightly.
"They make perfect sense," Seven replied, out of sorts. "We should be able to apply them immediately to Voyager."
"Then, what's the problem?"
Confused, Seven searched her feelings.
"I should have thought of them," she blurted. "They are so obvious." She paused. "Perhaps I am unable to utilize my intellect properly any longer. I must make an appointment to see the Doctor."
Janeway laughed and reached over, patting the Borg on the arm. "That isn't what this is about."
"No?"
"No, it's about someone else coming up with the answers to your problem. You think you should have been able to solve it all by yourself."
Seven stared at her, thinking about it. "Indeed." She didn't want to admit that Janeway might be right, but it did feel like a logical assessment. "Perhaps you are correct," she allowed with difficulty. She looked at her hands which were lying quiescent on the touch screen. "I have failed."
Janeway immediately came around the console. "Belay that," she said firmly as she slipped an arm around the Borg's waist. "Annika, the Propulsion Group maintains a gigantic facility at Utopia Planitia, possessing some of the finest minds in the Federation, from all areas of expertise. These people have absolutely nothing else to do but tackle any starship problem that comes to their attention. In fact, every vessel that Starfleet possesses is required to go through their test facilities before being released to active duty. They have extraordinary amounts of resources and technology that we simply can't duplicate." She paused. "Look at it this way, darling, we probably know how Voyager works better than anyone else in Starfleet at the moment, simply because we've had to improvise so much out here."
"Correct," Seven said, wondering where the captain was going.
"If Voyager's nacelles were sheered off, could you, Harry and B'Elanna come up with a way to rebuild the warp engines to propel the ship without them?"
Seven hesitated. "We would be able to make the attempt, but..." She trailed off, then glanced at Janeway. "But we would lack the necessary resources and technology to do so."
"Right, and that's established technology, Seven, so you've hardly failed by not being able to create an entirely new propulsion system by melding warp and slipstream technology together from scratch. You're demanding too much of yourself."
Seven nodded. "I understand."
Janeway studied her. "But you're still not happy."
"I wanted to do this for you," Seven admitted softly. "It was to be my greatest gift ... a way to allow you to go home and see Gretchen and Phoebe again."
Janeway laughed. "Do you really think I'm going to be any less impressed with you and B'Elanna and Harry achieving a functional slipstream drive simply because you have input from Dr. Leah Brahms and her Propulsion Group?"
Put that way, Seven ducked her head, blushing. "No."
"Pride can be a wonderful thing, my darling," Janeway added in a low voice, nuzzling the Borg's ear gently, "And you have much to be proud of with your intellect and ability, but don't let it overwhelm your common sense."
"No, Kathryn." Seven turned so she could wrap her arms around her spouse. It was not something she would normally do on duty, but they were still in Condition Blue, the lab was empty and it was unlikely anyone would pass by, particularly since most of the crew were still out on the planet's surface. "Sometimes I forget, however," she admitted. "Such as when I attempted to download all that information directly into my cranial processor."
Janeway kissed her sweetly. "Even when you do imprudent things like that, I know it's because you're doing it for Voyager ... and for me."
"Always," Seven agreed, kissing her back. She drew back after a moment. "Why did you come down here?"
"A chance to kiss you isn't reason enough?" Janeway teased gently, nipping at the tip of the Borg's nose.
"Not while we are on active status," Seven pointed out with a smile, leaning back to keep out of reach of the captain's teeth. "I know that we have been on duty since the communiqué was received at 0534, but it is not even 1130 hours yet."
"I know, but I thought since we started our shift a bit early, we could take an extra long lunch. I think D'Vor can handle the bridge for a few hours."
"Indeed," Seven remarked, tilting her head slightly. "That is not what you thought yesterday." Now that she no longer was absorbed in her own concerns, the Borg was suddenly struck by the thought that Janeway was attempting to divert herself in some manner, though Seven wasn't sure why, exactly. She wondered if it had anything to do with the communiqué earlier.
"I changed my mind." Janeway poked her partner gently in the ribs with her thumb. "I have a picnic basket waiting for us," she added persuasively.
Seven was intrigued. "In the park?"
Janeway shook her head as she took Seven's hand and led her to the door. "No, not there." Her tone was such that Seven realized the captain wanted her to keep guessing, so she continued to speculate as to the probable location of their picnic lunch as they strolled for the turbolift.
"The room under the saucer?"
"It's somewhere new," Janeway told her.
"A holodeck setting?"
"An entirely new location altogether," the captain elaborated.
Seven thought furiously.
"Is it on the ship?"
"Yes, it's on the ship," the captain replied, a dimple appearing on her cheek.
The Borg immediately recognized that the dimple indicated there was some kind of twist involved, but all her guesses continued to be incorrect as they got off on deck three. At first, she suspected they were returning to their quarters, but then the captain drew her into the nearest airlock and Seven understood exactly what the 'twist' was. They cycled through and stepped out onto the expansive hull of the starship, its gleaming white surface stretching before them. Overhead, the sky was a bright azure and the sun radiated a pleasant warmth.
"Kathryn, this is ... very acceptable," she said as Janeway led her down to a recessed area on the upper part of the hull, just outside the windows of their quarters. A picnic blanket, checked in red and white, was laid out, while a large wicker basket anchored its middle.
"I'm glad you like it," Janeway said, obviously pleased as she sat cross-legged, leaning up against the hull where it rose toward the upper decks.
Seven joined her, carefully lowering herself onto the blanket. The air was fresh and warm, while the women were protected from the wind by the valley made by the curvature of this upper level of the ship. At this height, the view toward the mountains was spectacular, and the colors seemed more vibrant out here than when she had looked at the vista from inside their quarters. "This shall be a special memory triggered whenever I gaze out the viewports at this area of the ship."
"I like providing you with special memories," the captain smiled as she popped the cork of a bottle devoid of a label. Seven tilted her head curiously, observing the bluish tinged liquid which poured from it.
"I do not remember acquiring that particular wine," she noted, accepting the glass from her spouse.
"That's because you didn't. This is from the 'still' in the biometrics lab. I had Neelix arrange to 'find' a bottle for me."
Seven considered that. She knew that most of the crew on the lower decks were of the fond belief that the captain was entirely oblivious of the beverage producing apparatus that had been constructed somewhat haphazardly in the lab. When she had initially asked about it, Samantha Wildman had explained that it was 'an experiment', and it was B'Elanna who later elaborated on the tradition behind such a thing to the Borg.
Obviously, Janeway was far from being as obtuse as some people wanted to think.
"Have you tried this before?" she asked, looking into the pastel depths.
"Oh, yes. I think you'll enjoy it."
Seven did not mention that she already had imbibed an illicit glass with B'Elanna and that she had, indeed, enjoyed it. There was an odd little line that existed with her spouse when it came to her also being her captain, and sometimes the Borg did not always know where it was drawn. On occasion, it was best not to volunteer information unless it was asked for directly.
There was cole slaw in the basket, along with fried chicken, some mashed potatoes, gravy, and biscuits. Not what Seven considered the usual picnic fare, but the outside air seemed to stimulate their appetite and it didn't take long for the two women to polish off the bounty. After cleaning up, Seven lay on her back with her head in her partner's lap, looking at the fluffy white clouds passing overhead. Her early start on the day, as well as the large meal, served to make her feel sleepy, and she felt quite content as she felt Janeway's fingers stroke through her hair, loosening it from the restrictive confines of her bun.
"This is very pleasant," she murmured softly, looking up into the warm, blue eyes of her spouse.
"It is," Janeway noted, smiling gently. "I've said it before, and I probably will again, but we really need to do more of this."
"Yes." Seven squinted lazily as she saw a cloud over the captain's head which bore a particularly striking resemblance to that of a dog. "Kathryn, did you ever seek shapes in clouds?"
