Janeway glanced at Nechayev as they stepped through the air lock onto the docking facility bracketing the starship under construction. The admiral had taken a course that seemed deliberately to avoid a clear view of the dock's interior, and Janeway wondered why Nechayev felt the need to keep the vessel hidden for as long as possible. Then, the admiral drew her over to the viewport that looked out onto the site, and Janeway had her first good look at the ship being offered her. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the gleaming, magnificent lines of the Frontier-class Millennium, and for a few seconds, her heart spasmed pleasantly in her chest.

She didn't know how long she stood in contemplation of the new ship before the admiral finally broke the silence. Nechayev's voice was quiet, almost reverent.

“There's nothing like knowing a vessel is waiting for you, one that no one else has ever commanded, one that will be yours and yours alone for as long as you want it. There is no greater aspiration than to have starship and a star to guide it.”

Startled, Janeway glanced at her, then smiled. “You possess an unexpected flair for the dramatic, Admiral. That's quite poetic.”

Nechayev offered a thin smile. “Don't let it get around.” She nodded at the ship. “That's what they don't quite understand, Kathryn. Hayes and Paris—they don't know how commanding one is worth more than all the pips and rank they can offer you. If I had to do it over again...” Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, there was a sadness so profound in the dark eyes that Janeway could hardly bear it.

Janeway looked away uncertainly, uncomfortable to see a side of the admiral that she wouldn't have expected, or perhaps she was uncomfortable at how easily she recognized it, having seen the same form of aching loss in her counterpart in another universe. Seven would be the first to point out how cranky Janeway got when things didn't go her way. She suspected that if she had accepted a promotion unwisely, she would be just as short-tempered and antagonistic as Nechayev. In fact, Janeway was sure Seven would claim she had the potential to be far worse.

She returned her gaze at the ship. “It's primarily deep space exploration?”

“We're anticipating five-to-ten-year tours to various quadrants,” Nechayev allowed. “Assuming Dr. Brahms can provide the necessary transition drive, of course. The missions will be primarily scientific and diplomatic in nature, but obviously, we have no idea what's out there. Voyager's logs were proof of the risk, and we need ships and crews who are ready for anything they might find, led by a captain who knows when to turn the other cheek, and when to show the iron fist. The weapons and shields will be the best our current technology has to offer, but the ship will also be designed for families, allowing a more comfortable living arrangement for people away for so long.”

“I have to admit that aspect interests me,” Janeway allowed. “Seven and I have decided to start a family in this next year, once things are settled a bit.”

Nechayev looked surprised at that, and not particularly pleased. “Are you sure you really want this command?”

Janeway was careful not to let her amusement show. “I learned on Voyager that it was quite possible to have both, and in fact, being secure personally made me a far better captain.” She paused. “You wondered what changed me, Admiral? You have only to look at my personal life.”

“Lt. Hansen,” Nechayev said flatly.

“She prefers Seven of Nine,” Janeway corrected gently. “She rarely uses her Human designation, particularly on duty.”

“That doesn't bother you?” Nechayev demanded, glaring at her.

Janeway paused. “Do you think it indicates a lack of loyalty?”

“She is Borg,” Nechayev said coldly. “She's said it herself. I need to know what that means.”

Janeway started to respond, paused, then smiled faintly. “Then perhaps you had better ask her. I assure you, however, it does not mean she is 'less Human'. Indeed, in some ways, she is the most 'Human' person I have ever met.”

Nechayev looked troubled, but rather than continue the argument, she seemed willing to leave the conversation there. Janeway smiled, quite agreeable to give the admiral a chance to mull over her words. She knew she wouldn't be able to change Nechayev's mind overnight. It would take time and patience. She gestured at the ship.

“What exactly would my duties as shipyard commander entail?” she asked, dragging the conversation back on topic. “This can't be the only vessel being built.”

“Actually, it is. We barely have enough personnel to crew the ships we have. The rest of the docks are filled with damaged and unfinished ships being brought up to full operating status.”

“Including Voyager.”

“Including Voyager. Would you like to look at her, meet the team working on her?”

Janeway nodded. “Yes.”

She took a last look at the Millennium, a jewel sparkling in the dark of space before following the admiral to a nearby travel pod. Obviously, the admiral intended them to return here for the shuttle they had used to travel from Earth.

Voyager was being kept in one of the smaller docking facilities, floating on the perimeter of the orbital territory Utopia Planitia used for their shipyards, almost as if the ship was being shoved into a forgotten corner of a closet. Janeway didn't like that, and she liked it even less when she met the engineer in charge of the ship's overhaul. Commander McCord was a thin blond man who possessed an abruptness that aggravated the starship captain. Like Seven and Nechayev, he was arrogant, but unlike the two women, he lacked the sheer brilliance of Seven or the seniority of Nechayev's earned rank to back it up.

“Unfortunately, our progress has been slowed by the Borg enhancements that were added to the ship the seven years it was gone,” he told her when she wanted to know why no systems analysis had been made about how they would proceed. “We have to work our way through that before we offer a detailed schedule for the refit.”

Janeway pinned him with a look. “Then why did you refuse a request by B'Elanna Torres to join your team?” She had been surprised and outraged when Nechayev told her about that refusal on the trip from Earth. “She's far more familiar with the technology than any of the officers currently comprising your core of engineers.”

He looked surprised that she had such information, and very uncomfortable. “I have a full complement,” he said, somewhat sullenly. “I couldn't replace any of them.”

“It is not an efficient complement if keeping them means losing necessary skills and information.”

He took a breath, obviously angry, and shot a look at Nechayev. “Am I being ordered to replace one of my team members with Torres.”

Nechayev didn't flicker. “Starfleet Command is not in the habit of interfering with how the commander of this base organizes her personnel.” She glanced at the other woman. “It will be Captain Janeway's call as to how Voyager is overhauled, assuming she decides to accept the post.”

