Samantha frowned as she looked around the room that had been set aside for this hearing. It was not the grand stage of a Federation courtroom in which she had initially hoped to try this case, but she appreciated the help Captain Janeway had provided in arranging the deal going into this preliminary hearing. At the very least, it provided her with the time to tackle it on the civilian level, bypassing the Starfleet court altogether, without the immediate threat of deactivation hanging over her client's head. She glanced back at Janeway who was present in the observer's gallery. Sitting next to Janeway, was her adjunct, Ro Laren, and on the other side, a tall, older woman with white hair, wearing the uniform of Starfleet medical personnel. Sam didn't recognize her, but she did accept that Janeway would have friends in all sorts of places.

Thaddeus Marshall was representing the plaintiff. The gaunt, middle-aged man was a well-known counselor from one of the larger law firms on Earth, and what he was making in credit from this case, was probably more than Sam had made in her entire lifetime. She wondered why Starfleet Medical had gone with outside counsel rather than a Starfleet JAG officer, then realized that a civilian lawyer would have more experience arguing intangibles, as well as finer points of law. She was a little disappointed that she wouldn't have a chance to tangle with him, but the deal that had been struck a few days earlier should make this a short hearing, and afterward, the Doctor would officially be assigned to the possession of Dr. Zimmerman. Seated next to Marshall at the plaintiff's table, Dr. Romanoff, a sparse, white-haired man, represented Starfleet Medical, while in the crowd, other officers from Starfleet Science watched anxiously.

At the front of the room, a podium was set up where three judges presided, all officers from other branches of Starfleet, waiting to rule on this case. From Starfleet Planetary Operations, Admiral T'van, a Vulcan female sat quietly, while Admiral Murphy from Starfleet Academy kept subtly checking the chronometer, obviously disturbed at the delay. Admiral Spenser, boasting five stars on his admiral insignia, sat in the middle, and would act as spokesperson for the judiciary council. The hearing was ready to begin.

Unfortunately, Samantha's client had yet to arrive.

“Miss Cogley?”

Samantha hastily rose to her feet. “My apologies, Admiral Spenser. My client has been unavoidably detained. I'm sure he'll be here shortly.”

That was purely wistful thinking on her part, of course. She hadn't a clue where the Doctor was, nor his creator. She should have made a point of picking the Doctor up personally at the Jupiter Holographic Research Station, rather than relying on Zimmerman to make it there on time. This wouldn't provide a good first impression with the admirals who, with the exception of the Vulcan, were beginning to look impatient. If they were annoyed enough, they might refuse to authorize the deal she had made with Starfleet Medical, demanding that a definite decision be made on the hologram's status once and for all.

“Admiral, if it pleases the court, this indicates a certain irresponsibility on the part of Dr. Zimmerman,” Marshall said suddenly, standing up. “Because of that, we wish to withdraw the compromise offered to the defense counsel, as initially stated.”

Sam glared at him, deciding that had been the plan of Marshall all along, probably talking Starfleet Medical into following that route. Offer a compromise to lower the defendant's defenses, then find some excuse to withdraw it at the proper time. If it hadn't been Zimmerman and the Doctor showing up late, they probably had a whole list of other reasons why such a valuable piece of equipment should not be placed in the scientist's custody. They were simply using this as the most expedient course, getting it out of the way before the hearing even started. A quick glance over her shoulder caught the look of betrayal on the face of Captain Janeway, and Sam shook her head. Such innocents these Starfleet people were. Fortunately, she was used to working with backbiting legal tactics, and this was only the opening volley. She would simply have to win this case as she initially intended.

Just then, the door opened at the rear of the room, revealing the cocky form of Dr. Zimmerman. Everyone focused their attention on the scientist, whose body language revealed he was reveling in the scrutiny, as he walked toward the front of the courtroom. The lawyer felt an internal qualm as she realized he was alone, and worse, that he had a decidedly smug expression on his face.

One could hear a pin drop as he took his seat next to the lawyer, and Sam leaned over, conscious of every eye in the room angled in her direction.

“Dr. Zimmerman,” she hissed in a barely audible tone. “Where's the Doctor?”

“Gone.”

“WHAT?” She realized she had raised her voice, and the judges at the front of the room frowned. The observers in the crowd stirred, murmuring, and Captain Janeway shot a particularly concerned look at the defendant's table.

“Miss Cogley, if you'd care to share with the rest of the participants in this hearing?” the admiral prodded unsmilingly.

“One moment, please.” She grabbed Zimmerman's arm and pulled him closer, trying not to be overheard. “What do you mean, he's gone?”

“I mean, he packed up his mobile emitter and hit the road last night,” he replied, sounding very satisfied. “Cleaned out all the credits in his back account, bought a ticket on an outbound transport, and shipped out of the Federation. I have a copy of his resignation right here.” He pulled out a padd and brandished it triumphantly under her nose.

She stared at him, wondering why he sounded like a character in a bad crime holo-novel, then swallowed as she turned to face the three members of the judiciary council. Rising to her feet, she took a deep breath.

“Your Honors, apparently, my client has decided that he has no wish to proceed with this hearing. He has resigned his commission to Starfleet, and left the Federation on a civilian transport.”

Absolute bedlam broke out over the next few moments as everyone tried to make sense of this revelation. Zimmerman was in his glory, tossing insults at the opposing counsel who accused the scientist of deliberately arranging the situation. Scoffing, Zimmerman stood by his story that he left the Doctor the previous night in relatively fine spirits before going to bed, but when he got up in the morning in preparation of attending this hearing, the EMH was gone, leaving behind only a note which he read to the court. Samantha allowed that the lengthy and sometimes rambling statement was quite touching, as the Doctor expressed his need to be free rather than enslaved, though she doubted it had much impact on the admirals who regarded the scientist with similar stone faces.

“I demand that the EMH be tracked down immediately by Starfleet Security,” Marshall ordered the judiciary counsel, who seemed even less impressed with this demand from a civilian attorney than they had with Zimmerman's recitation Sam thought she detected a bit of an opening, and rose quickly to her feet.

“Your honor, is my learned colleague implying that the EMH is now a fugitive? That he is a living being capable of making his own independent decisions, and thus, is a wanted man attempting to escape custody, even though he has committed no crime?”