Janeway looked up, smiling. "When I was younger. I haven't had much chance in the past few years."
"B'Elanna showed me how to do this when we first became friends. It can be quite fascinating."
"It can be," Janeway agreed, her eyes growing dreamy as she followed her partner's gaze.
Seven wasn't sure when she fell asleep, her eyes closing of their own accord before she quite realized what was happening. She was awakened by the sensation of her spouse kissing her deeply.
"Mmph, Kathryn?" she muttered once her lips were released.
"Lunch time is over, love," the captain told her as she drew back. "You looked so peaceful sleeping there, but unfortunately, duty calls."
Seven was chagrined as she sat up. "I am sorry, Kathryn. I did not mean to sleep during our time together."
"You're still recovering from your week of double and triple shifts," Janeway said, smiling gently. "Believe me, darling, it was a very nice time for me, too. I love watching you like this ... you're so beautiful when you sleep."
"But I wanted to speak with you about seeing Gretchen. I know that it must have caused unsettled feelings within you. You must be very disturbed by it." Seven immediately cursed her clumsiness, particularly when she saw the reserved expression cross her partner's face.
"It wasn't that emotional, Seven," Janeway said, sounding vaguely annoyed at the Borg's assessment of her mental state. "Starfleet captains don't fall apart just because they've heard from their mommies."
Seven realized that her words had sounded presumptuous and slightly condescending, putting the captain on the defensive about her emotional stability in the wake of the communiqué from home. The young woman had meant to be far more subtle at drawing out her partner's feelings, and if she hadn't been so muddled from sleep, she wouldn't have blurted out her intentions so blatantly.
"I am sorry, Kathryn. I made assumptions I should not."
Janeway nodded, apparently appeased by that, but the Borg was still dissatisfied by the exchange, though she knew better than to show it. As they waited for the lock to cycle, she leaned over and kissed Janeway, lingering over her lips. "Thank you for the picnic, Kathryn. It was wonderful."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," the captain said, slipping an arm around the young woman's slender waist and hugging her gently. "What do you plan for this afternoon?"
"I believe I shall start on some of the modifications recommended by Dr. Brahms' Propulsion Group. If B'Elanna is so inclined, perhaps she would be willing to help."
"B'Elanna's been working the gamma shift in engineering while Ro covers the bridge. She may not be awake at the moment."
"In that case, I shall do what I can alone."
Janeway stopped her just before the inner door to the lock opened, resting her hand lightly on the Borg's forearm. "I love you, Seven of Mine. Keep that thought close to you while you're working."
"I promise, Kathryn," Seven responded, pleased by the sentiment, but realizing that the captain was attempting to divert the Borg's concern about any distressful emotional turmoil which might lay beneath the command mask.
As she watched the captain walk away, she was keenly aware of the greyish shadow she had glimpsed amid the blue of those eyes, and she regretted again that she had fallen asleep.
How soon would Kathryn allow herself to acknowledge what she was really feeling about having seen her mother again?
B'Elanna Torres discovered her roommate sitting at the table in their quarters, looking somewhat lost. A plate of hasperat sat untouched in front of Ro, while her eyes stared distantly at the wall in front of her. Moving slowly, B'Elanna slipped her arms carefully around the woman's torso from behind, hugging her gently.
"Tom Paris has been telling everyone that you talked to the Enterprise's Captain Jean-Luc Picard this morning," she said, not holding anything back. "That he asked for you specifically, in fact."
B'Elanna knew that, sometimes, one had to tease information out of a person, but with the former security officer, it was best to address any issue immediately, and if Ro had any intention of sharing, she would do so from that instigation. Otherwise, no amount of prying or enticement would get a word out of the reserved Bajoran.
"Yes," the Bajoran said quietly, reaching up to put her hand over B'Elanna's forearm, squeezing it gently. "I did speak with him."
"Want to talk about it?" B'Elanna knew how much of a sore spot Picard and the Enterprise had been to her partner.
Ro regarded her steadily as the Klingon took a seat beside her. "I don't know that there's anything to say. We spoke, things were settled, it's over."
B'Elanna exhaled slowly. "But how do you feel?"
"I'm not sure." Ro grinned ruefully as she saw the expression cross the engineer's face. "Honestly, Lanna, I'm not trying to keep anything from you. It's just that I don't know what I feel ... or how I'm supposed to feel. It's ... odd. Like something I've been waiting for, for such a long time, but now that it's happened, it was ... very anticlimactic in a way."
"So what did he say?" B'Elanna continued, since Ro had not shut down or drawn away.
Ro frowned, apparently replaying the conversation in her head. "Nothing specific. Just that my Starfleet reinstatement is official and that if I wanted to, I could return to the Enterprise once we get back to the Alpha Quadrant." She paused. "But what I really think happened is that ... he let me know that he forgave me for letting him down all those years ago."
B'Elanna thought about that for a moment.
"Was it his place to forgive you? I mean, you did what you had to do all those years ago. I know you didn't like disappointing him, but it was your call."
Ro considered that, her eyes were dark and uncertain as she picked up her fork and used it to push the hasperat around the plate. "But I still needed his forgiveness ... I know that doesn't make sense...."
"Yes, it does." B'Elanna reached over and put her hand on Ro's wrist, encircling it with a gentle grip. "I just don't want you to feel bad about it."
"I don't." Ro smiled faintly as she looked up into B'Elanna's eyes. "I guess I need a little more time to figure it out in my own mind. In the meantime, I'm just 'brooding', you know."
"I know. You do it so very well." B'Elanna let it go when she realized her lover was sincere in her lingering uncertainty. Pressing would not accomplish anything. She nodded at the plate. "That looks cold."
Ro released a short bark of laughter. "It probably is. I've been shoving it around since I got here. Gamma and alpha shift sort of melded together for a while when the communication came in." She shook her head. "What time is it?"
"1100 hours. Working these kinds of shifts make it easy to lose track."
"Where were you?" Ro asked. "I thought you'd be here in bed by the time I got off duty."
"I worked overtime a bit. There's this problem in the transition coil of the slipstream drive that we've been trying to pin down for months. I like working on it when there's nothing else to do. I guess I lost track of time." She nodded at the plate. "Want me to run that through again? I'll get something for myself. A hot meal sounds like a good idea right now."
"It does," Ro allowed, handing over her plate obediently.
B'Elanna carried the dish over to the replicator where she materialized a fresh batch of hasperat and some taco salad for herself. With the ship on the ground, power was plentiful for the replicators, and they didn't have to count rations while preparing meals. B'Elanna had taken the opportunity to program all the dishes she had enjoyed when she was younger, prepared for her by her paternal grandmother. They didn't quite taste the same, of course, but it had given her a sense of the past and of being home, not to mention allowing her to show an aspect of her Human side to Ro.
For some reason, it seemed a fitting way to help her adapt to living with someone. She was conscious of the Bajoran's eyes following her as she completed her task, and felt the same mixture of warmth and disconcertion she always felt. She quirked an eyebrow at Ro as she carried the plates back to the table.
"What?" she asked lightly as she sat down.
Ro seemed vaguely startled, as if just then realizing that she had been staring. "Uh, nothing, I guess," the slender woman admitted. "I was just ... watching you and thinking how nice it is to be living together now."
B'Elanna smiled, poking at her salad. "May I tell you something?"
"Sure," Ro responded. "Always."
"I was surprised when you agreed we should move into double quarters together. Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled ... I was just a little surprised."
Ro chewed her hasperat thoughtfully. "I guess that's fair after all we've been through." She paused, obviously thinking about it. "I always wanted to move in with you, Lanna. I just decided to take the plunge this time, rather than spend months trying to cover all the possible consequences and how I could arrange them so they would all turn out in the most positive manner. Sometimes I tie myself up so much that I lose track of what's really important. I didn't want to risk doing that with you."
