Defining Duty
G. L. Dartt

 

"How should we kill him?"

The comment, made flatly, without any attempt to lighten it, made B'Elanna Torres pause in the middle of her rant. Stopping in her tracks, the Klingon regarded her spouse of less than a year in complete surprise.

"What?"

Ro Laren, security chief for the starship Millennium, lifted an eyebrow and stared at her without flinching. "Obviously, he'll have to be removed," she said evenly. "It should look like an accident, of course."

B'Elanna started to smile, hesitated as she decided Ro wasn't joking, and tried to find something intelligent to say. "You can't be serious," she said, putting her hands on her hips. A strand of long, wavy hair fell into her dark eyes, and she tossed her head, removing it from the facial features that boasted the ridged forehead of a Klingon mother, and the softer jaw and cheekbones of her Human father.

"Then what the hell do you want to do about this?" Ro snapped, abruptly angry. "Because I can assure you, it can't continue the way it has. If the captain has to step in here, Lanna, you can consider your career as chief engineer of the Millennium officially over."

B'Elanna started to speak, and then stopped, surprised by the snap in the Bajoran's tone. Ro uncoiled from her chair, a slim woman who moved with deadly grace, a product of her advanced tactical training. Dark of hair and eyes, ripples on the bridge of her nose that denoted her Bajoran heritage, the woman was clearly irritated, and B'Elanna felt a little blind-sided. She had been fully involved in an outraged outburst about Zar Tulek, and was not pleased suddenly to have to deal with an opposing viewpoint. She had assumed Ro shared her opinion of the ship's first officer. In fact, she had been sure of it.

"What's going on here? You don't like the idea of him being posted here any better than I do."

"You're right, I don't," Ro admitted, lifting her chin. "The thought of someone who looks like a Cardassian being my superior officer, of actually having the assignment that would have been mine, but for the decisions I made in the last year, is almost more than I can bear. In fact, I made my displeasure very clear to the captain, and you know what happened next. I was offered a transfer, no questions asked, nor any leeway given, just as it would to any Starfleet officer who couldn't control personal latent prejudices. There's nothing more to do here, Lanna; it's over. It's time to adjust and move on."

"Just because we can't do anything about it right now—" B'Elanna began.

"No," Ro said firmly. "You have to understand, the security of this vessel is my responsibility, B'Elanna. That includes stepping in when a senior officer is acting in an insubordinate manner to the ship's exec."

B'Elanna exhaled slowly. "Is that what you're doing?"

"I'm putting it in terms you can understand," Ro said, her arms crossed over her chest, her brows drawn down. "Commander Zar is the ship's first officer. He's not going to go away, and this continued antagonistic attitude toward him only disrupts the smooth functioning of the vessel. So unless you want to kill him, there's no way around this." She paused, a muscle in her jaw twitching slightly, then added in a lower tone; "Besides, he's not such a bad guy."

B'Elanna felt her jaw drop. "What?"

Ro looked uncomfortable suddenly, glancing away. "You're not working with him every day, Lanna, like I am," she said in a more conciliatory tone, trying to explain. "That makes it easier for you to continue to see him only as a representative of the people we fought in the Maquis, of the conquerors who occupied Bajor and committed atrocities to those living in the Demilitarized Zone. But I have to deal with the man, and that forces me to look at him as something more than just another Cardassian."

"He looks like one of them," B'Elanna said hotly.

"But he's not. He's as much a part of my people as he is of them. More importantly, he's a Starfleet officer, and even if we can't respect him, B'Elanna, we have to start respecting the uniform."

"What if I can't?" B'Elanna said, emotion thick in her throat. "Those monsters slaughtered the Maquis, Laren. They're conniving, vicious bastards who can't be trusted as far as you can throw them—"

"Is that what you're going to say to Captain Janeway?"

The question, asked in an eerily calm voice, stopped B'Elanna before she was able to get rolling on her second rant regarding the issue. Janeway was a formidable woman, a person whom few dared oppose. B'Elanna certainly wasn't about to.

"You think he'd go to the captain about me?" she asked in a smaller voice.

Ro swallowed. "He wouldn't have to, B'Elanna." She moved closer and looked down into her partner's eyes, her expression dark and immovable. "It would be my responsibility to do so as chief of security."

B'Elanna was floored. "You wouldn't."

