Just Between Planets
G. L. Dartt
Seven of Nine gazed through the viewport at the M-Class planet hanging against the backdrop of unfamiliar stars, fascinated by the first sight of the planet she was about to visit. This was the homeworld of the Trill, a joined species of humanoid hosts and small vermiform known as symbionts, a lush planet of purple and green, swirled with white weather patterns. Lavender tinged oceans, thick with the crill, provided nutrition to a tremendous variety of life, while the land masses were a deep emerald and chocolate brown. Jungle and deserts with nothing in-between were all, many claimed, that could be found on the Trill homeworld, except for the brilliant white of the Tenaran ice cliffs located in the upper hemisphere. Seven hoped to be able to see that remarkable landmark for herself, as well as investigate the caves of Mak'ala during her visit to the planet.
Glancing over her shoulder at the rest of her companions, Seven wondered if they were also anticipating this visit. Piloting the private yacht, DragonFlight, Lt. Ro Laren frowned over her controls as she communicated with planetary transport control, securing an approach vector and a berth at the Trill orbital space station. Meanwhile, lounging in the passenger seat at the rear of the cockpit, Phoebe Janeway, Seven's sister-in-law, made sketches on a pad of paper. It was an archaic medium in the 24th Century, but since Phoebe was also a Traditionalist, it was to be expected that she would eschew advanced technology whenever possible.
Phoebe tossed her head, flipping her long, curly, dark red hair back over her shoulder, then glanced up to meet Seven's gaze, her level grey eyes warming perceptibly. “Excited, Annika?” she asked, using the ex-drone's Human designation.
“I am anticipating our arrival on Trill,” Seven agreed, which for her, was as enthusiastic as she tended to get. Phoebe understood and smiled widely.
“There'll be a lot to visit. I'll have to spend a certain amount of each day at the symposium, of course, but I've set aside enough free time for us to sightsee.”
Phoebe glanced at Ro at the front of the ship's cockpit, and a fleeting expression of dissatisfaction crossed her face. Seven knew Phoebe hadn't been exactly thrilled to discover the ex-security officer was accompanying them, but Ro apparently had a deep and abiding interest in Trill culture, a hobby that Seven had never suspected prior to her spouse telling her about it. Naturally, Seven had sought out Ro and invited her along. Ro had been very grateful, to the point of providing the use of a privately-owned ship, though Seven had no idea where Ro had acquired it, or whom she knew who could lend her such a yacht. It was a vast improvement, according to a seasoned traveler like Phoebe, over the commercial liners, though it had done little to soften Phoebe’s stance against Ro. Seven still wasn't entirely sure why her sister-in-law was so wary of her.
“What aspect of Trill art interests you most, Lieutenant?” Phoebe asked, with the same cool, if polite, tone she had used when speaking to Ro during most of the three-day journey from Earth.
“I have a decided preference for the D'horna masters,” Ro replied shortly, over her shoulder. It was not the first time Phoebe had asked such a question, and Seven wondered if Phoebe was somehow testing Ro. If so, Phoebe had not discovered anything beyond the short, precise and, so far as Seven knew, entirely accurate answers that Ro had offered. Ro glanced over at Seven. “You'd better strap in, Seven. We're on final approach.”
On a private transport such as this, the pilot was always in command, and Seven obligingly made her way to the nearest seat, securing herself with the strong straps that fit over her chest and stomach. Through the fore viewport, past Ro's dark head, she could see the orbital station they were nearing, the spiky architecture typical of Trill design, and felt the pace of her heart pick up just a little as the ship eased into its berth. There was a subtle jolt as the vessel connected to the airlock, Seven waiting through the other jolts caused by umbilicals and magnetic clamps that indicated that the vessel was being fully secured to the station, before Ro shut down her helm. Various lights, scattered across the touch pad, became dark, though a few remained dimly lit, indicating power was still being channeled in the circuits, ready for future activation.
Seven unfastened her webbing and rose from her seat, aware of a distinct excitement rising within her. This was the first time she had ever visited a planet for the sole purpose of peacefully exploring a known culture, and despite missing Kathryn constantly, it still provided her with a sort of excitement, combined with the belief that she was going to enjoy herself. She wondered if this was a sign of her adaptation to living in the United Federation of Planets now, rather than how she had existed as a crewmember of Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. There, she and her fellow crewmates had to be constantly on guard against unexpected threats while visiting unfamiliar planets and cultures. She had initially dismissed the importance of being a Federation citizen, but now she realized that sense of security was allowing her to concentrate fully on enjoying her trip rather than being intent on accomplishing a task as part of an away team.
Her luggage consisted of one large carryall, and after retrieving it from her small cabin at the rear of the vessel, she slipped the long strap of the bag over her shoulder, and returned to the cockpit. Janeway had packed it before Seven's departure, assuring Seven that everything she would need would be in it, plus a few things that would probably not be required, but might be nice to have along. There had been a bit of an odd expression in Janeway's eyes as she said that, so Seven suspected that there were a few surprises in the luggage that remained undiscovered. She just hadn't had the chance to completely empty the bag during the trip from McKinley Station to Trill to see what exactly had been packed.
It took some time for the three women to work through the various inspection areas of the station. Since the Dominion war that had involved the entire Alpha Quadrant in a struggle against an aggressive civilization from the Gamma Quadrant, the regulations and rules regarding the entry of visitors to even the most peaceful planets were more stringent and formal. Seven maintained her patience, as did Ro and Phoebe, and eventually, they made it to the transporter area where they beamed down to the planet itself. Materializing in a travel center that serviced one of the larger cities on the planet, they were directed to ground vehicles waiting outside, helmed by helpful Trill transport personnel. Ro requested an address that Phoebe did not recognize.
“I made reservations at the Hotel Braharni,” Phoebe objected as they climbed into the rear seat of the hovercraft.
“Since you were so kind as to invite me along, I took the liberty of securing rooms at the Daxina Retreat,” Ro explained smoothly. “At my expense, of course. It's much closer to the university where the symposium is being held.”
Phoebe blinked. “That's a rather exclusive resort,” she said doubtfully, though she looked vaguely pleased. “Quite expensive.” She paused, then added bluntly, “How does a Starfleet lieutenant afford that?”
Ro regarded her blandly. “Seven years of back credit, as well as a substantial discount for Starfleet officers. Apparently, Trill is still very grateful for the ships sent here to protect the planet from Jem'Hadar invasion.”
“Oh,” Phoebe said, obviously taken aback. “I didn't know about the discount. That's quite thoughtful of you. Thank you, Lt. Ro.”
Seven, listening intently to this conversation, had the distinct impression that Ro was not being entirely forthcoming. She didn't know why she thought that exactly, but she wondered if it wasn't the officer's almost lackadaisical attitude that was arousing her suspicions. During the time Seven had known Ro, she had developed a sense of constantly contained energy from Ro, a restrained tension ready to be unleashed at any moment, disdaining the need for comfort or luxury, considering such indulgence as unnecessary weakness. This indolent appeal for Phoebe's approval was a side of Ro that Seven didn't recognize, and it occurred to her that perhaps, like most of the Voyager crew who had returned to the Alpha Quadrant after seven years, Ro had been forced to change what had been her standard operating procedure in the Delta Quadrant to an attitude more in keeping with the society of the Federation. Or perhaps this was simply what Ro was like when she wasn't on starship duty.
If so, Seven wasn't sure she liked it, but there wasn't much she could do about it.
The resort the vehicle took them to was a large, sprawling, very elegant building set within a lush park-like area, located directly in the heart of the city. Even with her limited experience with commerce and monetary exchange, Seven could deduce that this was an area reserved for a select few who could afford it. She saw many of the short, stocky beings known as Ferengi among the guests, a ready indication that this was a place where significant deals could be made amid the civilized atmosphere of a vacation resort populated by lavishly garbed Trill citizens and offworld visitors.
Ro had arranged a three-bedroom suite for the women, with a balcony that overlooked a sparkling, lavender-tinted pool below, bordered by professionally tended gardens that stretched to the four-meter-high stone walls keeping the rest of the city at bay. The three women took a moment to avail themselves of the view, breathing in the air perfumed by a profusion of flowers spread beneath them in a colorful array.
“Too bad this balcony doesn't have direct access to the pool,” Phoebe said, but it was a token complaint only. For the most part, Phoebe seemed overwhelmed by Ro's generosity, and she seemed to realize that she was being somewhat ungracious. “Not that we need it,” she added, offering Ro a smile. “This is wonderful, Lieutenant.”
“Please, call me Laren while we're on vacation,” Ro responded pleasantly.
“If you truly require direct access, Phoebe,” Seven suggested, evaluating the distance from the balcony to the ground dispassionately, “you could always climb down utilizing the vines secured to the building.”
Phoebe shot her a look as if suspecting she was being teased, while Ro shook her head, a serious expression in her dark eyes. “No, she couldn't. Those are t'karni vines.”
Ro moved back into the suite before Seven could ask what that meant. Phoebe seemed to notice her confusion and drew Seven over to one side of the balcony. “T'karni vines,” Phoebe said, pointing at the growth winding its way up the side of the structure not far away. On closer inspection, Seven could see a less attractive aspect of the greenery. “They're covered with thorns that exude an acid-based poisonous sap for protection. Anyone attempting to climb them would find themselves in a great deal of trouble very quickly.”
Seven blinked. “Indeed. Why would such vegetation be used for a resort?”
Phoebe considered it, then shrugged. “Well, they look beautiful at a distance and blossom with those lovely golden flowers. Then, there's always the security factor.”
“Security?” Seven repeated, feeling a slight nudge at the back of her brain, though why that warning tingle shot along her spine was not immediately clear.
Phoebe offered her a bit of a sardonic expression. “A lot of very wealthy and influential people stay in resorts like this. It would be bad for business if a thief or assassin could climb into the rooms.”
As Phoebe returned to the suite, Seven regarded the lovely vegetation in a new light, wondering if the beauty and luxury of this establishment were why Ro had chosen it for their stay on Trill, or if something deeper was at work here. She filed it away as something she would have to pursue later, and slipped through the balcony doors into the living area, noticing that Ro was at the comm system while Phoebe relaxed on the sofa, studying the padd with the hotel restaurant menu. Seven picked up her bag that had been placed near the door of one of the bedrooms, and carried it inside, glancing around the room that would be hers for the duration of her stay.
She tried not to notice the generous size and obvious comfort of the bed as she placed her luggage on it in preparation of unpacking, shoving aside the thought of how much she would have loved rolling around on it with her spouse. Kathryn was not with her and she was simply going to have to deal with that fact, Seven reminded herself. Instead, she would concentrate on enjoying herself as much as possible, as well as taking this time to investigate the Trill Ministry of Technology, an institution which had invited her to become a member of its scientific collective. She had no intention of joining them, of course, having already decided to join Dr. Leah Brahms' Theoretical Propulsion Group on Mars, but she was still very interested in the work the Trill were doing, particularly as it related to artificial worm holes. She had an appointment to meet with Dr. Lenara Kahn, who would be giving her a tour of the facilities. Seven had been corresponding with the scientist for some time, and she hoped to be able to discuss some of the more intriguing aspects of Kahn's research in person.
As she unpacked her bag, Seven was surprised to discover a padd tucked unobtrusively in an interior side pocket. Curiously, she pulled it out and activated it, feeling somewhat odd as she saw an image of her appear in the small screen.
“Hello, darling.” Janeway's husky voice was a caress in Seven's ears. “I just wanted you to know how much I love you and that I'm missing you. I trust that you're having a wonderful time with Phoebe and Ro. I've included some files to help you remember we're married in case you start to forget about me.” Seven flicked an eyebrow, wondering how Kathryn would even consider such a possibility before realizing that her was being facetious. “Play a file every night, just before you go to sleep, so you'll know I'm thinking of you constantly.” Janeway paused, and tilted her head slightly, lowering her eyelid in almost a wink. “There's even one in case you're only missing my body rather than my scintillating personality, but make sure you're completely alone when you access it.”
Seven's lips curled into a smile, equal parts of tenderness and amusement at her gesture warming her heart. Sometimes, the Starfleet captain could be so unexpectedly romantic, surprising her with her loving imagination and thoughtfulness. It was not something Janeway was known for, not even by those who loved her most.
Suddenly feeling as if her were only a heartbeat away, Seven finished unpacking and carefully placed the padd on the night stand to access later. Returning to the living area where Ro and Phoebe were discussing dinner plans, she discovered that her first evening on Trill was apparently going to include something called a t'Crina fire show after a formal meal in the hotel restaurant.
Captain Kathryn Janeway reached out automatically for Seven as soon as she awakened, finding only empty linens and the unpleasant reminder that she would be away for another week or so. Unhappily, Janeway rolled over and put her hand on her face, sighing with dismay. It had been her encouragement that had prompted Seven to go on a trip to Trill and Vulcan, even after Seven, for all intents and purposes, had decided on accepting a position with the TPG. Janeway wanted her to take full advantage of her leave before starting work with Dr. Brahms' team, but after several nights in a cold, empty bed, Janeway was beginning to profoundly regret her initial insistence.
Still, Seven was undoubtedly safer where she was, on the move and with several undercover Starfleet officers protecting her. A recent incident at the Utopia Planitia shipyards, involving a Starfleet engineer named Jason McCord, had made Janeway fearful to have Seven around especially since Seven still retained several internal implants that might prove valuable to the cartel of criminals known as the Orion Syndicate. Initially a small crime syndicate operating on the fringes of the Federation, they had gradually been increasing their territory and influence over the past few years, discovering that a quadrant still recovering from a devastating war, was a great deal easier to operate in than it had been seven years earlier, before the Dominion had invaded.
McCord, a young Starfleet officer who had fallen in with the wrong crowd, stole Borg technology from Janeway's previous starship command, USS Voyager, in an apparent attempt to pay back several heavy gambling debts owed to the Syndicate. Starfleet suspected that the nanoprobes were intended to be used by the Syndicate in the construction of new and powerful weapons to combat the various law enforcement agencies working to stop their illicit activities. For the cartel to strike within Earth's solar system, however, indicated that they had somehow achieved a conduit of some sort into one of the Federation's most powerful, inner core planets. It was a problem that needed to be addressed immediately, and a plan had been implemented by Starfleet Intelligence to lure those representatives of the Syndicate into a trap, using the stolen Borg units as bait, and hopefully, discovering where the opening for such criminal activity had been provided and by whom.
Groaning silently, Janeway rolled out of bed and padded naked to the ensuite where, after taking care of a few biological necessities, she retrieved a set of workout clothes and pulled them on before heading downstairs. As she exited the French doors at the rear of the house, she whistled for Jake, her Irish Setter. It was something that turned out to be rather unnecessary since he was waiting at the bottom of the stairs that descended from the deck, wagging his tail vigorously. He knew they were going for a run, just as they had every morning since moving to San Francisco, and it was obvious that he couldn't wait to get to it. Smiling, she snapped his leash onto his collar, then went through the gate to the quiet street at the front of her house.
The San Francisco sunshine was burning off the greyish mist as she and Jake entered Golden Gate Park, located just a block or so from where she lived. She stretched out his leash to its full length, and together, they began a slow jog through the manicured lawns and pebbled pathways of the park. She wanted to pick up her pace, to sprint for a certain distance, but she had promised Seven that she would not overdo it while she was gone. Janeway felt unusually compelled to honor her promise, particularly since she hadn't been entirely forthcoming with her regarding Seven's trip. She hadn’t told Seven anything about the criminal cartel, or the fact that an attempt had been made on Janeway's life while she had been touring the shipyards prior to accepting the posting. She hadn’t even told Seven that Ro had been assigned to protect her on the trip, rather than accompanying her because of a feigned interest in Trill culture that Janeway had invented to manipulate Seven into inviting the security officer along. Despite her twinges of guilt, Janeway understood the levels of security clearance required for this operation, which her spouse did not possess, and was under orders to keep the situation classified. Perhaps it was a good thing that Seven was enjoying herself without having to worry about things like the Orion Syndicate or what Starfleet had to do to discover whom they were working with on Earth.
After Janeway and Jake had completed their regular circuit, not seeing anyone they knew personally, though a few of the other runners had become familiar enough to nod 'good morning', she pulled in Jake's leash and they returned home where she made sure he was fed and watered. As she left him gnawing on a bone, she made another mental note to herself to find a playmate for him, so that he wouldn't be so alone through the day with both his mistresses gone.
Upstairs in the ensuite, she shed her sweaty clothes, running them through the recycler and putting them away in the provided space in the closet, before activating the shower unit. After a long, luxuriously hot shower, she brushed out her short auburn mane and drew on her uniform, meeting the bluish-grey eyes of her reflection in the mirror, noting how the black and slate-blue tunic fell over her shoulders, and checking the fold of the wine-red sweater beneath. She retrieved her comm badge and pips, affixing the adornments to left breast and collar respectively, then moved back through the bedroom to the outer loft. She disdained making the bed, knowing it would only be used again that night, and descended the staircase to the living area below.
In the kitchen, she replicated some coffee, grateful that Seven had programmed the initial pattern, though Janeway was keenly aware it wasn’t as good as the brew Seven usually made from carefully selected roasted coffee beans. Janeway toyed with the idea of breakfast, decided she wasn't that hungry, and finished her coffee over a padd where she scanned the tasks she had scheduled for the day. She had just accepted a posting at Utopia Planitia, taking over the shipyards in an interim position until her next command was ready, and like all new jobs, it required an intensive period of adjustment. The presence of a rogue officer had also forced her to go over the entire base with an attentiveness that might not have been present in other circumstances. Janeway often worked late into the evening with her engineering teams, ostensibly to knock the rust off her engineering skills, but really, to take the opportunity to personally assess her personnel, and make sure there were no more bad apples in the barrel.
That was another reason Seven was better off not being on Earth, Janeway thought to herself, leaving her stained mug on the counter as she utilized the downstairs bathroom to clean her teeth. The ridiculously late hours she was pulling during this initial adjustment period would have outraged her, and with Seven away on her trip, that was not the problem it might have otherwise been. Picking up some padds from the coffee table in the living room, Janeway tucked them into her tunic and left the house, sealing the door behind her.
The transport from McKinley Station, orbiting the Earth, to her office on Mars was just a matter of seconds thanks to a private alcove tied into the Utopia Planitia base power supply. The larger-sized power cores considerably boosted the transporter’s range, enabling it to maintain a confinement beam from the space station orbiting her homeworld to the red planet, hundreds of thousands of kilometers away. Janeway found the use of a private transporter an unusual but necessary perk of her new position as commander of the shipyards, facilitating her mobility about the wide-spread facility, as well as allowing her to bypass much of the complexity of traveling between worlds.
The longest part of her daily commute was the walk from her home to the station where she had to wait for the public transporter to beam her to Earth's main space station. Of course, utilizing her captain's privilege, she could beam directly from her home to McKinley Station via the Starfleet transporters, but she thought she should save that for an emergency. Not to mention the fact that it would be lazy in the extreme. Besides, she rather enjoyed her morning and evening walks, and she inhaled the salty tang of the San Francisco air with appreciation as she headed down R. Garrett Avenue. As she neared the house at end of the block, she noticed the front door opening, and felt an unidentifiable lurch in her stomach as she recognized the man who came down the path to start his day. With a bright expression on his face, he joined her as she passed by his front gate.
Mark Johnson was a tall, lanky man who still retained much of the sleek musculature from his youth, good looking in a rugged rather than handsome way. Initially a thoughtful boy who had pursued a career in philosophy, he and Kathryn had grown up together in the same Indiana Agricultural Park, where their friendship had been formulated from a great many reciprocal experiences and a shared base of ideals and beliefs. But it was not that history that caused Seven of Nine to grit her teeth every time they ran into their neighbor. Rather, it was what had happened later in Janeway and Johnson's lives, when they elevated their friendship to a more intimate level.
Kathryn and Mark had been engaged to be married prior to that fateful mission to Ro Badlands where Janeway's ship had been swept into the Delta Quadrant for seven years. Mark had been one of the last to give up hope, but eventually, believing Voyager destroyed and Kathryn dead, he had moved on with his life, marrying his assistant and starting a family, which now included two young children. Yet, for all that, there remained a connection between Janeway and Mark, one that perhaps Seven and Melissa, Mark's wife, sensed whenever they all encountered one another. Certainly, neither woman had been pleased to discover their spouses now resided just down the street from the other, and while Seven trusted Kathryn implicitly, Seven also made no secret of the fact that she intensely disliked the whole concept of Janeway being in such close contact with her ex-fiancé on a regular basis.
Janeway wasn't exactly sure what she felt when she ran into Mark. The history between them was one that she couldn't deny, and while the romantic feelings had faded, wiped out by the more powerful and immediate emotion for Seven, Janeway missed the close, infinitely comfortable friendship she and Mark had shared. She suspected he did as well, and when their paths crossed, as they seemed to be with increasing frequency over the past week or so, they had fallen into the same ease of conversation and interaction that they had enjoyed before Voyager's unexpected detour to the Delta Quadrant.