Janeway had not softened her glare at McCord. “You'll be the first to know if I require you to alter your roster,” she told the man. She flicked a glance at Nechayev. “In the meantime, I'd like to take a tour of the ship. Everything happened so quickly during our return that I didn't get a chance to really say good-bye to her.”

“I'm sure that can be arranged,” Nechayev agreed, comprehension rather than censure in her eyes at Janeway's admission of sentimentality.

“But—” McCord began, and then subsided when both women immediately looked at him in a mix of amazement and annoyance. “There's a lot of open panels and reconstruction,” he finished weakly.

“I know my way around,” Janeway said, with some asperity.

Nechayev nodded and glanced at her padd. “I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany you. I need to check some things out with Commander Krause and the Millennium team. When you're done, use one of the other travel pods to return to the main dock.”

“I'll meet you there,” Janeway promised, and started down the umbilical leading to the fore docking port of Voyager's saucer section, leaving McCord to stare after her in what appeared to be baffled frustration. She dismissed it as irrelevant. Surely, he had to be aware that she would be taking a close, personal interest in how her old ship was cared for, even if she didn't accept Nechayev's offer to command the base.

Her first stop was Voyager's bridge, and to her surprise, it seemed relatively intact and quite empty. She decided that initial operations were being concentrated someplace else, such as the engine room, though normally, the bridge was the first area tackled by the refit squads.

She was grateful for that alteration in procedure. It gave her some needed solitude and privacy to sit down in her command chair one last time, gazing around the bridge where she had spent most of the last seven years. Though the fore viewscreen was blank, the stations all dark and deactivated, for a moment, a wave of memories swept over her and she could almost hear the alpha shift working in the background. She blinked rapidly to prevent the tears welling in her eyes from spilling over, and quickly got up from the chair. Taking a long, last look around, she smiled at her nostalgia and finally turned away to descend the short flight of stairs leading to her ready room. The door had to be opened manually, but the override functioned smoothly and she stepped through.

She faltered as she saw what had happened to her private sanctum, the sight providing a most unpleasant jolt. The room had been completely gutted, the work console and desk removed entirely, while several openings in the bulkhead showed where any interior spaces had been excavated, though why, she had no idea. Particularly since the bridge hadn't really been touched.

Confused, she left her ready room and crossed the bridge, using the access ladders to descend to deck three. She found even more disarray in the quarters where she and Seven had lived. The kitchenette counter was completely torn apart and the furniture had all been overturned, what little had not been totally disassembled. This made no sense at all. Crew quarters should have been the absolute last thing for the teams to be refitting. This didn't exactly look like a refit, either. It looked like someone had been searching for something.

Frowning, she ran a check on where the team was located on the ship, using a tricorder she had carried with her from Starfleet Command, since computer access was usually disrupted during refit. Her disturbance increased when she discovered the entire refit team was split between astrometrics and the small room in cargo bay two, while not one lifesign registered in the more logical areas for refit, such as engineering. Her first inclination was to immediately storm down and demand to know what the hell they thought they were doing, but a cooler, more cautious part of herself held her back.

She took a slow breath as she stood amid the shambles of what had been her home, trying to find some reasonable explanation for it, suddenly very conscious of being on Voyager without trusted backup of any kind. That was a sensation she hadn't experienced in over seven years, and it was not pleasant. Considering it for a few moments, she decided that it might be prudent for her to get off the starship and return to the main docking area. There, she could contact B'Elanna or Ro, and have them meet her before coming back to Voyager to check things out. Possibly, she should even contact Seven, aware that Seven would be able to figure out exactly what was going on just by looking at what work had been done on her alcoves.

Janeway made her way back to the umbilical, grateful not to see another soul on her journey, becoming spooked by the dimly illuminated corridors. By the time she passed through the fore docking port, she was jumping at shadows and moving as if she were in enemy territory. When things continued to remain peaceful, however, she began to relax, a little disgusted at herself. She even managed to dismiss most of her uncertainties as she activated the small travel pod and programmed it to take her back to the main docking facility where the Millennium was being built. After all, she reasoned, it was entirely possible that McCord had a perfectly logical explanation for concentrating the initial refit on the areas he had. Indeed, he had seemed quite concerned about Seven additions to the systems, so it made sense he would start with the source, where Seven had lived and worked, determining what enhancements she might have made personally as opposed to what the Collective had done during the Scorpion Incident listed in the logs.

That doesn't explain why they ripped apart your ready room or your quarters, her little voice reminded her sharply. Don't dismiss this, Katie. Something very weird is going on here, regardless that 'weird' is part of the job description.

She was so busy with her internal debate that she didn't immediately notice the pod drifting off course. When it finally did come to her attention, she assumed that she had input incorrect coordinates while in her distracted state. But initiating the navigational system didn't seem to correct the drift, and attempting to override with manual controls didn't work either. Frowning, she began to run a diagnostic, trying to determine what the problem was. These pods were simple, utilizing only thrusters and a small life support system, so it was unlikely that there was much she couldn't repair. At worst, she would simply call for a pickup by one of the shuttles patrolling the shipyards.

Except there was no response on her comm badge, and she was appalled to discover that the communication system on the travel pod had been completely dismantled, offering only an empty shell when she opened the panel to check it. Suddenly, this was going from a minor problem to a major one, especially when she realized the thrusters were propelling her on a trajectory that would impact on the underside of the Millennium. Demands to the onboard computer to release the helm were completely ignored as the thrusters continued to burn at full throttle, leaving her unable to slow the travel pod down. Then, because apparently someone thought the current mess she was in might not be enough, she heard the sudden hiss of escaping atmosphere, indicating a hull breach of some sort.