"Don't force me into a position where I'd have to, B'Elanna," Ro said gratingly. "Don't push it so far that I'm left with no other option than to choose between my loyalty to you and my loyalty to Janeway." She stared at her partner, her face softening, her tone altering to one of pleading. "You know I would choose you, Lanna, but is that what you really want for both of us? This continued animosity isn't accomplishing anything, and the eventual consequences would finish us both in Starfleet. And in the end, it would all be for nothing. We're not fighting a Cardassian here, we're fighting a fellow officer. Even if we somehow found a way to win, we'd still lose. Deep in your heart, you know that."

B'Elanna met her steady gaze, searching her brooding features, reading the sincerity in the dark eyes. Frustrated, she turned away, her fists clenched at her sides.

"You don't know what it's like—" she began.

"I don't know what it's like?" Ro repeated incredulously.

B'Elanna caught herself. "That's not what I meant." She felt pain twist inside her. "Laren, they're all dead, and I wasn't there to fight with them."

She was speaking of the Maquis, an outlaw band of freedom fighters who had opposed the Cardassian tyranny even when the Federation and Starfleet wouldn't because of political necessity and an uneasy alliance forged with a treaty. Pursued into the Badlands by a Cardassian cruiser, B'Elanna, Ro, their cell leader, Chakotay, and other Maquis were caught in an energy pulse which swept them 70,000 light-years away, deep into the heart of the Delta Quadrant. There, they had forged an alliance with Janeway and her starship, the mixed crew taking seven years to return to their home in the Alpha Quadrant. While they were gone, the rest of the resistence group had been killed by the Cardassians and the Dominion, an alliance that subsequently plunged the entire quadrant into a war.

B'Elanna and Ro had missed that, as well. By the time Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant, the Dominion had been soundly defeated, the Cardassian Empire lay in ruins, and those who had been their bitter enemies now required Federation aid to rebuild their homeworld.

"You had no closure, Lanna," Ro said gently. "Neither of us did. But Zar isn't the enemy, and if we persist in making him one, it's only going to hurt us in the long run. I don't want to see you hurt."

B'Elanna crossed her arms over her chest, her heart aching. She felt her partner move closer until she was right behind her, putting her hands tentatively on the Klingon's shoulders. Head bent, tears of frustration and sorrow stinging her eyes, it was countered somewhat by the comfort of Ro's warm breath on the back of her neck.

"Let it go," Ro whispered, squeezing her gently. "Please, Lanna."

B'Elanna exhaled and turned, surrendering to the embrace that surrounded her.

"I'll try," she allowed finally in a low growl. "That's all I can promise."

"That's all I ask," Ro said into her hair, holding her tightly. "You don't have to become friends with him, Lanna, just be professional whenever you run into him, all right? It's your duty."

B'Elanna slipped her arms around Ro's slender waist and nodded, her face buried in her shoulder. "All right." She wasn't happy about it, but for Ro, she could do anything, even talk to a Cardassian as if he were worth the effort. The two women stood there for several moments, trying to find a peace in being together, while the rest of the universe seem to offer little.

"He's okay?" B'Elanna asked finally, in a quiet voice.

Ro nodded. "He can't help how he looks, Lanna. He doesn't act anything like one would expect from his appearance. He's smart, professional, and a hell of a lot more tolerant about everyone around him than we are about him." Her hand moved in slow circles at the small of B'Elanna's back, soothing her. "He was well within his rights to have you up on disciplinary charges. At the very least, he could have registered a complaint with the captain. Instead, he let me handle it."

"Okay, okay," B'Elanna grumbled, surrendering to the inevitable. "He's a real sweetheart. Good for him."

Ro chuckled, a low laugh of mild amusement. "I wouldn't go that far, but he's been a decent guy as far as I can see. He deserves better than us using him as a convenient target for all the Cardassians we wish were dead, or better yet, had killed ourselves."

"Well, Seven likes him," B'Elanna allowed grudgingly. "I guess he can't be all bad."

"She's a pretty good judge of character," Ro agreed, speaking of the ship's resident Borg and science officer. The couple reluctantly released their embrace, and took a seat at the table in the dining nook of their quarters. "Apparently, he read her paper. Not only did he understand it, he actually liked it."

"Kahless," B'Elanna said, thinking of the scientific publication that her friend had written. Seven had been extremely proud of her effort, which was so advanced that even the Klingon, who was considered a genius in the engine room, couldn't follow it past the first page. "That definitely would have put him in her good graces."

"So, are you hungry?" Ro put her hands on the table top, obviously wanting to change the subject. "Shall we eat in?"