Janeway decided that she was relatively pleased at how the situation was progressing. Mark was a wonderful man, and she cherished his friendship deeply, enhanced by the fact they were both married now, and Janeway was completely in love with Seven as she supposed he was with his wife. Without romance to complicate matters, their friendship had the opportunity to mature into one that was far richer than the relationship they had previously shared. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her enjoying his company, regardless of Seven's baseless suspicions about the man. The fact that Janeway's internal voice of caution also gave her a sharp nudge about it now and again, was something she noted but ignored for the most part.
“Beautiful morning,” he offered as they fell into step with each other.
“Part of why I moved back to San Francisco,” she returned with a smile. “You have an early class?” Mark taught philosophy at the University of Indiana on a semi-regular basis when he wasn't busy with his role in the Questor Group, though he and his wife continued to live in his home in San Francisco. Transporter technology had made such long-distance commutes inconsequential, after all. The only thing a person truly had to be conscious of were the time differences between zones.
“A guest lecture at the Washington campus. You're on your way to Mars?”
“Utopia Planitia. A full day ahead of me at the shipyards.”
There was a pause as they turned the corner and started down the sidewalk that sloped down to the waterfront where one of the city's main transport centers was located.
“You know, this is how I always pictured it,” he offered quietly after a few moments, as they entered a more commercially-zoned area of the city, the cobblestone streets lined with small stores and restaurants. The coffee shop on the corner was one that Janeway had frequented many times while residing in the area, and had recently introduced to Seven.
Janeway glanced at him. “Pictured what?”
“Our married life. Walking to the station together, discussing our plans for the day, maybe meeting for lunch at McKinley Station...”
Janeway suddenly had the sensation that a fully primed photon torpedo had just been deposited in her path. “Times change,” she said, attempting a light tone, though she didn't pretend she had no idea what this conversation was about. “Life worked out the way it was meant to.”
He stopped, putting his hand on her shoulder to turn her around so that she was facing him. “Kathryn,” he said in a voice that was not at all light, apparently ignoring the fact that they were standing on a street corner in full view of everyone. Exasperated, Janeway took his arm and drew him into the relative shelter of an entrance of a store that had yet to open, apprehensive about why he suddenly wanted to talk about this. “I'm serious about meeting for lunch. We can talk over old times, figure out where we go from here...”
“Go from here?” she echoed stupidly, realizing she had misread their resuming friendship, furious with herself for having ignored all the warning signs. Had she become so incredibly obtuse during her time away that she couldn't avoid this kind of emotional complication?
He studied her face, as if memorizing it, moving closer to her, the warmth of his body brushing over hers. “Kath, don't you understand how much I've missed you?” he asked, his manner becoming intimate in a way that her body remembered well. “If I had known you were still alive, that Voyager had just been lost rather than destroyed—”
“What? You would have waited seventy years for me to return?” Janeway responded coolly, not allowing herself to respond to the sensations coursing through her that were nothing more than a purely physical imprinting of a personal closeness that no longer existed. “You couldn't, Mark, and I wouldn't have asked you to.”
“But, it didn't take seventy years,” he reminded her, putting his hands on her waist in a gentle and familiar embrace, and dipping his head so that his lips were only a breath away, inviting her to close that infinitesimal distance between them, even expecting it, his eyes warm and loving.
“What about Melissa?” she asked pointedly, not moving a millimeter.
That was like a cold dash of water on something that was becoming far too heated, and Mark had to stop to take a breath, pain shading his eyes. Despite his confusion, he was an honorable man, and the guilt over his conflicted feelings was evident in his face. His hands dropped away, and he stared at her blankly, before his face flushed a deep red.
“I love Melissa,” he said quietly once he had regained his composure. “But I have loved you first, last, and always, Kathryn, from the time I was old enough to know what love is. You know that.” He paused, his internal struggle evident in his face. “You and I had something very special. I'm not prepared to throw it away without even trying to save it.”
Janeway carefully took a step back, drawing away from his immediate presence, and putting some much-needed distance between them. “Mark, there's nothing to save. Do you honestly believe there might be a chance for us? I can assure you that there isn't. You're married, and I'm married...”
“We should have been married to each other. How can we just ignore everything we've meant to each other?”
“I'm not ignoring it, but it's in the past, Mark. It's over and it would have been over by now no matter what the circumstances.”
At his expression, she exhaled audibly, trying to find the words that would make this easier, and suspecting that there weren't any. She really didn't want to hurt him beyond what their choices in life already had, but this was something that had to be dealt with once and for all, before it went any further. Not just for her sake, but for his, as well.
“Mark, I loved you as much as I have loved anyone. I won't deny that,” she explained, with great sincerity. “Yet, even when I did even when I believed we would spend the rest of our lives together there was always a part of me that I held back, that I refused to share with you. It was the part of me that needed to be on a starship rather than stay on Earth and settle down with you.”
He took a breath. “I know about that part of you, Kathryn. I've always understood and respected your life in Starfleet—”
She shook her head sadly. “No, Mark, you didn't. You couldn't, because while I could never share that part of myself with you, I can share it with Seven. She's found a way to become integral to it, perhaps because she can accept it completely. My personal and professional relationship with her is one that you and I could never manage to create, no matter how hard we tried, not because we didn't love each other, but because of the type of people we are. That's just how it is. It isn't anyone's fault.” She paused, searching for the words which would bring an end to this. “It never would have worked out between us, Mark.”
He gazed at her for several moments, with a stark disbelief that gradually gave way to sorrowful acceptance and understanding.
“You really believe that?” His voice was very unsteady.
“I know that,” she told him persuasively. “I saw it, Mark. During my time in the Delta Quadrant, I visited a parallel universe, one in which my counterpart did return home in time to marry you.”
He flinched. “And?”
“It didn't work.” She patted him on the forearm comfortingly. “Your counterpart found his future with Melissa's counterpart just as you did here. Apparently, it was meant to be but even if I hadn't seen that outcome with my own eyes, I've always known on some level that Seven is the one person who's absolutely 'right' for me. There's nothing else that could match our understanding of one another, not even what you and I shared, as special as it was.”
He looked away, all his illusions and dreams being shattered right before Janeway's eyes, but when he finally looked back, there was a sort of peacefulness in his gaze, replacing the haunted look that had existed since resuming their friendship, though of course, she hadn't recognized it until she saw it healed. Once again, she cursed her astonishing lack of sensitivity.
“I'm really happy for you, Kathryn,” he said finally, with painful honesty. “I guess I just needed to—”
“I know. I should have cleared this up between us from the beginning.” She paused. “No matter what else, Mark, you were always a good friend. I still cherish that part of our relationship, but if it can't exist now, I'll understand.”
His features were dark as he considered that. “I don't know, Kath. I would like us to be friends, but it's obvious I fooled myself badly not to mention what I was prepared to give up with Melissa—” Shame colored his gaze.
Janeway nodded. “That's something that you're going to have to come to terms with, Mark.” She looked across the street at the large chronometer set in the building. “Damn, I'm going to be late.”
“You'd better go.” He paused. “I'm truly sorry, Kathryn.”
She looked back at him. “I am, too for everything.”
She left him standing in the doorway, striding briskly for the station, aware that she had just cut away a vital part of her past to be free to pursue her future. It was necessary and inevitable, but still very painful.
Suddenly, she missed Seven so much, she could almost taste it.
The Trill Ministry of Technology was housed on a less populated area of the planet, high in the hills of the P'Dorna mountain range, and Ro Laren wondered if that had anything to do with the experiments that took place within the low, sprawling structures that covered several acres. Settling lightly onto its landing struts in the plaza in front of the main administration building, the atmospheric shuttle's hatch slid open as a short staircase unfolded. Ro descended first, looking around keenly, before nodding at Seven to join her. If Seven wondered why Ro was acting as if they were on an away mission rather than a vacation, she didn't say anything about it, merely accommodating her whenever Ro seemed to take command.
It occurred to Ro that perhaps Seven thought she was just being odd, and was far too polite to tell her that such precautions were out of place on Trill. Phoebe certainly would, Ro knew, and she was glad that Phoebe had been left behind at the symposium for this visit. Phoebe's questions about why Ro was really there were becoming progressively more pointed and not a little antagonistic.
A female figure appeared at the entrance, and Ro watched as she crossed the plaza to where the visitors waited. Ro decided that this had to be Lenara Kahn, the Trill scientist who would be conducting the tour. She was quite attractive, an older woman with that timeless expression in her eyes that indicated she was one of the joined members of her society, host to a symbiont cradled protectively within her body's midsection. Spots traced a delicate trail from her forehead, down her temples and throat to disappear under the neckline of her garment, and her smile, as she greeted Seven, was luminescent.
“Seven of Nine? I'm Dr. Lenara Kahn,” she said, reaching out a graceful hand. “It's so good to finally meet you in person.”
“It is very good to meet you.” Seven glanced at Ro and raised her hand to indicate her. “This is Ro Laren who will be accompanying us. She is very interested in Trill culture.”
Lenara regarded her evenly, amusement coloring her eyes. “Is she? I'm glad you told me, Seven. Otherwise, I would have assumed her to be a Starfleet security officer assigned to protect you during your visit to Trill.”
Since Ro was not wearing her uniform, and Seven had not indicated she was even a Starfleet officer, it took a great deal for Ro not to react. Seven quirked a somewhat sardonic eyebrow. “In truth, that thought had occurred to me, as well.”
Concerned, Ro mulled that over as the two women started toward the main building, immediately falling into a discussion about Kahn's research into artificial worm holes. Ro wondered just who was trying to fool whom here. She granted that her cover story had not been the best, but she hadn't realized Seven had seen right through it. How long would it take before Seven would pin Ro down and demand to know exactly what was going on?
Which, of course, led directly to the next question of how much trouble Ro would cause herself and Janeway if she told Seven everything about the Syndicate and what had occurred at Utopia Planitia. She doubted she would be able to satisfy Seven's curiosity with mere platitudes once Seven suspected Ro was there for something other than what she had initially implied. Wondering if Janeway could handle any personal repercussions if she told Seven everything, Ro realized that the professional matter of informing a junior lieutenant about a classified incident was something else that would have to be considered, as well.
The tour of the Trill facility was extensive, and Kahn was quite animated in presenting all the advantages the Ministry had for someone like Seven, even though Ro knew Seven had told the institution that she had already decided on another position before they had even arrived on Trill. Apparently, the Ministry was not ready to take Seven's word at face value, perhaps likening it to a negotiating ploy, and it was obvious Kahn had been instructed to change Seven's mind about her decision if she could. Ro particularly appreciated the suggestion that joined Trill, like Seven, had a sense of possessing more lives than just their own, which would afford Seven a comfortable environment in which to function. Seven appeared unmoved by that argument, obviously not believing that combining several lifetimes through the symbiont truly compared to having the memories of thousands of species in her cortical implant. Ro remained quiet and listened to the discussion, realizing that Seven was handling herself quite well, and wondering if perhaps Janeway had not been underestimating her spouse's social skills and ability to look after herself.
Despite Seven's resistance to Kahn's more clever appeals, Ro suspected that if Seven didn't have a Starfleet captain waiting at home for her, she'd be sorely tempted to accept the Trill's offer. It was very generous, and obviously, intellectually appealing.
“I suppose I can't blame you,” Kahn said finally, as the trio paused for lunch in the dining room of the main administration area. “One becomes so cloistered in facilities such as these. I've been seriously thinking of accepting a posting to a Starfleet vessel myself, now that they're taking civilians again.”
Ro lifted her head. “They stopped?”
“During the war, even the Galaxy-class vessels restricted themselves to Starfleet crews, with no civilians at all.” Kahn smiled faintly. “Perhaps that's why we now have so many restless scientists in the Ministry. We were used to working anywhere in the Federation, and perhaps we never really appreciated the freedom of career movement that Starfleet offered us until it was suddenly gone.” For a moment, her gaze grew sad. “I, myself, once had the opportunity to live and work on a Starfleet station, but other responsibilities took priority.”
Ro eyed Kahn covertly, doubting it was just the missed Starfleet opportunity that stirred such profound heartache in the warm eyes. There was more of a story there than the Trill was revealing, though Ro was sure that she would probably never know the whole truth.
“I'm sure Starfleet would welcome the opportunity to work with someone of your qualifications,” Seven said, obviously not detecting the subtle hint of melancholy in the other woman. “They welcomed me, and in fact, that is part of the reason I cannot accept a position with this facility. I would be unable to maintain my commission.”
“Is your commission that important to you?” Kahn asked curiously.
Seven hesitated, discretion warring with her innate honesty.
“It is to my spouse. She is a Starfleet captain, and if I were to resign, it would limit our ability to be together.”
Kahn regarded her intently. “Being with the person you love is far more important than we sometimes realize. I understand now why there’s nothing I can offer you here.” There was a brief pause, the words weighing oddly heavy in the atmosphere, before the Trill inhaled and looked down at her meal. “I hope that we can continue our correspondence, Seven. I found your views on the application of radion particle waves to be particularly fascinating.”
“I would appreciate maintaining contact. It intrigues me that the energy fluctuations of the cluster nodes have taken such a wide divergence in your studies.”
Ro tuned out the rest of the conversation as it rapidly submerged into technological gibberish between the two women, far beyond the security officer's ability to follow. As she gazed around the dining room where other scientists and technicians were eating, she noted that the Trill seemed to prefer decorating with lush fernlike plants and a black, granite type stone, matching the style found in the rest of the facility. After lunch, Kahn offered the Starfleet officers a final tour through the residential compound, where Seven met several other scientists, before finally escorting them back to the shuttle as the sun set over the mountains, the shadows growing long across the plaza.
“It was very nice to meet you, Laren. I hope this has added to your appreciation of Trill culture.” Kahn's eyes were amused and Ro stifled a sigh.
“Please, inform me as to your results on the cluster expulsion rate, Lenara Kahn,” Seven requested, taking the Trill's hand briefly in her own as she made her farewell.
Kahn held it, a little longer than necessary in Ro's opinion. “Perhaps, I'll personally bring the results to you on Earth. I've been feeling a decided need to expand my horizons lately. It's possible I'll find them there.”
Seven lifted a brow. “Perhaps.”
Ro slipped into the cockpit of the shuttle and activated the pre-launch sequence as Seven and Kahn exchanged a few more pleasantries, then Seven entered the craft and sealed the door behind her. She settled into the seat next to Ro and stared straight ahead as Ro keyed the helm and lifted the tiny ship off the ground. Through the transparencies, Ro saw Kahn standing by the entrance of the facility, lifting her hand in a final gesture of good-bye, and she waved back before turning the ship's nose onto a heading back to the capital city.
It was a few moments before Seven spoke, and even though Ro had suspected what she was going to say, she still flinched at the questions posed so casually, yet so decisively at the same time.
“Why are you here, Lt. Ro? Why did Kathryn send you to protect me?”
Ro hesitated briefly, considering several responses, and then finally told Seven the truth about the assault on Janeway at Utopia Planitia, the Orion Syndicate's desire to acquire Borg technology, which might include Seven of Nine, herself, and the trap that Starfleet Intelligence was laying for the criminals, using Voyager's Borg alcove power units as bait. When Ro had finished, Seven sat in silence for a long moment.
“Why did Kathryn keep this from me?” Her face was set with the chill of deep space.
Ro inhaled slowly. “This is all classified, Seven, coming from a higher authority than she holds. Besides, she didn't want to ruin your holiday with Phoebe.”
“That is unacceptable.” Seven words were razor sharp, bitten off with resentment and anger.
Ro inhaled slowly, not commenting on that.
“The DragonFlight was not arranged by you, was it?”
“No, Janeway arranged it. It's more heavily armed than a civilian transport, and the shields are far more powerful. She borrowed it from an old acquaintance, a Captain David Willis. He's the captain we saw talking to Janeway in the dining room at Starfleet Headquarters the first day of our briefing.”
“I remember,” Seven said, her eyes narrowed in thought. “That was before the incident at the shipyards, however.”
“I guess she was thinking of your safety even then, or at least, your comfort.”
“Do you think the Orion Syndicate will attempt to capture me?” Seven asked after another long pause.
Ro shook her head. “They would be foolish to risk it. I'm not the only one assigned to keep you safe, Seven. The word has been put out that several undercover operatives from Starfleet Intelligence are keeping an eye on you, and before you ask, no, I don't know who they are. That would defeat the purpose of them being under cover. Certainly, the Syndicate would have no way of knowing who they are just that they exist.”
Seven firmed her jaw. “The stolen Borg units from Voyager have been made to appear as the more attractive and available prize.”
“Precisely.”
There was another pause, and Ro was impressed by how contained Seven was, even as she sensed the fury simmering beneath the cool exterior.
“In your opinion, is there any purpose served by my immediate return to Earth?”
Ro considered it. “Unless you have this irresistible need to immediately confront your spouse about this on a personal level, I'd have to say no. I'm pretty sure Starfleet won't let you be involved with any plan to capture the criminals operating in the inner core planets. Despite the allowances Starfleet has been giving you because of your background, Lt. Hansen, ultimately, you're just a junior science officer without the security clearance required to know about these things.”
The last was a bit harsh, but Ro had to remind Seven that they were all playing in a much larger pond now, that the freedom they had enjoyed while serving on Voyager was a thing of the past.
“I do not wish to confront Kathryn,” Seven said finally. “Not yet. I need to carefully consider my tactics in this matter.” Her eyes were thoughtful in the reflected light of the helm, granting her narrow features a greenish cast.
Ro chewed on that for a moment, not liking the sound of it at all but not able to argue about it. She stared idly at the passing landscape beneath the ship, shadowed in the darkness, her hands steady on the helm controls.
“It's probably not my place to comment on your personal life, Seven, but if you want my advice, this is something that you may have to get used to. There's a big gap in what a captain needs to know, and what a junior science officer needs to know while serving in Starfleet. That's just how it is. We're not on a starship in the Delta Quadrant any more, where everything can be shared within a select and trusted group regardless of rank. There are too many outside influences on all of us, and Janeway doesn't hold the autonomous authority she once did.”
Seven looked stubborn. “I realize that, but I must set specific parameters for our personal life. Those are required regardless of where we are, and what we are required to do.”
Ro thought about her relationship with B'Elanna. “You're right. It always works better when both people know what lines they can and cannot cross.”
Seven pursed her lips fretfully. “I have not moved quickly enough. Since returning to the Alpha Quadrant, our lives have undergone constant turmoil. Kathryn is trying to adjust to a position that does not include a starship, while I am trying to adjust to a life that is entirely unfamiliar to me. I wonder if the real reason she wished for me to leave was so I would not continue to burden her.”
Ro glanced at her sharply. “Seven, that just wasn't a factor. There are only three reasons why Janeway wanted you to go on this trip: to spend some time with Phoebe, to have a chance to see more of the Federation, and to protect you from the Syndicate. She thought she was doing what was best for you.”
Seven dipped her head. “Sometimes Kathryn is so intent on doing what she thinks is best for me, she occasionally forgets to ask what I think is best for me. I shall have to remind her, once we return, that it is a mutual decision, not one that is solely hers to make.”
Ro felt her lips quirk. “I'm sure she'll appreciate the reminder.”
The rest of the journey was devoid of conversation, and Ro was glad to see the bright lights of the city skyline ahead. As she landed at the transport station, and the two women took the rather crowded public tube back to their hotel, Ro found herself feeling suddenly claustrophobic and thought she understood what Kahn had been saying about being cloistered on this planet. Not for the first time, Ro found herself wishing she was back on the clean lines of Voyager. The crew might not have known what they would discover next on their incredible journey, but there had always been a decided sense of belonging within the ship's complement, a strong bond of community based on a group all working together for a single goal. Ro missed that desperately in her current life of impersonal crowds and uncertain alliances.
Feeling a strong need to get back to space, where things were clearer and more defined where one knew who one's friends were, and where enemies usually made their intentions clear from the first shot, Ro stepped off the tube and readied herself to escort Seven safely to their hotel room.
Several days later, Seven stifled a sigh as she retired to her room for the evening, feeling the activities of a very full day in every part of her body. Though she had managed to hide her displeasure over her spouse's deception from Phoebe during the rest of their stay on Trill, Phoebe had apparently sensed that Seven was not her normal self, and had responded by scheduling intensive sight-seeing tours every day, hitting so many areas of the planet, Seven suspected that she now knew more about Trill than she did Earth. The bright and exuberant nature of her sister-in-law also made it difficult for Seven to retain her bad mood, and gradually, Seven's keen anger at Janeway had been worn away to a dull annoyance. She had even unbent enough to send a short message home through the comm system, just as she had promised to do before she left, though it had been devoid of any personal comments to Kathryn.