A chill shivered through her and she began an immediate search with her tricorder, discovering a pinhole in the bulkhead that had been covered with some type of faulty patch, utilizing a material that froze and flaked away in the unforgiving vacuum of space, decidedly non-regulation hull work. A swift check of the compartments at the rear of the pod revealed no repair kits, which did not surprise her at this point, and her initial concern and fear were gradually being replaced by a simmering fury. It was obvious this was not simply a case of a malfunctioning pod, but rather a deliberate attempt by someone to cause her harm.

Harm? Her little voice was outraged. Someone's trying to kill us Katie! Do something!

She took off one of her pips and jammed it against the pinhole, temporarily preventing any further loss of her precious oxygen, and quickly checked to see what she had in the way of tools. In addition to the tricorder, she had a tiny phaser concealed in the heel of her boot. It was completely non-protocol, but since being captured by the Barellan, who had incarcerated her in their brutal prison, Janeway had developed the habit of carrying additional unauthorized equipment on her person always. She was grateful that she hadn't lost the habit, even after returning to the Alpha Quadrant. She set the phaser to a fine, intensely hot beam and used it to melt the pip into a solid duranium patch over the tiny breach, preventing it from becoming any larger, and preserving her remaining life support.

Once that was taken care of, she turned to the next problem: the fact that she was on a collision course with the underside of the starship looming before her. A check of the proximity sensors revealed that she still had a little time before she ended up plastered against the impervious hull like a bug on a hovercraft windshield, but whatever she did, she would have to do it within the next few minutes if she wanted to save herself.

The navigational system had completely frozen under the diagnostic, refusing any further commands, and the panel to access the interior circuitry had been sloppily welded shut. Furious, she used the phaser to cut her way into the helm and began cross-linking conduits until she had gained a rough control over the thrusters. She shut off the starboard activation, leaving only the port thrusters to angle her down and away from the Millennium. She held her breath as she drifted so close to the massive vessel that she could have sworn she scraped paint off the hull, but then she was moving beyond it and was clear, drifting free into empty space before the thrusters immediately sputtered and died, obviously out of fuel, representing the final deliberate malfunction.

Relief flooded her as she slumped against the bulkhead, then slid down it to the deck, where she leaned against the base of the control panel. There wasn't much else she could do now but conserve her energy and wait for someone to notice the wayward pod. She attributed the fact that she was shaking uncontrollably to the cold, and she hugged her knees, wishing with all her heart that a certain, statuesque blonde was holding her instead.

A few hours later, a shuttle pilot noticed the drifting pod, and receiving no response to his hail, brought it on board, shocked to discover a very cold and very furious starship captain inside. He immediately transported Janeway back to the main docking facility where Admiral Nechayev alternately went pale and a deep, furious red as Janeway gave her report. She put in an immediate call for security to pick up McCord and secure Voyager.

Somehow, Janeway was not entirely surprised to find that the Commander was gone and no trace of him could be found anywhere in Utopia Planitia.

 

Seven silently seethed as she and Ro crossed the expanse of lawns and paved paths that led to Starfleet Academy. It annoyed her tremendously that Janeway apparently did not think she could handle these visits on her own, and the way she arranged it with Ro, as if Seven were a child, infuriated her beyond measure. What was more bothersome was that it came after Janeway's own words earlier in the morning about how important it was for Seven to be independent and take this upcoming trip with Phoebe.

In truth, Kathryn had been acting in odd and contradictory ways since returning to the Alpha Quadrant. One moment it was as if Janeway could not be close enough to Seven, needing to know her every move, openly affectionate in public, and the next, it was as if Kathryn was attempting to push her away, encouraging Seven to contemplate trips and experiences that didn't include Janeway at all. It was very confusing and not a little aggravating, although so far, Seven was attributing it to Janeway’s tempestuous adjustment to being back in the Federation. It was a situation less than two weeks old, but had already included, on a professional level, Janeway losing her ship and most of her crew, and on a personal level, confronting her family about old wounds, as well as dealing with new realities that had shocked her profoundly. Perhaps it was understandable Janeway was taking longer to resume her normal self than Seven would have liked. Or worse, that Janeway was reverting somewhat to the person she had been at the beginning of their romantic involvement.

Seven wished Sek were still available to her. Seven needed to talk about these things, and unfortunately, she had not found anyone who could really replace the holographic ship's counselor, not even Kes, who had merged with Sek. Particularly Kes, Seven decided, since she did not trust the Ocampa, at all. B'Elanna and Ro remained somewhat available to her, of course, but it wasn't the same, especially once the other couple had acquired their own house an entire planet away. Though Seven continued to interact with Ro as Janeway's adjunct, she didn't have the same relationship with Ro as she did with B'Elanna, and she realized that she hadn't seen B’Elanna for five days, not since the housewarming party on Mars. It was decidedly different from how it had been on Voyager when everyone was simply a hail away, or easily connected to during meals in the messhall.

She supposed she could try to speak with Gretchen and Phoebe about her feelings. It had also been five days since she had seen either of them, though she had spoken with them a few times over the comm system, but communicators didn't offer the same sort of intimacy that Seven required to deal with this situation. Of course, if she were really looking for an intimate confidante, she should probably be speaking to the source itself, and try to ascertain what Janeway was really feeling and why.

As Seven considered all this, she tried not to show her irritation with her to Ro Laren. After all, it was hardly Ro's fault that she had been assigned the duty of shepherding Seven around, nor was Seven entirely adverse to having Ro there. Seven liked the woman and enjoyed her company, appreciating Ro's poise and constrained deadliness, as well as being grateful that Ro had brought such happiness into B'Elanna's life.

But that didn't mean that Janeway should have assigned Ro to 'babysit'. It was insulting, and Seven resolved to have a stern talk with her as soon as she saw her again. In the meantime, it behooved her to put her pique aside and concentrate on this visit to the Academy, a place that she had only heard about and never seen, even though she wore the uniform of a junior lieutenant.

The lobby of the main administration building was manned by an elderly officer who looked as if he had retired several years earlier. He squinted at the two women, then checked the padd on his desk.