“On the contrary, he is a valuable piece of equipment that needs to be recovered,” Marshall said, a touch of contempt in his tone, thinking he saw the trap easily.

“In that case, shouldn't you be calling on Starfleet Supply and Services to track it down rather than request a security detail? He wasn't stolen, after all, merely misplaced.”

Marshall looked at her, frowning, then at the council. “My mistake, Your Honor. We request that Starfleet Supply and Services immediately arrange for its retrieval.”

Sam stifled a chortle as her path opened in front of her with the ease of Moses parting the Red Sea. One certainly could consider such an error on the part of the well-respected lawyer to be that of Divine intervention. Obviously, Marshall wasn't aware that Starfleet's S&S would only track down equipment if the cost of doing so was less than replacing it with the same model. Mark One EMH's were easy to replace, and a tug on Marshall's arm, dragging him down so that Romanoff could speak intently in his ear, finally enlightened the lawyer on where the trap set by Samantha really lay.

“Admiral,” Marshall said, straightening as he shot a poisonous look at Sam. “I do want it made clear that this is a unique and valuable hologram that must be retrieved intact, rather than merely replaced by Supply and Services. It should never have been left in the care of Dr. Zimmerman.”

“What makes it unique?” Samantha countered immediately. It occurred to her that the Doctor's bid for freedom was probably the best thing that could have happened. She wished she had thought of it herself. “There are holographic programs all over the place, and even if someone wanted an EMH Mark One specifically, they could pick up one in Starfleet surplus for only a few credits. They're just used for cleaning plasma residue, after all. Why is Starfleet Medical so determined to get their hands on this particular hologram?”

Marshall frowned at her. “The enhancements made to this particular EMH provide it with advanced technology. Such technology belongs to Starfleet Medical, not Dr. Zimmerman.”

“Actually, the Doctor's technology is exactly the same as any other Mark One,” Zimmerman broke in. “You have his specs right there. The only real alterations are in the base coding of his holo-matrix, but that's a matter of self-programming and the personality subroutines the Doctor added to himself in the Delta Quadrant, not the actual equipment itself. I can tell you that I didn't program it, nor did anyone on Voyager, and I'll swear to that on a stack of Bibles if you want.”

The scientist had spoken out of turn, but the admirals looked thoughtful at this while Starfleet Medical looked frustrated. Obviously, they could not reproduce a matrix sequencing they had never seen before, nor was it up to the court to reimburse them with information that had been created by someone else, unless they were willing to declare that the hologram had indeed been working for them as a Starfleet officer rather than as a piece of equipment.

Samantha decided to strike while the opportunity was there. Suddenly, she was in the position to be offering the deal instead of the other way around. She hoped Zimmerman would have the presence of mind to back her up.

“If it pleases the court, Dr. Zimmerman has access to the backup file of the EMH, possessing the same exact serial number as the original. It can be activated and used for any future study regarding that particular matrix,” she pointed out, not adding that the backup file was the original that had existed seven years ago. The Doctor had been notorious for refusing to back himself up with any regularity, and the only time he had, the unit had been lost during an encounter with aliens in the Delta Quadrant. “Dr. Zimmerman agrees to reinitialize the matrix from this backup file, and replace the Mark One EMH on Voyager with another, completely at his own expense, so that Starfleet Medical will not be out any technology. He will even recreate the mobile emitter so that the replacement hologram can move around independently of the holo-emitters in sickbay, even though that's not really his responsibility since that equipment was not anything he created. Since Starfleet possesses all the Doctor's medical logs for the past seven years, I have no recourse but to ask what more Starfleet Medical requires?”

Zimmerman looked startled, then nodded. “I can have the replacement Mark One with mobile emitter installed in Voyager by the end of the weekend,” he said quickly, jumping to his feet on cue exactly as Samantha had hoped. He glanced back at the crowd. “Indeed, I can replace it before the weekend, assuming the lovely Captain Jane, who is in command of the shipyards, agrees to authorize a team to assist me.” Sam noticed that the starship captain looked put on the spot, but Janeway inclined her head to indicate her agreement when the judiciary council looked in her direction.

“It's Captain Janeway,” she said, a touch of annoyance in her voice, undoubtedly directed at Zimmerman. “However, I agree to authorize any assistance Dr. Zimmerman requires in the installation of a replacement EMH on board Voyager.”

There was a pause as the admirals conferred with each other, then Spenser spoke again.

“We find that satisfactory,” he stated, much to Marshall's chagrin and Samantha's delight. “If this hologram is only a piece of equipment, as the plaintiff has presented, then the logical solution of providing equipment of equal or greater value by the one who misplaced the original, is sufficient for this council, particularly since Starfleet Medical already has access to Voyager's medical logs.”

“It's insufficient for us!” Romanoff exclaimed, clambering to his feet. “We must have the Doctor himself.”

“Why?” Sam countered.

“We need to study the matrix of this particular hologram,” Romanoff said, ignoring the urging of his counsel to sit down, brushing off the hand on his arm.

“For what purpose?” Spenser asked, eyeing him narrowly.

“If this thing really is alive,” Romanoff began, which was all Sam needed.

“Then, it's not the place of Starfleet Medical to hound him and hold him against his will,” Sam said loudly over the crowd which had stirred again at the doctor's inadvertent revelation. “Particularly after he's resigned his commission to Starfleet. He's certainly committed no crime, beyond existing.”

Romanoff turned to her, outraged, but before he could speak, Spenser slammed down his gavel and brought order to the courtroom, while Marshall succeeded in convincing the doctor to sit down, preventing him from speaking any further. The lawyer knew as well as anyone that with just that one word, by opening the door for the concept to be possible, Romanoff had completely undermined his entire case.

Waiting until there was silence in the courtroom once more, Spenser addressed the medical officer. “Defendant's counsel is quite correct, Dr. Romanoff. If the defendant in this case is only a hologram, as Starfleet Medical insists, then replacing it at Dr. Zimmerman's expense must be acceptable. Furthermore, assuming he does reimburse Starfleet in this manner, the original Mark One hologram, should he ever find it again, becomes his property to do with as he pleases. If, on the other hand, this hologram is indeed, alive, regardless of how or when it may have happened, then, at the very least, it has the right to resign its commission from Starfleet, and disassociate itself from the authority of Starfleet Medical, as well as the authority of this judiciary counsel. Any other challenge to that must be made in a civilian court, not here within the boundaries of Starfleet. I must also warn you, that in the event it is discovered that the hologram is found to be alive, and the plaintiff considered that a possibility before this hearing, then this council will be forced to take a hard and serious look at those officers who planned to hold it against its will with the intention of deactivating it. Does the court make itself clear?”