B'Elanna wrinkled her nose. "Let's go to the Nexus," she said, referring to the lounge on deck twelve which had become the social center of the starship. "I feel like having a crowd around me tonight."

Ro nodded. "All right. Do you want to change, or go as we are?"

B'Elanna glanced down, checking her uniform for conduit fluid or other effluvia. Starfleet ships were supposed to be pristine, but as someone who had worked with them for a long time, B'Elanna knew better, even in a new vessel such as the Millennium. Crawling around Jefferies tubes had a way of leaving varied types of residue no matter how many junior officers cleaned them, or how careful the engineer in question was. For once, B'Elanna hadn't picked up much in the way of dust or dirt over the course of her duty shift.

"I think we're fine." Ro Laren, of course, was immaculate, trim and neat in her black and grey tunic, the gold collar sporting three pips, two gold, one dark to denote the Bajoran's rank, one grade above B'Elanna's senior lieutenant status. The security officer offered her a small smile and held out her hand which B'Elanna readily accepted, rising from her chair. To her mild surprise, Ro didn't let go, instead, pulling B'Elanna to her, moulding her body to hers.

"Have I told you today how much I love you?"

B'Elanna felt her lips curl upwards in a grin of pleasure. "Why no, I don't believe you have."

Ro smiled and dipped her head, covering the Klingon's lips with her own. B'Elanna returned the kiss, allowing a bit of passion to deepen it, though not too much. There would be plenty of time for that later, after they returned home from dinner. Ro's tongue flicked her lips gently as they parted, a subtle acknowledgement of that unspoken promise.

"Are you sure you want to go out?" Her voice was suddenly husky.

B'Elanna laughed, low and deep. "It'll do us good to get out. Most people on the ship don't even know we're married. It's probably time we started showing them that neither of us are available."

Ro drew back, an odd expression crossing her face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

B'Elanna patted her on the buttocks before releasing her, turning for the door with a grin on her face. "Hey, I heard about Lt. Watkins in biometrics," she said playfully over her shoulder as the couple exited their quarters. "He's let it be known around the lower decks that he can't wait to put the moves on you."

Ro frowned. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," B'Elanna said easily, enjoying the opportunity to tease her usually stoic spouse. She tucked her arm in Ro's, pressing against her as they walked through the corridors. "Of course, once he gets a load of who he'd have to go through to get to you, I'm sure that'll be the end of it."

The expression that generated on the Bajoran's face was worth a chuckle all the way to the lounge.

​

Her quarters were empty when Janeway came off duty, a huge disappointment since she had anticipated a leisurely dinner with her spouse, and perhaps a few romantic possibilities afterward. Instead, all she found was a padd lying on the kitchenette counter containing a note from Seven. It indicated that the young woman was out for the evening with her friends, and that the captain was on her own. That one of those friends was undoubtedly Lenara Kahn, a civilian scientist with whom Seven had been developing a dynamic friendship, had not been added to the note, but Janeway could easily read between the lines. Aggravated, she tossed aside the padd, ignoring her dinner which Seven had prepared and left under a stasis wrap on the counter. Striding angrily into the ensuite attached to the couple's bedroom, Janeway stripped off her uniform and pulled a navy sheathe from her closet. It was a garment that brought out her eyes, and showed off her compact body to its best effect. She added jewelry, including her wedding chain, and silver earrings that dangled provocatively from her earlobes, quickly brushed out her shock of collar-length auburn hair, and sailed out of her quarters on a mission to resolve this once and for all.

She really had no intention of displaying any of her jealousy to the young woman, but if Seven could resist her spouse once Janeway sashayed into the ship's lounge in the young woman's favorite dress, looking as devastating as she could manage in the short amount of time she had, then the captain would know for sure that a problem was developing and take it from there. That the problem might be solely that of Janeway's was not something she was prepared to acknowledge quite yet, though a small voice in the back of her head snorted in disgust at the captain's rather immature plan.

Janeway stopped dead just inside the doors of the lounge, tremendously shocked. She hadn't been in this area of the vessel since Millennium had left Utopia Planitia, and she belatedly realized that a few of her more adventurous crewmembers had been hard at work creating a decidedly unique atmosphere within the ship's main social area, one she had never quite experienced on a starship before. Noise from a multitude of loud and varied conversations swept over her like a wave, underlain with a soft throbbing beat of some alien music, making it difficult to hear herself think. Overhead, the normal subdued lighting had been dimmed even further, making the large room dark, though she could see that it was packed with officers and civilians relaxing from their alpha shift or readying themselves for the gamma, filling the tables and chairs. She was astonished to see that a space had been cleared at one end of the room, where people were actually dancing vigorously to the unfamiliar music, including B'Elanna and Ro who seemed to be enjoying themselves tremendously.