Seven tossed the souvenirs she had purchased on the dresser, and pulled her bag out from the closet, beginning to pack it in preparation for their departure the following morning. This day had begun with a sail down the T'varnta River to catch the sunrise, before touring the fossil-filled cliffs leading to Bataurn, a small city on the seacoast. They ate lunch there in an open-air café, before enjoying the afternoon hiking through the botanical gardens. They completed the evening with a lavish dinner before attending the planet's most renowned theater, where the featured performance was a play dramatizing the first unification between a Trill host and an intelligent symbiont. The host was played by a very beautiful actress, and the symbiont was presented as a male though, in reality, the entities were considered genderless. Seven decided that there was a strong sexual dynamic represented in the scene that displayed the joining of symbiont to host, and while discussing it later with both Phoebe and Ro, she discovered that they agreed. Ro pointed out that was probably why the play was considered controversial. A great many Trill, particularly the joined ones, had been offended by it, but the production was playing to packed houses every night, so perhaps such controversy was good.
Undressing quietly by the bed, Seven ran her worn clothes through the cleaning cycle of the room's replicator, then finished packing them and her souvenirs, leaving out some travel garments for the following day. She had been surprised by the style of the various civilian outfits Janeway had provided for her trip, but they had obviously been chosen with care, and apparently, Seven looked quite attractive in them. More than once in the past week, other guests at the resort had commented on Seven's appearance, as well as making mention of the unusual 'jewelry' she sported, wanting to know if the metallic adornments had a function, or if they represented any sort of culture and where similar pieces could be purchased. It gradually became clear to Seven that the average person in the Federation simply did not recognize her as being Borg, and when informed that her 'jewelry' were cybernetic implants, shock and consternation had immediately followed. Eventually, Seven contented herself with saying they were symbols of her people and not available for purchase, though one Ferengi was convinced that if he just offered enough latinum, she would rip them from her face and give them to him.
Ro finally had to have a little 'discussion' with him that somehow involved him going for an unscheduled dip in the pool beneath their balcony. Now that Ro no longer had to hide her 'bodyguard' status from Seven, she was more than prepared to have a little fun with it whenever she had the opportunity.
Slipping between the smooth sheets, Seven was unable to keep from thinking about the current problem she was experiencing with her spouse. Frowning, Seven stared at the ceiling as she lay on her back, conscious of being alone and isolated, despite knowing that her friends were just outside her bedroom door. The illumination dimmed at her request, but a defused light from the city outside her window made the interior of the room easily discernible, even without utilizing her Borg vision. She supposed she could get up and close the blinds, but she discovered she enjoyed the way the shadows danced across the walls and ceiling, a leafy tree making a lacy silhouette on the wall at the foot of the bed.
She took a deep breath and went over in her mind the tactics she intended to use with her spouse once she had returned to Earth. It was becoming progressively clear that now they had returned to Alpha Quadrant, Janeway had reverted somewhat to the person she had been when she and Seven first became romantically involved, attempting to separate her professional life from her personal one, preventing Seven from sharing that part of her. It was understandable, perhaps, with so many outside influences now affecting the starship captain, as Ro had pointed out, but Seven knew she could not afford to let it continue. She would have to confront her spouse as soon as she returned home, and resolve it once and for all.
Her course of action determined, she settled back against the pillows, preparing for sleep, but it stubbornly eluded her. While she had decided about how she would handle the upcoming conflict, she was still hurt by Kathryn's deception. Despite that hurt, she found herself missing her spouse with an intensity that was painful. The ache inside reminded her of the padd that had been lying on her bedside stand for the past few nights. After her discovery of Kathryn's perfidy, she had studiously ignored it, indulging her displeasure with her spouse by conducting a silent boycott of Janeway's romantic gesture. Now, unable to resist, she reached over and activated the opening program, once again listening to the message her had recorded to help ease Seven's loneliness.
The image froze on Janeway's face, and slowly, hesitantly, Seven activated one of the few unviewed files her spouse had included in the memory chip. Her selection displayed an image of Janeway and Jake in the backyard of their San Francisco home, and Seven raised a bemused eyebrow, uncertain when Janeway had found the time to record the message without Seven being aware of it.
“Hello, my heart,” Janeway's raspy trill issued from the tiny screen, making Seven's eyes well up and her throat fill with emotion. Somehow, when Seven was extremely annoyed with Kathryn, that was also the time that she loved and needed her the most. She did not understand how that was possible, but she had to acknowledge the reality of it.
“Jake is really missing his mom,” Janeway continued, thumping the dog lightly on the ribs. The animal seemed to know he was being talked about, and for whatever reason, he was looking directly at the holo-imager, making it appear as if he was looking at Seven, his tail wagging strenuously. Seven was touched, despite the illusion. “But he knows you're having a wonderful time as do I. We're running every morning and he's not letting me overdo it.” Seven exhaled audibly, doubting that Jake could prevent Janeway from doing anything she intended, and of course, since these files were recorded prior to her trip, Janeway could hardly know what Jake would and would not do for her in Seven's absence. Seven allowed that Janeway's intention to take care of herself was undoubtedly sincere, but somehow, Seven was not entirely sure Janeway would be able to maintain it while she wasn't there to encourage her.
Suddenly, Seven discovered she was smiling faintly at herself in sardonic amusement. The truth was, she could not make Janeway look after herself either, any more than Jake could, unless Janeway was willing to cooperate in the first place.
“Darling, I love you so much, and I'm missing you terribly, but I'm so glad you're out there, seeing the Federation and discovering how different and interesting the various planets and alien cultures can be. I'm thinking of you every moment of every day that you're gone. Go to sleep now, and dream of me, knowing how much I need and cherish you. I know I'll be dreaming of you.”
Seven swallowed against the lump in her throat and activated another file at random, one recorded in Janeway's office at Utopia Planitia. Seven recognized it because Janeway had given her a tour of the facility the day after she started her new job and just before Seven had left on her trip. In the file, Janeway expressed how much she loved her and was thinking of her even when she was busy with her new position. She even expressed some of her uncertainties about how she would tackle this posting, so different from being in command of Voyager, and what she planned to do to ease that transition. It was a sharing that was very important to Seven, and she realized that Janeway had not completely cut her out of her professional duties. Perhaps Ro was correct when she said Janeway had no choice in pushing Seven away at times.
Not that Seven would allow Janeway to continue to do it, regardless of what Starfleet demanded.
The third file Seven keyed had been recorded on Voyager, and Seven realized how long Janeway had been preparing this gift, not necessarily for Seven's trip to Trill, but if the couple would be separated in the future. Janeway, in full uniform, was sitting on the sofa in her ready room, and she smiled faintly at Seven from the viewscreen.
“We're a day out of DS9 and on our way to Earth now, darling. I wanted to take this moment to tell you how much your love and support has meant to me in the time we've been together, and how important it will be in the days ahead. I'm not sure what challenges lie in our future, but I promise you that whatever we face, they'll be immeasurably easier because we'll be meeting and overcoming them together. I love you so much, and I hope that wherever you are and whatever you're doing at this moment, you can feel that in every molecule of your being. It's not easy loving a Starfleet captain, but you've perfected it to an art. I can only hope that I'm able to love my Borg with the same intensity and focus that you bring to loving me.”
By the time this file had completed, Seven was prepared to take the next transport to Earth, whether the rest of her companions were ready to return or not, wanting only to be in Kathryn's arms once again. Sniffing slightly as she blinked back her tears, Seven accessed yet another file, this one entitled 'Desk'. To her surprise, the file was prefaced by an additional message from her, separate from the program itself and activated when the file was accessed.
“Hello, my darling,” Janeway said, her voice was very throaty and provocative. Seven blinked as she realized this image had been recorded while Janeway was in bed, wearing nothing but a sheet draped precariously over her body. Seven couldn't quite recognize where it had been recorded because all she could really see were pillows behind the nude captain, but suspected for some reason that it was the bedroom they had shared in Gretchen's home in Indiana, possibly recorded the last night they had spent there while Seven had been taking a shower.
“I'm sending this file along on your trip in case you're missing not just me, but my body.” The sheet slipped lower, and Seven's eyebrow did a slow crawl up her forehead as Janeway deliberately took a deep breath, her chest expanding to display every millimeter of her small, but firm bosom, going so far as to put her arms behind her head to grant herself more emphasis.
“Do you remember that night on Voyager, when you decided to make my most secret fantasy come true?” Janeway continued, her eyes sparkling a bright blue, their mischievousness and wanton appeal apparent even in the limited dimensions of the padd's viewscreen. “When you knocked the console off my desk, it continued to store data throughout our entire encounter, and as a result, we now have a permanent record of that evening. If you're accessing this file, make sure you're completely alone, the door is locked and you're in the proper mood to watch it.” Janeway's lids lowered, becoming very sensual. “I miss you, darling. Make no mistake; I can't wait until I'm in your arms once more, until your beautiful body is pressed against mine, until we're finally making passionate love again. Until then, we'll both just have to use our imaginations.”
Seven inhaled deeply, staring at the screen as it faded to a pale blue, the 'activation' symbol flashing to indicate the file was loaded into the buffer, ready to play. She could feel the heat rise in her face, intrigued by the whole concept of such a file, but wondering if she was in the 'proper mood' for such a thing, considering she was still exasperated at Janeway. Yet, the files she'd been watching had gone a long way to ease her lingering hurt and annoyance, and it was hard not to notice that the door was locked, she was alone and conveniently, she was already quite naked between the soft sheets of her hotel room bed.
Daringly, she activated the file, watching it silently all the way through, from the first moment she had transported into the ready room on that night so many months earlier, through the very graphic display of their lovemaking, to the final glimpse of a uniformed Janeway leaning over the console and shutting it down. When the image finally faded from the screen, Seven discovered she was extremely aroused, her nipples tingling pleasantly, and the juncture between her legs moist and aching. She hesitated, and then slowly reached down to touch herself, quivering abruptly as she felt her fingertips brush over the sensitive flesh, pulling back uncertainly. She understood that this was what Janeway had implied when saying the couple should 'use their imaginations' while Seven was away, but she was not overly familiar with the practice of solitary masturbation. The one time she had tried it on Voyager, clumsily utilizing the couple's accessory, it had been a very disappointing experience, and even after Janeway had taken the time to give her further and more detailed guidance on the technique instruction that had proven most enjoyable indeed, Seven had yet to attempt it on her own.
Now, after witnessing the recording of that special interaction, she felt an undeniable need to use what she had learned in her lessons with Kathryn. She activated the file, replaying it from the beginning as she inhaled deeply, and slid down between the sheets until she was stretched out fully on the mattress, her knees bent and slightly parted. Holding up the padd so she could see the screen, she slipped her right hand beneath the blanket and touched herself again, a little more firmly, dipping down briefly to dabble in the moisture welling from her opening. She spread the viscous, natural lubricate around to ease the passage of her fingers, the tips brushing back and forth insistently over her sensitive nub, feeling the most delightful sort of chills ripple through her with every caress.
Swallowing hard, Seven watched the recording of herself being pressed back against the desk, Janeway hooking Seven's long legs over her shoulders, forcing her down onto the cold surface where Seven knocked the console aside. There was a brief instance of spinning room undoubtedly the actual fall of the device from the desk to the floor then, with breathless anticipation, Seven witnessed the most interesting angle of Kathryn leaning forward to press her mouth against the juncture of Seven's legs. Seven stifled her groan, closing her eyes as a sudden and acutely vivid memory flashed through her mind and along her nerve endings, remembering keenly the delicious sensation of Janeway's mouth against her, the way Janeway's lips and tongue had moved over her delicate flesh, tasting her with a refined, if intense, greed.
The padd fell from her left hand onto the bed, the soft moans of Seven's delight and Kathryn's empathetic murmurs continuing to issue from the small speaker, enhancing Seven's current desire. She wanted to echo the moans, biting her lip to keep them contained, her fingers swirling faster and faster over her tiny protrusion, the edge of sensation shivering sharp throughout her with steadily increasing need, rising in accordance with her heartbeat as she imagined Kathryn pleasuring her, tasting her, loving her with all the tender skill Janeway possessed. Fully in tune with that image of herself on the viewscreen, Seven felt her body strive for its peak, the soft, guttural sounds of the padd stirring her on, increasing in intensity and duration until she could no longer resist her own caress, abandoning herself utterly to the spasms of delight that shook her body, releasing the tension in her loins, crying out softly in perfect harmony with her recorded self.
As the final shudders slowly died away, still immersed in her fantasy of being with her, Seven drew her hand up to her face, languidly licking the salt-sweet essence of desire and pleasure from her fingers. She paused, and then regarded them wistfully, abruptly brought back to reality as she realized it just wasn't the same as when she licked her essence from Kathryn's fingers or better still, Kathryn's piquant flavor from her own.
Stifling a sigh, she reached down and shut off the file, interrupting the image of her undressing Janeway, the padd's screen going blank just as Janeway bent over the desk, her buttocks hiked in the air while Seven donned the couple's accessory. Seven placed the padd back on her night stand, aware that she would probably be accessing the file again before the trip was over. Smiling faintly to herself, she rolled over and curled up in a fetal position, wrapping her arms around the spare pillow. It was not anything like the warm body of her spouse, just as her solitary climax had not been nearly as satisfying as being with Kathryn would be, but both sensations soothed her enough that when sleep finally reached out for her, she was able to surrender to it.
Drifting off into wonderful dreams which featured her in the most amazing and provocative positions.
The hovercraft handled easily as Janeway turned up the graveled lane leading to the white farmhouse, not displacing a single pebble as it passed over the groomed path with its antigrav emitters. She brought it to a stop in front of the shed where her mother kept her bright red vehicle, noticing another hovercraft parked to the side, crouching on its landing struts and looking sullen with its covering of dull, grey paint. It matched the model and style of Janeway's rented vehicle from the Portage Creek Transport Station, and Janeway knew that meant Commander Michael Patterson was here, the man that Kathryn's mother was romantically involved with. Janeway felt a twinge of discomfort at the thought of seeing him, but she resolutely buried it deep inside herself as she climbed out of the hovercraft and crossed the fragrant clover of the expansive lawn, Jake bounding beside her in anticipation.
This was a familiar place to the dog, and before long, he was streaking across the springy turf to greet Phoebe's animals, Molly and Rufus, all three Irish Setters coming together in a rusty ball of hair and unrestrained energy. Petunia, the black retriever, remained on the front porch, where she regarded this youthful exuberance with all the imperious disdain her ancient twenty years could muster. Janeway smiled sadly, remembering that uncontrollable puppy she had discovered in a cornfield so many years ago, and keenly aware of the precious time that had slipped away since then, never to be recovered.
Hearing voices from the rear of the house, Janeway moved around the corner, faltering briefly when she saw her mother and the much younger man kneeling side-by-side in the flower bed lining the base of the back porch. They were laughing in a very comfortable sort of companionship, and when Gretchen looked up to see her daughter approaching, her eyes were sparkling a brilliant blue.
“Kathryn,” she said, her tone delighted.
She rose from the ground, moving lithely with little indication of her sixty-nine years. Tall, slender, with a shock of white hair framing the fine cheekbones that the starship captain had inherited, Gretchen looked far younger and more vital than Janeway could ever remember seeing. Janeway smiled as she was embraced, and she returned the hug.
“Have you heard from Annika?” Gretchen asked as she drew back, looking into her daughter's face.
“A very brief message arrived from Trill this morning. You know Seven; never use a paragraph when a single word will do. She said she enjoyed the symposium and the chance to sightsee on Trill. She and Ro explored the ice caves, and Seven said that she and I would have to go back one day because she believed I would find them 'most intriguing'. Their ship left for Vulcan yesterday morning and should be arriving there later this evening. She's looking forward to seeing Tuvok and the twins again.”
Gretchen's keen eyes searched Janeway's face. “How are you doing?”
Janeway forced a smile. “I'm okay, Mom.
Gretchen dipped her head. “Don't lie to me, Kathryn,” she said in a low tone that only Janeway could hear.
Janeway sighed, exasperated. “Fine, I came here for dinner because one more night of sitting in our empty house, staring across the dining table at the seat where Annika should be, would have driven me completely out of my mind. It isn't so bad through the week when I'm busy at work, but it's completely unbearable on the weekend. Even going into the office today wasn't enough to keep me busy, so I came here straight from Mars.” She paused. “I'm not sure it's fair to bring this bad mood home to you.”
Gretchen laughed and kissed her cheek. “That's what I'm here for, Kathryn. Stay here and keep Michael company. I'll go prepare dinner.”
She was gone before Janeway could object, and uneasily, Janeway turned around and regarded the man who was digging in the dark earth. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say in circumstances such as these, but then, she suspected he was a little uncomfortable himself, judging from the intensity he brought to probing the loamy dirt. She took a breath and sat down on the top step of the stairs leading up to the back porch. Through the screen door behind her, she could hear her mother in the kitchen, the sounds of food preparation very familiar, evoking more than one childhood memory that danced tantalizingly along the recesses of her mind.
“Isn't it a little late in the summer to be planting?” she asked inanely, not entirely sure when that sort of thing took place when one was talking about flowers.
He shot her a look. “Winter bulbs,” he explained gently.
“Ah,” she said, nodding as if that was a crucial piece of information he had just granted her. Her eyes moved restlessly over the corn fields that stretched toward the horizon, almost ready for the final harvest.
“I'm sorry this is so uncomfortable, Captain,” he said finally, after a pause that seemed to go on for an eternity.
She exhaled audibly. “It's not really you. I'd feel this way about anyone who, uh, my mother was well, involved with.”
“I guess I'd feel the same way,” he allowed, continuing to work in the dark, rich earth. He offered her a smile. “Still, the whole Starfleet thing is an unnecessary complication between us.”
She hesitated, then returned the grin faintly. “Maybe, especially now that Paris isn't too fond of me.” Patterson served as adjunct to Admiral Owen Paris, and recently, Janeway and her mentor had experienced a difference of opinion about what posting Janeway should accept. The admiral still wasn't speaking to her, apparently considering her a traitor for accepting a position under Admiral Nechayev's direct authority.
He looked more uncomfortable. “The admiral maintains a personal conflict with Nechayev. When one does not share his view, certain difficulties can arise.”
“I don't envy you your job,” she offered honestly.
“It can be interesting,” he allowed, before attempting to bring the topic back on course. “In any event, I was thinking more in terms of our respective ranks. It must be hard to have someone ranked below you involved with your mother.”
She shrugged. “Unless you end up assigned to a post under my command—” She stopped, thinking about it. “Let's hope that doesn't happen,” she concluded delicately.
“Agreed.” He poked his spade under a particularly stubborn weed. “Then, there's the fact that Gretchen and I aren't the same age.”
She winced. “As my beloved Annika has pointed out on more than one occasion, that's not anything I have the right to object to considering that roughly, the same difference in age separates us.”
He nodded slowly. “So, what does that leave?”
“Nothing,” she said, and smiled somewhat ruefully. “I honestly do like you, Michael. You're a very personable and charming man, and I'm sure Mother is very lucky to have you in her life.” She leaned closer, lowering her tone. “I'm just being childish and I'm not sure how to get past it.”
“I guess we all turn into children when we're dealing with our parents.” He tossed the stubborn weed onto the pile next to him, having finally pried it loose. “You know—” He paused, looking at her directly. “I didn't expect to fall in love with Gretchen. I really didn't expect to fall in love with anyone, but from the moment I saw her, I couldn't stop thinking about her. All the objections that I came up with against pursuing a relationship with her just suddenly seemed so unimportant. She's such a wonderful woman, intelligent, warm, caring, beautiful...”
Janeway chuckled, holding up her hand to stop the litany of her mother's attributes. “You don't have to convince me. I may be slower to realize these things than everyone else, but as Seven has pointed out to me, Mom's quite the catch. I guess I should be surprised that she hasn't been deluged by suitors over the past few years.”
“She has,” Michael said, surprising Janeway profoundly and reminding her again of just how little she really knew about her parent. “I count my lucky stars every day that she chose me out of all the men she could have accepted.”
Janeway hesitated as yet another side to her mother was revealed, before dredging up a smile. “Michael, I'm sure I'll be able to work this out eventually for myself. Just give me a little leeway for a certain amount of foolishness?”
“Of course, Captain,” he said gratefully, shooting her a look with those remarkable green eyes. Janeway wondered idly if that was what had first intrigued her mother about the man. Certainly, she might have been inspired to take a second look at the sparkling emerald pools of attraction in other circumstances.
“I think, considering everything that's happened, you can probably call me Kathryn.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Kathryn.” He raised an eyebrow. “I understand the Millennium is progressing quite nicely.”