Sam felt dizzy. The Doctor's running away had forced the issue, placing Starfleet Medical in an untenable position and turning a lengthy hearing into a very short one. If the Doctor had escaped the custody of Starfleet Medical, then they could track it down, not sparing any expense to get it back, but since they had left it in Zimmerman's care, he became responsible for it, which he was quite willing to do. He probably had the backup Mark One all ready to fire up as a replacement. That thought made her frown faintly, and she shot a look at the scientist. She wouldn't put it past him to have come up with this whole scheme himself, and that the Doctor was actually waiting back on Jupiter station to see if the ploy worked. However, if that were the case, and if Starfleet Medical could prove that Zimmerman could have produced the equipment, but didn't, then they were all in trouble.

Marshall finally finished speaking with his client, no doubt explaining how the doctor had just left Starfleet Medical open for a civil suit they might not be able to win should they continue to pursue it, and stood up.

“If it pleases the court, Starfleet Medical accepts the replacement equipment, and drops the case to secure the Mark One EMH which had initially been installed on Voyager.” They were not going to budge an inch on the stand that this was only a hologram, but by doing so, they forced themselves to also give up a rightful claim to the equipment once it was replaced.

“Defense counsel agrees to this,” Samantha said, also standing.

“Excellent,” Spenser said. “This court is adjourned.”

There was a shuffle as people were allowed to move, and Sam clutched Zimmerman's arm. “Where is he? Really?”

“He's really gone,” Zimmerman said, and now his expression was honestly concerned. “He didn't tell me anything before he left.”

Sam exhaled audibly, then was aware of Janeway standing right behind her.

“Do I have this right, Dr. Zimmerman?” Janeway said, her voice chill. “The Doctor is alone out there? We have to find him.”

“My thoughts exactly, Captain Jane,” Zimmerman responded, and put his hand on Sam's arm. “That's why I'm hiring Miss Cogley to find him.”

Sam blinked. “Hold on a moment, I'm a lawyer, not a private detective.”

“I'll pay triple your rate as a lawyer.”

She thought about that. “Well...” Then she shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. She realized her preoccupation with credit was somewhat unusual, particularly on Earth where currency was a formality rather than a necessity, but she had tasted poverty while growing up on Enteron Prime, and even after finally making it to Earth, she never forgot that hardship. But she couldn't allow it to influence her into a foolish decision now. “I wouldn't even know where to look,” she pointed out reasonably. “I don't have the resources to search, or the authority...”

“That's why we'll send a trained security officer with you on a Starfleet vessel under my authority,” Janeway said firmly. “Lt. Ro will accompany you in your search.”

Ro blinked, looking unpleasantly surprised. “Captain?” Her voice rose at the end of the word.

Janeway turned to her. “Since you obviously put this idea into the Doctor's head, I think it proper that you be the one to track him down, Lieutenant.” She stared sternly at Ro, then softened. “I know you don't want to leave right now, with your upcoming wedding, but I'm afraid the Doctor has to take priority. Take B'Elanna with you, if you'd like. I'll arrange for her to have leave from the shipyards.”

“But, Captain,” Ro began again, then stopped as if she didn't know what to say beyond that. There was an expression of helplessness in the lieutenant's dark eyes that Sam recognized all too well.

At the lack of further comment, Janeway ignored Ro's weak protest, and turned to Zimmerman as they began to discuss the probable places the Doctor would have headed for, and how far his credits would take him.

Samantha finally came to the unpleasant conclusion that she had as little choice in this matter as the Starfleet lieutenant under orders from a superior officer. As long as the Doctor was her client, she felt a sense of responsibility for him, and if that meant bringing him back, then that was what she would have to do.

 

Over the shoulder of the technician she was with, Seven saw her mentor appear in the entrance of the lab, and after some final instructions as to what she required the young ensign to do, she strode briskly toward the solid bulk of the admiral. She was pleased to see him, discovering over the past few months that she looked forward to these impromptu luncheons, appreciating not only the break in her lengthy day, but a chance to hear all the various rumors and innuendo swirling through Starfleet Command. She would never possess the same interest in trivial information as her friend, B'Elanna Torres, did, but she did enjoy knowing what was going on, particularly when it came to her spouse. It was difficult at times, working separately from Janeway and the rest of the people she had known on Voyager, but the admiral provided her with a link to them, the chance to stay up-to-date, if not actually in touch, with everyone.

Janeway considered Seven's mentor a bit of a 'windbag', meaning that his words were usually more adept than his actual abilities. Initially, Seven had experienced her own trepidations over his interest in her, but his persistent kindness had won her over, just as Janeway's had when Seven had first been severed from the Collective and placed within the strange and acutely different confines of Voyager. He made a point of regularly dropping by the TPG facility at least three times a week, usually treating Seven to lunch at one of the more fashionable restaurants in Marsport, and listening attentively when she told him what was going on with her life. Indeed, it was his advice that helped smooth Seven's transition into becoming a fully-fledged member of Leah Brahms' science team. She learned to appreciate his distinctiveness, finding in him a cherished paternal figure, much as Tuvok had been on the starship in the Delta Quadrant.

In Seven's opinion, he was exactly what a Starfleet admiral should be; kind, diplomatic, thoughtful, if not always particularly brilliant, always ready with a story or anecdote of his own dealings with others in the ranks, which inevitably helped Seven see her way to becoming a satisfactory Starfleet science officer. He was always supportive, always sympathetic, and always considerate of her unique situation as the only Borg in Starfleet.

Put concisely, he was the complete opposite of Nechayev.

Seven did not understand why Janeway could be dismissive of him, while showing admiration for Nechayev who was apparently so afraid of Seven, it affected her better judgement when it came to her. Her mentor had explained how Nechayev had experienced a most harrowing encounter with Seven at Wolf 359, unable to prevent her sister's assimilation while barely escaping herself. While Seven appreciated the severity of the incident, she remained impatient with the weakness of Nechayev who seemed unable to put the past into perspective. Hayes, Seven believed, was an admiral who understood Seven perfectly. Nechayev was someone who lacked the courage even to begin to accept who Seven was or could be.