I really do need to pay more attention to what's happening in every area of my ship, Janeway thought grimly as she began to work her way through the crowd. No matter how big it is.

Holding court behind the long counter along one side of the room fronting the large replicators, there was an individual she didn't remember transferring onto her vessel. He was apparently acting as a combination host and bartender for the people crowding around and shouting drink orders at him. Initially, she thought he was a Bolian or Andorian, with the traditional blue skin. But the rest of his features, the emerald hair with purple streaks, the upswept eyebrows that gave him a perpetually inquisitive expression, the pointed ears similar to Vulcan physiology, defied any species identification she attempted to make.

"Captain," he cried out in delight as his reddish eyes abruptly lit on her in the crowd. Spreading his arms wide in an embracing gesture, he motioned for her to come over. "Welcome to the Nexus."

A garish sign high on the bulkhead behind him, flashing an almost painful neon pink, backed up his claim as to the lounge's new designation, and Janeway inhaled deeply, wondering who had done this to her ship, and more importantly, how she would deal with him once she found him. She also wondered how she would locate Seven in this mob. A few people unobtrusively edged away now that they recognized who the dynamic redhead in the tight blue dress really was, freeing up a stool at the bar. The captain was even more surprised to discover the ship's counselor was present, taking in the ambiance over a drink.

"Captain?" Kes greeted her in her melodious tones. Her blue eyes were amused, large for her elven features that were surrounded by a shock of shaggy blond hair. "I'm somewhat surprised to see you here this evening."

"Not nearly as surprised as I am," Janeway muttered, shooting the counselor a bemused stare as she slipped onto the stool. She was still boggled at the transformation of her ship's recreational area. "I don't remember authorizing this kind of decor for the crew lounge."

Kes offered her a small smile. "I'm sure you wouldn't have," she said with uncanny accuracy. "Which is undoubtedly why it was never brought to your attention. But the crew seems to enjoy it a great deal, and for those who prefer a more subdued atmosphere, there's always the civilian lounge on deck seventeen."

"What have they named that?" Janeway asked as a whiskey and soda she hadn't ordered was abruptly deposited in front of her, as if by magic. She shot an astonished look at the bartender who had already moved on to his other customers, wondering not only at the presumption, but how he had known what her favorite intoxicant was in the first place.

"It doesn't have a name," Kes informed her. "It's still just a lounge, very much as it was when the ship left Utopia Planitia. It does have a few additions, but not many."

"I'm relieved to hear that." Janeway tilted her head at the bartender who was laughing and joking with a group dressed in casual clothing. She couldn't tell if they were Starfleet, or more of the civilian complement of her crew. "Who's our host?"

"Paryk?" Kes said. "He's from the Onias Sector."

"Near the Romulan Neutral Zone," Janeway identified. "His species?"

"They call themselves the Y'ngZai."

"Civilian?"

"I believe so."

"What department is he assigned to?"

Kes blinked. "I'm not sure."

Janeway shook her head. The Millennium was such a large vessel, particularly in comparison to her previous command, that she was continually being confronted by complete strangers. Voyager had boasted a crew compliment of 141, 150 after the two crews, Maquis and Starfleet, had merged, while this vessel carried eight times that amount. In fact, Seven's science section, including all the various departments, had nearly as many individuals on its roster as Voyager did, 148 people under the Borg's direct authority.

The captain was still getting used to those numbers, but it hadn't really been brought home to her until this night, sitting in the ship's lounge, looking around at people she didn't really recognize, but who easily recognized her, even in civilian clothes. Thinking of Seven brought her back to why she had ventured out this evening, and she glanced around the room, searching anxiously for her spouse.

"I don't suppose you've seen Seven?" she asked the counselor.

Kes lifted her head, peering briefly through the crowd, then dipped her head, indicating a direction. "She's at her regular table. Over there, on the other side of the dance floor."