B'Elanna's face felt warm and she knew she was blushing with pleasure. Honestly, it was as if she were a school girl or something, she thought with a certain amount of disdain at herself. But it didn't change the fact she was touched by the sentiment.
"I'm really glad you did," she said huskily.
Ro reached over and touched her hand.
"I am, too," she said simply.
B'Elanna offered her a grin, squeezing the fingers lightly.
They finished their meal, relaxing in each other's company. Then, as they lingered over dessert and coffee, the mood altered, becoming more intimate. They spent more time looking at each other and suggestively going through the motions of eating their mousse, rather than actually tasting the smooth, chocolate treat. Distracted, B'Elanna dripped some of the desert clumsily onto her wrist, and she felt her secondary heart quiver when Ro reached over and took the Klingon's hand, bringing it up to her mouth. In a most deliberate fashion, the Bajoran slowly licked away the long streak of dark sweetness, eyeing the other woman intently. Swallowing hard, B'Elanna lifted her head, inhaling deeply to draw in the bouquet of the dessert and the enticing fragrance of the Bajoran's own natural scent.
"Would you care to retire for an afternoon nap?" she asked politely, though a subtle growl rumbled up from her chest, lurking behind the even words.
Ro widened her eyes slightly. "Not if you intend to sleep," she murmured with a faint smile, entwining her fingers with the Klingon's.
"Oh, sleeping wasn't what I had in mind," B'Elanna responded honestly, rising to her feet as she returned the smile.
Leaving the living area, they moved into the bedroom. B'Elanna still delighted in having a room specifically intended for nothing more than sleep ... and other things. She turned to Ro as they stood next to the bed, looking up into her dark eyes. The Bajoran embraced her lightly, as if realizing B'Elanna wanted to slow the pace a little and was in full accord.
"You know I love you completely," the Klingon whispered.
"I know," Ro responded, nuzzling her neck and ear. "I love you, too, Lanna."
The engineer smiled and unfastened Ro's uniform tunic, pushing it off her shoulders, then tugged at the sweater. Meanwhile, the Bajoran was busily undressing B'Elanna between kisses and caresses, strong hands moving over the Klingon's body, setting her aflame.
"Laren," B'Elanna moaned as they sank to the bed, pressed together as Ro kissed her until she could barely think.
"Here, s'kwan," Ro whispered. "What do you need from me? Tell me."
"Just love me," B'Elanna responded, cupping the Bajoran's face in her hands and pulling it closer so she could return the deep, breathtaking kisses being offered her. "Forever."
"I do," Ro muttered as she nibbled a line down the Klingon's throat. "I will."
B'Elanna threw her head back, arching up into the tender caresses of the Bajoran's knowing hands, exalting in the pleasure her mouth was providing. Desire and anticipation made the Klingon's lips draw back from her teeth in a feral smile as the sensation of Ro's caresses stirred her in a way no other's touch ever had, and, she groaned loudly as she felt the gentle rake of teeth over the sensitive skin of her nipples, tangling her fingers in the shock of the other woman's dark hair. She held Ro's head to her, pressing eagerly against the insistent lips and tongue, twitching involuntarily at the tender nibbles at her breasts.
Brief nips reddened the Klingon's olive skin, marking the trail down to the juncture of her legs that she parted readily, allowing Ro to settle between them. The first delicate contact of Ro's mouth on B'Elanna's upper nodule, a teasing flick across the sensitive nub, inspired a brief outcry, and then Ro was nuzzling along the muscle of B'Elanna's thigh, down to the inside of her knee before reversing the tantalizing journey, kissing the bottom ridge in passing, then down the other thigh.
Wanting to scream, wanting to howl at the top of her lungs, B'Elanna tried to restrain herself, aware that the deck where their new quarters were located contained far more senior staff members than had deck nine. She stuffed her fist in her mouth, biting down on it as she felt Ro settle between her legs once more, making lazy figure eights around the Klingon's dual clitori with an avid tongue. The pleasure seemed to rise in waves, each one lifting B'Elanna higher and higher with every subtle application of pressure by the Bajoran.
The engineer was decidedly not pleased when the hail came over her comm badge.
"Seven of Nine to Lt. Torres."
Surprised, Ro's head popped up from her task, looking at B'Elanna with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.
"You didn't privacy seal your communicator when you went off duty?"
B'Elanna flushed. "I forgot," she admitted sheepishly.
"Are you going to answer it?"
"I'd better," the Klingon said, a trifle apologetic. "She might become concerned when I don't answer and contact security or something."
"Seven to Torres. B'Elanna?"
B'Elanna swallowed hard. "Torres here, Seven."
"Lieutenant, I have acquired new specs for the slipstream drive. I require your assistance."
Deliberately, Ro moved her fingers, rubbing over the dual clitori and sending ripples of intense pleasure through the Klingon.
"God, I can't right now, Seven," B'Elanna gasped, stifling her groan. "I'm ... really, really busy."
There was a pause. "My apologies," Seven said with a distinct note of embarrassment in her voice. "You are copulating." The channel was abruptly cut and the two women stared at each other.
"Do I even want to guess how Seven's learned to recognize your voice in the throes of passion?"
B'Elanna blushed. "It was probably when the captain was in my body,." She hesitated as she realized what she said, breathing heavily. "Damn, that must mean they ... you know."
"On the other hand, everyone on deck nine became familiar with your voice in the throes of passion," Ro reminded her. She moved her fingers again, making the Klingon gasp even louder. "I was just teasing, Lanna. It doesn't matter. Concentrate on me and us, right now."
"I'm concentrating," B'Elanna hissed, moving her hips against the maddening touch. "I'm concentrating so hard..."
Ro laughed huskily and dipped her head, rasping her tongue lovingly over the firm little nodules once more, driving the Klingon almost insane. B'Elanna discovered that rather than diverting her passion, the interruption had actually enhanced her desire, but she didn't think she should share that particular thought with her lover. She didn't know how sensitive Ro would be if she were informed of it. B'Elanna had no romantic interest in the Borg, of course, but still, the fact that Seven was now aware that B'Elanna and Ro were, at this very minute, making love, excited her strangely.
B'Elanna quite lost track of her senses as pleasure, deep and overpowering, rushed through her in a wave, and she could do nothing but spasm and cry out as loudly as she was capable. It took a few moments before she came back to herself, before she was able to once again pay attention to her lover rather than the physical reactions the Bajoran was initiating. She reached down and pulled Ro up to her, kissing her deeply, tasting her own essence on her lover's lips without reservation.
Ro settled her weight onto the Klingon, B'Elanna's thigh coming up between her legs to press against the wetness there. B'Elanna wormed her hands between their bodies, covering the small breasts, her fingertips stroking the ridges that radiated from the nipples which were actually more sensitive than the nipples themselves. The smooth skin of her thigh skidded along the four f'lar ridges which were the Bajoran woman's center of pleasure, and Ro gasped and moaned, rocking against the Klingon strongly, as B'Elanna continued to fondle her breasts.
As her pleasure grew, Ro lifted her torso, throwing her head back, crying out as she thrust rhythmically over the engineer. B'Elanna was mesmerized by the sheer pleasure in the Bajoran's face, the wanton expression seeming to alter Ro's features. The Klingon was warmed by it, almost as if she were near the comforting heat of a flame, and she continued her caresses until, with a final, convulsive spasm, Ro climaxed, collapsing helplessly against B'Elanna who embraced her tightly.
Murmuring words that didn't necessarily need to make particular sense, B'Elanna stroked the dark hair. Ro uttered a low, husky laugh, kissing along the Klingon's throat, biting gently at the pulse point there.
"You are .... incredible," she whispered.