“Admiral.”

“Lt. Hanson,” Jack Hayes said, with obvious pleasure. He extended his arm. “Would you provide the opportunity for an old man to be seen in public with a very pretty young woman? The Martian Seas is holding a table for us.”

Seven offered a brief smile in response as she took his arm. She did not believe anyone truly thought she and the admiral were romantically involved, particularly not Hayes, but if it pleased him to indulge in such a harmless fantasy, she would not object. She logged out of her private lab and allowed him to escort her from the TPG facility to the local station where they caught a tube into Marsport. The Martian Seas was one of her favorite restaurants, specializing in seafood imported directly from the oceans of Earth. Mars did not have any seas, of course, even after a couple of centuries of terraforming, and the most it could boast was some very large freshwater lakes. Seven had seen Lake Utopia on more than one occasion, visiting B'Elanna and Ro who lived in a home situated on the shore, and considered it a most beautiful body of water.

“First, I have some news for you,” Hayes offered as they settled at one of the best tables in the establishment, and had been served their water. “I'm not sure you want to hear it, however.”

Seven regarded him inquiringly. “Indeed? Perhaps you should tell me the information, and I will formulate my own conclusions.”

“It's about your friend, the EMH,” Hayes said, his face very sympathetic. “I know you've been worried about him, and how his hearing would go this morning.”

“Yes,” she said, feeling anxious suddenly, though she wasn't sure why. “What was the decision of the judiciary council?”

“There was no decision, at least in terms of the hologram's status, though Starfleet Medical has dropped their claim on the matrix,” Hayes said gently. “The Doctor took his mobile emitter and vanished last night.”

Despite her surprise, the primary emotion washing through her was one of relief. “Acceptable.”

It was the admiral's turn to appear surprised. “You approve?”

“If it means he will be safe, then yes, I do.” She realized that was probably not the proper attitude for a Starfleet officer to take, but it was her reaction, nonetheless.

Hayes lifted a cautionary finger. “It's not that easy, Annika. The Doctor is not a Federation citizen, and with this disappearance, it's possible that he may never be declared a viable lifeform.”

“He has been protected from being deactivated, however,” Seven pointed out reasonably. “That is sufficient.”

“For now, but it was a rather extreme measure on his part.”

“Extreme circumstances require extreme measures.”

Eyeing her thoughtfully, Hayes inclined his head slightly. “Well, I'm not sure I can argue with that. Certainly, it gives him time to build his case, with the help of his lawyer, along with Captain Janeway's assistance.”

“Kathryn has been working very hard on negotiating a fair and just settlement in this.” She paused, offering him a bit of a shy smile. “I am also aware that you have been providing aid to her, whether she realizes it or not. I know it was you who convinced Dr. Romanoff to meet with her initially, as well as smoothing her way to contact the other influential people in Starfleet Medical.”

Hayes reached over and patted Seven's hand paternally. “I just wanted to help,” he said, looking pleased, yet somewhat embarrassed by the approval in her tone. “I knew it was important to you, and sometimes an admiral can make inroads where a captain doesn't quite have the necessary pull.” He paused. “However, it's not necessary that your spouse think otherwise.”

Seven lowered her head, smiling faintly at this thoughtful attempt to spare Kathryn's feelings. “No, it is not.”

She lifted her head as the waiter arrived with their food, the conversation altering as they proceeded with their lunch. Hayes told Seven all about the latest incident between Admiral Paris and Nechayev, how the recent visit to Earth by Tom had opened some old wounds between them. Seven thought Hayes was being far too understanding of both Humans, having little patience for either admiral, and the more she heard, the less understanding she thought he should be. He laughed when she told him that the next time the two admirals argued during a meeting, he should simply pick them up by the ankles and shake them, or at least, the Starfleet equivalent.

“I'm afraid you're ascribing too much power to me, Lieutenant. The most I can do is try to mediate on occasion. Trust me, if they didn't have each other to spar with, they would aggravate someone else.”

“Like Kathryn?” Seven asked sharply.

He blinked. “Do you worry about that, Annika?”

Seven inhaled slowly. “It concerns me that Admiral Nechayev places Kathryn in danger. The information that others are maneuvering their own command choices into contention for the Millennium worries me. I fear that Nechayev is utilizing Janeway as nothing more than a weapon in her dealings with other admirals.”

Hayes looked very serious. “Have you spoken to your spouse about this?”

Seven frowned fretfully. “Kathryn is not concerned. She expresses the opinion that it is 'regular command maneuvering' and that she is fully prepared to handle it. She is determined to become the captain of Millennium, and she dismisses the idea that any other captain could replace her.”

“You don't trust Nechayev to keep her word to Captain Janeway?” Hayes offered, eyeing her curiously.

Seven considered that carefully. “I do not.”

Hayes took a sip of his coffee. “For what it's worth, Annika, know that I'll do my best to see Janeway receives everything she deserves.”

Seven felt a sense of relief. “Thank you.” She looked down at her plate, empty now but for a few loose pieces of rice from her meal. “Admiral, you have been very kind to me since my reporting to Starfleet Command. I wish you to know how much I appreciate it.”

Hayes raised his glass in a sort of salute. “You are the only Borg in Starfleet, Seven,” he said, smiling magnanimously at her. “We'd be remiss if we didn't offer you the proper sort of guidance to fit into our organization. I know others see value only in your technological abilities, but the truth is, it's your remarkable strength and personality that are the true contributions you offer to us—your new collective.”

Seven was pleased. “I am beginning to consider Starfleet my new collective.”

“Even Nechayev?” he said, his tone gently teasing. “Or Paris?”

Seven inhaled. “Even them, but not all members of a collective are as functional as others. I reserve the right to consider them useless.”

“'Useless'?” Hayes laughed. “I agree, Seven. This is probably not something I should be sharing with a junior lieutenant, but that's the best way to regard them.”

The conversation over lunch occupied Seven's mind through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening as she walked leisurely along the sidewalk bordering R. Garrett Avenue, heading for her house. It was quite dark, the street lights muted in this residential section of San Francisco. Seven was aware that centuries earlier, a young woman could not safely walk the streets alone at night, unlike 24th century Earth where there was no crime and everything was peaceful. Of course, even were it not safe for the average Human to walk alone at night, it would be a most unfortunate mugger or assailant who would accost a Borg. He would quickly find himself ripped limb from limb and scattered over the street, just as a warning not to do it again.