They fell into a discussion about the new vessel being constructed at Utopia Planitia, which had been the real reason Janeway had accepted the post, a position which otherwise would have been considered a significant demotion for the starship captain. In this area, at least, Janeway was quite comfortable talking with Patterson, and before she knew it, Gretchen was calling them both to dinner. Happily stuffing herself with Gretchen's homemade fried chicken served with rice and vegetables, Janeway was left feeling much less lonely than she had in her home in San Francisco during Seven's absence. After dinner, Michael volunteered to do the dishes, so Kathryn and her mother went for a stroll along a nearby country road to settle their meal and provide a little exercise for Petunia, who didn't move as quickly as she once did. As a result, the walk was quite lazy, with frequent pauses along the way to look at various birds, and judge the growth of corn in the fields.
Gretchen nudged her gently after a long period of silence. “I noticed you and Michael were getting along much better at dinner. You two were actually speaking directly to each other rather than using me as a buffer.”
Janeway smiled, scuffing a bit of dust up from the road, watching as it settled across the black, polished surface of her boot. “I told you I liked him, Mother. It just takes some getting used to.” She cast a sideways glance at her parent, noting how trim Gretchen looked in her denims and western shirt, her forearms browned from being out in the sun. She wore a faded Stetson to shade her eyes, and Janeway realized that her mother was a very attractive woman, unsure how she could have missed it for all these years.
“Michael tells me that you had a lot of guys on the hook before finally deciding to haul him into the boat.”
Gretchen blushed prettily. “He exaggerates.”
“Does he?” Janeway kicked a pebble up the road. “It occurs to me that a lot of Dad's friends used to come around for dinner years after his death. Long after you might have needed that kind of constant emotional support. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but now I'm wondering.”
“Only now?” Gretchen said dryly.
Janeway laughed. “Okay, Mom, I admit, I've had my eyes opened tremendously since returning from the Delta Quadrant. What about it? Were you and any of them involved?”
Gretchen chuckled, reaching down to pull out a strand of grass to chew on. “Kathryn, I would never become involved with any of your father's friends. It would be far too complicated.” She paused. “That's not to say some of them didn't try.” She smiled, almost as to herself, looking thoughtfully over the fields. “In fact, I think some of the antagonism Michael's receiving from his uncle is a result of me never giving David a tumble.”
Janeway winced, thinking about Admiral Patterson, who had been one of her professors at Starfleet Academy, and had always shown a paternal interest in the younger Janeway. She had known that he had visited her mother quite regularly, but she thought that had been out of friendship. Was she truly that naive about things? What had her mother said a tumble?
“God, now I'm sorry I asked.”
Gretchen shook her head. “Honestly, Kathryn, I really don't know where you developed this prudish streak. I will say that, until Michael, I had been emotionally alone for a very long time.”
Janeway hesitated, wondering why her mother had phrased it that way. “But not physically?”
“Kathryn, I was your age when your father died,” Gretchen replied evenly. “Tell me, did your physical needs end with Justin? Were you celibate after Mark, not experiencing desire until Seven came along?”
“That's—” Janeway began, about to say it was different for her, but realized it wasn't at all. If she had chosen to be celibate until Seven, it was because of her ultimately misguided belief that she could not afford a personal relationship while on Voyager, not because she didn't have exceptionally strong needs that plagued her on a regular basis. Earlier in her life, after Justin's death, it had taken awhile before she discovered her physical desires again, but once she became involved with Mark, she had practically worn the poor man out. She wondered if she had inherited that great exuberance for loving from her mother.
“Heavens,” she said, dismayed at herself. “How can I be so close to a person and not really know her at all?”
“Parents and children have a different dynamic, Kathryn,” Gretchen told her serenely. “You didn't know because you didn't want to know, and that's perfectly fine. You shouldn't have to know, but I don't want you to continue through life with this idea that once you reach a certain age, your physical appetites suddenly disappear.”
“I never really thought that.” Janeway smiled crookedly. “Only when it came to you.” She started to chuckle and so did her mother. “Sometimes, I'm really dense.”
“Part of your charm, darling,” Gretchen said, making Janeway laugh again as the women resumed their leisurely walk.
“Speaking of being dense, I should tell you that Mark still lives down the street from my house in San Francisco.”
Gretchen glanced sharply at her. “My God, I didn't even think of that, but you're right, he and Melissa never moved back to Indiana.” She exhaled slowly. “Too many memories here, I think, particularly of you. I haven't really kept in touch with him over the past couple of years.”
Janeway sent another pebble skittering down the road. “Too many memories in San Francisco as well.” Taking a deep breath, she told her mother about trying to resume her friendship with the man, and how it had backfired a few days earlier when she and Mark had been walking to the transport station. “I haven't laid eyes on him since. I'm missing Seven terribly, but I'm so glad she wasn't here to witness that. She'd be furious.”
“Does Seven get furious?” Gretchen asked in a rhetorical tone of voice. “I thought she just became more Borg until you couldn't stand it anymore. Still, there's no question that she would probably become a little upset over this. She might not understand that there was never any closure between you and Mark. He never really had a chance to stop loving you. He just moved on with his life because it seemed as if he had no choice.”
“I realize that now but Mom, he's married. I'm married. Why would he even think there was a chance for us to pick up where we left off? Did I mislead him in some way?”
“I have no doubt that Mark loves Melissa and his children completely, but you need to realize, Kathryn, there was a part of him that 'settled' for loving her because he believed he had lost you forever. Don't forget, your return was so unexpected, and suddenly, you were right there, a visible part of his daily life again. He had all sorts of unresolved feelings to deal with, and until you told him directly that it was over, until he realized there really was nothing there for him, it was eating away at his heart and mind. You're both quite fortunate that the situation was handled with relative quickness and ease.”
“It didn't seem easy,” Janeway said fervently.
Gretchen smiled. “Believe me, darling, it had the potential to be much worse. You need to make some allowances for Mark and for yourself.” She paused. “Imagine for a moment if, by some miracle, Justin suddenly reappeared in your life. How would you handle it? How would you feel?”
Caught, Janeway shook her head, feeling a little light-headed. “Probably as well as you would deal with Daddy suddenly appearing while loving Michael. I guess I can understand why Mark would be so confused. Still, I love Annika completely. No one, not even Justin coming back from the dead, could interfere with that.”
Gretchen nodded, putting her hand on her daughter's shoulder as they walked. “That kind of love is rare. Always cherish it and protect it wisely.”
Janeway did not look at her mother, though she felt the words keenly. She wasn't sure she could claim much wisdom regarding her relationship with Seven lately particularly in how she had manipulated events to make sure Ro had accompanied her spouse on her trip. She promised herself that when Seven returned, she would find a way to make up for her deception.
Or at least, she would finally own up to it.
Vulcan was hot. It was dry. Most of all, it was incredibly taxing to the body because the air was thin and the gravity was a half again what Earth demanded of its inhabitants. This world had produced beings who learned early in their development that success came from tempering one's emotions, tempering one's aggression, tempering one's self like a sword in a flame. Vulcans were composed, restrained, according pure logic as the highest aspiration they could strive for.
Visitors to Vulcan strived to stave off heat prostration. Without the triox compound administered daily, Ro suspected that none of the women would be able to function at all, excluding Seven, of course, who probably had an implant that allowed her to ignore such inconveniences such as dehydration and lack of oxygen.
Ro stepped out onto the balcony of the traveler's lodging, looking down into the courtyard where a fountain burbled clear, sweet spring water. Just the sound of it provided Ro with the sense of being cooler, but she could still feel her mucus membranes dry out as she inhaled the desert air. Beyond the gates of the lodge, located outside Vulcan's capital, she could see the reddish sand and harsh vegetation stretch for kilometers beneath the silvery illumination of moonlight, putting her in mind of the more desolate areas of Mars where she was now living with B'Elanna Torres. She wondered how B’Elanna was doing while she was away, and then decided her new position at Utopia Planitia was probably keeping her so busy, she wouldn't even notice Ro was gone.
That thought depressed the security officer so much that she resolved not to think about it anymore, relieved to hear the soft chime of the comm system, indicating that she had a message. Curious, she returned to her room, going over to the desk and activating the channel. Beyond the door, from the rest of the suite, she could hear the muffled sounds of Seven and Phoebe talking about the art exhibit they had visited earlier in the day. No matter what else happened on this trip, Seven was certainly acquiring a cultural education that would probably help her in the future.
Ro raised an eyebrow as she saw a familiar face appear on the viewscreen. “Tuvok,” she said, with honest pleasure. “We were hoping to have a chance to speak with you before we left Vulcan. I understand you and your family were on a personal retreat.”
“We were,” he responded, his voice calm and even. He, of course, was not displaying the same enthusiasm for the communication that Ro was, but she thought that his eyes might just have taken on a lighter cast. “We returned this morning and I received your message that you were on Vulcan. I trust all is well?”
“Things are going very well,” Ro replied, settling down in the chair. “Seven visited the Science Academy yesterday and spent the day touring the facility. Honestly, Tuvok, if she hadn't already committed to the TPG, I think she would be sorely tempted to accept the position they offered. She really likes the efficient and emotionally restrained working conditions.”
“After several years of witnessing Lt. Torres, and her approach to engineering and technology, I'm sure Seven would find the Science Academy a distinctly different atmosphere.” Ro smiled, realizing the Vulcan was teasing all three women in so far as he would indulge in that sort of thing. Of course, he had a fondness for Ro, B'Elanna and Seven that went beyond the mere working relationship they had shared on Voyager. He raised an inquiring eyebrow. “When do you depart for Earth?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Ro responded promptly. “We have a departure window scheduled for 1400 hours.”
“Would it be possible for you to visit my home in the morning? All of you?”
Ro dipped her head. “Wait a moment, please.” She slipped out of the chair and went to the entrance, the door sliding back at her approach. In the suite, Seven and Phoebe looked up from the discussion they were conducting over a pitcher of the cool, tangy fruit juice, which all three women had developed a taste for since arriving on the planet. “Tuvok wants to know if we can visit his home tomorrow morning, before we leave.”
Pleasure infused Seven's face. “Will Azan and Rebi be there?”
“He didn't say, but I'm sure they will be. Shall I accept the invitation?”
Phoebe dipped her head. “I have an early appointment with the curator of the Vulcan Archive of Art, but there's no reason why we can't all meet at the ship at two o'clock. You two should visit your friend.”
Seven nodded with enthusiasm. “That would be acceptable.”
Ro nodded and returned to the console. “Seven and I will be there, Tuvok. 0600 local time?” On most worlds, that would be indecently early for a personal visit. For Vulcan, where most business with outworlders took place during the coolest part of the day, it was quite reasonable.
“I anticipate your visit,” he said, before terminating the contact.
Tuvok's family home was located on the other side of the planet, in a small town situated by an oasis. His wife was a lovely, contained woman who immediately welcomed Ro and Seven into her house, directing Seven to the back yard where Tuvok and the Borg twins were enjoying the small fountain. Eagerly, Seven went out to meet them, but when Ro moved to follow Seven, she was restrained by the fleeting touch of T'Pel's hand on her arm, startled by the personal contact that was not the norm for Vulcans.
“Cousin,” T'Pel said. “Someone wishes to welcome you personally.”
Ro was suddenly reminded of what inspired such an implied blood relationship and felt light-headed. She had somehow managed to bury the magnitude of what had happened months earlier on Voyager in the recesses of her mind, but now, apparently, she was expected to face further consequences of her actions. She gulped as from the other room, another Vulcan female appeared, bearing a small bundle.
“Prophets,” she breathed, as the tiny form was handed to her, stiff and fearful that she would drop it, gazing down into the tiny, grave face of a Vulcan infant. Two delicately pointed ears adorned each side of his head, his eyes big and dark as they regarded her with bright interest. Now she knew why Tuvok and his family had gone on retreat as soon as he returned home. The infant was no more than a few days old.
“Your son is very healthy,” T'Pel said, her tone edged with just the faintest bit of pride and pleasure.
Ro's immediate instinct was to object, but she managed to bite her lip, suspecting it would be something of an insult to do so. After all, she had been a full participant in Tuvok's pon farr, and certainly, she realized that the four-way mental bond between herself, the security chief, T'Pel, and Tuvok's cousin, Tumak, had initiated conception. Ro had even accepted that she had provided an essential mental energy in creating a new life, but now that she was holding the child, it suddenly came home to her in a way that profoundly shocked and moved her.
She inhaled slowly as she looked at the child, feeling an unmistakable sense of connection to him. Perhaps it was all a matter of faith or just perception, but she realized that this little life would not exist if not for her contribution, for no other reason than T'Pel would have died when Tuvok did, had the surrogate option not been utilized.
“What's his name?”
“Surnak,” T'Pel said quietly. “It is for my grandfather who passed on several years ago.”
Ro nodded soberly. “A proud name.” She took a breath and glanced up at the woman who had borne the child. “What do my responsibilities entail?” she added, suddenly frightened but fully prepared to accept all the implications of the experience she had voluntarily initiated when it seemed as if Tuvok would perish.
T'Pel looked vaguely amused, yet pleased by the question. Ro, through her friendship with Tuvok, had become very good at reading the subtle muscle movements in those impassive Vulcan faces and interpreting what they meant.
“He shall be raised with his blood family, of course, but it is understood that should all the line perish, but for him, you would take over his upbringing.”
“Of course,” Ro agreed instantly, knowing that Tuvok's family was quite extensive and it would take a considerable disaster to wipe them out, making her Surnak's last living relative.
“Also, when he reaches his Time of Ascendance, he would be expected to accompany his spirit mother on a journey of exploration, learning of your culture and what it means to be Bajoran.”
“Oh,” Ro said, blinking. “I'm not even sure I know what it means to be Bajoran.”
“Then, perhaps you would find out together.”
“What is this 'Time of Ascendence'?” Ro realized that she needed to do some further research into this culture as soon as possible.
“It is that period between childhood and becoming an adult when he must learn all that which makes him who he is and what he shall be.”
Adolescence. So, she would be expected to teach the Vulcan equivalent of a teenager all about being a Bajoran, and what that entailed, assuming she had figured it out by then. Still, she thought, gazing down into the child's innocent face, that obligation would not occur for many years, particularly since Vulcans matured slower than Bajorans. Who knew if she'd even still be around to teach the child? Carefully, she handed him back to his birth mother, feeling a surprising sense of loss at the sudden emptiness in her arms. “I will do my best,” she promised.
“To expect less of you would be illogical,” T'Pel allowed graciously. “You are a worthy addition to our family line, Ro Laren.”
The woman retreated to the garden with the child to introduce him to Seven, while Ro hesitated, reaching out to the nearby wall with her hand to support herself as she swayed on suddenly uncertain legs. She swallowed hard as she wondered how she was going to explain this one to B'Elanna.
After regaining her composure, she followed T'Pel into the garden where Seven and the Borg twins were talking intently to each other, Seven sharing what she had discovered on her tour of the Vulcan Science Academy. Apparently, she thought that would be the perfect place for Rebi and Azan to attend when they were older, though both boys offered the opinion that they wished to enter Starfleet Academy, as their 'father', Tuvok, and 'older sister', Asil, had done. Tuvok agreed with Seven, however, and the discussion became relatively heated as far as Vulcans and Borg went before it was through. Ro was grateful for the attention it was drawing, however, because it granted her the privacy to think about what this new development might mean for her future, and that of B’Elanna.
Before leaving Tuvok's, Ro drew her mentor aside and suggested that he might want to think about contacting Janeway at Utopia Planitia. She didn't have leave to tell him all the details, but his security clearance allowed her to tell him what she could about the Orion Syndicate making an attempt on Janeway's life. He was very grave when she finished.
“I am sure that you are more than capable of protecting her. Do not underestimate your abilities.”
“I'm not, but I'm also not underestimating Janeway's ability to get herself into trouble. She's quick to utilize me as a security officer with Seven, but not necessarily when it comes to herself.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That is true. Perhaps I should apply for the posting of security chief at Utopia Planitia.” He paused. “Yet, T'Pel and I have made a decision that I would not leave her and our growing children behind ever again.”
Ro regarded him seriously, unsurprised. She suspected it was an approach to life that most of Voyager's crew had adopted since their return to the Alpha Quadrant.
“The Millennium is designed for families,” she hinted. “Mars isn’t like Vulcan, but it's much dryer than Earth. There's a significant population of Vulcans who prefer to live there while working at Starfleet Command.”
Tuvok nodded. “T'Pel and I will consider it.”
Ro had to content herself with that as she and Seven took their leave and headed for the nearest space port. Catching a shuttle to the orbital station where their ship was docked, they found Phoebe waiting for them. As Phoebe and Seven secured the vessel, Ro headed for the station's administration office to finalize any docking fees, as well as go over the inspection record, just to be sure the engineers had given the vessel a complete maintenance check before granting departure clearance. It was a somewhat unnecessary request, considering these were Vulcans she was dealing with, but both they and she realized it was a prudent ship captain that routinely double-checked everything. No one indicated they minded the extra care taken ... not that Vulcans would ever show annoyance, of course.
She was walking back to her docking berth when a casual glance out a viewport jolted her to a stop, leaving her staring at the lean shape of the USS Enterprise easing into a berth. If she hadn't happened to be returning to her vessel at just this moment, she might have missed it entirely, and a quick check with station operations revealed that the Sovereign-class vessel was picking up some ambassadors heading to a conference in the Tirrelus Cluster. She didn't dare contact Picard openly, but she really did need to talk with him.
Apparently, he needed to speak with her as well because when she returned to the DragonFlight, she discovered a short message waiting for her on the ship's comm station.
“Ecitan kiosk, twenty minutes.”
According to the time on the message, she only had ten left and only another half hour before her vessel was expected to depart. She asked Seven to finish the preparation for launch, telling her she had an errand to run before they left. Fortunately, Seven did not seem to be either surprised or unduly curious about this, and agreed, settling into the pilot's seat of the DragonFlight.
Trying not to appear anxious, nor wanting to draw attention to herself, Ro made her way back into the station, finding the Ecitan kiosk in the promenade area of the facility, surprised to discover it was a sort of tacky combination of lunch counter and gift shop that seemed entirely out of place in a Vulcan space station. She nervously took a table, relieved to see she was a minute early, and looked up as a cloaked and disguised man sat across from her. She raised an eyebrow when she looked beneath the shadows of the hood to discover Picard.
“Don't you think that's a trifle dramatic?” she asked dryly.
He smiled thinly. “It wouldn't be good if we were seen together, particularly since I keep demanding an apology from you.”
“I think we've just about exhausted that tactic,” she said, sobering as she leaned forward. “Captain, was the Orion Syndicate what you meant when you were talking about a 'third party' in your messages?”
“Unfortunately, at the time, I didn't know they were the third player, only that my initial data had been flawed. My sources aren’t as reliable as I would like, and now it appears that the original information they gave me was garbled, confusing the Syndicate's intentions with that of Section 31. It seems that it was always the Orion Syndicate who was attempting to acquire Seven technology that Seven and Voyager possess.”
Ro exhaled slowly. “So, Section 31 doesn't want Seven?”
“Oh, they want Seven.” His eyes grew darker. “In fact, it's much worse than merely wishing to secure her technology and knowledge of Seven queen. I don't believe they'll be trying to recruit you, after all, Lieutenant.”
She blinked. “No?”
“Apparently, they want to recruit her. If they succeed in convincing Seven of Nine that they have the Federation's best interests at heart, if they can persuade her that working with them would make it easier to protect what she holds dear, she would make a most formidable agent for them, particularly with her physical skills, intelligence and technological enhancements.”
Ro felt a wave of shock roll over her, one more jolt on a day that had already provided more than its share.
Seven of Nine would become the very thing that she and Picard were trying so hard to destroy.
“Azan and Rebi told me that Surnak is partially your child, Lt. Ro,” Seven remarked quietly, once their vessel had cleared the Vulcan system and had laid in a course to Earth, settling into a steady warp four. It would take another day or so for them to reach the solar system, but Seven discovered she could not wait to pin Ro down about the fascinating piece of information she had discovered, though she did restrain herself until Phoebe had retired to her cabin for the evening. “How is that possible?”
Ro started abruptly, obviously badly shaken by Seven's question, her dark eyes uncertain as she stared out the viewport.
“It's complicated,” Ro admitted finally.
“I suspected it would be,” Seven allowed patiently, waiting for Ro to elaborate.
“How did Azan and Rebi find out?” Ro said, a touch of exasperation in her tone.
Seven raised an eyebrow. “It has been my experience that children often know far more than the adults around them realize. I suspect it is because their presence is often discounted, though they hear and understand a great many things no matter how subtle the adults believe they are being.”
“Wonderful,” Ro grumbled. She took a deep breath. “Do you remember when Tuvok isolated himself in his quarters? Or maybe you don't because it was around the same time you encountered that alien pretending to be your mother.”
Despite the many months that had passed since that event, despite the distance Seven had managed to put between her and what had been a most painful experience with the Mimic, Seven still flinched.
“Tuvok was undergoing pon farr. Kathryn told me it had been taken care of.”
Ro dipped her head. “It was, by me.”
Curiously, Seven tilted her head. “Explain.”