Regular table? Janeway peered in that direction, finally spotting Seven in a corner booth, surrounded by a group of people which, to the captain's surprise, included her first officer, Zar. There was also the ever present Lenara Kahn who was sitting next to Seven, leaning into her as they talked. The entire group appeared to be in deep discussion, with intent faces, though occasionally, there was an outburst of laughter. Seven would then produce that small smile she offered whenever she was truly amused by something.

Janeway's jaw tensed as she watched them, her back teeth grinding together, a decided tightness developing in her chest. She was completely unaware of the counselor observing her with a speculative expression on her face.

"I envy you, Captain."

Janeway blinked, and glanced over at Kes in surprise. "What?"

Kes's gaze was serene and thoughtful. "You and Seven," she clarified. "You have such a wonderful marriage, united in love, yet both understanding how important it is to have individual interests."

"Uh," Janeway responded brilliantly, but Kes didn't seem to notice, continuing on without pause.

"You're strong enough to realize that you can't be everything for each other, and you're secure enough in each other's love to find it in other places, with other people. You'd be surprised at how many couples never learn that. It can cause some extensive problems for some, usually because they've bought into the myth that both parties are supposed to be exactly alike, to be interested only in the same things, when in fact, we are all unique, which is part of what draws people together to begin with."

"I see," Janeway said, not entirely sure what the counselor was saying, but feeling it was important for some reason. "Is there a lot of problem with that on a starship?"

"There can be," Kes said, taking a sip from her glass. "But no more than in any other type of lifestyle. It's merely, for lack of a better term, Human. Everyone goes into a marriage convinced that he or she will be able to change the other person into who they think they should be, and instead, usually discover that such an intention is completely unfeasible. Those who can't get past that revelation often end up destroying the relationship."

"Indeed," Janeway said slowly, feeling a decidedly queasy feeling in her stomach as she finally recognized what she was doing. She wondered if Kes had been trying to convey that message in her oblique fashion, or if it had simply been a comfortable discussion over a drink with a friend.

Just as Seven was enjoying.

Janeway looked back over at her spouse's table, and for the first time, was able to see that in the company of the Trill, as well as with the other members of the group surrounding her, Seven could be all that she could be; a brilliant mind freed to explore all the universe had to offer. Seeing the light in her partner's face, and the sheer exhilaration the Borg was experiencing in the heady discussions with her fellow scientists, Janeway suddenly felt rather small, and ashamed that she had ever thought to deny her partner the opportunity to pursue her individual happiness.

Lenara Kahn was not a beautiful woman in competition with her for the heart of Seven of Nine, nor was she a threat to their relationship. She was someone who could offer the Borg an intellectual stimulation that her spouse simply couldn't, no matter how much the captain might have wanted to. Once understanding had dawned, Janeway was gradually able to feel a corresponding sense of joy, stirred by the knowledge that her partner was truly contented on an intellectual level. Smiling ruefully, Janeway realized she had been so concerned that Seven would not find the required intellectual inspiration to fulfill her on board Millennium, she hadn't realized that Seven had already sought out and found exactly what she needed. Janeway had been worried over nothing, and furthermore, had caught herself up in a futile and impolitic jealousy of Lenara Kahn for absolutely no reason other than the captain's irrational insecurities, and her fierce sense of competition.

"The more I learn, the less I know," she said softly.

"Captain?" Kes prompted, eyeing her with interest.

Janeway shook her head. "Nothing," she said as she picked up her glass. Lifting it in a silent toast to Kes, which the counselor returned, as if understanding exactly what Janeway's thought processes had been, they drank to friendship, and the evening, and the simple fact that they were alive and alert and had a whole universe to explore.

After draining her glass, Janeway rose from her stool, offering Kes an affectionate nod of farewell before she swept out of the lounge, heading back to her quarters. It was so ironic to her that she had gone there with the intention of luring Seven away from her evening out, and now that she was returning home alone, it was with the fervent hope that Seven would be able to enjoy herself fully for as however long as she wanted. Somehow, Janeway had been reassured of the security of their bond, her jealousy giving way to a happiness that her partner had found a mind so much like her own in the Trill scientist.

"One of these days," she muttered out loud to herself as she entered her quarters, "I'm actually going to figure these things out before they need to hit me between the eyes."

The quiet surroundings of her cabin did not serve up any response to her statement, but by now, she didn't really require one. It was no longer lonely here in these familiar surroundings, filled with the images and items of her life with Seven. Instead, it felt peaceful, a sanctuary offered to the captain to be alone with her thoughts as she retrieved her dinner from beneath the counter, deactivating the stasis wrap that released the steam and heat of the casserole, filing the air with its mouth-watering scent. She ate her solitary meal with complete enjoyment, and after cleaning up, she took a book and a tall glass of wine into the ensuite. Setting the items nearby, she drew a long hot bath, filling it with oils and bubbles, and pampered herself completely before turning in for the night.