B'Elanna growled in pleasure. "So are you." She kissed the Bajoran deeply, but tenderly. "So what does that mean?"
"What?"
"S'kwan," B'Elanna said.
Ro purred. "It's Bajoran," she explained. "It means the same as bangwI' ... or very close, in any event."
"Oh," B'Elanna said, rather pleased. "I like it."
"I'm glad," Ro said, reaching up to kiss her deeply, her hands starting to move over the Klingon again. "Because that's what you are to me, Lanna."
"Less telling," B'Elanna requested politely. "More showing."
The Bajoran laughed again, and promptly proceeded to do so.
Janeway came home to empty quarters and realized that Seven had yet to return from her duty shift. Unfortunately, Jake was spending a few days on the outside with the Wildmans, leaving the captain without anything to concentrate on other than the thoughts she had been steadfastly ignoring for most of the day. Sighing wearily, Janeway changed out of her uniform and pulled on a t-shirt and dark trousers before returning to the living area. A glass of wine and a book accompanied her to the chair where she sat down, but her attention kept wandering away from the words she was reading. Instead, her eyes kept drifting over to the windows lining the bulkhead, looking out at the setting sun streaking the alien horizon a gentle lavender. Her face grew somber as she thought about seeing her mother earlier the day.
Gretchen had changed considerably in the six years Kathryn had been gone. Or had she changed long before that and Janeway simply hadn't noticed, caught up in her life of being a Starfleet captain accepting her first starship command? She didn't remember her mother looking so tired or that thin before ... not even when her father had died. She regretted not having found more to say. Yet, even now, there was little that she would have wanted to say to Gretchen in the presence of others.
But it could be years before the captain would get the chance to speak privately with her parent, and Janeway felt her heart ache, feeling so far away from home on this planet that didn't even have a name. Exhausted by the constant reality of a seemingly endless journey, she closed her eyes, bowing her head. She realized she would not want to change much of what had happened, of course, since she had found Seven on this quest, but at the moment, she would give almost anything to be on the front porch of that farmhouse in Indiana. She could easily imagine holding Seven's hand as they looked over the rolling hills of corn while the sky turned orange and red in a familiar Earth sunset.
The door hissed open, but Janeway didn't look around, knowing just from the presence that it was her spouse. Seven did not speak, seeming to understand immediately that Janeway was in a somewhat tenuous state at the moment. Instead, the Borg moved quietly into the bedroom where she changed, the captain listening to the familiar domestic sounds, trying hard to find serenity in them as she had so many times before. The sense of home eluded her, however, and by the time Seven had returned, dressed in a t-shirt and drawstring pants, the captain felt tears stinging her eyes and her chest was so full, it was almost beyond bearing.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered as Seven wrapped her up in a warm embrace, fitting herself into the chair with her spouse.
"You are always more emotionally fragile the day after you are most amorous." Seven gently kissed the captain's temple. "Not to mention the fact that this morning, you saw your mother alive and well and mere words away for the first time in several years. Not a letter, or a log or an image, but your mother, speaking directly to you."
Janeway swallowed hard. "I miss her, Annika," she whispered. "I miss Phoebe, I miss Earth ... I miss being home so much."
"I know, Kathryn. You always do. This morning merely brought it into focus, though you have been trying to hide it from me all day. Perhaps you were even attempting to hide it from yourself."
Janeway exhaled audibly. "Damn." She tucked her head into the warm hollow of her partner's neck and shoulder, cradled in the Borg's strong arms, allowing the embrace to comfort and protect her as she allowed herself to acknowledge her homesickness.
Seven didn't speak. She simply held her as they sat together in the chair, the illumination gradually growing dimmer as night fell upon this world where Voyager had found temporary refuge. As always, Janeway felt her partner's presence start to heal her, felt the ragged edges of her soul begin to knit themselves back together. It used to take days to achieve any kind of balance once she had lost it. Now, after more than a year of marriage, it only took hours, and with Seven right beside her, she realized she was addressing what bothered her almost immediately, rather than tucking it away and letting it fester until she plunged into a swirling morass of depression. Seven made the captain deal with things when they happened, because she had discovered that if she didn't, her Borg would keep after her persistently until she did.
She snuggled closer. "Thank you for this."
"I should not have fallen asleep at lunch. We should have addressed it then."
"No," Janeway noted honestly. "I wasn't ready to talk at lunch."
Seven considered that. "Very well," she allowed, though her tone indicated that she didn't entirely agree. She rubbed the small of Janeway's back lightly with her right hand. "Are you feeling better now, Kathryn?"
"A little." Janeway nestled her head against the young woman's shoulder, resting her hand on the upper part of Seven's chest. The warmth of the Borg's body penetrated the thin material of the t-shirt beneath her palm, along with the slow, steady throb of the young woman's heart. "Darling, it's not easy for me to let go like this."
"I know," Seven said, a hint of dry humor coloring her tone. "Of all the people on this vessel, I know."
"It's been a tough few months. Not necessarily all bad, but certainly very emotional for us."
"I agree."
"Hearing from Mom was incredibly wonderful, but in some ways, it hasn't made it any easier for me. It's actually harder on another level."
"Yet, for many years, Gretchen believed that Voyager had been lost forever, possibly destroyed, and that you were dead. Imagine if she still thought that, what it would be like if you were still out of touch with the Federation."
Janeway considered that shamefully. "I'm being selfish. There was a time when being able to hear from Starfleet would have been all that I could have ever wanted. Now that I have it, I resent not being closer to home."
"In truth, the large distance Voyager has traversed in only six years is astonishing," Seven reminded her. "The modifications the Propulsion Group has provided bring us ever closer to a true installation of the slipstream drive. Honestly, Kathryn, it is merely a matter of time."
"But sometimes that 'time' can seem like an eternity, Annika."
"Because accomplishing it is always your responsibility," Seven said sadly. She hugged her partner tighter. "I cannot lessen that burden for you, Kathryn. All I can do is lend you support whenever I can."
"It means a lot to me, darling. Don't ever think differently."
"Nonetheless, it is not always enough."
Janeway hesitated. "No," she allowed softly. "Sometimes it isn't." She raised her face, pressing her lips against the Borg's throat. "In that event, I just have to work it out myself ... and you have to give me the space to do it."
"I understand." Seven paused. "Do you need space now, Kathryn?"
Janeway sighed softly. "No. Right now, I need you to hold me as tightly as you can and not let go."
"I will not let go," Seven promised.
Janeway closed her eyes and slipped her arms around Seven's waist, hugging the slender body to her as she half turned in the chair. It was not the most comfortable piece of furniture for them to be cuddling, but the joy of being with her partner was worth far more than any minor discomfort. She felt the Borg's lips move over her brow in soft increments, the strength of Seven's love surrounding her utterly, and she forced herself to let go of her anguish at being so far from home. After all, home was where the heart was, and there was no question in her mind where her heart really belonged, or to whom.
The room was quite dark by the time Janeway felt like stirring from the cocoon of the Borg's warm embrace. She lifted her head from Seven's chest, brushing her nose along the line of the young woman's jaw.
"Annika?"
"I believed you had fallen asleep," Seven said.
"No," Janeway admitted. "Just thinking." She wiggled a little in the chair, stretching out some kinks. "Computer, raise lights to full." She blinked as the illumination came on.
"Are you hungry?" the Borg asked as she studied her partner intently.
Janeway managed a smile. "A little, but darling, food isn't always the answer when a person is unhappy."
"I am aware of that, Kathryn," Seven noted reasonably. "But you still need to consume nutrition in order to function. In your case, not wanting a meal is very much a sign that you remain unhappy."
"You're going to make me eat dinner, aren't you?"