“Tuvok had to mate or he would die,” Ro said, sighing slightly as she seemed to realize she wouldn't be able to get out of responding to Seven's questions. “I offered myself as surrogate, and while our mating, which involved not only myself and Tuvok, but T'Pel and Tuvok's cousin, Tumak, acting as surrogate in a psychic bond, T'Pel conceived a child.”
“You were part of the conception?” Seven was greatly intrigued.
“In a manner of speaking.” Ro turned her head and pinned Seven with a look. “Vulcan mating rituals are an extremely private and personal thing, Seven. You must swear to me that you will never discuss this with anyone else.”
Seven hesitated, frowning, and Ro sighed.
“Other than Janeway, of course. Besides, Captain Janeway already knows what happened.”
“She does?” Seven filed that away as yet another thing her had been keeping from her. “I promise not to discuss it with anyone other than Kathryn.” She studied Ro closely. “Will you discuss it with B'Elanna?”
Ro inhaled slowly, looking very serious. “I have to.” A muscle trembled in her jaw. “The incident almost finished our relationship, Seven. It took a long time for B'Elanna to come to terms with what I felt I had to do. I'm not sure how she'll react to this.”
Seven considered it. “If you tell her immediately, she would be more understanding than if you attempt to dissemble.” She was absolutely assured that this was the proper form of advice, since she was keenly aware of how aggrieved she was over Kathryn's decision to keep things from her.
Ro glanced at her. “Do you understand why I did what I did to save Tuvok's life?” The question was posed in a most tentative tone, unlike Ro's normal inflection, almost as if Ro needed some sort of reassurance about something.
“Of course,” Seven replied promptly. “Indeed, I informed Kathryn that I would be willing to mate with Tuvok if it were necessary to save his life.” She paused, remembering the conversation. “She said that I could be physically injured in that event.”
Ro looked thoughtful. “I don't think so, but it was quite energetic. If you've never been with a male, it might have posed a problem or two.”
“You were not injured?”
Ro shot a sharp look at her, and then smiled faintly. “No. It was fairly pleasant, in fact.”
“As a result, you now have a child.”
That wiped the small smile from Ro's face. “I do. It was something I never really took into consideration when I made my decision to help Tuvok, but now I have to accept responsibility for my actions.”
“What is it like, suddenly being a mother?” Seven had experienced a taste of it when the Borg children came on board, but they quickly became the responsibility of all the Voyager collective. The only one that she felt she had a true maternal claim on had been the infant, but the child's relatives had been found and she had been forced to watch as Janeway handed the baby over to them. It had been a wound between her and Kathryn that eventually healed, but left a deep and ragged scar.
The corner of Ro's mouth curled upward. “Scary as hell. Not to mention the fact that suddenly, your life isn't entirely your own anymore. A piece of it is claimed by someone else.”
Seven thought about that later when she withdrew to her cabin at the rear of the vessel, stripping down to her undergarments and washing in the small sink which was provided. Crawling between the sheets of the narrow bunk, she lay there for some time, staring through the small porthole next to her, contemplating the passing stars and all she had learned on this visit.
Not long afterward, she heard the subtle sounds of Ro retiring to her own cabin for the night. That meant the DragonFlight had been turned over to the navigational computer that would automatically pilot it while Ro was asleep. Of course, Seven and Ro could take turns monitoring the helm, but with the simplicity of the vessel's systems, there was little that could go wrong. This area of Federation space was well traveled, and it was unlikely the helm would lose so many reference points as to move them off course. It wasn't like Voyager, for example, in the Delta Quadrant, that required almost constant monitoring by officers because of the unknown variables in that area of space, and the complexity of the Intrepid-class vessel's more advanced navigational array.
Exhaling slowly, Seven was abruptly aware that in a little more than twenty-four hours, she would be in Kathryn's arms once more. Despite the problem between them, she still looked forward to that moment with eager anticipation. She had never been away from her for so long, not since that incredible journey via a Bajoran orb to DS9 that lasted three months. Missing Kathryn was like an ache within her, a sort of pain that she couldn't heal and was hard pressed to ignore.
She sat up and leaned over, pulling her bag out from beneath her bunk, and digging out the padd with Janeway's files. She wasn't in the mood for the 'special' file, but she went through the rest of them, one after another, immersing herself in the sound and sight of her spouse, feeling a little less lonely. Eventually, she tucked the padd beneath her pillow and fell asleep with Kathryn's voice rasping pleasurably in her ear, telling her how much she loved her and always would.
When she woke, Seven could hear muffled conversation through the door of her tiny cabin, and sensed that she had overslept somehow, though time was rather fluid on a private yacht in space. She slipped out of her bunk and stripped off her undergarments, washing off briefly in the sink with a cloth and a cleanser specifically designed for space necessities. When she dressed in fresh clothes and went out into the main cockpit, Phoebe wordlessly handed her an herbal tea and some breakfast pastries. Seven took a seat next to the viewport and glanced out at the stars as she ate her meal. All three women were very quiet this morning, as if aware that the trip was finally coming to an end, and were using this time to be alone with their thoughts.
At the helm, Ro manually navigated the ship, though it wasn't necessary. Seven supposed Ro wished to keep busy. Not that she blamed her, wishing that she had something to do as well. Phoebe, of course, could busy herself with her art at any time, making sketches or simply going over her notes from the symposium on Trill. Seven wondered if she should develop a 'hobby', one that could be practiced regardless of the surroundings.
Seven was surprised when her sister-in-law leaned over and touched her on her shoulder.
“Come back to my cabin, Annika,” Phoebe suggested in a low voice. “I have some images I took on Vulcan that I'd love for you to see.”
“Of course,” Seven acceded, and rose from her seat, following Phoebe back to her cabin, which was no larger than Seven's. The two women sat on the bunk, tucking their legs underneath them.
“What's going on?”
Seven blinked. “Could you be more specific?” she asked, realizing that Phoebe had been conducting a deception. Apparently, there were no images of Vulcan to be perused, much to Seven's disappointment.
“Halfway through our visit to Trill, Ro gave up that ridiculous attempt to pretend she was fascinated with their culture, and started acting like what she was really there for. Why was she sent to protect you, Annika?”
Seven hesitated. If the possibility existed for Ro to be disciplined for revealing the real reason she had been sent along on the trip, then Seven telling Phoebe telling a civilian about matters classified by Starfleet, could slide very quickly into something that could become quite complicated for everyone.
“She did accompany us to secure my protection, but I cannot discuss the 'why' with you.”
Phoebe stared at her, then nodded, a touch of discontent in her face. “I'm sure it probably has to do with Starfleet which, frankly, is the story of my life, but I'm glad to know that my first guess was right. That she was only pretending to have an interest in Trill culture.”
Seven did not respond to that, regarding her sister-in-law quietly.
Phoebe shook her head and sighed somewhat wistfully. “Otherwise, did you enjoy the trip?”
Seven immediately brightened with enthusiasm. “Oh, yes, Phoebe, it was very enjoyable. Thank you so much for suggesting I come with you. It was fascinating to see all the various scientific facilities and to meet the people with whom I have previously corresponded only over a communications array.”
“I'm glad,” Phoebe said, pleased as she patted Seven gently on the thigh. “Listen, are you and Kathryn having problems?”
Seven blinked. “Why would you ask that?”
“The whole Ro thing. I understand why Ro would have a cover story for me to come along, but there's no question in my mind that you also believed it, at least in the beginning. That means Kathryn sent her along without telling you why.”
Seven was amazed and somewhat consternated at her sister-in-law's powers of deduction. She tried to come up with an answer, then inhaled slowly. “Kathryn cannot always tell me everything in her role as a Starfleet officer.”
Phoebe stared at her a minute. “You're right, she can't, but as her spouse, you have the right to know if something is up, particularly if it involves you. She, of all people, should know what it feels like to come second to Starfleet.”
Seven dipped her head, realizing that perhaps it was not just Kathryn who had felt neglected by her father. Obviously, Phoebe still had a few unresolved feelings with the whole parental situation. “I agree it is something that Kathryn and I shall have to address once I have returned to Earth. It is entirely possible that she was so concerned about my safety that she overlooked the fact that she must take the time to discuss things with me. But while I have the right to be angry with her, you do not.”
Phoebe blinked. “Who said I was angry with her?”
Seven quirked an eyebrow. “Your body positioning, the tenor of your voice, the way your pupils are dilated, the—”
“All right,” Phoebe said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I am pissed at my sister. You're the best thing that's ever happened to her, and if she's so stupid that she can't see that, then obviously I'm going to have to point it out to her.”
Seven smiled faintly, warmed at the ferocity in her sister-in-law's voice, and the brightness of her eyes. Being fully accepted and loved completely by Kathryn's family was something that she cherished deeply, and it was the sort of sustaining support that made her wonder if she should seek out members of her own family for a more extensive contact. During her visit to the Daystrom Institute, she and Ro Laren had taken a brief side trip to visit Seven's grandparents, both maternal and paternal, and while it had still been somewhat uncomfortable, it was far less stressful than their first meeting years ago on DS9. It was possible that with time and effort, she could achieve a sort of family bond with them, despite the fact that she did not really feel such emotion yet.
“I appreciate your concern, but this is a situation that Kathryn and I must work out on our own.”
“In other words, you want me to butt out,” Phoebe said dryly.
Seven considered that. “If the implication is that you are not to interfere in my relationship with your sister, then yes, you are required to 'butt out'.”
Phoebe grinned wryly, looking remarkably like her sibling at that moment. “Okay,” she said placatingly. “I promise I won't pick a fight with Kathryn over this, but you have to promise me that you won't let her get away with this.”
Seven sobered suddenly. “No, I will not allow her to 'get away with this'.”
“Kathryn will have to recognize the consequences of her actions.”
“We have a bite.”
The cool tones of Nechayev startled Janeway as she worked at the desk in her new office at the Utopia Planitia base, and she glanced up to see that the admiral had broken into her comm channel. At first, Janeway didn't understand what her superior officer was saying, still lost in the schematics of the Galaxy-class USS Discovery, but finally she figured it out and put down her padd.
“Where?” Janeway didn't bother to object to the admiral cutting into her private emergency channel. That's what it was for, after all, but she did wish the admiral wouldn’t be so abrupt all the time. Undoubtedly, it was part of the reason why Seven did not like or trust Nechayev.
“McKinley Station. Beam directly to the administration office. The coordinates have been downloaded into your transporter buffer.”
The viewscreen went blank as the admiral cut the channel, and without hesitation, Janeway rose from her chair and moved over to the small transporter dais set unobtrusively in an alcove across the room. It had been a courtesy, Janeway realized, for the admiral to include her in this since most of the operation had been taken over by Starfleet Intelligence. Or perhaps there was something more to it. She had developed the distinct impression Nechayev was up to something, but she hadn't quite figured out what yet.
She keyed the transporter and felt her molecules dissolve, reassembling her in the administration office of the space station that orbited Earth. She felt a slight dizziness that quickly passed, and she wondered if such regular, long-distance beaming was good for her. She decided that she would have to do some research into it, or better yet, get someone who enjoyed digging around databases to do it for her. That made her think of Seven, and she hoped that this would not take very long. Seven, Ro and Phoebe were expected to be arriving from Vulcan later in the day, and she had every intention of personally being there to greet her spouse the second she stepped off the DragonFlight.
Taking a position just behind the station technician monitoring the console, Janeway nodded briefly at the admiral who was standing next to an unfamiliar officer. Admiral Nechayev was not a particularly impressive person at first glance, slender and diminutive, even when compared to Janeway's compact form, and especially compared to the large man she was standing beside. But the longer one was in her presence, the more Nechayev's personality imposed itself, like steadily increasing levels of deadly radiation from a star about to go nova. Before one knew it, they were experiencing the fear that they might not survive an encounter with her if they were not especially careful. Janeway was of two minds about her superior officer. On one hand, she greatly respected and admired the accomplishments of the woman, but on the other, Nechayev's arrogant and brutally forceful attitude was extremely off-putting, even to Janeway who thought she knew what it originated from.
“Captain Janeway, this is Captain Provo, Starfleet Security,” Nechayev said, introducing the balding, broad-chested man who towered over her. His small eyes glinted and he dropped a semi-courteous nod at Janeway before returning his attention to the viewscreens. Janeway dipped her head in response, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his attitude.
“What do we have?”
“A face that has been identified as being connected to the Syndicate,” Nechayev replied, when Provo did not seem inclined to answer Janeway's question. “We don't know the human with him, but I suspect it's our conduit, or at least, someone who can tell us where it's been routed.”
The admiral motioned at the viewscreens covering the wall at one end of the room that monitored the passenger, storage and docking facilities of the station, including the spacious departure section where the various civilians were waiting to board ships bound for a multitude of destinations. The large lobby was bordered by a wide range of gift shops, kiosks and merchant stands, providing last minute necessities and merchandise to the departing travelers. Janeway noticed the main viewscreen appeared to be centered on a small, somewhat obscure newsstand located in a quiet corner of the lounge, away from where most of the crowds were located, and a considerable distance from the main storage facility where lockers could be rented by the travelers.
Nechayev pointed at two beings, a Bolian and a human, lounging nonchalantly by the counter, perusing the offering of publications. “I think they're waiting until the area is more crowded before trying the lockers. Once they have what they came for, it's only a short walk to the departure gates. We'll take them once they're past the gate and are on approach to their ship.”
“Is this the same locker where McCord originally left the Borg units?”
Janeway felt a keen sense of awareness fill her, the scent of the hunt flaring her nostrils. It had been a while since she had felt like this. Not since the Delta Quadrant, as a matter of fact. She was also struck by an odd sense of familiarity with the sight of the Human operative, though the hood the burley figure was wearing made it difficult to get a good look at his facial features. She wondered when those cowls had become the fashion, belatedly realizing that many in the departure crowd were also wearing them. Convenient for criminals to disguise their features. Not so convenient for the law enforcement agents attempting to track them. They could easily be lost in the sea of travelers if Starfleet wasn't very careful.
Provo answered for Nechayev, overriding Janeway’s question. “Our undercover agents leaked word that Starfleet has been unable to find where McCord hid them. We've been monitoring this area for the past two weeks. This is the first nibble we've had.”
“Won't they be suspicious?”
Janeway decided she didn't like Provo at all, though a part of her was sympathetic as she realized his abrupt attitude sprang partially from an uncertainty in his own abilities. Obviously, he was another indication of the toll the Dominion War had taken; an officer promoted too quickly into a position he wasn't entirely ready for. It was suddenly more understandable to her why the Orion Syndicate would have dared operate this close to the core system.
Provo shook his head. “We were very apparent in searching this area thoroughly for several days before moving our operation to the Utopia Planitia base.” He paused, grinning without humor. “Surely you've heard all the complaints from your engineers the past week about how we keep getting in their way as we poke around.”
Janeway exhaled audibly. “Oh, yes,” she said acidly. “I've heard.” Commander McDougal's displeasure still resonated from the last staff meeting of chief engineers she had attended on the base.
“They're moving,” the technician at the console said.
Provo reached down and pressed the touch pad. “All units, stand by.” His eyes suddenly gleamed with an unpleasant glitter. “Quarry is beginning to move.”
Janeway tensed, wanting to be more involved, finding the task of merely watching the events unfold on the monitors almost agonizing. It was very like having to sit calmly on the bridge of a starship while an away team carried out an operation, granting her the same sense of anticipation, excitement and frustration over being merely an observer. However, in that circumstance, she always had the option of involving herself directly if she so chose because of her command authority. Here, she had to stand by and watch without interference, as the various Starfleet Intelligence undercover agents began slowly to tighten the perimeter of their trap, closing in on the storage area where the syndicate members had gone directly to the locker where Seven technology had been stored. There, while the Bolian kept a look out, the Human removed a false back to the locker and took out a couple of devices which Janeway recognized as belonging to the power units from Seven's Borg alcove.
“Wait,” Nechayev snapped to Provo. “Your people are moving in too quickly. We want them not only to pick up the merchandise, but we also want to pinpoint which ship they're using. We need to know how they're able to operate in Earth's solar system.”
Provo grunted, but he nodded and gave the order for his operatives to hold back until the targets had reached the section leading to their vessel. That way, Starfleet would know which berth the Syndicate ship was docked at, and hopefully discover what government body or private enterprise was providing the criminal organization with passage within the core systems.
A sudden qualm struck Janeway. “What if they transport directly out once they have the merchandise?”
“The transporter system on the station is too large and monitored too closely,” Nechayev explained in a low tone as Provo shot the starship captain a bit of a condescending look. “Any unauthorized attempt would immediately alert administration, and the main pattern buffer would grab their signal and hold it until security checked it out.”
Tersely, Janeway nodded and resumed her observation of the viewscreens. As she watched, her attention was caught by an image in the corner, and she realized that one of the Starfleet operatives had faltered, as if ill, leaning uncertainly against the pillar not far from the newsstand where the syndicate members had been loitering earlier. Fortunately, it was not close to the action where other agents were closing in on the criminals, but Janeway kept half an eye on it anyway. On the main screen, the Syndicate operative was shown deftly tucking Seven units in a bag before handing it to the other member who promptly slung it over his shoulder. It was very smooth, with a minimum of fuss or effort, and Janeway was struck by how 'planned' it all seemed. These two knew exactly what they were doing.
“Provo, you have a break in the perimeter,” Janeway said as she noticed the rearguard agent slumping to the deck. “One of your agents is down.”
Startled, Provo cursed and started making calls to the closest operatives, all of whom were on the other side of the storage area near the departure gates.
The undercover operative was lying next to the pillar by this time, and Janeway abruptly realized it was no coincidence that the two criminals had originally been loitering by that tiny newsstand. Obviously, the proprietor of the shop was also somehow involved, quickly coming around the counter and grabbing the unconscious or dead Starfleet agent under the arms to drag her out of sight behind the counter. Horrified, Janeway noted that there was a vent located near the tiny kiosk which, according to a check with the computer, led to a series of maintenance tubes. Comparable to the Jeffries tubes on a starship, the access tunnels could take a person directly to any one of the docking ports, avoiding the departure gates entirely, not to mention all the security monitors.
The syndicate members had started back across the departure area, obviously retracing their steps to the newsstand instead of taking the expected, much shorter and direct route to the gates. Apparently, no one had anticipated this escape route which meant someone on Provo's staff had let him down and as a result, only the one operative had been left to cover the area. With that operative suddenly gone, the syndicate had an opening through which they could slip if they moved quickly.
They were moving very quickly.
“Morgan, T'Pan, get your team out into the docking area,” Provo snapped into the comm system. “Ferris, back track into the departure section and follow the Syndicate operatives.
“What about force fields?” Janeway asked Nechayev, scanning the board.
“That part of the security system is not responding,” the technician at the console replied, slapping at his touch pad frantically. “The internal sensors are down.”
“This was their escape route all along,” Nechayev said grimly, shooting a look at Provo. “Someone may have tipped them off.”
“Impossible,” he sputtered, his gleaming head flushing a deep red, almost glowing. He returned Nechayev's glare with one of his own, but it faded quickly beneath the power of her steely eyes.
“There will be a complete investigation,” the admiral said, in a voice that made others in the room tremble. “If we lose these people...”
Janeway could tell with a fatalistic detachment that there were no other agents close enough to replace the one who had been taken out. Scanning the various view screens, Janeway abruptly realized that the administration area was in reasonable proximity to that unobtrusive maintenance tube, and without further delay, she sprinted from the office, hearing the astounded “Captain!” flung after her by Nechayev.
As Janeway descended to the next deck, using an emergency maintenance ladder, and dashed down the corridor leading toward the main maintenance tube, she was struck by the fact that she had neglected to secure a weapon for herself before she left. She couldn't quite remember if she had replaced the concealed phaser she normally carried in her boot heel, or if she had neglected to take it out of her tunic after the last incident requiring its use, which meant it would have been recycled into component energy when the uniform went through the replicator.
She didn't falter as she turned the corner and raced down the access corridor, grateful that she had resumed her runs in the morning. This was not an easy distance to cover at top speed, and she doubted she could have managed it a few weeks earlier. She did hesitate as she reached the vent leading to the maintenance tube, trying to figure out if the criminals had already passed this section, or if they had yet to reach this particular juncture. Judging from the noise, she determined that they had already bypassed this tube on their way to the docking ring, and that the pair had been joined by a third person, undoubtedly the newsstand proprietor.
Ignoring the nagging sense that she was following more than just a triad of criminals, she dropped into the tube and crawled quietly after them, wondering how she was going to stop, or at least, delay the trio since her brief view of them on the monitors indicated that they all outweighed her by a considerable amount. She knew she would have to come up with something soon since they were rapidly making their way to where their ship would undoubtedly be ready to launch. Starfleet didn't have enough operatives in place to put a person on every docking port, and without knowing which ship they were headed for, despite the administration office using Janeway's comm badge for triangulation as she trailed them, it might be impossible for Starfleet to get someone to the berth in time to prevent the syndicate members from dropping out of the vent directly next to their ship's airlock and sealing it behind them. Even assuming Starfleet discovered which vessel they had taken refuge in, the criminals might be on neutral territory, and impossible to extradite. Certainly, any civilian company would know how to make things legally complicated just by demanding search warrants. By the time Starfleet had clearance to search the private transports, the Syndicate would have transported the merchandise elsewhere and further disguised their operatives.