Seven had been thinking a lot about security and safety lately, particularly for those she loved. It was so much easier on Voyager, knowing who the enemies were, and who her friends were. Janeway and Seven were part of a team that included the rest of the crew on the ship, and despite her new intellectual challenges as a member of the TPG, it wasn't quite the same. Seven missed her time on the little ship.

The house was dark as she entered, though she could see a sliver of light under the door in the loft above her head. She strode up the stairs and slipped quietly into the bedroom in the event her had fallen asleep without lowering the illumination. But Janeway was tucked up in the bed, reading a book, the hardcover resting on her lap. She glanced up as Seven entered, offering her a smile.

“Hello, darling. Still working late on the output ratios?”

Seven paused on her way to the ensuite to kiss her spouse hello. “They will not equalize as I wish, but I have every intention of completely solving the problem tomorrow.”

“I'm sure you will,” Janeway assured her, reaching up to touch her cheek.

Seven smiled faintly and kissed her again before going into the ensuite where she undressed, took a quick shower, and replicated a new uniform for the next day. Crawling into bed next to Janeway, she wrapped her arms around her and rested her head on her chest. Janeway, concentrating on her book, automatically lifted it out of the way until Seven was settled, then put it back on the support of her bent knees. Her right hand absently stroked Seven's blonde hair, providing a soothing caress.

Closing her eyes, Seven sighed softly, relaxing against her spouse. If she was accepting of the long hours that she worked, this was still the most important part of her day, this welcome that greeted her upon returning home. For long moments, Seven immersed herself in the warmth and touch of her, inhaling Janeway's familiar and beloved scent, listening to her steady heartbeat, the soft whisper of her respiration, the soft crackle of the pages being turned, delighting in the sheer sensation of just being in Kathryn's arms once more. It was something Seven did not believe she would ever grow tired of.

“Kathryn?” she asked after some time.

“Hmm?” Janeway was obviously distracted by what she was reading, her response absent.

“I heard about the Doctor.”

There was a pause, then Janeway carefully marked her spot, and placed the book on the night stand. With a word, the lights lowered, and she slipped down under the covers next to her.

“It was a surprise,” Janeway admitted, as they settled against each other once more in the cozy nest of bedding. There was a bit of a ragged note in her voice, very subtle, perhaps one only Seven was capable of picking up on.

“Are you upset, Kathryn?” Seven prompted gently.

Janeway sighted. “It never occurred to me that he would do such a thing. I can't help but think that if I hadn't tried to arrange this compromise, if I hadn't given him the impression that I didn't believe in him, that I didn't support him completely—”

“Kathryn, you did all you could.” Seven was quick to reassure her. “You offered him the best compromise in a complicated situation. I realize you believe that he feels you betrayed him by not wholeheartedly supporting his cause of being declared sentient, but you still did everything you could for him. You work best when you change the rules. That is what you were attempting to do in this instance.”

“I think I tried changing them too much this time. He thought his only recourse was to run away, and maybe he was right. It's obvious that the compromise was nothing more than a deception on their part.”

“Indeed.” Seven paused, surprised. “Perhaps he was simply imitating you, and changing the rules by leaving.”

“Perhaps.” The uncertain note was still there, and Seven brushed her lips over Janeway's temple. “It bothers me that he's out there on his own.”

“He is very capable. I am convinced he can take care of himself.”

Janeway didn't look as if she agreed, but didn't pursue it. “Dr. Zimmerman hired Miss Cogley to track him down, wherever he is, and tell him that it's all right to come back. The way the rest of the hearing went, Starfleet Medical quickly backed themselves into a corner. I don't think they'll be trying to bother him anymore.”

Seven mulled over this new information. “Kathryn, do you believe Samantha will be able to find him? As legal counsel, she is quite adequate, but I am unsure as to her abilities when it comes to searching for the Doctor who probably does not wish to be found.”

“I ordered Ro to accompany her,” Janeway told her. “They're leaving tomorrow morning on the DragonFlight—one more favor I owe David. I'm not fully cognizant of Cogley's abilities, but I'm sure that if anyone can find him, it's Ro Laren.”

“Lt. Ro is very capable,” Seven agreed, relieved to hear that Ro would be the one looking for the Doctor. She had a great deal of respect for the officer's skills.

With her night vision, Seven could see Janeway frown, her expression slightly puzzled. “I arranged leave for B'Elanna to accompany Laren, but they both refused. I'm not sure why.”

“She undoubtedly has her reasons,” Seven said thoughtfully.

“I'm sure she did.” Seven heard Janeway exhale audibly in the darkness, and she tightened her embrace.

“It will be all right, Kathryn. The Doctor will be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Janeway asked wistfully, allowing her vulnerability to show to the one person she trusted above all.

Seven tried to ease the mood. “I can quote you probability percentages if you would like.”

“No, that's all right,” Janeway said, her tone lightening perceptibly as she snuggled into Seven's arms. “I'll take your word for it.”

Seven eased closer. “Will you accept something else from me?” she asked, lowering her voice, making the words provocative.

“My goodness, on a weeknight?” Janeway responded in mock astonishment, though she was quick to shift her body so that it was angled more toward Seven. Seven sensed that Kathryn had a need for physical contact this night, and so did she, both seeking the comfort lovemaking would bring. “Whatever will the neighbors say?”

“That,” Seven murmured, as she drew her to her, “is entirely irrelevant.”

 

Phoebe laughed until she could scarcely breathe, holding her sides as she bent over, leaning weakly against the counter in Gretchen's Indiana kitchen.

“I don't think this is funny,” Janeway said to her sister, arms crossed over her chest. “Seven insists on hanging that damned painting in the living room, directly over the fireplace. Every time we have dinner guests, and we retire to the living room for conversation, I'm terrified about what's going to happen. Only last Friday night, I thought Admiral Dawson was going to have a heart attack right in his chair.”

“His coffee came out his nose,” Seven remarked in a wondering tone, obviously still impressed by the incident. Seven was dressed in a similar fashion to Janeway, in jeans and a sweater, and she looked delectable behind the counter as she helped Gretchen prepare dinner.