“Seven of Nine? What the hell kind of name is that?”

Seven and Ro exchanged glances, then looked back at him.

“Perhaps it is under Lt. Hansen?” Seven suggested, maintaining her patience.

He frowned at her, then looked back at the padd. “Yes, here it is. Admiral Hayes arranged this tour. Why didn't you say that in the first place?”

Seven took a slow breath, and accepted the padd he handed to her. “Thank you,” she said politely, if a touch icily. It would not do to pick him up and shake him by the ankles, although it might improve his attitude. She wondered why such a person had been placed in the position of dealing with the public on a full-time basis.

“I'll alert Cadet Tarn that you've arrived,” he said and gestured toward a waiting area. “Please have a seat.”

Seven glanced at the padd she had been handed as she and Ro obediently made their way over to the sofa covered in Starfleet blue fabric. The padd contained a layout of the Academy buildings and grounds, along with a guide to what subjects were offered, a brief history of Starfleet Academy itself, and a roster of the teaching staff. The building they were currently in was reserved mostly for administration and the offices of various professors. Seven was intrigued to see Commander Chakotay's name listed in the anthropology section, teaching survival skills based on ancient techniques, along with another course in exo-archaeology.

“Here's our cadet,” Ro said quietly, and Seven looked up from the padd, glancing over her shoulder at the uniformed figure approaching the waiting area. “She looks a little unhappy at pulling escort duty.”

Cadet Tarn's sullen features went pale as Seven stood up, and they recognized each other. This was the same young woman Kathryn had chased after in the park earlier in the morning, catching up to the cadets in a hollow where Tarn had been standing victorious over several other runners who appeared as if they had absolutely exhausted themselves racing with her. The resulting conversation between Janeway and the cadet had been quite intriguing to Seven, particularly when Janeway manipulated the discussion until Tarn ended up challenging 'Annika' to a race. She had spoken to Seven in the sort of disparaging tone that implied she didn't think Seven was worthy of matching paces with the Starfleet Academy Athletics Champion. At that point, Seven had not been particularly impressed with the arrogant cadet, or Janeway who was pretending to be far less intelligent than she really was as she maneuvered Tarn into doing what she wanted, but Seven didn't say anything as she lined up at a starting point, sprinted a hundred meters so quickly that she left the cadet several lengths behind, and then trotted easily back to where Janeway was watching with an expression of insufferable smugness on her classic features.

“Lt. Hansen?” the cadet said stiffly. “I'm Cadet Elisa Tarn. I've been assigned to escort you on a tour of the facilities.”

“Cadet Tarn,” Seven greeted politely.

“I take it you two know each other?” Ro asked calmly, looking back and forth between them with bright eyes. Ro rarely missed much, Seven realized, particularly on the unspoken level.

“I met Lt. Hansen in the park this morning, sir,” Tarn replied stiffly.

Ro quirked an eyebrow, but did not smile, though Seven suspected that she wanted to.

“Lt. Ro Laren,” Ro introduced herself smoothly, and then looked at Seven. “Is this the cadet you and the captain were talking about?”

“Captain?” Tarn repeated, her voice squeaking as her eyes widened.

Seven knew that Seven had believed Janeway and Seven to be civilians, and wondered if that also formed the basis for her imprudent attitude. Perhaps Kathryn had been correct in attempting to teach Seven a lesson not only about her mistaken assumption of superiority in her physical skills, but also in her approach to civilians whom Starfleet had been founded to protect.

Ro bit off a short laugh and eyed the girl who obviously wished to be anywhere but where she was. “Don't worry about it, Cadet. You're not the first to be tested by Captain Kathryn Janeway. You'll definitely won't be the last.”

“Yes, sir,” the cadet said unhappily, as she digested the news of just who she had been rude to earlier in the day.

“Are you prepared to give us the tour?” Seven asked shortly.

“Aye, sir,” Tarn responded, straightening. “But may I ask why a guide is required for a Starfleet officer?”

“Because I did not become a Starfleet officer by graduating the Academy,” Seven replied readily. “I assimilated the necessary technical knowledge as a Borg, while amassing the required philosophical and ethical classes on Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. Now I wish to see what I may have missed in acquiring my commission.”

“Borg—” Tarn began, then stopped, her features growing very still. She took a breath and motioned toward the entrance. “This way,” she said without any further inflection in her tone.

Frowning, Seven followed her as Ro flanked her. Eventually, Seven noticed that Ro had a faint smile on her face, and Seven was intrigued, aware that Ro Laren was not the sort to be amused without cause.

“What do you find so amusing, Lt. Ro?”

“Our tour guide,” Ro said, quite distinctly. Seven believed the officer was deliberately speaking loud enough for the cadet to hear, and she glanced quickly at Tarn, seeing the flush of red rise in the back of her neck.

“How so?”

“I'll bet she's thinking the whole race was unfair because you're Borg.” A flinch from their guide, the tension across the shoulders, indicated that Ro had scored.

“It was unfair,” Seven said plainly, puzzled at where Ro was going. “With my enhancements, very few humanoid species could hope to match me in a physical contest. Even you, with your advanced tactical training and superior knowledge of martial arts technique, would have been defeated by me in a physical confrontation.”

“Exactly, but I don't consider that a failure on my part. The kid does, but only because she doesn't really understand where she's really failing. She doesn't understand what Janeway was showing her.”

Seven's face cleared, finally understanding what was being said. “There is no failure in losing a contest. The failure was in underestimating her opponent and accepting things at face value. The failure was in allowing arrogance to overcome prudent judgement. It is a mistake made often by the young and can be a dangerous lesson to learn. Fortunately, it was not in this case. It was merely humiliating.”

“She got off easy,” Ro said, scorn lacing her tone liberally. “Where I come from, the penalty for underestimating an opponent is a lot more permanent than some minor embarrassment. The first lesson we learned in the Cardassian internment camp was that it doesn't matter how good you think you are, there's always someone out there who's stronger, tougher, faster and better. The only muscle that truly needs to be developed to the fullest is the one between one's ears.”