She was asleep when her partner finally returned home, slipping quietly between the sheets to stretch out beside her on the mattress. The captain stirred only long enough to wrap herself around the lanky form as it joined her in the warm haven of their bed. Seven's familiar embrace was like a balm in the night, and unconsciously, Janeway's lips curled up in a smile of contentment as she was cradled by the woman she loved, and whom she knew loved her with an enduring commitment that would never end.

​

Nuzzled into the back of her spouse's neck, Seven inhaled deeply as she woke in the quiet moments before morning watch, wrapped around the captain as if she were the touchstone that kept her safe in the night. She smiled sleepily, enjoying the silky smooth skin against her stomach and breasts, the way the soft curve of buttocks fit neatly into her pelvis, their legs entwined in a glorious tangle as her arms fitted snugly about Janeway's waist. The Borg was fully prepared to accept the possibility that there were better ways to wake up, but she had yet to find any.

Janeway shifted in her arms, apparently awake already, or waking when Seven had, humming quietly in sleepy pleasure as she reached down to take Seven's hand and bring it up to cover her breast. Delighted by the implicit invitation, the Borg made a soft rumble of growing desire in her throat, kissing along the line of her partner's neck, feeling the throb of Janeway's pulse beneath her lips. The tender protrusion of nipple grew stiff beneath her palm, and she smoothed over it in slow circles, causing her partner to shiver happily, her breath increasing audibly.

Reaching behind her, Janeway ran her hand over Seven's hip and leg, caressing her lavishly with her palm, then reached back further to cup her buttock, grasping it to pull her closer. Seven exhaled slowly, feeling the tingles of anticipation ripple through her in response, pressing her groin against the soft curves. When Janeway shifted, pulling momentarily away from her, Seven didn't resist, knowing that Janeway was only turning over so that she could be face to face in order to embrace fully. They kissed immediately, mouths seeking each other instinctively, without thought, a connection of lips and teeth and tongues tasting deeply of the other, bodies pressing together in sensual joy, warm curves that moulded and fit together, respiration gradually escalating as their hands moved over each other with supple skill.

Insinuating her thigh between Janeway's, Seven spread her legs, opening herself and her partner at the same time. Together, they reached down, touching each other in the heat and increasing moisture, fingers growing slick as they fondled tender flesh that firmed even as it grew more sensitive. Probing gently, they found entry into intimate recesses, moving naturally into a rhythm that fanned the fire inside, building the heat steadily. By this time, they had to leave off their kisses simply so that they could breathe, harsher, rasping, inhaling deep gulps of oxygen interspersed with groans and whimpers and subtle cries of quiet urgency as they surged against each other in wordless demand. Their fondling quickened, the peak dancing tantalizingly beyond them as a certain tiny desperation enhanced their caresses. Until, finally, they were there, the wave of ecstasy sweeping over them simultaneously, or at least, so close together that the seconds between were insignificant. The soft rush shuddered exquisitely through taut bodies, internal muscles clenching against long, probing digits inside until the pleasure spent itself sweetly, easing them back to themselves and each other. Still cupping each other intimately, they unwound into the languid relaxation of warm afterglow.

"Hmm, good morning, love," Janeway said finally, her voice throaty with lazy satisfaction.

Seven smiled. "Good morning, Kathryn," she said as she drew Janeway to her once more, tucking her beneath her chin in a warm embrace.

"How much time do we have?"

Seven glanced up at the chronometer embedded in the headboard, noting the time.

"Twenty minutes."

"Damn, just enough time to fall asleep again," Janeway mumbled. "Not enough time to enjoy it."

"Indeed." Seven knew exactly what she meant. "Do you wish to get up now?"

Janeway snuggled closer. "No," she said, her tone softening. "I like it exactly where I am, thank you very much. Talk to me, darling. Keep me awake until we're required to get out of bed."

"What would you like to discuss?"

Janeway yawned like a kitten and rubbed her cheek against Seven's chin. "Whatever you'd like. You know, I popped by the Nexus last night. Why didn't you tell me it had been turned into a night club?"

"I did not see you there."