“All over his beard,” Janeway declared in outrage, forcing herself not to be distracted by the sight of her.

That inspired another burst of hilarity from her clearly unrepentant sister, and even Gretchen had to turn away briefly and cover her mouth in an effort not to join in. Sitting at the kitchen table, Michael Patterson, Gretchen's lover, chuckled as he continued to peel potatoes for their Thanksgiving meal. It was not a holiday traditionally celebrated anymore, except by Traditionalists in honor of the October end of the harvest, but Janeway and Seven had taken Friday off to be able to enjoy a four-day weekend in the historical manner, and both were looking forward to sharing a large turkey dinner with the family.

“It is a beautiful painting and perfect where it is,” Seven corrected her as she prepared the yams, the smell of roasted turkey filling the air. “Kathryn is exaggerating about the reaction to it. Most of our guests do not even notice it, and if they do, they are remarkably restrained about it.” She paused. “The only one, besides the admiral, who truly seemed taken aback was Chakotay during his last visit.”

“He stared at it for twenty minutes,” Janeway said in disgust. “He'd still be standing there if I hadn't gone looking for him after he took a trip to the lavatory and never came back to the table.”

Phoebe was lying on her side at this point, absolutely howling as she rolled around the floor, clutching her ribs. Michael had to put his knife down briefly so that he wouldn't inadvertently cut himself as he joined in the infectious laughter. It was obvious Janeway was receiving no empathy in this house.

“All I want to know is, did Ro and B'Elanna know what you were painting?” she demanded, standing over her sister and waggling her finger at her. “Worse, did they specifically request it?”

Phoebe lifted a hand weakly, waving it in lieu of an answer. Janeway wondered if that was an affirmative response, or if her sister was merely requesting time to compose herself before she could answer. From the snorts and giggles coming from her, Janeway suspected that could take a while.

“Does it make a difference, Kathryn?” Gretchen asked reasonably.

Janeway looked aslant at her. “I have to know how many of these people I need to pay back.”

Phoebe, who had just managed to get herself under control, immediately fell apart again at this threat, delivered in Janeway's best command tone, tears streaking her face as she laughed until she cried. She eventually had to crawl to the nearby lavatory, apparently afraid she would be unable to moderate her bodily functions if she remained in Janeway's presence any longer. It occurred to Janeway that regardless of how imposing she was to other Starfleet officers, in the loving confines of her family, she had practically no authority at all.

“I don't think it's that bad, Kathryn,” Gretchen noted, once the target of Janeway's indignation had left the kitchen. “In fact, I may have Phoebe do a similar painting for me and Michael, only without the optical illusion. Just he and I on a bed of flowers. I'll hang it in the parlor where we hold the park council meetings.”

“Oh my god!” Janeway stared at Gretchen, horrified. “You wouldn't.” Over at the table, Michael appeared a little shocked himself, glancing over at the women with wide eyes.

Seven regarded them both, then raised an eyebrow appraisingly at Gretchen-in-law.

“You were correct. They are 'easy marks'.”

Gretchen laughed as Janeway made a face at both women, which made Seven smile. Janeway proceeded to pointedly ignore them all as she went outside to play with the dogs, letting the screen door slam shut with unnecessary loudness behind her. By the time dinner was ready, however, she was in a much better mood, and helped Phoebe set the table willingly enough, though every time Phoebe glanced at Janeway, she smiled in a particularly annoying fashion. The meal turned out to be delicious, as often was the case when Seven and Gretchen joined forces, and once she had fully stuffed herself, Janeway was feeling much more benevolent to all concerned.

After Janeway and Seven helped clean up, the couple set out for a walk in the fields behind the house, Janeway bundling up in a heavier coat, as well as a knitted hat and mittens. Seven also pulled on a jacket, though in her case, it was more for the sake of making Janeway comfortable about watching her walk around in the cold than because she required the protective gear. Late fall in Indiana brought a decided nip to the air, and the women could see their breath issuing in white clouds while they walked in the gathering darkness. Around them, Jake and Phoebe's Irish Setters tore through the fields in an unrestrained romp, while Petunia, Gretchen's dog, had stayed back at the house, where it was warm and infinitely more comfortable to the ancient animal.

“We'll have to make a point of coming out here when the snow falls,” Janeway told her spouse as they tramped across the frosty ground, the short stalks of harvested corn crunching loudly beneath their feet. “Would you like to learn to cross country ski?”

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven said, but it was said somewhat automatically, and Janeway squeezed Seven's hand through the material of her mitten, wondering why her spouse seemed so distracted. Seven blinked at the sudden pressure on her fingers, glancing over at Janeway.

“Is something bothering you, darling?”

“No.” Then Seven seemed to reconsider her response. “Perhaps a little.”

Janeway leaned into her, and they paused, long enough for them to kiss lightly before continuing their walk. “Tell me,” she urged quietly, taking the opportunity to slip her arm around Seven's waist, feeling Seven's arm encircle her shoulders warmly.

“Kathryn, do you feel that Admiral Nechayev is utilizing you only for her own political dealings?” Seven asked finally, a tentative note in her voice.

Janeway began to understand where this was coming from. “Darling, I assure you, those test flights were absolutely routine. I know there was a rumor going around that my third pass through the shipyards had trouble, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. Besides, it's not as if I'll be flying any missions in those fighters. I just wanted to get a sense of what my future crewmembers would be experiencing when I deploy them.”

“You nearly collided with the USS Discovery.”

Janeway winced. “Not even close,” she replied, fudging slightly as she remembered the way she had barely pulled the fighter's nose up in time. The little ships were far more sensitive in the navigational controls, with a quicker response time than anything else she had ever flown. It had been a close call, but entirely her own fault, becoming too daring in her third pass through the shipyards to test their maneuverability in close quarters. She did wonder where Seven had managed to hear about all the details of her little adventure.

“You could not run a simulation in the holodeck?” Seven asked wistfully.

Janeway smiled. “You can't protect me all the time, Annika,” she said, hugging her gently with one arm. “Not even from myself. I know this is a discussion we've had before, and we probably will again, but I need to do what I have to in my role as captain.” She paused, and glanced over at her spouse. “Regardless of what taking command of Millennium demands of me, I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize what I already have with you, all right?”