“A most interesting analysis, Lt. Ro,” Seven complimented.

“Thank you, Lt. Hansen,” Ro replied politely.

Seven frowned and Ro lifted her head. “I meant no disrespect,” Ro added quietly, bringing the conversation down to a more private level. “I know it annoys me when someone calls me Lt. Laren, because it's obvious they haven't made the effort to understand Ro cultural influence on our names.”

Seven exhaled audibly. “No, it is acceptable. Obviously, now that I am a Starfleet officer, that will be my designation, as listed in my official record, although I would prefer to be called Seven. But I am no longer of the Collective.”

“I'm sure a great many people will continue to call you Seven, but yes, you can probably expect people who don't know you to refer to you by your human designation, particularly in Starfleet.”

“They did not on Voyager.”

“We're not on Voyager any longer,” Ro reminded her, and Seven resisted another sigh as she realized that was probably the most difficult aspect of all in returning to the Alpha Quadrant.

“This building contains mostly classrooms,” Tarn offered finally as they stopped before a large, square building, vines of some sort crawling up the brick. If the cadet had taken Ro's words to heart, she gave no indication of it, and her tone was very polite and reserved. “They are primarily used for lectures and small demonstrations. The labs are in the other science buildings, while the flight simulators and holodeck training facilities are across the common. Do you have any preference, sir, in what you wish to see first?”

“I wish to visit Anthropology 101. It is in section ten, level four of this building.”

Tarn looked confused at Seven's precise directions for where she wanted to go, but with a small shrug, she led the lieutenants into the building and took an elevator to the fourth floor. In a room overlooking the sweeping lawns of the Academy gardens, Commander Chakotay was demonstrating how to start a fire with a piece of bark, a string wrapped around a branch, and some hair donated by a student.

He glanced up as he saw the trio and a smile spread across his face. He nodded at his class.

“Attempt to start your fire,” he instructed. “Billings, stand by with that extinguisher.”

As his students set to work, attempting to mimic what he had been showing them, he moved over to where the women were standing and drew them out into the corridor, shutting the door behind them so that their conversation would not interrupt the class.

“It's so good to see you. What brings you here?”

“I am touring Starfleet Academy,” Seven explained, and gestured to Tarn who inexplicably blushed when Chakotay glanced at her. “Cadet Tarn is showing me the facilities.”

“Trying to figure out what you might have missed?”

“Yes, Commander. I wish to compare what I learned in the ship's classes with what is being taught at the Academy.”

“I assure you, Seven,” Chakotay told her with a smile. “There's nothing here that you don't already know. It might be taught in a manner different than how you learned it on Voyager, but the outcome is the same.” He glanced at Ro. “How's B'Elanna doing at Utopia Planitia?”

“She's quite pleased with the posting. She gets to play with all sorts of starships all day long.”

He nodded, and glanced at Seven. “Has Janeway decided on a position yet?”

Seven paused, wondering if Janeway's contemplation of Nechayev's offer was in any way confidential. Kathryn hadn't told her not to discuss it with anyone, she decided.

“Janeway is considering taking command of Utopia Planitia.”

Chakotay blinked, obviously surprised. “That's a hell of a demotion. That post only requires a rank of commander at best.”

“It is merely an interim position. She will be supervising the construction of a new vessel that she intends to command. It is designated the USS Millennium.”

“The Millennium?” Tarn repeated, and then colored as the others looked at her. “That's the new Frontier-class ship,” she explained in a tone that indicated this was common knowledge amid the student body. “Every captain in Starfleet wants that ship, except maybe Picard, but that's only because he's already commanding the flagship.”

Chakotay's smile showed brilliant white against his dusky skin, the tattoo arching over his left eye crinkling in his amusement. “Leave it to Kathryn to swoop in and pluck the prize right out from under everyone's noses,” he said, vastly delighted by the news. He shot a look at Seven. “Right, Lt. Hansen?”

Seven was unsure to what he was referring, and then realized he was alluding to Janeway's incursion against the Collective where the starship captain came away with a certain Borg drone. Seven blushed and almost smiled.

“It is her nature,” she agreed, unable to keep the pride from coloring her tone.

“We'll let you get back to your class, Commander,” Ro suggested then. She nodded at the transparency in the door, showing what was going on inside the room. “I think they've set a desk on fire, and your man, Billings, doesn't seem to be able to get the extinguisher to work.”

Startled, Chakotay followed her gaze before biting off a curse and quickly moving back into the room. Smoke billowed out through the open door as Seven and Ro exchanged a shared glance of amusement and then Seven looked at Tarn.

“I wish to see the labs, next.”

Tarn, still wide-eyed at the sheer amount of fascinating information she was absorbing from her charges, nodded mutely and moved down the corridor. Obviously, her duty, toward which she had displayed every evidence of apathy, was turning out to be far more interesting than she had anticipated.

 

With a wave of her hand, Janeway dismissed the two Starfleet security personnel, who had been loitering unobtrusively across the street since Seven had returned home hours earlier, and entered her quiet house. It was long after she had originally expected to be home, and she hoped Seven wasn't too upset with her. Frowning, she looked around the empty living area, then through the arched opening leading to the kitchen, not seeing Seven anywhere.

“Annika?” she called anxiously, wondering if Seven was upstairs in the bedroom or perhaps even in the ensuite. “Annika, where are you?”

“I am outside, Kathryn,” Seven called from beyond the kitchen, her voice carrying through the open French doors that lined the rear of the dining area.