"Kathryn, if you are already hungry, then it is illogical not to have dinner," Seven pointed out as she uncoiled from the chair, disengaging from the captain with great care. "Now, what would you prefer to eat?"
Despite herself, Janeway's lips quirked, but before she could say anything, Seven exhaled audibly in exasperation, giving every indication of rolling her eyes without actually doing it as she moved over to the kitchenette.
"I can't help it," Janeway protested mildly as the Borg glanced back at her. "I'm incorrigible."
"Yes," Seven said sternly. "You are."
Janeway regarded her fondly. "Can I help it if I find you the most enticing, attractive person in the universe? That the very sight of you is usually enough to make my breath catch, my pulse race, and my loins throb?"
"Your 'loins'?" Seven repeated with such skepticism that the captain laughed.
"Bad turn of phrase?"
"You 'throb'?" Seven persisted.
Janeway's eyes widened. "I throb," she assured her sincerely. "All the time."
Seven stared at her a moment, then shook her head. "Too many 'bodice rippers'," she determined quietly as she began to assemble a variety of ingredients for a meal.
Janeway wondered if she should be offended by that assessment yet, could not deny the accuracy of the conclusion. She also decided that the Borg wasn't going to wait for the captain to figure out what she wanted for dinner, but rather, simply intended to make a meal and Janeway was expected to eat whatever she created. It was probably a good idea. Janeway was fond of all of Seven's recipes, and whatever the Borg ended up making, chances were, the captain would probably appreciate it.
She settled back in her chair, watching her spouse work with quiet enjoyment. The sense of uncertainty and unhappiness that her thoughts had inspired throughout the day had drained away under Seven's devoted attention, and she felt as if she were once more on an even keel. Now she could take the time to enjoy the domestic bliss they had developed on this vessel, and appreciate that, while it might not be Earth, it was truly a refuge for her if only she would accept it.
"What are you making?"
Seven glanced up, smiling faintly. "Stir-fry vegetables over noodles. I think a light meal is best tonight."
Janeway considered that, returning the smile slowly as she realized why Seven might have made that decision. She suspected that perhaps she was not the only one who 'throbbed' on occasion, and part of Seven's method of seeing the captain through a difficult period usually included some long, lazy, lovemaking in the aftermath.
Tingling at the prospect, Janeway discovered that she was examining Seven with a less than objective eye, caught up in studying how her spouse moved as she worked behind the counter. For whatever reason, Seven's curves simply did not 'jiggle' when she was wearing one of her biomesh outfits, the garments so severe in their cut that the young woman's body actually had no room to flow naturally. Instead, it was constrained in almost a caricature of a perfect Human female, a fantasy sculpture in some ways, rather than the living, breathing being, with thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams, that Seven truly was. The captain supposed it was not surprising that most of the crew had a perception of aloofness and reserve when dealing with Seven on a daily basis, that they considered her cold and unfeeling in some ways. They never got to see Annika as Janeway did, here in the privacy of their home, rarely got to witness the vulnerable and caring person that lurked beneath that beautiful, but sterile demeanor the biomesh outfits displayed.
Janeway much preferred her partner in the more casual clothes she had on now, when she was Human rather than a symbol of applied Borg perfection. Not only did the hidden attributes beneath the t-shirt's thin material mesmerize the captain, but the play of elegant muscles in the bared arms and shoulders as Seven worked, the way her blonde hair framed her narrow features and cascaded down her back, her pale eyes the gentle blue of sea and sky, provided a much different vision of the young woman. Seven appeared much younger like this, her icy deportment and stern reserve removed whenever she was in her own quarters and performing these domestic tasks. The movements of her hands were precise, yet delicate, slicing the vegetables and tossing them into the wok in a graceful pattern that flowed through the air like a summer breeze. Even the Borg implants seemed less intrusive and harsh in this situation, the starburst imbedded in her arm flexing in tandem with her bicep, the silvery mesh of her hand part of who she was, and not a stark reminder of the young woman's life as a drone.
"You are staring, Kathryn," Seven noted without looking up from her food preparation.
"How can I not? You're exquisite ... the vision that artists strive to capture in their creations and never quite manage."
Seven's full lips curved in a brief smile at the compliment and she glanced up, favoring her partner with an indulgent expression. "Set the table," she instructed dryly.
Janeway laughed and pulled herself out of the chair, forced back to reality by her spouse's pointed reminder that the captain had her own domestic responsibilities and no matter how romantically poetic she got, they still needed to be accomplished. Carrying her wine to the table, Janeway left it there as she gathered up the necessary dishes, utensils and condiments they needed for their meal.
There would be plenty of time to surrender to the intoxicating lure of her partner ... after dinner.
Tuvok raised an eyebrow as he regarded the class which had been gathered together for their final examination. The lab-turned-classroom on deck two was quiet, each student caught up in his or her own individual struggle with the challenge posed to them. Not everyone who had attended the varied Voyager courses was present, of course. B'Elanna Torres, who had attended the classes only sporadically, had no need to be so formal in her application to Starfleet. The chief engineer had been accepted and had studied at the Academy itself, and her accorded provisional officer status could easily be switched to a full commission with only a limited amount of paperwork. Other people, who had simply wished to fill time with the educational opportunity provided, did not want to be in a real Starfleet uniform when the courses were over.
These particular students, either members of the Maquis or had arrived on Voyager from the Delta Quadrant, were united in wanting a life in Starfleet once they returned to the Alpha Quadrant. They had no previous formal Starfleet training at all, hosting a variety of backgrounds: from backwater colonies in what had been the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone to a trader from Talaxis to being a drone in the Borg Collective. Nor had it been easy for Voyager's instructors to come up with a proper series of courses for these students, being very careful in how they proceeded in their teaching and now, in coming up with a final, ultimate challenge to finish it off.
Tuvok, Chakotay and the Doctor were aware that they couldn't utilize the traditional Academy final examinations. At the end of four years, Starfleet Academy was more interested in finding out a cadet's ability to work in a crew setting, either in a leadership role, or just as part of a team, than they were in their intellectual attributes. They needed to know if the cadets could continue to function under fire, if their skills would hold true to the difficult life and death situations people in Starfleet faced as a part of their job. Academy exams were primarily live action scenarios that occurred in designated park areas or holodeck simulations, testing the students to the limit. Some even got to serve their final year on actual starships and space stations.
This group of students, however, had been operating for the past six years as a very real part of a completely integrated starship crew ... except for Seven, who had been doing it for three ... and any tests to determine their fitness in that capacity would be superfluous at best. Any individual incapable of operating as a fully functional member of Voyager's crew would have been weeded out long ago, either by being channeled away from any crucial duties, or even by being killed in action. These people had already been through countless life and death struggles that would have confounded the average Starfleet cadet, and at this point, they were perfectly capable of giving any such tests rather than being expected to take them.
That left only the intellectual portion of the testing phase, the dry, old-fashioned, question-and-answer exams that could be administered in the classroom. It had to be discovered how much basic knowledge they retained from their courses on Starfleet regulations, Federation law, and historical information. There were also the more esoteric problems posed to them in which they were asked to apply what they had learned in the Ethics and Philosophy classes. Those last were more subjective, much harder to answer, and correspondingly harder for the instructors to grade.
Tuvok was satisfied that the students were addressing this situation with the utmost seriousness. The Talaxian, Neelix, was actually sweating a bit as he hunched over his test padd, entering the answers with a stylus, his spotted forehead gleaming in the subdued lighting. Tabor and Ayala frowned mightily at their padds while Ensign White looked off into space in a daze as she contemplated her answers. Seven of Nine, sitting by herself in the corner, was completely composed, entering data into the padd with little hesitation or sign of internal debate, but even she had a minor furrow between her brow that indicated her intense focus on her task.