Janeway managed to convey the impression of a shrug without actually moving, a phenomenon that amazed Seven. "I only stopped by for a moment. Kes and I had a drink, and then I came home to spend a lovely evening with a book and the bathtub." She paused, wiggling so that she was closer to Seven. "When did it turn into the equivalent of a station-side bar?"

"Not long after leaving Utopia Planitia. I believe Lt. Paris was instrumental in the design concept behind the renovations."

Janeway made a small sound of exasperated amusement. "I should have known. It's obviously become quite the social center."

"From my observation, the crew appreciate it greatly. Even those that find it too stimulating, do not object. They merely retire to the civilian lounge on deck seventeen."

"So I've been told. Perhaps you and I should go there for dinner some evening."

Seven considered that, hesitating. "It would not be as entertaining as the Nexus."

Janeway chuckled. "All right, one night, we'll go to the Nexus." She yawned again. "How did it get that name, anyway?"

"I believe it was ..."

"Lt. Paris," Janeway said in perfect chorus with Seven, and laughed again.

"Apparently, it had something to do with a vision he had one morning."

"After a night of imbibing, no doubt. Well, I have to admit, I've envisioned a few spatial anomalies myself after a difficult evening."

"You mean an intoxicating evening," Seven clarified.

"That, too." She was silent for a moment, her eyes sliding shut, and Seven nudged her.

"Kathryn?"

Janeway opened her eyes, blinking sleepily. "Damn. I'd better get up."

Seven observed with complete enjoyment as Janeway stretched lithely before rolling out of bed, throwing the sheets aside to reveal her compact and naked form. Tilting her head, she watched the capain walk into the ensuite, her eyes lingering on the way the muscles in her buttocks and legs rippled and flowed together. Seven wasn't entirely sure why the way Janeway looked and moved appeared far more aesthetically pleasing than observing other individuals, regardless of her feelings for her. A body was a body, after all, which, in truth, was only the physical shell containing the essence of whom she loved. Yet Seven continued to find the captain's body completely absorbing. She adored watching it, touching it, thinking about it during her rare idle moments.

Bemused, Seven stretched, and then rose from the cozy comfort of their bed. Retrieving her robe, she pulled it on before moving out to the couple's living area where she programmed a breakfast menu into the replicator and activated the coffee maker. She moved by a uniformed Janeway on her way back through the bedroom, the captain taking the opportunity to pat Seven on her buttock in passing. Amused, Seven took a quick shower before pulling on her uniform and putting up her hair. Fixing two gold pips to her collar, she took a last look in the mirror to make sure she looked properly official.

Out in the living area, she joined Janeway at the table, gratified to see she had waited on breakfast until Seven had finished in the ensuite. As they sat down, she offered Janeway a small smile, immediately returned, the captain's eyes a soft blue.

"What do you have planned for today?" Janeway bit into her toast vigorously with her strong, white teeth.

"Apparently, I am required to assimilate two pilots into my science section and assign them tasks in various departments on an interim basis. I must assemble a list of duties suitable for their skill level before they arrive next week."

Janeway offered a crooked grin. "Don't you hate it when administrative decisions from the bridge disrupt your smoothly running department?"

Seven merely shot her a dark look, causing Janeway to laugh. Seven knew that the captain and Commander Zar had a good reason for dispersing the fleet pilots throughout the ship for additional officer training, but it didn't mean she had to like it. Trying to train personnel to work in the various science departments to which they would only be assigned a few days before being rotated to another section, would be difficult. It meant creating a training schedule of sorts for her current personnel that was flexible enough to incorporate newcomers at a moment's notice. Seven didn't do flexible very well, particularly when it came to science. She preferred things to be organized and clearly defined.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Janeway said, getting up from the table to retrieve another cup of coffee. As she poured the dark brew into her mug from the pot at the counter, she offered Seven a somewhat mischievous look. "Besides, you should never achieve perfection, darling. If you did, what would there be left to strive for?"

"Maintaining that perfection," Seven said in the sort of voice that indicated Janeway should have realized that.

That provoked a playful nibble on the back of her neck as Janeway passed behind her on the way back to her chair, and Seven smiled faintly as she finished her cereal.

"We have a mutual off day coming up," Janeway said casually as she sipped her coffee. "Would you like to do anything in particular?"

"How we spend the time is irrelevant," she said, not quite paying attention to how that might sound. Then, as Janeway's face began to fall, added quickly, and with complete sincerity, "So long as I can spend each and every moment with you."