Seven considered that, then finally nodded. “Very well, Kathryn.”

Janeway squeezed her lovingly, then took a deep breath, delighting in the keen freshness of the air. Tipping her head back, she gazed up at the pinpoints of light glittering hard in the night sky arching overhead.

“I wonder which star the Doctor headed for?” she said idly, changing the subject.

Seven followed her gaze, smiling faintly. “Undoubtedly, one boasting a planet with an opera house.” She paused. “I am sure Samantha and Laren will find him, Kathryn.”

“I'm still bothered by the fact that B'Elanna chose to stay behind. You don't think there's any trouble between her and Ro, do you?”

“I have not detected anything to that effect,” Seven remarked. “Since Ro's departure, I have been seeing B'Elanna regularly. She expresses the opinion that we should not allow our friendship to 'slide' as we have been doing, and often stops by the TPG through the day just to visit me, particularly when I am working late and she is off-duty.”

“Having friends around is important,” Janeway offered. “I suppose she misses working with you.” She squeezed Seven’s waist, leaning her head on her shoulder as they walked. “Annika, you'd tell me if anything were wrong, wouldn't you?”

“Of course, Kathryn. Why?”

“You seem so distant tonight,” Janeway prodded lightly. “Is it really bothering you that I did those test flights?”

Seven looked surprised, stopping and turning toward Janeway. The pale eyes studied Janeway intently. “No, Kathryn,” she said seriously. “I understand why you decided to perform them.” She paused, frowning slightly. “I did not like it, but I accept it. This is more a matter of having a great many things on my mind, but I do not wish them to influence me to the extent that I am neglecting you.”

“You're not, darling,” Janeway assured her. “I'm just—I guess you being distracted is unusual enough in itself to make me worry a bit. I wonder if you're experiencing trouble, and if so, I want to help.”

Seven stared at her, then smiled and pulled her close, bending her head to kiss her lovingly. “Kathryn,” she whispered against her lips, “these are thoughts and ideas that I must work out to my own satisfaction. Until then, I find it unnecessary to discuss them. Can you be patient?”

Janeway felt a sharp pang in her chest, a sliver of worry that penetrated her heart, but she knew what her response had to be—the same response that she expected and requested when their positions were reversed.

“Absolutely, darling. Take as much time as you need.”

Seven nodded somberly. “Thank you, Kathryn.”

Janeway glanced at her as they resumed their walk. “Will you let me know if there's anything I can help you with in the meantime?”

“Of course,” Seven assured her. “Immediately.”

“Then, I guess, I'll just have to be patient, won't I?”

Seven smiled faintly. “I know that is difficult for you.”

Janeway managed a laugh. “Nonetheless, I'll do my best.”

They stopped again, this time beneath the shadowed darkness of an oak tree, a familiar place to both women who appreciated the secluded location, and the isolation from the rest of the farm it offered them. Janeway leaned against the trunk, her back pressed against the hard bark as she felt Seven's arms surround her. She lifted her face, her lips parting beneath the warm mouth of her, feeling the kiss resonate through every part of her soul. Despite the chill air, desire rose as Seven's hands began a lazy caress beneath Janeway's jacket.

“Hmm,” Janeway muttered, once they parted. “Perhaps we should think about heading home.”

Seven smiled. “Do you object to us making love beneath this tree, Kathryn? You did not the last time we were here.”

“The last time it was Indian summer, the middle of the day, and still quite warm. Try something like that tonight, and I'll probably lose something delicate to frostbite.”

Seven nuzzled her jaw. “That would be most unfortunate. Let us return home, but first, we must say good-bye to the others.”

Janeway kissed her again, and took her hand. The walk back to the house took much less time than the walk out, certainly less time than their farewells took, with Gretchen making sure that they did not set off without the proper fortification. The hovercraft zipped back to the Portage Creek Transport Station in less than thirty minutes thanks to Janeway's hand at the navigational controls, and the transporter beamed the couple from there to San Francisco in a matter of seconds. They had to take off their heavy jackets during the walk back to their house in the much warmer California weather, where the sun was still above the horizon, glowing red in a spectacular sunset. Jake walked sedately at their heels, having exhausted much of his natural exuberance while romping with the other dogs.

“I'm glad we decided to take tomorrow off,” Janeway said as they entered their house where she tossed the couple's coats over a nearby chair. “After a meal like that, I'll need three or four days to recover.”

Seven's arms were filled with containers. “It will take three or four days in which to consume these leftovers,” she noted as she took them into the kitchen, storing them in the refrigeration unit. “It is fortunate we both like turkey and dressing.”

Janeway collapsed on the sofa, putting her feet up on the coffee table. Linking her hands behind her head, she watched in lazy contentment as her puttered around the kitchen. Occasionally, Janeway was struck by how much better her life was in the Federation, after having been lost for seven years in the Delta Quadrant, than it had been before that fateful mission to Ro Badlands. This was another of those moments.

Seven raised an eyebrow as she returned to the living room. “Why are you smiling, Kathryn?” she asked curiously, kneeling by the hearth to kindle a blaze in the fireplace.

“Just realizing how happy I am, darling, how much I have to be thankful for.”

Seven stared thoughtfully into the small flames spreading uncertainly along the logs. “I am happy, as well.” She shot a look at Janeway, and offered her a smile. “You were concerned that you would forget to appreciate being back in the Alpha Quadrant.”

“I know,” Janeway said, remembering the dinner the couple had shared on DS9 where they had discussed it. “I guess you don't have to kick me in the ass just yet.”

“Not yet,” Seven agreed indulgently. She rose from in front of the hearth and moved over to join Janeway on the couch, stretching her long legs out beside Janeway's, the side of their bodies touching along their entire length. Janeway lowered her hands, and Seven took the left one into her own, while she slipped her other arm around Janeway's shoulders. “This has been a good day.”

“It has,” Janeway agreed, turning her head to her, smiling as Seven immediately took the opportunity to kiss her. “Hmm, and obviously, it's not over yet. I was afraid that you had forgotten what you suggested beneath that tree.”

“I would never forget that, Kathryn,” Seven told her, amused. Her pale eyes were almost colorless in the soft light of the fire, but the warmth of their glow stirred a blaze within Janeway. Janeway smiled and leaned closer, kissing her again. The intensity of the embrace increased, and eventually, without quite being sure how she managed it, Janeway discovered that she had edged her way onto Seven's lap, straddling her hips as she faced her, the couple kissing deeply.