Tuvok knew that the young woman would probably pass the memorization portion of her exam perfectly. Her eidetic memory would call up the correct answers to the historical and legal questions with little effort. Her real testing challenge would come in the ethical and philosophical portion of the exam. How would Seven, only now slowly reclaiming her Humanity, apply what had been discussed in classes and her own set of value judgments to the difficult questions posed in the essay portion of the exam? More importantly, how would Tuvok, Chakotay and the Doctor evaluate her answers?
Perhaps they should have Sek sit in on the final marking procedures, Tuvok mused. The hologram's calm reason, as well as her experience in psychology as the ship's counselor, could make it easier for them to decide which students would benefit most by being offered actual Starfleet commissions. Tuvok was also conscious of the fact that they needed to show Voyager's requirements had been as stringent as they could make them so that any Starfleet board would uphold such commissions once they returned to the Federation.
Tuvok saw a shadow pass by the high windows that lined the bulkhead separating the classroom from the corridor outside. Intrigued, he stood up from the desk at the front of the room and quietly made his way out the door, his exit not disturbing the intense concentration of the students at all.
Outside, he discovered Captain Janeway unobtrusively observing the interior of the lab, her left hand resting on the lip of the sill, her eyes keen as she peered through the transparency.
"Captain?" Tuvok offered.
"How are things going?" she asked quietly.
The Vulcan, as always, considered the question carefully, determining if there was any hidden meaning behind it that only his long time experience of being this woman's friend could reveal.
"None of the students appear to be in particular difficulty. If, however, you wish me to speculate on the possible outcomes that this final exam would determine, I would rather not indulge in such at this time."
"Chakotay thinks they'll all pass with flying colors," Janeway said, her eyes resting on the form of her partner.
Tuvok followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "That is possible, but the Commander may be prematurely optimistic. Every exam was tailored specifically to confront any perceived weakness in each individual student. In Neelix's case, his exam poses large sections regarding Federation law and proper Starfleet protocol. The largest section in Lt. Ayala's exam contains questions on Federation history and its sociological repercussions upon today's civilization."
Janeway lifted her head slightly. "And Seven?"
Tuvok regarded the captain steadily. "The largest section in her exam is composed of questions surrounding the ethical, moral and philosophical areas that a Starfleet officer must deal with."
There was a slow inhalation, a slight wince from the captain. "I have to say, Tuvok, you're certainly not making this easy for them."
"Was that not your instructions, Captain?" he asked blandly. "To provide courses which would prove as correspondingly difficult as the fourth year of Starfleet Academy?"
"It was. I just ... I don't want there to be any questions about their suitability to wear the uniform after it's over ... not by Starfleet, not by anyone in this crew."
"I assure you, Captain," Tuvok said. "It is entirely possible that our tests are more stringent than the Academy's."
"When will they be finished?"
"A student may leave at any time they feel they have completed the examination," Tuvok explained. "However, they must turn in their padds by 1600 hours this afternoon."
"When will you know how they did?"
"Assuming Commander Chakotay returns when planned, we intend to have every student's evaluation complete by the end of the scheduled shore leave." He paused. "I intend to ask Sek to assist us in going over the proceedings."
"That's a good idea," Janeway said approvingly. She took a final look at her spouse, then nodded briefly at Tuvok. "Keep me informed."
"Yes, Captain," he responded obediently, looking after her as she strolled away. He wondered if Janeway was concerned about Seven's potential to pass her exam because she had a concrete reason to be, or if she were merely indulging in irrational worries about a loved one where she had no control over the final outcome.
The latter, he decided, and returned to the classroom, suspecting the next few days would be more nerve-racking for the captain than they would be for Seven.
Commander Chakotay dumped his knapsack on the floor of his quarters and peeled off his pungent and well-worn clothes as he headed for the shower. His leave had been everything he could have hoped for, providing a renewal of spirit and enthusiasm for life, inspired not only by the chance to interact with nature again, but by his newfound connection with Icheb. By now he considered the boy to truly be his son in spirit, if not in fact, and he looked forward to discovering a future that held a definite purpose.
He glanced at his face in the mirror over the sink, grinning at the beard that feathered over his jaw after two weeks of no daily suppressant. He stroked it thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger, wondering if he should maintain it, and then decided it was too scraggly to look particularly attractive. He took the suppressant into the shower with him, utilizing it to remove the growth, before scrubbing away the grime of being out in the bush for two weeks. Dips in the cold river had simply not achieved the same effect as hot water supplemented by a sonic burst or two.
Clad in his uniform, he took a last check in the mirror to make sure he once more looked like a presentable representation of Voyager's first officer, then left his quarters. The captain looked at him in vague surprise as he entered the bridge.
"I thought you wouldn't be back for a few more days."
"I decided I needed to get a jump on the student evaluations waiting for me." He shot a quick glance over at Ensign D'Vor who was covering the tactical station. It was rare that such a low-ranking security officer would have the opportunity to serve on the bridge, and it was a good idea to give him some experience when they could. Impressed that the captain had made the effort without prompting from him, Chakotay had to remind himself that Janeway too, had served as a first officer a few times.
She rose from her chair, motioning him to the ready room. He followed her in, smiling briefly as D'Vor smoothly descended to the command level, as if this had become common place for him during the past two weeks.
"Did you enjoy your leave?" she asked curiously as she moved to the upper level and turned around.
Chakotay accepted the cup of tea she offered, sipping it as he took a seat in the chair. "It was all I could have asked for. I'd forgotten how much I missed the forest. Space will probably always be my first love, but I need to get back to basics every so often. A holodeck just doesn't accomplish the same thing, and this planet's version of the salmon Icheb and I were hauling out of that river would just about knock you over."
"It sounds wonderful," she agreed, studying him closely as she drank her coffee. She smiled as she realized he had noticed her scrutiny. "I will say, you're looking a great deal better."
"I feel better. It had gotten a little ... heavy there for a while."
"Yes, it has a way of doing that. It creeps up until you're barely able to stand, and you wonder why it took so long to notice the weight."
"Anyway," he said, introducing the subject carefully, "I'm back now, and there's still five days left of shore leave." He paused. "Why don't you and Seven take advantage? I can give you the exact coordinates of the place where Icheb and I stayed. It's hundreds of kilometers away from anyone else, and while you'd require equipment to spend some days in the bush, the campsite is already cleared and secure." He suspected it would be a tough sell, well aware of Janeway's lack of enthusiasm when it came to dealing with the untamed wilderness, or even in giving up her command when it wasn't absolutely necessary.
There was a silence as Janeway finished her coffee, tipping it up to drain the last drops. He was surprised when she raised an elegant finger.
"You think I'm going to argue with you about this, don't you?"
Startled, he looked at her. "Uh, yes, I suppose I do. I have my arguments all marshaled."
She flashed him a smile. "Well, save them for when you really need them," she said as she moved over to the replicator and materialized a sheet of paper and a thick tipped pen. She scratched some words on the paper and Chakotay started to grin as he read them. "I've always wanted to do this," she added as she carried the paper, along with some fastening compound to the lower level.
Shaking his head in a mixture of astonishment and amusement, he followed her out of the ready room and watched as she tacked the paper to the outside of the door. Then she shot a look at him that was impish and entirely unlike any expression he had ever seen from her before.
"I'm off to find Seven. The ship is yours, Commander."
"Enjoy yourself." He watched as she strolled briskly for the turbolift. She offered a wave of her hand in farewell and then the doors closed, shutting her off from view. Chakotay found his gaze intersected with Ensign D'Vor, the young man looking quite confused.
"Question, Ensign?" he invited.
"What does that mean?" the security officer asked, gesturing at the paper on the door.
Chakotay felt a chuckle rumble up from his chest.
"An age-old tradition," he said. "I'm just glad the captain is indulging in it."