Despite the urgency of the situation, Janeway found herself noticing the conditions of the tube she was in, which were a far cry from the stringent standards of Voyager, or in fact, any Starfleet vessel. She was appalled by the thickness of the dust, accented by a cobweb now and again, and was hard pressed to keep from sneezing in the grit the trio ahead was kicking up. She had to pause briefly at a juncture to rub at her burning nostrils.
At that exact second, a ruby flash shot through the space she would have been occupying, had she not stopped to scratch her nose, and seared a nasty black streak on the wall beside her. Hastily, she cowered back against the meager shelter of the bulkhead and reached for her boot, relieved when the small phaser dropped into her palm as she slid back the heel. She replaced the heel, ducking as another beam splashed with deadly heat against the tube. Listening intently to her opponents she waited, conscious of the hiss of air reclamation and the constant hum of the station's power systems around her, but there was no sound of further motion from down the tube. They were undoubtedly waiting to see if they had hit her or better still, if she would fire back. The one advantage she had was that they couldn't wait long, aware that more Starfleet operatives would be closing on their position as every second passed, and that they only had a limited amount of time to get to their ship.
When they finally began to move again, so did she, hurrying to catch up, though she was careful every time she rounded a corner to make sure a phaser beam was not waiting for her. An alteration in the background noise indicated that they had entered the docking area, and she put on a burst of speed, crawling faster as she wished her trousers had extra padding in the knees. She gasped as she abruptly went through an unexpected cross tunnel, lifting her phaser instinctively and firing to her right without looking as she scrambled for cover in the opposite tube. There was a masculine scream, and she was somewhat chagrined to realize she hadn't changed the settings on her phaser since the last time she had used it. She took a second to change the level from the fine, intensely hot cutting beam to the stun parameters, and slipped cautiously out of the tube as she heard them start to move again this time with the distinct noise of one of them being dragged.
She gulped a little as she passed the cauterized foot of one the operatives, realizing that she had taken it off neatly at the ankle. It was lying sideways, still in its boot, and she tried very hard not to retch as she ducked through one more tube. The sound of a grill being kicked out ahead of her made her realize they had reached the end of the line, and she carefully peeked around the corner, barely able to get out of the way of a blast that nearly took her face off. There was probably something quite ironic about losing the very nose she insisted on poking into things, she thought with giddy excitement as she quickly assessed the situation. Obviously, the injured man had remained behind to cover the escape of the other two with the Borg units even if it meant he was sure to be captured.
She looked around, noting that directly across from where she was huddled, there was another grill, undoubtedly located above the berth next to the Syndicate's vessel. The problem was, while she was trying to get it open, she would be a very easy target. Not wanting to give herself time to think about it, realizing that if she did, her commonsense would prevent her from doing anything, she launched herself across the tube, crashing into the grill. Fortunately for her, it was not secured against a hundred and thirty pounds of small, but scrappy starship captain impacting on it from the inside. Rather than bouncing her backward into the line of fire, it exploded outward, both grill and woman dropping to the deck ten feet below. She grunted as she hit, already rolling to a crouch as she looked down the docking ring to where the carryall was being lowered to the waiting criminals. She lifted her phaser and stunned them both before they could react, and then as the third one reached down with his weapon, she shot him as well, leaving nothing but his arm dangling from the vent as the disruptor he was using clattered harmlessly to the deck.
There was an amazing sort of silence as Janeway moved over to the crumpled forms, kneeling next to the man who had seemed so familiar to her on the monitors. Impassively, she drew back the hood and gazed into the still handsome features of an unconscious Cheb Packer. A glance at the insignia decorating the air lock of the vessel that had been waiting to receive the Syndicate members, identified it as the Packer Shipping Company logo. Realizing who had provided the crack for the Syndicate to infiltrate Earth's solar system was not surprising at this point, but it still didn’t feel particularly good to see how far a man she had once loved had fallen.
She wondered if that meeting with Packer on DS9 was as accidental as it had appeared at the time, or if it had been the incident which started this whole thing. She heard the pounding footsteps of the rest of the Starfleet team belatedly making their appearance from further down in the docking area, and abruptly, she felt her body, completely outraged at what she had been demanding of it, finally put up a loud outcry of protest. She slumped against the bulkhead, feeling very weary suddenly, and when she opened her eyes again, it was to gaze into the pale eyes of Admiral Nechayev who was regarding her with a very odd expression on her face.
“I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what the hell you thought you were doing?” Nechayev demanded harshly.
Janeway cautiously got to her feet, tucking her phaser away in her inner tunic pocket.
“My duty as a Starfleet officer.”
Nechayev started to respond, hesitated, then offered her a flinty grin. “You've become bloody independent, Janeway.” She dipped her head, and added in a lower tone, “That's why I worked so hard to keep you under my command.”
Janeway's mouth tightened. “This is really why you put me in the shipyards, isn't it? To flush out these people, and to see if anything else is going on there.”
Nechayev paused, glanced over her shoulder to check how close the rest of the security officers were. “Let's just say that there have been certain things going on in Starfleet lately that make me uneasy. The events at Utopia Planitia may only be the tip of the iceberg. Your being away from all this for the past seven years makes you the perfect officer to clean it up. I can trust you.” She offered Janeway another humorless smile. “You didn't think the posting to Utopia Planitia would be a milkrun, did you, Janeway? I assure you, you're going to be earning the right to possess the Millennium every moment of every day until that vessel finally breaks orbit. You're not the only captain who wants that command, nor are you necessarily the captain others in Starfleet Command want to see have it. Now, get the hell out of here before you embarrass Provo's people any further.”
Astounded by this cryptic revelation, Janeway stared blankly as the admiral turned and greeted Provo who had finally arrived on the scene. Despite his belated appearance, however, he immediately began to supervise the arrest of the unconscious syndicate operatives and initiated the seizing of the Parker vessel, just as if his people had been responsible. With this blow to the Orion Syndicate and the company facilitating their operations, perhaps the criminal organization would realize that Earth was not an inner core system they would care to do business in. Janeway noticed that Nechayev appeared content to allow Provo his moment, granting him the glory of taking credit for this operation. Janeway wondered what that meant if anything.
Finally, Janeway took the admiral's dismissal as permission to leave, and limped off, heading back to the arrival area, keenly aware that it was past time for the DragonFlight to have docked. She made a quick stop at the first lavatory she came to, utilizing her Starfleet identity code to replace her uniform from the small replicator, and washing the dust and dirt from her face and hands. A glance at the chronometer set in the bulkhead above the exit made her put on a decided burst of speed as she left the bathroom.
Raking her fingers through her auburn mane to straighten it, she was breathless by the time she made the passenger lobby, and paused to peer around the large reception area, her eyes immediately drawn to the tall blonde standing near the arrival gate where the private vessels were berthed. Seven was speaking to Ro and Phoebe, but somehow, she must have sensed Janeway’s presence because she abruptly looked up, scanning the vicinity until her gaze locked on that of the starship captain. The smile that brightened the narrow features, the sudden joy that radiated from every line of that statuesque figure, reached out for Janeway like a concussive blast, staggering her with its intensity. Perhaps she was still keyed up from what she had just been through, but before Janeway quite knew what she was doing, she was sprinting across the polished deck and leaping into the waiting embrace with little thought to either her command dignity, or her battered body.
The sensation of Seven's arms surrounding her, the warm haven of body and heart pressed against hers, was incredible, and the rip in her soul that Janeway had not even realized was there was suddenly mended. They hugged tightly, parted just long enough to kiss, and hugged each other again. It took some time before Janeway could greet Ro and Phoebe, both of whom were watching this public display of affection with amused expressions. As they moved in a group across the lobby towards the transporter section, Janeway kept her arm snug about Seven's waist, holding her close to her side, not wanting to let her go. Janeway barely listened to the expected babble of how the trip was, what they saw, how good a time they had, and how they really should be heading home because it was late and everyone was just exhausted and dinner, along with their respective homes, would look wonderful after all this time. If Ro and Phoebe seemed unusually anxious to take their leave, Janeway certainly had no objection, wanting only to be alone with Seven again. Finally, the other two were gone and it was the couple's turn at the transporter, which would beam them down to San Francisco.
“Oh, love, I don't think I realized just how much I missed you until now,” Janeway whispered as she leaned into her embrace. “Maybe I didn't let myself think about it.”
“I have missed you, Kathryn.” Seven bent her head and put her lips next to Janeway's ear. “We must discuss those files you included in my luggage.”
Startled, Janeway laughed. “Indeed?” she responded, delighted. “I can't wait.”
“We will also discuss why you sent Ro to protect me, and did not tell me about the incident in the shipyards regarding the attempt on your life.”
That was less delightful and Janeway gulped audibly.
“You know about that?”
Seven drew back, releasing the embrace abruptly as she reached down to retrieve her bag. “We have much to talk about,” she concluded sternly, turning away to step purposely up on the transporter dais. Janeway barely had time to position herself onto the pad next to her spouse before Seven imperiously requested that the transporter operator activate the console and beam them down.
Ro entered the house located on the shore of Lake Utopia, knowing immediately that her lover had yet to arrive home from her day at the shipyards. The dwelling felt empty, almost deserted in a way, and after dragging her bags wearily up the stairs, Ro entered the master bedroom and tossed the luggage onto the bed before going into the ensuite where she took a long, hot shower. She felt a little better as she pulled on her robe and returned to the bedroom where she unpacked her bag.
She hadn't understood how much this mission had worn on her until she had turned Seven over to Janeway on McKinley Station. Now, she wondered if she would require another vacation to recover from this one, conscious of the fact that taking care of Seven in civilian surroundings had proven far more difficult than looking after her within the confines of a Starfleet facility. Needing to be constantly alert, Ro was aware that an attack could come from practically anywhere, and that every stranger they had met on their trip had to be scrutinized with the most acute attention.
Ro was also still disturbed by what Picard had told her. Keeping Seven safe from a kidnap attempt was far easier than trying to prevent someone from convincing Seven to join Section 31. How would Ro even recognize it when it happened? Shaking her head, Ro returned her empty bag to the closet, tucking it away on the top shelf. Replicating a mug of hot chocolate from the small device set in the wall next to the ensuite, Ro curled up on her bed and sipped the sweet liquid slowly, feeling adrift and not a little apprehensive as she considered this new information. When her mug was empty, she placed it on the night stand and leaned against the pillows, her head back as she contemplated the ceiling above her.
She must have fallen asleep at one point because the next thing she knew, the sound of footsteps thudding on the stairs made her open her eyes and look around blearily, barely having time to prepare herself for the Klingon whirlwind that dashed across the room, launched herself in the air and landed directly on top of Ro.
“Kahless, I'm so glad you're home,” B'Elanna said, embracing Ro tightly and raining kisses all over her face.
Feeling slightly overwhelmed, yet somewhat enchanted at the sheer amount of enthusiasm for her return, Ro promptly wrapped her arms around her lover and kissed her back.
“I'm glad to be home, too, Lanna,” she murmured against her lips. “I thought of you every second I was gone.”
B’Elanna drew back to study Ro's face intently. “Are you tired? Why are you in bed this early?”
“Catching up to local time, I guess,” Ro responded, offering a brief smile. “It was an eventful trip.”
B'Elanna abruptly sobered. “Were there any attempts on Seven?”
“No, but she did figure out that I was there to protect her. I suspect that right at this moment, she and Janeway are discussing it.”
“Oh, boy.” B'Elanna snickered. “Janeway should know better.”
“So, should we,” Ro said quietly.
Startled, B'Elanna looked at her. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Ro said, taking a deep breath, “Seven isn't the complete innocent that we sometimes expect her to be. She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself maybe more than we might like. According to my latest information, it was only the Orion Syndicate who was interesting in kidnaping and dissecting her. Section 31 actually wants to recruit her.”
“Recruit her!” B'Elanna repeated. “But...” She trailed off, staring at her.
Face suddenly thoughtful, she slipped off Ro and stretched out next to her on the bed, propping herself up against the pillows which she had fluffed up behind her. Ro sat up as well, shifting onto her side so that she could look at B’Elanna, drawing her legs up under her thighs. B’Elanna reached over and took her hand, holding it warmly, and despite herself, Ro had a sense of security suddenly descend on her, filled with the knowledge that things would be all right now that she was with B’Elanna again.
“I hate to say it,” B'Elanna allowed finally, after considering it from all angles, “but Seven would be someone they'd find fairly easy to recruit.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Ro said quietly. “Not just because she is naive in some ways, but because she has a certain viewpoint when it comes to defending those around her. That was apparent more than once on Voyager, and she's very specific about what she's prepared to do for the good of her 'Collective'. I saw it for myself the first time we were on a mission together to root out the nomad pirates. Nor can we forget the stories of what she did in the Barellan prison to rescue Janeway. She's not afraid of getting her hands dirty to protect those she loves.”
B'Elanna looked extremely concerned. “If Section 31 could somehow convince Seven that the best way to protect her 'Collective', to protect Janeway, is to protect the Federation in the same manner that they do, then she'd join them in a heartbeat. I don't know that anyone could convince her differently, not even Janeway if she got in too deep.”
“That's what I'm afraid of, Lanna. I can fight a physical attack, I can keep an eye out for someone trying to harm Seven but how the hell do I fight things whispered in Seven's ear, particularly if they seem harmless on the surface? With the Orions making an attempt on Janeway's life, Section 31 wouldn't have to do much to convince Seven she needs help protecting Janeway against the 'enemies of the Federation'.” She paused. “How the hell can I tell her that doing everything in her power to protect the one she loves, is not always the right way to be? That sometimes the cost to others is too high?”
B'Elanna glanced over, then reached out and patted Ro somewhat clumsily on Ro's stomach. “I don't know,” she said helplessly. She took a breath. “We might need to tell Janeway about this. She's the only one who's opinion really matters to Seven.”
“Honestly, I would if I could figure out how to tell her,” Ro asked seriously, hoping her had the answers that she didn't. “Would she even believe a story that there's this secret organization within Starfleet devoted to protecting the Federation even if they have to violate everything that Starfleet is to do it? We can't really prove it because they're so good at keeping their secret that they've existed since the Federation began. How would she react when we tell her that we think, but we're not sure, that there's an admiral in Starfleet Operations who's working with this mysterious group? That what we first thought was their machinations was actually the work of the Orion Syndicate, so maybe there's no secret society at all?”
B'Elanna sighed, slipping her arm around Ro's shoulders. “Well, since you put it that way, you're right, Janeway will give us that insufferably patient look and explain exactly how we're letting our imaginations run away with us. Unless Picard tells her—”
“He's not ready to. He's afraid that her knowing would tip off the admiral involved. Picard really wants him or her more so than Section 31 itself. He has faith that I can keep Seven out of Section 31's hands until we find the operatives working within Starfleet Operations.”
“Everyone has their own agenda, don't they,” B'Elanna said fretfully. “Section 31, the Orion Syndicate, the various admirals at Starfleet, Picard. Hell, even Janeway and Seven are operating on separate paths.”
“It makes my job a lot harder,” Ro agreed quietly. “Life was so much easier on Voyager.”
B'Elanna nodded unhappily. “Janeway's such a big believer in Starfleet. In fact...”
She trailed off and Ro frowned faintly. “What?” she prompted, resting her palm on B’Elanna's stomach.
“She's a lot different in the Federation than how she was in the Delta Quadrant. I know that's not necessarily surprising we've all had to adjust but since she took over the shipyards, it's like she's reverting back to who she was when she first got lost in the Delta Quadrant. A real by-the-book, do-it-by-the-numbers Starfleet officer. She didn't even ask me if I wanted to be taken off the Millennium team and be put in charge of the Voyager team, she just sent down the order in a memo and the next day, Miles and I were working in cargo bay two, cleaning up the mess with Seven alcoves.”
“Did you talk to her about it?”
“To be fair, I haven't had the chance. I guess I was going to wait until things settled down a bit before I requested a transfer back to the Millennium team. It's only been a couple of weeks, and she's been trying to do five hundred things at once as she takes over her new position. Starfleet Intelligence has been poking around all over the shipyards, and I haven't really seen that much of her. When I have seen her, she's been sort of preoccupied, probably because Seven was gone.”
Ro considered that. “I think Janeway is trying to fit back into the Starfleet harness and it's not coming easy for her,” she allowed after a few moments. “It probably wasn't the wisest thing for her not to tell Seven why I had to accompany her on the trip, but I know she was operating under orders from Nechayev.”
She leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. It just seemed like too much to handle suddenly, and she exhaled slowly, bringing her sense of helplessness under control. She needed to take some time to think about this, she decided. Break the problem down into small sections and approach it one matter at a time.
After a moment, she glanced over at her. B'Elanna had remained silent, watching her with an expression of patience and tenderness in her eyes, obviously respecting Ro's need for a moment to regain her composure.
“Lanna, something else happened on this trip that I need to tell you about,” Ro said, not wanting to put it off any longer. Seven was right. This was not something she should dissemble about.
“Yeah?” B'Elanna said, moving closer. She slipped an arm across Ro's shoulders. “What?”
“It has nothing to do with Seven or Janeway.” Tentatively, she dropped her hand down to B'Elanna's leg, squeezing lightly. “It has to do with us and certain events that we thought had been left behind.”
“Oh,” B'Elanna said, sobering considerably. “Go on.”
Taking a deep breath, Ro told her all about her discovery on Vulcan, and what additional responsibilities she would be required to assume in the future. As she expected, B'Elanna was not pleased by what she heard, stung by the reminder of something she had thought resolved, but she was not as upset as Ro had feared.
“So, in fifteen or twenty years, you're going to have to 'guide' your teenage son in the ways of Bajor.”
“Yes,” Ro said quietly.
B’Elanna exhaled audibly. “Well, I suppose it could be worse. We might have been required to look after him until the Time of Ascendance.”
“It can always be worse,” Ro agreed, heartened by the inclusive 'we' her had used. She raised her face and nuzzled lightly at B’Elanna's jaw. “Thank you.”
“For what?” B'Elanna responded, puzzled.
“For understanding.”
B’Elanna shrugged, though her gaze was bashfully charmed. “Not much else I can do.” She glanced at Ro out of the corner of her dark eyes. “So, in the interest of changing the subject, did you bring me back a present?”
Ro smiled. “As a matter of fact, I did.” She reached over to the night stand to retrieve the gift-wrapped package she had carried back from the first planetary market they had visited. “I don't know what this was doing on Trill, but as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to get it, and by the end of the trip, I knew it was for you.”
Vastly pleased, B'Elanna ripped off the paper and opened the box, discovering the ornately engraved bracelet inside. She looked slightly bemused as she pulled it out, then abruptly her eyes went wide.
“Is this what I think it is?”
Ro realized she was suddenly feeling somewhat queasy, but she forced a smile. “If you want it to be. I'm not saying you have to accept it right now, but it's something to think about in the future.”
B'Elanna stared at her for a long moment, and Ro lowered her eyes, squirming. “I probably should have arranged a more romantic sort of setting.” She was abruptly conscious of only wearing a robe while B'Elanna was still in her uniform, stained and wrinkled from her day in the shipyards, both women sprawled over the bed that was mussed from Ro's nap. It was not exactly the candlelit dinner under the stars she had originally imagined the rare times that she had allowed herself to think about it during the trip from Vulcan.
“It's a Bajoran betrothal bracelet,” B'Elanna said, demanding clarification.
“Yes, it is.”
“You're asking me to marry you.”
“Yes, I am.”
B’Elanna stared at her and Ro searched for something else to say, looking away nervously. “Betrothal bracelets are usually passed down through families, but of course, that wasn't possible when in my situation. Generally, the bracelets that are found for sale in other parts of the Federation come from families who were completely wiped out by the Cardassians, their possessions looted by soldiers and collaborators. Usually, the alien vendors don't even know what they're really selling. The merchant on Trill certainly didn't. I'm not sure what lineage this bracelet came from, and the Bajoran database had no match for the engravings, but it always means a lot when one can be reclaimed. That way, the old family survives in the new family, if only through the jewelry.” She paused, understanding that she was babbling a bit. “It would honor me greatly if you would become a part of the Ro family line, B'Elanna.”
There was a silence, then B'Elanna reached over and took Ro's hand. Ro's eyes rose to meet those of B’Elanna, startled and disturbed to see tears welling in the dark eyes.
“I would be honored to be a part of your family line,” B'Elanna said, her voice full of emotion as she brought the hand up to her lips, kissing it gently. “Ro Laren, would you join the house of Torres, and add your blood to mine?”
Ro felt a stinging in her own eyes. “I will.”