Janeway felt a surge of relief flood her, realizing only after the fact how keyed up she had been. Quickly, she moved through the dining area and out onto the large patio that was illuminated in the deepening dusk by a sequence of lights running along the railing. The deck was stained redwood to match the high fence bordering the spacious yard, and a hot tub was set unobtrusively in the corner, next to some foliage producing a pleasant, herbal fragrance. Janeway was surprised to see Seven of Nine, sans swimwear, relaxing in the roiling water, her arms stretched out along the edge of the tub. Slightly appalled, Janeway wondered if the temporary security she had placed on her earlier in the day, had witnessed Seven's disrobing during their surveillance.

Forcing a smile on her face, Janeway moved over to the circular sauna, leaning against the side as she regarded her gloriously revealed partner. Nearby, Jake was stretched out on the bench, the Irish Setter thumping his tail as Janeway reached over and scratched behind his ears.

“Annika, it is customary to wear a suit while in the hot tub,” she complained mildly.

“It is?” Seven asked, her tone puzzled. “Why?”

“Because we're in public.”

Seven took a quick glance around, obviously confused by the objection. “We are not in public. Our deck is hidden from the street by the house and concealed from casual view from our neighbors by the height of the fence surrounding the yard.” She looked back at Janeway and quirked an eyebrow. “You certainly did not offer this opinion the first night you introduced me to it. In fact, from that incident, I developed the distinct impression that clothing was not an option at all, let alone a requirement.”

Janeway started to respond to that, then sighed, remembering the night in question. “Fine, but it would have been awkward had I brought someone home for dinner this evening and we walked out here to find you completely naked.”

Seven pinned her with a look. “Is it your intention, Kathryn, to bring guests home without informing me first?” she asked sharply. “I would find that unacceptable, almost as unacceptable as you not calling to tell me you would be late, or your treating me like a child who requires an adult to escort her everywhere.”

Stymied by Seven's challenge, and not a little embarrassed, Janeway backpedaled furiously. “Of course not,” she said, though in truth, she had asked Nechayev to join her for dinner, hoping the more casual setting would provide Seven and the admiral some neutral ground in which to meet halfway and perhaps reach an understanding of each other. However, Nechayev had requested a rain-check on Janeway's invitation, and after seeing her out of uniform in more ways than one, Janeway decided that perhaps it was just as well. “I apologize for not calling,” Janeway added in a gentler tone. “Some things happened that were unexpected and I couldn't get away. I'm also sorry if it seemed as if I were treating you like a child earlier in the day. That was never my intention. I just thought Ro's prior experience as a graduate of the Academy and her time on Earth could help you since I couldn't be with you.”

Seven regarded Janeway closely, apparently evaluating the level of her contriteness. “Very well, but I do insist that you call in the future if you are required to be late. On Voyager, it was inconvenient when I did not know where you were. On Earth, it can be,” she paused briefly, “frightening.”

Janeway felt a sick sense of dismay shoot through her. She could only imagine how frightened Seven would have been had Janeway called with news of exactly why she had to be late.

“I'm sorry,” she repeated regretfully, reaching out to draw her fingertips along Seven's cheek. “You're right, Annika, I didn't mean to frighten you. Next time, I'll call and let you know when I can't make it home on time.”

“Do you anticipate there being a 'next time', Kathryn?” Seven asked, her pale eyes almost translucent in the deepening darkness.

“I suspect there will be.” Janeway inclined her head, regarding her intently. “I've decided to accept the Utopia Planitia assignment.”

Seven considered it for a moment. “What would be your response if I were to ask you not to accept such an assignment?”

Janeway took a deep breath, suspecting Seven was still punishing her for her actions earlier in the day. “Then, I wouldn’t take it, of course,” she said, though she was not happy about it. “You and your needs are far more important to me.” She paused. “I would like to understand the reasoning behind your objection, however.”

Seven inhaled slowly, then nodded. “I have no objection to you accepting the position, particularly if that is what you truly want, Kathryn,” she explained, somewhat sheepishly. “I merely wished to know what you would do if I were displeased by the decision.”

Janeway crossed her arms on the rim and leaned against them, thinking that one over. “Annika, I promised you that we would do what was best for both of us. If you have any problems with my accepting this appointment to the shipyards, then we need to discuss them now.”

Seven looked away, suddenly shy. “I do not like Admiral Nechayev. It bothers me that you will be working directly under her authorization. I know that is unprofessional, Kathryn, but it is how I feel.”

Janeway stifled a sigh. “I understand, Annika, particularly since she doesn't like you much either, but in both cases, it's because you really don't know each other. The truth is, you're remarkably alike in a great many ways.”

Seven was surprised, obviously not ready to accept that at face value. “How?”

“You're both very secure in what you know, and quite arrogant in presenting that knowledge,” Janeway explained. “You're very assertive and not very tactful when it comes to relating hard truths. When you settle on a goal, a photon torpedo couldn't divert you from going after it. You're intolerant of failure and constantly demand perfection, both in yourself and others around you.” She leaned closer, smiling faintly. “But be assured that you're far more attractive, Annika.”

Seven flicked an eyebrow. “Indeed,” she said, unmoved by the compliment. “The admiral will still have to prove her goodwill to me. I shall not offer my trust easily.”

Janeway thought about how vulnerable her could be and nodded. “That's fair. In fact, you should be very careful about who you offer your trust to, not just the people you don't like personally.”

“You mean, Admiral Hayes,” Seven said flatly.

Janeway blinked, surprised. “Not exactly,” she said slowly, wondering where that had come from. “Why would you mention him? I thought you found him 'acceptable'.”

“I did,” Seven said, dissatisfaction edging her tone. “However, it is possible that his friendliness was nothing more than a manipulation of me to facilitate my providing information to him.”

“A 'catch more flies with honey' approach?” At Seven's baffled expression, Janeway clarified. “He knew you would be more responsive if he approached you as a friend rather than an enemy.”

“Yes,” Seven said, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance altering her narrow features.