He saw that didn't really answer the young man's question but then, some things didn't really require explanation. You either understood, or you didn't. He moved over to the lower command level and took a seat in the command chair, prepared to finish out the rest of the alpha shift.
But every so often, his eyes would stray over to the sign displayed proudly on the door to the captain's ready room and he would chuckle again at the words stroked in big letters over the page:
GONE FISHING!
Seven of Nine felt the rough bark of the log against the small of her back, shadows dancing around her from the small fire that crackled cheerfully in its circle of rocks. Above, she could hear the whisper of the night wind caress the tree tops silhouetted against a sky full of stars, their light shining down with the distorted twinkle a planetary atmosphere provided. The air was cool but pleasant, heavy with the scent of ferns and moss and growing things while nearby, the creek offered a soothing rush of water over pebbles.
Snuggled against the Borg's side, her head nestled on her shoulder, Janeway watched the flickering flames with half-closed eyes, looking for all the world like a satisfied cat. Of course, considering the size of the fish the two women had consumed for dinner, anyone would have an expression of repletion on their face. Seven smiled and tightened her arms around her spouse's body, feeling content, and much happier than she had in quite some time.
"I am glad we were able to avail ourselves of some leave," she said softly, hesitant about disturbing the peacefulness.
Janeway's chuckle was a husky trill that rasped pleasantly in Seven's ears. "I am, too, love. It's just what we needed."
Seven nuzzled the warm auburn hair. "I know you are not particularly fond of 'roughing it', Kathryn. Thank you for doing this."
"Well, I won't say that a luxurious seaside resort on Rissa isn't more to my taste," the captain said dryly, "but I've enjoyed myself. It's good to get away from everything for a few days ... even if I have to pee in the damn woods."
Seven made a soft sound of amusement, not quite a laugh, and kissed the captain's temple. "This reminds me of the world we were stranded on when the initial slipstream test flight failed."
"It is a lot like Safe Haven, isn't it? Parallel evolution. No matter how far we explore, the odd worlds aren't as different as the similar worlds are the same."
"If you believe in the Preserver theory of 'seeding' the planets in the universe, that would be expected," Seven noted. "Perhaps it was more than placing the genetic mapping of intelligent lifeforms on worlds. It is possible that they also directed the evolution of vegetation as well."
Janeway poked the Borg's stomach through her sweater. "We promised, no scientific discussion this weekend. No ship's business, no crew gossip, nothing that would remind us that we have to return to Voyager tomorrow evening for the end-of-leave blowout."
Seven looked apologetic. "I forgot."
"So much for an eidetic memory," Janeway teased.
Seven nipped the captain's earlobe, making her twitch, and resumed her gaze at the fire, smiling as Janeway settled closer to her. "Of course, that has left us only fishing, food and your complaints about the outdoors to discuss."
"And lovemaking," Janeway pointed out.
"Ah, that is more a matter of participation than discussion."
Janeway tipped her head back, nibbling along the line of the Borg's jaw. "Speaking of participation..." she offered invitingly.
Seven smiled. "Are you ready for bed, Kathryn?"
"If my choice is being eaten by mosquitoes or being eaten by you, I know which one I choose."
"Kathryn!"
Janeway laughed and rolled out of her partner's arms. Seven quirked an eyebrow as she watched her make her way to their habitat, and then took the time to bank the fire for the night before following her. In the insulated dome, the captain had activated a small lamp and was busily peeling off her clothes. Seven secured the flap behind her and watched appreciatively as the compact body of her partner was gradually revealed to her. The flash of Janeway's eyes cast her way let Seven know her spouse was well aware of her scrutiny, and the Borg smiled faintly as the smaller woman became more exaggerated in her motion of removing the last of her garments.
"What are you waiting for?" Janeway asked, once she was snug between the padded blankets that had been thrown over the expandable mattress.
Belatedly, Seven removed her own outfit, putting the boots, trousers, sweater and vest neatly aside. Her away mission outfit was well suited for this form of recreation, and Janeway had followed her lead when they had prepared to beam to the location several hundred kilometers from the valley where Voyager had landed.
"Will we go canoeing tomorrow morning?" she asked as she crawled under the blankets next to her spouse. "You promised we would try it once before we leave."
The captain looked surprised that she had forgotten and took a moment to consider it carefully. "Actually, that's a good idea. We can pack up everything else and beam it back to the ship. Then, we can take the canoe downstream until we get tired and then beam it, and us, from wherever that happens to be."
Seven wrapped her arms around Janeway and kissed her neck. "It will be enjoyable," she muttered, her hands starting to trace familiar patterns over her spouse.
"The canoe trip? Or what we're about to do now?"
"Both." Seven reached over and deactivated the lamp, and settled blissfully against her spouse. The sensation of warm curves and smooth flesh pressing against her felt unbelievably good, and she wallowed in it, finding her spouse's lips in the night and kissing her deeply. There was something to be said for what fresh air did for one's appetites, and she was more than eager to indulge this one.
Janeway moaned happily into Seven's mouth, slipping her arms around her neck as she kissed her back avidly. Her fingers tangled in the Borg's long, blonde hair, holding her head close, and Seven thought that this must be sheer perfection, this moment in time when everything in her universe narrowed to focus on this single woman in her arms.
She moved so that she was covering the smaller woman more, trying to put as much of her body in contact with Janeway's as possible. She gasped as the captain bent her knee, bringing up her thigh between Seven's legs to press sweetly against the juncture. The Borg undulated slightly, dragging her sensitive nub over the smooth skin and increasing her arousal, moaning softly as the cloying pleasure rippled through her. Janeway tightened her embrace, her hands moving restlessly over Seven's back, stroking her spine down to her buttocks before moving over her hips and back up her ribs.
"Have I mentioned lately that I love you?" the captain murmured.
"Every day, but I shall never tire of hearing it."
"Good," Janeway whispered, and made a small sound of pleasure as Seven dipped her head to trace a line with her tongue, beginning at the captain's throat and down the plane of her chest. Burying her face in the warm valley between her partner's breasts, the Borg paused for a moment, simply delighting in being with her partner, of feeling loved and cherished and desired.
"You're not going to sleep on me, are you?" Janeway asked, with the faintest trace of alarm in her voice.
"That only happened once," Seven protested mildly, smiling as she raised her head to peer up at her partner in the darkness. A silvery illumination from the full moon above drifted lightly through the transparency at the top of the habitat and brushed the captain's face with a delicate touch. Seven's tone deepened. "In any event, I have much to do before I sleep this night."
"Yes, you do," Janeway agreed, relief evident in her eyes. She frowned as Seven continued to gaze at her, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of her beloved in the moonlight. "What?"
"You are incredibly beautiful," Seven told her gravely.
The captain's face darkened but she looked pleased, as well. "In your eyes, maybe," she said dismissively, before her gaze softened. "But then, that's the only place I need to be beautiful."
Seven eased up until she was above her again, looking down into the shadowy features. "My Kathryn," the Borg murmured, then kissed her deeply, lingering over her lips, inhaling the very breath from Janeway's lungs. "My beloved Kathryn."
Janeway made a soft gasp of agreement. "Yours."
Seven smiled and kissed her again, then again, drinking in her essence, the flavor of her partner's soul. It renewed and exhilarated her, left her weak from the intense emotion of it. She groaned as they rolled over, Janeway's lighter frame covering possessively, her weight a comfortable presence in the night as they made love with slow, aching joy.
"Kathryn," she whispered. "Oh, Kathryn."
"Annika," Janeway responded in kind. "My love, my heart, the unquestionable joy of my life."