It seemed natural then to reach over and pull B'Elanna into her arms, hugging her tightly, the embrace returned readily by B’Elanna, clinging fiercely to her as she sniffed mightily. Ro ignored it, knowing B’Elanna would be embarrassed to be caught so emotionally flatfooted.
“This is a big step,” she whispered finally.
“It is,” Ro agreed, her cheek pressed tightly against B’Elanna's temple. “I just can't imagine ever needing or wanting anyone else in my life.”
“You know I feel the same.” There was a pause, while B’Elanna took a few deep breaths. “When?”
“When what?”
“When do you want to do this?”
It was Ro's turn to take a few deep breaths. “I guess that would depend on how we want to do this. How big a ceremony are we talking about here? Will it be Klingon or Bajoran or a combination of both? Is this something we want to do simply and quickly, in a civil ceremony, or do we want to make a big production out of it?”
“In other words, we need to take some time to get used to the whole idea.”
Ro offered a shy smile. “I do love you, Lanna. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
B'Elanna kissed her hand. “That's exactly where I want to spend the rest of mine, but you're right, we need to take our time and consider everything carefully.” She dipped her head. “I 'm curious, though. Why did you decide to take this step right now?”
Ro shrugged. “Possibly because of the house, and the fact we're settling into a very domestic arrangement. Or maybe it was when I was holding Surnak and realized that time was passing by so quickly. I might only get one chance at true happiness in my lifetime. I really missed you while I was gone, and it gave me a lot of time to think about us. I guess I thought this was the next logical step for us to take. I'm ready for it, and if you are too, then maybe we should see where it takes us.”
“Sounds fair to me,” B'Elanna allowed. She moved closer and kissed Ro lightly on the lips. “I missed you every second, too.”
Ro responded immediately, kissing her back, feeling the first ripples of desire thread through her as she pressed closer to her more muscular lover. The attraction between them was always so molten, flaring into an inferno very quickly. From the way B'Elanna moved against her, she knew she was feeling it as well. “I don't suppose you'd care to show me how much?”
B'Elanna grinned, showing sharp-edged teeth. “Are you sure you're up for it?” she teased, her hands slipping beneath the robe to touch Ro's skin, making her gasp. “You seemed pretty drowsy when I arrived home.”
“Why do you think I took a nap?” Ro responded, tugging on B’Elanna's tunic, pushing it off her shoulders. “I expected to be welcomed home properly.”
“Oh, I'll welcome you home, bangwI,” B'Elanna muttered as she wiggled out of her gold sweater.
“For the rest of the night, if you'd like.”
“Are you very angry with me?” Janeway asked, glancing at Seven from the corner of her eyes as they entered their home.
Seven took a deep breath. She had not spoken to Janeway beyond the most clipped responses during the beam in to the San Francisco Transport Center. The walk from the station had been made in silence as dusk fell over the city, and apparently, Janeway could no longer contain herself once they had made it inside the house.
“Yes,” Seven said shortly.
“Annika, there are things that I just can't tell you as a Starfleet captain,” Janeway said, taking up a position in the center of the living room, hands on her hips. “That's something that I won't apologize for. You knew what my responsibilities were when you became involved with me.”
She was obviously ready for a battle, in full captain mode, her chin stuck out aggressively, believing a good defense sprang from a better offense. Were Seven less determined to have it out with her spouse, she might have found it 'cute', but now, it only served to enhance Seven's aggravation, though she was careful not to show it. Dropping her bag on the coffee table, she glanced at her once, and took a seat on the sofa, folding her hands neatly on her lap.
“I understand that,” Seven said calmly, in a very reasonable tone. “The events surrounding the attempt made on your life at Utopia Planitia, and the plans subsequently put in place to prevent future attempts by the Orion Syndicate to secure Borg technology, were classified. A junior Starfleet lieutenant with limited security clearance is not entitled to know such things.”
Janeway was taken aback, confused, as if not expecting this response.
“Exactly,” she said finally, relieved, though also sounding slightly disappointed as she retreated to the chair offset from the sofa, angling her body toward Seven, and giving up her dominant position. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed perceptibly, her shoulders easing beneath the quilted grey of her uniform. “I'm glad you understand.”
“But Kathryn,” Seven said firmly, her voice abruptly dropping several degrees, edged with a fury she had no intention of tempering as she rose from her seat and used every millimeter of her generous height to loom over the startled Janeway. “I am your spouse and I am entitled to know when you are endangered, even when I cannot know the circumstances surrounding that danger. Starfleet has nothing to do with our personal relationship. How dare you keep this from me, Kathryn? This is completely unacceptable!”
“It's not that simple, Annika,” Janeway tried in a low tone, pressed back into the cushions behind her, completely thrown by Seven's strategy, and desperately trying to regain her original assertiveness. “There are certain things that my position as captain and my oath as a Starfleet officer simply prohibit me from telling you.”
“You were not required to give me any classified details,” Seven said flatly, her pale eyes twin spears of glacial blue, pinning Janeway in her seat as Seven placed her hands on the arms of the chair and leaned threateningly over her. Seven was quite satisfied that she had maneuvered her into an area where Janeway could not rely on her uniform or superior rank to lend her authority. Too often during their arguments, Janeway held the upper hand because of her greater experience with emotional situations. For the first time, Seven felt like she was truly holding her own and winning her points with force of personality not because Janeway conceded to allow them.
“You could have requested that I take Ro for my own protection, and I would have trusted your word that it was necessary,” Seven continued inexorably. “I may have argued briefly, but ultimately, I would have trusted you. You know that. Yet, you chose not to tell me anything, probably because you did not want to discuss it with me. Worse, you lied to me, and manipulated the situation regarding Ro, to trick me into doing what you wanted. That is unacceptable, Kathryn! I am not a child! My rank of lieutenant does not make me a lesser being! I am your partner and an equal in this relationship! Starfleet! Be! Damned!”
She straightened, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared down at Janeway, feeling the sort of magnificent wrath that she had not experienced since Janeway had made the decision to return the Borg baby to her parents against Seven's wishes. On that occasion, however, Seven's fury had been laced with profound pain and betrayal. In this instance, she was merely enraged, the emotion exquisitely cold and clean in its purity.
“Annika—” Janeway began weakly.
“No!” Seven thundered, overriding her, suspecting that if she granted Janeway any leeway in this instance, it would be far more damaging to their relationship than was apparent. This was a situation that needed to be clarified completely, with no misunderstanding as to where she stood on the issue. “Kathryn, secrets like this destroy marriages! I appreciate your loyalty to Starfleet, I understand it, but it cannot and must not supersede your loyalty to us!” She paused, and added what she knew would be the ultimate declaration of how she felt. “My loyalty to you is absolute. I expect the same in return. If you cannot offer it, then our marriage has failed!”
Janeway looked as if she had been smashed across the head by a spanner, her mouth moving but no sound coming out, eyes wide and a blank grey. Seven waited patiently for her response, her gaze unwavering as she frowned at Janeway.
“You haven't spoken to me like this since our misunderstanding over the baby,” Janeway said finally, in a small voice.
“This has the same potential for damage, Kathryn. On Voyager, you could not conceal things from me for very long. Here, it is much easier for you to fall back into an existence where you can separate me from your life as a captain. I am clarifying what the consequences will be if you do. I must establish where my boundaries are and how important it is that you respect them.”
Janeway looked lost, her features vulnerable and open. “What would the consequences be? Would you leave me?”
Seven took a deep breath, feeling the soul-deep pain of those words quiver through her. “If I must,” she said, hurt etching her words, seeing that she had completely astonished her. She had astonished herself. Such a concept had never been raised between them before. “Without trust, Kathryn, we have nothing.”
“Annika,” Janeway began, faltered, looking very distressed. Clearly, she had not expected such a reply from her, but was aware that it was not an idle threat. She knew better than anyone that Seven would not offer that kind of possibility unless she was fully prepared to carry it out, regardless of the personal cost to herself.
Seven dipped her head. “You promised me that Starfleet would never come between us, Kathryn.” Her voice broke slightly. “Are you going back on your word?”
Janeway bent her head. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I didn't mean I didn't realize—” She remained silent for a moment, breathing steadily. “I guess that's exactly what I was doing, wasn't it?” She raised her head, staring at her. “It won't happen again. I swear. I won't always be able to give you all the details at any given time, but I will let you know if I'm involved in something that concerns either of us personally.”
Seven inclined her head, indicating that she could accept that.
“However,” Janeway continued, her voice still a little unsteady, “you must respect it when I do have to give you orders, even when I can't tell you the reasoning behind those orders, even when you don't like those orders. That's part of my responsibility to Starfleet. This isn't like Voyager, Annika. There may be things that I can never fully explain to you.”
Seven considered that. “I understand, Kathryn.” She paused, then knelt in front of the chair, placing her hands gently on Janeway's knees. “I will try very hard to trust in your decisions,” she told her earnestly. “I will try very hard to balance who you need to be as a Starfleet captain, with who I need you to be as my spouse. I will question when I feel I must, but I will also obey completely if you honestly require it.”
Janeway nodded, looking vaguely relieved, though her eyes maintained their disturbed grey sheen. “I promise to better weigh my responsibilities to Starfleet with my responsibilities to you in the future, Annika. I won't lie to you, or try to manipulate you into doing what I need you to do as an officer. I'll make it an order and trust that you will carry it out in a professional manner.”
Seven held her gaze, then nodded. “Acceptable.”
Janeway swallowed, her throat moving visibly. “Would you really leave me?”
“What other choice would I have?”
Janeway's face crumpled, and without hesitation, Seven reached out and drew her into her arms, holding her closely.
“I love you, Kathryn,” Seven said softly as she rubbed Janeway's upper back, “with everything I am. But I am learning that I must not allow that to override my own requirements for a positive existence. Not all the time.”
“You have to do what's right for you,” Janeway agreed shakily, her arms wrapped tightly around Seven's neck. She pressed her face into Seven's hair. “I'm sorry, Annika. I know there's no reason for you to believe this, but I really was going to tell you everything once you were home.”
“If you say you were, then I believe you, Kathryn,” Seven told her quietly, stroking the back of Janeway's neck with her fingertips. “You should not have placed Lt. Ro in such an awkward position of having to explain it. Laren is no longer a security officer, or is protecting a Borg drone from a criminal organization some form of command training I am unaware of?”
“Are you criticizing how I deploy my remaining crew?” Janeway asked, her mouth tightening, and Seven knew she had gone a little too far with what was still a very sensitive topic with her.
“Not at all, Kathryn,” Seven reassured her, cupping her cheek. “I am sorry.” She kissed her gently on the forehead. “I must unpack.”
Releasing Janeway reluctantly, she straightened and picked up her bag from the sofa where she had dropped it, carrying it up the stairs. She was aware of Janeway watching her uncertainly, not moving from her chair, but Seven refused to feel guilty for initiating their confrontation, believing that the refinement of their boundaries on Earth was exactly what was needed to properly maintain their marriage. As she reached the top of the staircase, she took a glance down at the living area and into the kitchen, shocked at the profusion of coffee cups and padds littering the various surfaces. Armed with that forewarning, she was not surprised when she reached the bedroom to discover the bed was unmade, the blankets strewn across the mattress, while still more activated padds and worn garments were scattered about the floor and night stands.
Stifling a sigh, Seven unpacked her garments and put them away, then straightened up around the bedroom before going into the ensuite. That required another few moments of tidying before she dared to take a shower, but finally she felt at home again, freshly damp and pink from the steamy water. She retrieved her silken, crimson robe from the bedroom and pulled it on before returning to the main floor where she discovered that Janeway had taken the opportunity to clean up all the coffee cups, depositing them in the recycler, as well as deactivating and stacking several padds on the bookcase.
Janeway had also kindled a small blaze in the fireplace, kneeling before it as she prodded desolately at the logs with a poker. She obviously remained distressed over their conflict, her classic features appearing drawn and unhappy in the rosy glow cast by the flickering flames. She had removed her tunic, leaving it draped over the nearby chair, and she looked very small in the wine-red sweater and dark trousers, hunched before the hearth. Seven decided that she had impressed her point quite enough upon her spouse, and now it was time to remind Kathryn that she was still adored beyond love itself. Seven moved over to the rug in front of the fireplace, and sank down beside Janeway, leaning against the chair as she reached over to rest her hand on her shoulder. Janeway ignored the touch, continuing to poke at the fire.
“I have missed you, Kathryn,” Seven offered softly. “I thought of you every moment.”
“Undoubtedly deciding on the best way to take strips out of my hide,” Janeway returned, indicating that Seven's reprimand was now beginning to sting her pride rather than merely making her feel guilty. She did not look in Seven's direction.
“On the contrary, the plan of strategy to bring you in line only required twenty-point-two-four minutes of consideration.” Seven reached out to lightly tuck some strands of auburn hair around Janeway's ear. “The rest of the time, however, I very much wanted you to be with me. No matter how magnificent the sights I witnessed on Trill and Vulcan, none were as impressive as the sheer depth and color of your eyes.”
The poker faltered, then Janeway blushed and bent her head. “Why do you put up with me?”
Seven smiled and reached over, drawing the unresisting captain onto her lap, leaving the poker lying in the glowing coals. “Only eighteen years with Seven Collective has accorded me the necessary strength and determination to do so,” she teased lightly as they settled down on the rug, patterned in a grey, blue and black Southwestern motif. Seven's back was supported by the base of the chair as Janeway leaned her side against Seven's front, both women curling up before the stone hearth.
Seven hesitated, then kissed Janeway's ear tenderly. “I did not mean for my homecoming to be so tempestuous, Kathryn. I merely felt I had to establish my parameters before this developed into something that neither of us could repair.”
“You were right to do so, Annika.” Janeway sighed, burrowing into Seven's embrace, body turned toward the fire. “I know I should have been more up front with you. I knew it even before you left, but...” She trailed off uncertainly, her eyes distant as she stared into the flames. “It's very hard to know where I stand now,” she admitted finally, in a very quiet voice, her words coming with difficulty. “Particularly when it comes to comprehending what Starfleet expects of me.”
“There are many outside influences affecting us now.” Seven was quiet for a moment, considering all that had happened. “Did my trip work as a 'diversion'? Did the Syndicate members operating within the core systems fall into your trap?”
Janeway made a rueful sound, one of mixed amusement and aggravation. “They did, even though it wasn't 'my trap'.” She proceeded to relate to Seven everything that had happened on McKinley Station. Seven decided that this time, Janeway was not editing anything, particularly since there was more than one part of the explanation that made Seven almost dizzy with fear for her spouse.
“If we hadn't arranged for your safety, they wouldn't have been so anxious to go for what seemed the easier target. Clearly, the Syndicate was demanding that Cheb and his people secure the Borg units as quickly as possible, and that made them a little sloppy.”
“I should have terminated Cheb Packer when I had the opportunity on DS9,” Seven said flatly, her eyes cold.
Janeway sighed. “I'm not sure it would have done much good.” She nudged her slightly with her elbow. “Besides, you know that simply wasn't an option for you.”
Seven frowned, and then the narrow features softened as she regarded her spouse. “I wish you would not do such dangerous things, Kathryn.”
“It's part of the job,” Janeway said in a tone that Seven knew she could not argue with. Sighing, Seven drew her closer and kissed her.
“Were you hurt, Kathryn?”
“I was a little sore afterwards,” Janeway admitted, a certain wry smugness touching her tone. “But surprisingly better than I would have otherwise expected. I guess working out regularly since I've been back gave me a bit of an advantage. Not to mention that my smaller size enabled me to crawl through the tubes easier than the syndicate goons.”
“That is not what I meant,” Seven said quietly.
“Oh.” Janeway was silent for a moment, her eyes distant as she considered what her did mean.
“It wasn't pleasant to see how far Cheb had descended,” she allowed finally, a muscle working in her jaw. “But it had nothing to do with me. He made his own choices in life.”
Seven hugged her closely. “Kathryn, sometimes your actions frighten me.” She paused. “I do not find that acceptable.”
Janeway smiled faintly. “No, I don't suppose you do. I'll try to be more careful in the future.” She snuggled into Seven's embrace, and changed the subject. “Tell me all about your trip, love. Don't leave anything out.”
Despite knowing that Janeway was attempting to divert her, Seven pulled Janeway closer, cradling her tenderly in her arms as she told her everything that happened from the time she left Earth to the moment she returned.
Up to and including the surprise awaiting Ro on Vulcan.
Janeway drew in a deep breath as she cherished the warmth of Seven's embrace and the flickering fire. If there had to be a bit of unpleasantness that needed to be cleared up before they could reach this level of shared intimacy, Janeway knew it was for the best. She was just regretful that she had ignored her trepidations about keeping Seven in the dark to begin with. She had been trying very hard to fit back into the Starfleet command structure, and following Nechayev's instructions seemed like the proper thing to do at the time. But hurting Seven had been an unacceptable course to follow.
She exhaled slowly, then turned her head to look back at Seven, delighted when she gently covered Janeway's lips with her own, kissing her deeply. The kiss progressed, becoming two, then several, each more ardent than the previous one. Janeway was surprised, but pleased, by the strong demand in Seven's touch, suddenly aware of how long they had been apart, how much she had missed her, how much she needed and wanted her this very second, sensing the surge of corresponding desire from Seven. Janeway made a small sound at the back of her throat, thick with unmistakable yearning, and Seven immediately responded by lowering Janeway to the floor, Seven easing her down onto the soft rug and covering Janeway's body with her own, insinuating her leg between Janeway's knees.
For a brief second, it flashed through Janeway's mind to wonder how many times she had made love in front of this very fireplace, on this very rug, but she instantly eradicated the thought, putting it in the distant past where it belonged. Instead, she concentrated only on the here and now, focusing completely on Seven and her wonderful hands moving over Janeway with increasing passion, tugging at her uniform sweater, pulling it up over her shoulders. Muffled clicks could be heard as the four rank pips gracefully popped from the collar and sailed off in various directions, no doubt to be lost for all eternity or until the next time one of them cleaned. Janeway wiggled out of it, and then wrapped her arms around Seven's neck, tangling her hands in the blonde hair, pulling Seven's head tightly to hers as they continued to kiss hungrily, intent on fully familiarizing themselves with each other after being apart for far too long.
Janeway moaned softly as Seven tenderly kneaded her breast through the black material of her bra, suckling Janeway's ear, nipping at the lobe. Then, Seven pulled Janeway's undergarment from her torso in one abrupt motion, ripping it away and tossing it aside, affording Janeway with a thrill at Seven's aggressiveness. She hissed in pleasure as she felt Seven's hand attend to her breasts once more, alternating back and forth between them, fingertips stroking and teasing the nipples in just the way Janeway loved to be touched.
“Annika,” she breathed, arching into the caress, “God, how I adore you.”
“My Kathryn,” Seven assured her, dropping her head to kiss the flesh where her hands had been as she worked Janeway's pants and boots off. “I love you.” She moved back up her body, kissing Janeway once more on the lips, her mouth hot and possessive.
Janeway groaned as she wormed her hands between them, seeking out the tie which was keeping Seven's robe closed. Seven avoided her intention, catching the seeking hands in her own, pressing them firmly down onto the rug.
“Patience.”
Janeway widened her eyes. “Patience? I've been waiting for you for weeks,” she protested.
Seven smiled and flicked Janeway's lips with her tongue. “I want to love you first,” she said persuasively. “I also enjoy how your body feels through my robe.”
Janeway certainly couldn't argue with that, the silken material sliding provocatively over her nipples where they pressed against Seven's more generous bosom, so she relented and slipped her arms around Seven's neck again. As Seven trailed down over her chin, Janeway glanced down at Seven's intent face as she nuzzled Janeway's breasts, her lips and tongue plying the nipples that grew even harder under the attention, aching from the blood engorging them. Lovingly, Janeway stroked Seven's cheek, feeling tenderness and need rise with equal power within her. Then Seven was trailing down over Janeway's rounded stomach, darting her tongue into Janeway's rounded navel, making Janeway squirm before nuzzling into the rich, auburn triangle, urging her legs further apart. Janeway quivered as she felt her warm breath on her, Seven slipping her shoulders under Janeway's thighs, raising them up and immobilizing her. Raking her fingers through the blonde hair, Janeway urged Seven to where she needed her to be, though Seven required little guidance. Crying out, Janeway finally felt the soft tongue on her most intimate flesh, and her head lolled back and forth against the rug, the sensations rippling through her with ever increasing intensity until quickly too quickly she climaxed in a rush of pleasure and involuntary spasms.
She gasped for breath, feeling vaguely disappointed that it was over so soon, but fortunately, it seemed that Seven was far from done with her. Before Janeway had completely descended from that peak, Seven had moved up Janeway's body again until Seven's lanky form was covering her passionately.
“Annika,” she managed to murmur before Seven's lips, strong with Janeway's flavor, covered hers once more, muffling any further words.