Janeway touched her cheek gently. “That's not necessarily a crime, Annika. After all, you've learned yourself that sometimes being kind and considerate of another's feelings will accomplish far more than always being brutally honest about what you think. Particularly with Naomi and the Borg children.” She mentally kicked herself for bringing up what could possibly still be a raw association for her, but fortunately, Seven didn't seem to notice. Instead, Seven hesitated, and then dipped her head grudgingly.

“I am not a child, however.”

“You mean you don't like being manipulated so well that you didn't catch on until I pointed it out at lunch yesterday,” Janeway corrected gently. “You don't have to be a child to be treated with kindness, Annika, and besides, Hayes is a diplomat, first and foremost. That's what he does best and it's something I, personally, am very grateful for because he was able to deal with the Maquis issue and secured their pardon before we had even returned to the Federation. But do you know what the real definition of a diplomat is?”

 Seven raised an eyebrow curiously. “What?”

“It's someone who can tell you to go to hell in a way that makes you look forward to the destination,” Janeway said, then smiled at the expression on Seven's face. “I guess you're not interested in dealing with diplomats.”

“No, I am not.”

“Then, I'll be the only diplomat you'll have to deal with from now on.”

She leaned closer, kissing Seven on full lips that refused to respond, initially. But with a tiny amount of applied pressure, they gradually softened and reacted to Janeway's mouth, parting with increasing sweetness the longer the kiss went on.

“You are incorrigible,” Seven grumbled when they finally parted.

“Unquestionably.” Janeway leered gently at Seven and nodded at the water. “Would you care for some company?”

“Will you insist on wearing a swimsuit?” Seven countered, eyeing her from the corner of her eye, the slightest curve raising the corner of her full lips.

Janeway's grin widened. “I suppose I could be persuaded to go without,” she allowed with mock reluctance. “This one time.”

“Then, please,” Seven said, finally returning the smile fully, “Join me.”

The water in the hot tub was wonderfully soothing, particularly after the day Janeway had experienced. Being with her was even more healing, and once Seven picked Janeway up in her slender, but incredibly strong arms, and carried her into the house and up the stairs to the room where their big bed awaited, Janeway left the problems of Starfleet far behind. The women made slow, extremely passionate love, and it seemed to Janeway that they reached unprecedented heights of sustained ecstasy on this night; Seven because she loved and wanted her immensely, and Janeway, because she suddenly needed Seven with an intensity that almost terrified her. Janeway knew it was undoubtedly an effect of the day's events finally catching up to her, but despite the source, the devote tenderness and fierce desire for her was accepted and cherished by Seven without question.

Afterward, when Seven had fallen asleep, a slight smile dusting her full lips, Janeway slipped quietly out of bed and went out to the loft where the computer work station was maintained, making sure the bedroom door was sealed behind her. She placed a call through to Utopia Planitia on Mars, utilizing a secure channel and encrypting it with her private code designed by Seven as an added protection against anyone tapping into it. It took a while for the response to come through, but finally, the image of the UFP symbol flickered and gave way to a rumpled Ro Laren dressed in a robe. Standing just behind her, leaning over her shoulder, B'Elanna was also present.

“Captain!” B’Elanna said. “I heard about what happened today! Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” Janeway glanced at Ro. “I take it you also know?”

“I know there was a malfunction in a travel pod you were using,” Ro said evenly, her dark eyes intent. “That there was sabotage found on Voyager.”

“It's not that simple.” Janeway hesitated, looking at B'Elanna, and then sighed. Obviously, she could not expect to keep things from the inquisitive Klingon for very long, particularly when she was living with Ro whom Janeway needed right now.

“It was more in the lines of theft,” Janeway explained. “Commander Jason McCord was discovered to be in the employ of the Orion Syndicate, using his position at Utopia Planitia to steal Borg technology from Voyager, undoubtedly, for future use in weapon construction. I was out there to inspect the refit, and he must have panicked, arranging a little 'accident' for me involving my travel pod. To be honest, I think he was hoping that by the time they finished scraping me off the underside of the Millennium and figured out what had happened, he would be long gone. Fortunately, I was able to bypass the sabotage and was picked up by a patrol shuttle after only a few hours.”

“Was security able to track down McCord?” Ro demanded.

Janeway hesitated. “What was left of him,” she revealed, dissatisfaction edging her tone. “His remains were found in a lavatory on McKinley Station. Apparently, he was attempting to catch a transport outbound when his employers caught up with him.”

“The Orion Syndicate doesn't accept any resignations but the permanent kind,” B'Elanna said somberly. It was clear she knew more than a little about the organized crime syndicate that historically operated on the outer fringes of the Federation.

Ro frowned. “Is Starfleet sure it's the Syndicate? It's not their style to work in such proximity to the inner core systems, particularly on planets like Earth.”

“The method of execution is one associated with the Syndicate, and they left their traditional calling card, an 'Orion' symbol carved into the corpse's forehead,” Janeway assured her, though she did wonder why Ro would even ask that. Who would dare present themselves as representatives of the Orion Syndicate if they weren't? “I've been informed that the war has opened up certain 'cracks' that allow the Syndicate to operate with greater freedom in places they didn't normally have access to before. Seven years ago, they were a problem located on the outer fringes of the Federation, and handled by the various planetary law enforcement agents. In the last few years, however, they've expanded their influence, and Starfleet Intelligence has become involved in attempting to limit their operations. With this new incident, it's clear that something more will have to be done about their incursion into the inner core systems.”

“Captain, do you require additional security?” Ro said, her brows drawn. “I can arrange—”

Janeway interrupted her. “Not me. As I said, I was collateral damage, showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Starfleet Command has increased its security measures throughout Utopia Planitia, particularly around Voyager, which will be acquiring a new refit team. What is of real concern is that the Syndicate might continue to try for Borg technology.”

“Seven,” B'Elanna blurted, looking quite pale suddenly. “Oh, Captain.”