Seven took note that her partner had curbed considerably her habit of profanity during intimacy. Instead, her comments had become quite lyrical, almost poetic and although the Borg knew that most of the content and style were undoubtedly springing from the 'romance' novels the captain read, she considered it a definite improvement ... particularly over the more vulgar of Janeway's past comments. It also made her realize how hard the captain attempted to make changes whenever Seven indicated she was dissatisfied with a particular trait or habit, just as the Borg had changed her own life considerably to accommodate her spouse.
An ongoing process, Seven decided. Eventually, there might even come a time when they were both exactly where they should be for a perfect union. On the other hand, that could be excruciatingly boring, so she made a note to develop new annoying traits if Janeway ever succeeded in convincing her to change all her old ones.
She cried out as Janeway found all those wonderfully sensitive spots that provided such deep and intense pleasure, even as her own hands stroked and touched and played the smaller woman like a fine instrument. It was rare when it occurred, but on this night, they were able to achieve their peak simultaneously, both pressing hotly into one another, both shivering and seeking hold of each other at the same time. For long moments afterward, they lay in each other's arms, trying to catch their respective breaths, their hearts pounding in synchronous rhythm. The wind whispered around the curve of the habitat and the silence of the forest was like a balm of peace on their souls.
"Mmm, darling," Janeway murmured finally, nestled in the young woman's arms. "That was amazing. Thank god for R&R."
Seven stroked the auburn hair lightly, her cheek resting warmly against the smooth forehead. "Do you believe in a deity, Kathryn? You thank Her often. Or is it merely used for effect?"
Janeway seemed stymied for a moment. "I ... never really thought about it, so I guess I'd have to say it's used for effect."
"Ah," Seven said. She paused, thinking about it. "Regardless, do you believe in a higher power? An ultimate creator?"
Janeway snuggled closer. "I must say, darling, you pick the oddest times for a theological discussion," she said, patting Seven on the belly. "I guess I'd have to answer 'yes'. But if you want me to be more specific, that would take quite a while, and I honestly have to say that now is not the time I would prefer to talk about it."
"Because we're naked?" Seven guessed. Janeway only became very logical like this when the topic and making love were somewhat at odds with each other.
Janeway chuckled. "Something like that, but mainly because any such conversation would benefit by having research material on hand. I don't think you'd be satisfied by the discussion otherwise. A lot of it deals with intangibles rather than scientific certainties."
"Very well," Seven said, satisfied with that.
"I do have one question. Why did you refer to a deity as 'Her'?"
Seven blinked. "Why would I not?"
Janeway hesitated, then nodded. "Why not indeed. Good point."
Seven, unaware that she had been making one, settled back against the mattress. Obviously her innocent question had far-reaching repercussions, and she made a mental note to bring it up again when they were less tired.
And less naked.
"Are you nervous about passing your Starfleet courses?" Janeway asked, changing the subject.
Seven shook her head. "In truth, I had not thought about it since we began our leave." She tightened her embrace. "Should I be?"
Janeway chuckled ruefully. "I suppose not. But I know I was a mess after taking my finals at the Academy."
Seven considered it. "I see no reason to be concerned. Either my answers will be correct whereupon I shall be commissioned, or they will prove that I am unsuitable for Starfleet, in which case, nothing shall change."
"Sometimes, darling, you're too pragmatic, even for me," Janeway said dryly.
Seven smiled. "But that is why you love me."
"One of the many, many reasons," Janeway responded, reaching up to kiss her gently. She settled back against her partner, yawning. "It's been a long day, love."
"I am weary as well," Seven noted. "We hiked a long way find the superior fishing spot that the Commander told us about." She paused and brushed her lips over the top of the captain's head. "Not to mention all our other activities."
"You like making love outdoors, don't you?" Janeway responded drowsily.
"I do," Seven remarked. Her mind drifted back to earlier that day when the couple had broke from their fishing for lunch, and ended up pleasuring each other on the grassy bank of the stream. "The water was very cold, however."
Janeway smiled sleepily. "Next time, we'll be more careful about where we roll over," she said. "At least, we didn't get our clothes wet." She sighed. "It's been a good leave, but we need to get a little sleep, darling, if you want to go canoeing tomorrow."
Seven nuzzled her. "Was I keeping you awake, Kathryn?"
"Only in the best possible way, Annika." Janeway sighed and tucked her head under her partner's chin, her breathing slowing as she surrendered to her weariness.
Holding her close, Seven smiled faintly and looked up through the transparency to the stars above. They beckoned, reminding her that many adventures lay ahead before she and her spouse would have another opportunity for leave.
In the meantime, however, she was content that this R&R was one that would stay with her forever.
Epilogue
The tall blonde regarded her reflection in the mirror over the sink counter, seemingly bemused by the way the black uniform with the blue band fell over her slender shoulders. Standing in the doorway of the ensuite, leaning against the frame, Janeway watched as, for the first time, Seven of Nine prepared for duty as a Starfleet lieutenant. The two pips, one gold and one black, glinted in the subdued light, and there was a vague frown on the Borg's face as she shifted uncomfortably.
Janeway was extremely conscious of how far both women had come from the incident in the brig where a bald and pale drone had glared so balefully at the captain, demanding she be immediately returned to the Collective. Who could have known that years later, they would end up here, at this moment, their lived entwined so inexorably that nothing could come between them? She sighed softly and tilted her head, regarding her partner with pleasure and not a little pride. The uniform lent Seven a dignity and authority that the captain decided the biomesh garment simply didn't ... though in her most secret of thoughts, Janeway did have to admit that she would miss the way Seven looked in those outfits whenever she walked away.
"It is inefficient," Seven noted doubtfully, looking it up and down. "My away mission uniform is more practical in certain situations. Meanwhile, my biomesh outfit is more functional while on board a ship, maintaining an even body temperature and allowing for complete freedom of movement, not to mention being more aesthetically pleasing. This is ... bland."
"No, it isn't," Janeway allowed dryly. "Particularly on you. Besides, what it says is far more important than how it looks."
"What does it say, Kathryn?"
"That you are a member of something far greater than yourself, that your life can now find avenues to affect people and places for years afterward. You're part of an organization whose ideals and goals are held up as the highest in our civilization."
"Ah, like the Collective." Seven cast a glance Janeway's way and the captain realized that she had become just the trifle bit pompous in her speech. Seven's simple words deflated it with one deft needle that only came from being married a year or so.
"No, not like the Collective," Janeway said firmly. Seven smiled at her, and despite herself, the captain returned it. "What I mean, is that you look damned good in it and I look forward to taking it off of you this evening."
"Kathryn, I just put it on. Isn't it a bit early to consider taking it off?"
Janeway stared at her partner. "You're absolutely not going to let me win any this morning at all, are you?"
"Kathryn, I am now a Starfleet lieutenant. I love and live and act as the Human I was born to be. I would say that you have already won the most important thing long ago."
Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "Which is?"
Seven glanced at her again. "My heart," she said simply, as if it should have been obvious. In retrospect, Janeway suspected that it should have been.
"Come here."
"Is that an order?"
"Yes," the captain told her huskily. "Come here, Lt. Seven."
Seven hesitated, almost as if she was trying to determine if she liked this new status quo or not, and then smiled ruefully as she obeyed, closing the distance between them so that she could wrap her arms around the captain. Janeway discovered that she did not have to order her to kiss her, which was good ... the captain appreciated initiative in the lower ranks.
"I am terribly proud of you," Janeway murmured once their lips had parted. "Chakotay tells me you aced your exam."
"I had you as my tutor," Seven reminded her. "Where else would I learn the ethics and morality governing a Starfleet officer?" She paused. "Even when you don't necessarily follow that code of conduct to the letter, yourself."
"Seven, it's not a good idea to point that out to a captain."
"I will remember that," Seven replied and kissed her again.
Leaving Janeway to consider that even if Seven was ready for Starfleet, it didn't necessarily mean that Starfleet was ready for her.
The End