Her knees were spread wide by Seven's body pressed insistently between them, and then Seven's fingers were plunging into her, penetrating deep into the heat and moisture, twisting and exploring avidly. Janeway shuddered and shifted, her leg nudging between Seven's, and she could feel Seven's own wetness slide against the smooth skin of her thigh as her rocked on her in perfect rhythm to the fingers thrusting steadily and deliciously into her.
Janeway had never felt so taken by Seven, not even when Seven had utilized a device to simulate penile penetration, and she accepted it joyously, her breathing harsh yet united with Seven, who gasped for breath next to her ear. The scent of their coupling rose strong in her nostrils, and Janeway threw her head back, eyes wide as she stared at the ceiling, not really seeing it at all as the pleasure overwhelmed her again. She gripped Seven's shoulders desperately through the robe, hanging on as she climaxed hard about the driving fingers, then again, losing herself in this moment of being completely loved by her. Finally, she felt Seven jerk against her, crying out her name softly, and it set off a final, ultimate, shuddering explosion within Janeway. She was sure that she had passed out from the sheer, unceasing pleasure of it because stars suddenly appeared before her eyes, becoming multicolored as she closed them.
When she opened them, Seven was looking down at her, her gaze soft and amazed, almost uncomprehending as to what had happened. “Oh, Kathryn.”
Tenderly, Janeway reached up and cupped her face in her palms, drawing her down to kiss her with a deep and abiding joy.
“My heart,” she husked against the full lips. “That was absolutely incredible. Maybe you should go away more often.”
Seven raised an eyebrow. “I think not, regardless of how exciting this was.”
“Agreed,” Janeway chuckled, assuring her as she pulled Seven down onto her. “I don't want you to go away anymore, either.”
Seven eased onto her side, spreading her robe to drape a part of it over Janeway protectively more a gesture than because there was enough spare material to use as a blanket. Her leg and arm covered Janeway with comforting weight, and Janeway nuzzled her face into Seven's neck.
“Have you been saving up for me?” Janeway asked teasingly. “That was quite energetic.”
“I have.” Seven kissed her spouse at the corner of Janeway's temple, tracing the thin, auburn brow lovingly with her lips.
Janeway smirked. “You mean that file I sent with you didn't cause you to experiment with solitary forms of pleasure?”
Seven hesitated, then blushed, lowering her head modestly. “Perhaps I did not 'save it all' for you. Just the larger percentage.”
Janeway laughed out loud and Seven pressed closer to her. “Kathryn, this was not as romantic as I had intended my homecoming to be. I just wanted you so much...”
“Romance is relative, my darling,” Janeway remarked with a lazy grin, nestled in her arms, and thinking that there was little in the universe better than this. “Sometimes, you just have to go with what feels good rather than what is expected. Undoubtedly, this was exactly what we needed after being apart for so long. I know I certainly found it quite invigorating.” She drew her fingers lightly along the smooth skin of Seven's shoulder beneath the robe, regarding her with warm pleasure. “So, shall we have dinner now? Or should we just retire to the bedroom for another course of this?”
Seven kissed Janeway's ear lightly. “That is a most difficult choice. I have not eaten since early this morning, but the concept of spending more time in your arms is quite irresistible.”
“Oh, darling, I appreciate your finding this a dilemma, but we have to make sure you're fed,” Janeway said with amusement. “We have to keep up your strength.”
Seven smiled and nibbled Janeway's earlobe. “Have you been keeping up your strength, Kathryn?”
Janeway laughed throatily. “If that's your subtle way of asking if I took care of myself while you were gone, then the answer is 'yes'. I ate regular meals, tried to get enough sleep, and every morning, Jake and I went out for a slow jog.”
“You did not overdo it?”
“Not at all. In fact, I even cut back on my caffeine.” At Seven's small sound of disbelief, she nudged Seven's abdomen with her thumb. “Honestly. I know it didn't look like it, considering all the mugs I left lying around, but I didn't drink nearly as much coffee as when you're here.” She paused. “For one thing, the replicated stuff is horrid compared to your blend.”
Seven pulled her closer. “You are not exactly reassuring me, Kathryn.”
Janeway snickered. “Jake and I were very good,” she insisted. “Really.”
“I have missed Jake. Yet, I did not even take the time to greet him.” She looked slightly ashamed and glanced in the general direction of the dining room where the French doors led out to the back yard.
“He'll understand,” Janeway assured her. “Besides, he was so busy exploring his new neighborhood that he hardly noticed you were gone.”
“I believe he enjoys living here,” Seven noted thoughtfully. “Though in Indiana, he had many other dogs with which to play.”
“We can always get another dog, Annika,” Janeway pointed out. “Maybe we could persuade Phoebe to part with Rufus.”
“Have you noticed how similar in appearance and behavior Rufus is to Jake?”
Janeway nodded. “I have,” she said. “It's almost as if they're the same dog.” She paused. “You don't think...”
“Yes,” Seven said. “I do.”
Janeway frowned. “Could that be dangerous?”
“I do not know. Perhaps it would be best if we kept the two separated, to avoid any possibility of an alternate universal paradox.”
Janeway sighed. “I guess you're right. Besides, Phoebe's pretty attached to both him and Molly now. We'll just have to check out the local pound. Even in the 24th century, unfortunately, there are stray dogs who need good homes.”
Seven paused. “Kathryn, is it so easy for you to give up pets that you once possessed? I would find it quite difficult to give up Jake, yet you seem unaffected by seeing Petunia with Gretchen, or Molly with Phoebe. You told me how much Petunia helped you in the aftermath of your father's death, while Molly was the dog you had before you were lost in the Delta Quadrant. Is it that easy to forget them?”
Janeway was silent for a few moments, thinking that over, and Seven waited patiently, knowing that Janeway was considering the question carefully.
“I haven't forgotten them, Annika, and it wasn't easy to give them up. I may not show it, but it hurts a little bit when I see the animals that I loved, and that loved me in return, in the hands of someone else. But I only had Petunia for six months before I was sent away on a deep space command, and by the time I returned, she was clearly Phoebe's pet. Plus, I was heading for my next posting very soon, which meant I couldn't have a dog. I consoled myself with the knowledge that she had a really good home with Phoebe and was loved completely.”
She hesitated, then continued in a very serious tone. “As for Molly, she was part of my history with Mark.” She noted the wince Seven was unable to suppress and smiled gently, reaching over to pat Seven on the hip. “I know you might not want to hear this, darling, but I was far more upset with losing him than I was with losing her.”
“I understand,” Seven replied softly, after a brief hesitation.
Janeway exhaled slowly. “When I finally resolved my feelings about Mark, I discovered I had also said my good-bye to Molly. To be honest, I was surprised that she remembered me.” She reached up and drew her fingers along Seven's cheek. “Do you comprehend this, darling? Do you understand that although it would hurt me to lose Jake, it still would not mean as much as if I lost a person I loved? I know that may sound very harsh, but I've always known that animals live a far shorter time than we do, and while I've learned to cherish the time I have with them, rather than regret the time I don't, I can adapt to their loss easier than some other pet owners.”
“I comprehend what you are saying,” Seven said, studying her face intently. “You've never loved another dog as much as you loved your first pet, Brambles. You won't allow yourself be hurt that much again. Not when it comes to dogs.”
Janeway was stunned by her words for the second time that day.
“How did you get that from what I said?” she complained.
“Years of being with you.”
Janeway exhaled in exasperation. “Well, you're wrong.”
“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven said, in that tolerant sort of tone that indicated she was thinking the exact opposite.
Shaking her head, Janeway wiggled out of Seven's embrace. “Let's get you fed. You're becoming delusional.” She stood up and stretched, looking down at Seven who remained reclined on the rug. “I found this wonderful Chinese restaurant while you were gone. Let's order out and I'll go pick it up while you get used to being home again.”
“You will dress and shower first?” Seven asked innocently as she accepted the hand Janeway offered to help her up with. “Or do you intend to display the evidence of exactly how you have been appreciating my homecoming?”
Janeway released Seven's hand, allowing her to thump back onto the floor. “Very funny,” she said, turning and heading for the staircase. “Just for that, I'll pick it up naked.”
“A most unacceptable plan,” Seven noted, smiling as she uncoiled from the floor, pulling her robe closed around her. “You will become cold during the walk to and from the restaurant.”
Janeway shot her a grin as she ascended the stairs to the loft, heading for the work station where the comm system was located. Janeway noticed a few twinges as she keyed the communications system careful to keep it to audio only, and realized that perhaps she shouldn't have made love so energetically on the rug. Not after participating in a confrontation with the Orion Syndicate earlier in the day. A tingle in her left buttock indicated she had acquired a bit of a friction burn, and when Seven patted it comfortingly as she passed on her way to the bedroom, Janeway knew there must be a red mark there to indicate a slight contusion.
Still, compared to the injuries she could have sustained that day, including an irreparable one to her heart had things not worked out with her, it was a minor hurt that Janeway was more than glad to suffer.
Seven smiled languidly as she woke in the dull, morning light, aware of how wonderful it felt to be back in her own bed, warmed by the presence of her slumbering spouse only millimeters away. Janeway's arm was stretched negligently across the bed, resting on the lower part of Seven's stomach, her fingers tangled in the blonde curls of Seven's mound, as if to keep it safe in the night, and Seven had to be careful as she eased away, losing some strands in the process. Amused, she rolled out of bed and moved over to the window where she looked out into the blank grey of a San Francisco fog, the world seeming to disappear just beyond their home. She could not even see the trees that bordered their yard as she stared into the formless mist for several minutes.
“Annika?”
The tone was slurred slightly, lazy, yet quite sensual, the husky voice caressing the name as it was uttered. Seven raised an eyebrow and turned her head, peering over her shoulder at Janeway who was blinking sleepily at her.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” Seven responded. “I am merely enjoying the morning and being home once more.”
Janeway made a small sound of pleased agreement, tossing the blankets away from her body and patting the mattress beside her.
“Come back to bed. Let's enjoy it together.”
Seven smiled again. “You are insatiable.”
“After being without you for so long, can you blame me?” Janeway offered her best appealing expressing, patting the mattress once more.
Seven obligingly moved back to the large expanse of bed, crawling toward her with predatory intent. Janeway's eyes lit up in anticipation, laughing as Seven suddenly pounced on her, the pair of them rolling around on the big bed until Seven had Janeway pinned beneath her once more, pressing against her provocatively.
“Oh, God, I've missed you,” Janeway murmured against Seven's lips, nibbling gently at the bottom one.
“Indeed? I thought you took this opportunity to resume your relationship with Mark.”
Janeway froze, and then looked up at her accusingly. “You've been talking to mother.”
“Last night, when you went out to pick up dinner.” Seven raised an eyebrow. “In truth, I believe Gretchen assumed I already knew, and I did not dissuade her of that assumption as we discussed it.”
“You conned my mother into telling you about it?” Janeway said, outraged, wiggling in an attempt to escape Seven's arms.
Seven tightened her embrace, holding her spouse in place. “Is there a reason why she and I should not discuss Mark Johnson's attempt to lure my wife into an illicit affair?”
“It wasn't like that exactly.”
“Irrelevant.”
“Darling, you know I would never do anything like that. I love you.”
“I know. I trust you implicitly.”
Janeway stared at her a moment, apparently evaluating her sincerity.
“Thank you,” she said finally.
“And once I terminate Mark Johnson, it will not come up again,” Seven remarked evenly.
Janeway exhaled audibly. “Annika, you’re not going to 'terminate' him.”
Seven quirked an eyebrow. “Then, I shall maim him.”
“You most certainly will not,” Janeway said, exasperated.
“Break his nose?” Seven suggested hopefully.
“Violence is not the answer,” Janeway told her sternly. “Honestly, Seven, you really have to lower your perceptions of just what sort of punishment is suitable for certain lapses in judgement.”
“May I, at least, threaten him?”
“No,” Janeway insisted. “Darling, it's been dealt with. I'll admit that Mark and I had a big misunderstanding about what kind of relationship we expected from one another, but it's been discussed and now he knows that you're the only love of my life.”
“He seems a particularly dim representation of your species, Kathryn. Are you sure he understood? You did not use words of more than one syllable, did you?”
Janeway snorted, obviously wanting to laugh at that, but deciding at the same moment that it was inappropriate. “Annika, you're just being nasty,” she said reprovingly, poking Seven in the ribs with her thumb. “Mark is a very intelligent man.” She paused. “It's possible that I just bring out his vulky side.”
Seven blinked. “His what?”
“It's an expression, darling,” Janeway explained rather unhelpfully. She wiggled beneath Seven again, differently than her previous effort to get away. “Aren't there things we could be doing other than discussing Mark Johnson?”
Seven considered that. “Several.” She offered her a smile and settled a little more on her body, enjoying the warmth of Janeway's compact form beneath her. She dipped her head and kissed Janeway gently. “Did you have something specific in mind? Did you wish to go for our run in the park?”
“It's the weekend, darling. You start your new posting on Monday. We don't have to run on the weekends once we're both working. It's our time for R&R.”
“Ah,” Seven said, realizing her spouse had just created another arbitrary rule for living on Earth. “I shall remember that.” She eased her thigh between Janeway's legs. “What would you care to do for 'our R&R'?”
“Hmm,” Janeway muttered, arching her hips slightly, slipping moistly against Seven's leg. “Right now, I intend to make slow, passionate love to you. Then, after brunch, we could rent a hovercraft and drive up to the wine country. My collection is in dire need of being replenished, and I was thinking we could have a picnic in the afternoon.”
Seven smiled. “Acceptable,” she said, tingles of pleasure rushing through her. “It has been a long time since our last picnic.”
Janeway smiled at her blissfully. “Now, about that lovemaking...”
A few hours later, Seven raised her head, the breeze whipping through her long, blonde hair as the hovercraft swooped through the rolling hills and valleys covered with a multitude of grape vines. Beside her, Janeway skillfully powered the vehicle along the dirt lane which was bisected by a grassy turf. In the rear seat, Jake stuck his head up and eagerly leaned into the wind, his long ears flapping, his jaws parted in a happy grin.
“They run horse-drawn wagons along here. That's why those ruts formed.”
“Horses,” Seven repeated. “Quadrupeds, equine. Icheb has one which he 'rides'. Do you ride, Kathryn?”
Janeway grinned crookedly and glanced over at her. “I'm not really fond of animals bigger than I am. When we visit Chakotay, you're on your own with any equestrian endeavors.”
“I understand, Kathryn,” Seven said, smiling as she looked out over the beautiful valley while Janeway brought the hovercraft to a stop near a small stand of trees.
The couple retrieved a blanket and large picnic basket from the rear compartment, where Janeway also selected a wine from the various bottles they had purchased at a small, but highly respected vinery located not far from where they had turned off a larger dirt road. As Jake ranged around this new, and therefore, fascinating area, Seven spread the blanket out beneath the pleasant shade of a tree. Sitting cross-legged on it, she looked out over the sweeping green hills, inhaling the fresh full air with a deep appreciation before regarding Janeway happily. Janeway caught her eye and smiled as she settled next to her.
“One advantage of administrative positions, darling,” Janeway allowed as she opened the basket and began to distribute the containers of food. “We'll be able to share regular time off every week to explore all the spectacular places on the planet.”
Seven nodded. “I will admit, Kathryn, Earth holds a unique attraction. I better understand your obsession with returning to it.”
Janeway flashed her a smile. “I knew once I had you here, you'd feel the way I do.” She spread some fragrant cheese on a freshly baked roll, all purchased at various farms along the way, and handed it to her spouse. “Here, love. Try this.”
Seven tried the roll, the warm bread and zesty cheese making a wonderful combination, and then another. There were so many new and different types of food for her to try since returning to the Alpha Quadrant, and these had been prepared in the old-fashioned way, making each flavor unique, far better than any soy-based replicated versions found in the city.
“Kathryn, why have the inhabitants of the core systems moved away from natural flavors and textures?” she asked as she savored a meat-stuffed wrap.
Janeway shrugged. “Most people prefer the replicator, Annika. They consider these flavors too strong and overpowering to enjoy. Others have a moral objection to consuming animal-based byproducts when a perfectly acceptable simulation is available. Then, there are just those who never dare to try new things and thus, never know what they're missing.”
Seven dipped her head, thinking about her words. “I am grateful that you introduced me to this, Kathryn. I would never have attempted such consumption of organic materials on my own. Before you, I considered nutritional supplements to be nothing more than a necessary requirement to function. Now I am grateful for the joy I find in experiencing such things.”
Janeway smiled wistfully, reaching over to draw her fingertips fleetingly along Seven's cheek. “Providing you with joy is my highest aspiration.”
Seven captured Janeway's hand and kissed the palm lightly, her eyes meeting Janeway's with warm regard. Janeway's smile widened, her gaze turning a brilliant blue, then she retrieved her hand from her spouse and poured them both another glass of wine.
After they had finished the rest of their meal and packed away the emptied containers into the picnic basket, Seven leaned against the trunk of the tree with Janeway's head resting on her lap as they took the time to enjoy the lovely view. Nearby, Jake stretched out on his side in the sunshine, happily snoozing off a meal that had included not only his ration of food, but several tidbits offered by his mistresses. Seven drew her fingers lovingly through Janeway's auburn mane, her head tilted as she gazed down at her, feeling a bubble of sheer joy expand within her.
“It's just not the same as a holodeck, is it,” Janeway said softly, knowingly, as she relaxed on the blanket, looking up at her spouse. “Nor the arboretum on Voyager.”
“It is not. This is wonderful, Kathryn.” She paused. “Does this mean you have no desire to return to space?”
Janeway chuckled. “I wouldn't go that far. The stars have their own form of beauty and appeal, but I think that being able to appreciate both is a gift not offered to many people. I'm an extraordinarily fortunate woman in so many ways, Annika not the least of which is being with you.”
Seven leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I am the fortunate one.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon lazily enjoying themselves beneath the spreading shade of the tree before reluctantly packing up the hovercraft. Janeway plotted a longer route back to San Francisco, one which took them along the California shore, and Seven was witness to a spectacular sunset over the sparkling Pacific Ocean, completely enchanting Seven who filed the vision away in her eidetic memory as one to cherish for the rest of her life.
If clouds lay in their future, now was not the time to worry about them.
Epilogue
“So, you're a hologram?”
The Doctor regarded the diminutive woman warily, no longer sure this was a good idea, but Seven of Nine had personally recommended her, and he didn't have a whole lot of options, otherwise.
“I’m an Emergency Medical Hologram,” he explained stiffly. “However, I’ve been constantly activated for over seven years, transcending my program to reach a level of sentience.”
“Says you,” Samantha Cogley said, leaning back in her chair. Her office was much like her, small, reserved, filled with sharp objects that concealed themselves until one ran directly into them.
“Says the official logs of Voyager that Captain Janeway transmitted to Starfleet,” he responded acerbically.
“Yeah?” Sam responded, raising an eyebrow. She had her hands linked behind her head, her feet propped casually up on her scarred and ancient desk. Books, an archaism in this age of padds and computer access, were scattered over a set of shelves behind her, and above that, a dust-streaked window looked out over the stark skyline of the spaceport. “So Janeway would testify to your sentience in a court of law?”
“I am sure she would.”
“I don't need you to be sure, I need you to be positive,” Sam said. “Though, frankly, I don't really see any advantages in accepting this case. What’s in it for me? Holographic credits?”
He frowned, crossing his arms across his chest. “I have associates who would be willing to pay your fee, as well as my own funds. What are you, of Ferengi extraction?”
She grinned at him, showing small, even, white teeth. “Who I am is someone who's learned to get the credits up front, especially if I'm preparing to tilt at windmills. This case could take months, just in the preparation work.”
“This could be a case that will go down in the annals of Federation history.” When she remained spectacularly unmoved at that, his shoulders slumped in surrender. “You're my only hope,” he admitted softly.
Sam regarded him evenly for a moment, then inhaled almost wistfully. “Just the concept of sentient holograms is going to make a lot of people, particularly those in the holo-programming business, very nervous. It'll also make a lot of people rethink what they know about sentience and life forms, not to mention how they use their holo-toys. People don't like it when their nice, comfortable worlds are shaken up.”
The Doctor shook his head. “I don't care about what people think,” he said, wishing he didn’t sound so desperate. His time was running out, however. Already, Starfleet Medical had made several requests to have his program transferred to their facilities, and Dr. Zimmerman was running out of excuses to delay transmitting it. It had taken all sorts of string pulling just for the hologram to travel off world and track down the lawyer. “I just want my freedom.”
She tilted her head. “Now that I can work with. Come here tomorrow with a credit chip for my retainer, and I'll take your case. God knows it won't be the first time I've taken a shot at the stuffed shirts at Starfleet Command.” She grinned suddenly. “In fact, this one might be a little more fun considering the last case I tossed at them turned out to be disappointingly routine.”
“If you lose, it will be more than merely disappointing for me,” the EMH said grimly.
“It could mean my very existence!”
The End