“Exactly.” Janeway looked directly at Ro, her gaze intent “Lt. Ro, as of now, I'm assigning you to protect her, particularly while she's on her trip with Phoebe.”

“Captain, is it wise for her to go on a trip now?”

Janeway inhaled slowly. “I don't want to prevent her from going. I'd have to explain why, for one thing, which I'm not authorized to do, and for another, it might be safer for her to be on the move rather than staying in one place on Earth. I'm counting on you to keep her travel plans secure, Lieutenant. There will be several undercover operatives from Starfleet Intelligence monitoring the situation on Trill and Vulcan.”

Ro stared at Janeway, her surprise evident through the viewscreen. “Aren't you going to tell her about what happened today, Captain?”

“The events surrounding the sabotage are classified, Lieutenant,” Janeway said stiffly, not at all happy about it, but knowing she had to toe the Starfleet line. She took a breath, softening her posture. “I don't want to worry Annika, particularly since, as I said, it was a random incident. This is a very special trip for her, and I don't want her spending every moment considering me a target when I'm not.” She knew she was justifying what she was required to do as much to herself as to Ro, but she had to accept that there were certain things that were out of her hands. “Just be sure you're at her side if she needs you.”

“I understand, Captain.” Ro paused. “Do I have an explanation for inviting myself along for this trip, since apparently, I can't tell her the real reason?”

Janeway offered a thin-lipped smile. “I will explain your deep and personal interest in Trill culture to Seven in a way that will hopefully encourage her to invite you along. Seven will be meeting Phoebe at the Earth Station McKinley at 0800 this Saturday to board a private transport to Trill, which has also been arranged by me. Until then, whenever I'm not with her, I expect you to be, is that understood?”

“Understood, Captain.”

Janeway cut the channel and sat silently for a time, looking at the blank screen unhappily. She was uncomfortable about keeping things from her, but since returning to the Alpha Quadrant, she had to remember to look at the bigger picture, to consider things in terms of how they affected the Federation, and not just herself or Seven. She was no longer a captain protecting a crewmember, or even a woman protecting her spouse, but a Starfleet officer expected to obey the orders of her superiors. Nechayev had been quite clear that an unassigned junior lieutenant did not need to know about the plans Starfleet had for luring the Syndicate into a sting operation utilizing Borg technology on Voyager, not even when she was part of the bait, and Janeway could not find justification to violate that order. Seven would be safely away on Trill, visibly surrounded by a variety of Starfleet personnel, which would hopefully provoke the Syndicate into thinking the only way to acquire nanoprobe-powered weapons would be by retrieving McCord's stolen merchandise, officially listed as still missing, rather than try to kidnap an ex-drone for dissection.

Wishing she were back in the Delta Quadrant where life seemed so much simpler, and she had far more control over things, Janeway stood up and returned to the bedroom where she draped her robe over the chair and slipped between the sheets next to her slumbering spouse. Wrapping her arms tightly around Seven's lanky body, Janeway tried to find comfort in her warmth, though her stormy grey eyes were icy as she stared out at the dimness.

Trying hard to believe that Starfleet's ability to protect Seven of Nine was as adept as her own.

 

Epilogue

 

The admiral was absolutely furious. The plans put in place to secure Seven of Nine were completely disrupted, and it was all the fault of those blundering idiots in the Orion Syndicate. With their blatant incursion into the Utopia Planitia shipyards to steal Borg technology, not to mention the attempt to kill Captain Janeway, Starfleet had been placed on high alert, with increased security in all the places that Borg technology could be found, particularly around Janeway's valuable spouse.

“You're not looking at this the right way, Admiral,” the shadowy figure at the end of the table said rationally. “This actually works to our advantage.”

“How so?” the admiral demanded, an unpleasant edginess reverberating in the tone. “Seven of Nine is never alone now, whether she notices it or not, and the upcoming trip, which would have been the perfect time for us to contact her, away from Earth and her, is now being monitored closely by Starfleet Intelligence. The official branch, not our group.” An expression of dismay crossed the Starfleet officer's face.  “Several undercover operatives have been dispatched to follow her everywhere on her journey, while the good captain has arranged to have her adjunct, Lt. Ro Laren, accompany Seven openly on her visit to Trill and Vulcan. Ro is a graduate of Starfleet's Advanced Tactical Training. She won't be someone easily bypassed or coerced, particularly when she's keeping a close eye out for a criminal organization.”

The shadowy figure shook his head slowly back and forth, in what appeared to be exasperation at the admiral's obliviousness to the opportunity they had just been presented.

“The leaders of the Orion Syndicate have gone too far,” the Section 31 operative pointed out. “There's no question that it's time they learn that elevating themselves from a minor criminal organization to actively becoming an enemy of the Federation through their attempt to create Borg weapons was not the wisest course of action. They must know by now that none of their people were responsible for the death of Jason McCord, regardless of the symbol carved into his forehead.” The operative paused. “Nice touch, by the way.”

“Thank you,” the admiral said, calming a little now that it was clear the contact from Section 31 was not looking at this as a setback as was initially feared. On occasion, the covert operations group could be as ruthless in their punishment for failure as the Orion Syndicate. “I just find it ironic that our operation, which was designed to secure Seven of Nine, is now being put aside to protect our investment from any further attempt by the Orion Syndicate to steal Borg technology.”

“Again, you're not looking at the bigger picture, Admiral.” Gloved fingers pressed against each other in a steeple. “This will work for us in reaching our original goal. After all, an enemy of one's enemy must be, by definition, a friend. The Orion Syndicate may have done us a favor by attempting to kill Janeway. It would be even more fortunate if they were to attempt it again.”

The admiral considered that, and slowly smiled as the realization of what that meant penetrated the anger. The Section 31 operative was correct. This would work wonderfully in their favor.

Seven of Nine, Tetiary Adjunct to Unimatrix 01 would be theirs, perhaps quicker than they had initially hoped.

 

The End

On to JB 45