“Hmm, should we go upstairs?” she murmured, pressing into Seven as she touched her breasts through her sweater.

“Later,” Seven promised, tugging at Janeway's sweater and pulling it from her jeans so that she could slide her hands beneath it. Janeway gasped as she felt the warm fingers on her abdomen, trailing across her skin which tingled in their wake.

“Later is good,” Janeway agreed, breathing heavily. “Oh ... darling...”

Seven smiled as she helped Janeway pull the sweater off over her head, then paused to follow suite herself. Janeway wrapped her arms around Seven's neck, kissing her hotly as Seven's hands roamed over her back and sides, delighting in the feel of Seven's skin against her own. With a bit of maneuvering, they managed to divest themselves of their jeans, resuming their position on the sofa once they were nude. Janeway found this exciting, loving the way Seven's lips moved over her throat and chest, the way her hands moved soft over her hips and legs, up her back. Urging Seven's head up so that she could kiss her again, Janeway settled more of her weight on Seven's lap, feeling the tickle of Seven's triangle barely touch her moist and intimate flesh. It teased more than satisfied, but that was what made it so delightful. The anticipation was as enjoyable as any eventual fulfillment.

She threw her head back as Seven dropped hers to Janeway's breasts, her lips moving over them with slow passion, tongue prodding each nipple into a tingling point of sensation, moving back and forth between them. Janeway didn't know how long Seven concentrated on her breasts, how long she held the blonde head to her with loving tenderness, how long the pleasure rose in her in rhythmic waves. She only knew that when Seven finally decided to touch her between her legs, long fingers brushing over her center, then sliding easily into the heat and wetness, it was like a bomb went off inside her and spread throughout her body, an explosion of desire and pleasure racing along her nerve endings like liquid fire.

“God,” she whispered, after Seven had guided her through the spasms, had gently eased her back to her arms and reality, “you do that so well.” She continued to undulate on her, almost without conscious volition, the lingering tremors continuing to squeeze the long fingers buried inside her.

Seven nuzzled in the warm valley between Janeway's breasts. “Was it not you who told me that when one enjoys what they do, it is easy to do it well,” she responded with dry humor, her voice slightly muffled.

“If I didn't, then I should have,” Janeway said with a small laugh. She was reluctant to give up the fingers that withdrew slowly from her heat, but she knew her was fully aroused, waiting patiently, but obviously ready to be pleasured. She leaned down and kissed Seven thoroughly.

“Mphh, Kathryn?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I love you.”

“I know,” Janeway whispered against Seven's lips. “Do you know how much I love you? How much I enjoy touching you. How much I enjoy tasting you?”

Slowly, with careful attention, she eased down the lean body of her spouse, kissing and suckling various bits that she knew Seven enjoyed having caressed. Finally, she knelt on the floor between Seven's legs, her senses alive, hearing the soft moans of Seven helpless beneath Janeway's caresses, scenting her desire, seeing the delicate pink flesh waiting for her touch, a decided hunger filling her.

Nuzzling the tender inner skin of Seven's thighs, Janeway kissed along the line of muscle, intoxicated by the fragrance of readiness and need, bending forward to brush her lips over the swollen outer lips, tasting the essence that gleamed softly in the flickering firelight. She nudged Seven's legs further apart, opening her fully to her attention, then finally, covered the tender moistness with her mouth, eagerly and happily feeding on the bounty her offered.

Seven was more than ready by this time, lifting her legs into the air, allowing her easier access, bracing her feet against the coffee table as she arched beneath Janeway's mouth. Fingers tangled in Janeway's auburn hair, Seven held Janeway's head tight to her, a wordless demand for more. The first spasm arrived quickly, a jolt that seemed to rocket up through Seven's body to escape with an abrupt cry, an incoherent groan of pleasure that issued from full lips. Janeway paused, waiting for this initial climax to subside, then settled in to feed on Seven for real. As she did, she brought her hand up and pushed a finger into the tight confines of her beloved, easing into her as she flicked her tongue steadily over the tiny ridge that swelled beneath her lips. She managed to add a second, slowly, taking her time, then with her other hand, she teased the rear channel open, allowing her to penetrate there as well, filling her completely.

Crying out again, Seven surged beneath Janeway, this climax was more powerful than the first, Seven shuddering helplessly beneath the devoted attention. Janeway kept Seven in a delirious state of unceasing multiple orgasm until finally, Seven simply could not respond any further.

Seven's breath was a sob when Janeway finally released her, kissing the tender flesh in a gentle farewell before easing Seven down onto the couch and stretching out on top of her.

“You are astonishing, Kathryn,” Seven whispered, when she could finally talk again, gathering together the shredded remains of her composure.

Janeway allowed herself a smug grin. “Imagine if there were two of me.”

Seven groaned with more emphasis than perhaps was required. “I simply would not survive. I barely survive one of you.”

Janeway laughed. “Goodness, what would you do without Borg enhancements?” They enjoyed the teasing, indulged in regularly during the aftermath of a particularly strenuous encounter.

“You would have to marry another,” Seven told her gravely

Janeway kissed her sweetly. “I don't want another. Sorry, love, you're stuck with me.”

Seven smiled. “Perhaps it shall not be such a bad existence.”

“I hope not,” Janeway teased.

There was a pause, then Seven pulled her closer. “I am going to carry you up to bed now.”

“Yes?” her said, pleased. “My, you recovered quickly after 'barely surviving'. Why do you want to take me to bed?”

“Because I do not believe we are finished.” Seven managed to rise from the couch, lifting Janeway easily in her arms, raising an eyebrow challengingly at her. “Unless you are too tired to appreciate the rest of this weekend?”

“Oh, I'm just fine,” Janeway told her, hugging her neck lovingly as Seven carried her up the stairs. Somehow, this was a more powerful gesture here on Earth than it had been in the Delta Quadrant, perhaps because Seven had a longer distance to go. “But I will say, all these late hours you're pulling through the week have had a bad influence on me.”

“How so?”

“When I am with you, all I want to do is make love.”

Seven smiled as they entered the bedroom. “Then, I shall continue to use that influence on you,” she promised as she lowered Janeway onto the large bed.

“For the rest of our lives.” ​