"Sweet-talker."

Seven did not respond to the accusation that was a frequent one from her spouse, nor did she consider it an accurate assessment. She was rarely facetious in her comments to Janeway, particularly when it came to how she felt about her. Her emotion for the captain had only grown stronger the longer they had been together, and if perhaps they were not as quick to take note of it as they had been when they first entered the relationship, instead falling into a more comfortable interaction with each other, the love itself still burned with an unceasing energy.

After they finished up their breakfast and tidied up, they both returned briefly to the ensuite where they cleaned their teeth, made a final visual check as to their professional appearance, before returning to the living area. Janeway hesitated briefly by the private turbolift access that would carry her directly to her ready room.

"Darling?"

Seven, on her way out the door to start her day, paused and turned back. She was mildly surprised, though hardly displeased when Janeway slipped her arms around her waist and kissed her soundly. Enthusiastically, Seven returned the kiss, holding her tightly.

"I love you," Janeway whispered, once they had parted. "Once in a while, I have the great fortune to realize exactly how much."

Seven nuzzled the starship captain indulgently, knowing that once they stepped outside the quarters, it wasn't the sort of behavior she could pursue.

"I love you, Kathryn," she said sincerely.

"Have a good day, my love. I'll be thinking of you."

"I shall be thinking of you, as well," Seven promised. Then, out of honesty, she felt compelled to add, "Not to the detriment of my duties."

Janeway laughed. "I'm sure."

They hugged once more, and then Janeway released her to step onto the turbolift. Seven tilted her head as she watched the door slide shut, unsure what had prompted such an affectionate farewell from her spouse, but appreciating it, nonetheless. She headed off for the science department with a light heart, and the certainty that she was the most fortunate person in the quadrant, if not the entire galaxy.

​

Davinus Marcos glanced over at his companion, T'Shanik, wondering if she was as uncomfortable as he was. If so, she would hardly show it, her Vulcan features impassive as she stood at easy attention with him in the office, awaiting the arrival of the ship's chief science officer. He supposed that he should be glad that he wasn't going into this alone, but the fact that they were required to take on these extra assignments still rankled. He had pursued the Millennium posting aggressively, with the understanding that he would be a pilot, not some glorified gopher for every ship department that required one.

Nor was he particularly looking forward to working directly for Seven of Nine. Rumours about the Borg science officer ran rampant through the lower decks, ranging from the absurd to the terrifying, not the least of which was that she had once assimilated an entire prison of alien criminals in order to rescue the captain. He had also discovered, through the gossip, that the two women were actually married to each other. Marcos wondered how a captain and chief science officer managed their professional life together when their personal life was also involved. More importantly, how much additional authority did that give Seven over other senior officers?

Ultimately, he supposed, it didn't matter. Seven was the section chief and was ranked over him and T'Shanik, regardless of anything else that might be involved. How much seniority that entailed was irrelevant at this stage of his career. As they waited, he took the opportunity to glance around the office. It was austere, without any frills or decorative touches to indicate what kind of person Seven was, which he supposed, was indicative enough. Beside a rather ugly little sculpture, there was a single image on the shelf running behind the desk, small and unobtrusive, in a silver frame. A closer glance revealed it to be Seven, the captain and some kind of animal, a dog with long, reddish hair, posed together on a grassy lawn. The captain was smiling, though Seven's features remained sober, and she was dressed in a form fitting outfit of blue and grey rather than a Starfleet uniform.

Outside the door, Marcos could hear the personnel working in the large main lab of astrometrics; talking, exchanging information, sometimes even loudly, with an infrequent burst of laughter. It didn't seem to be an oppressive work environment, but then, the Borg wasn't present, was she? It was entirely possible that the staff took their opportunities to be Human when they could, and immediately went quiet when their superior arrived. With a certain astonishment, Marcos realized that there was a small trickle of what might have been fear rippling through his belly. Was he actually frightened of this Seven of Nine? He had never encountered a Borg before, even one that had been severed from the Collective.

"Ensign?"

He twitched and glanced over at T'Shanik who was regarding him with a faintly raised eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Is something wrong? You appear unduly apprehensive."

"You're not?" he blurted before realizing that, of course, she wouldn't be, and even if she were, a Vulcan would never admit to it. But to his surprise, she looked just the tiniest bit uncomfortable.

"I, too, hold certain apprehensions about this assignment."

He considered that, not entirely sure how he should respond. Not only was he surprised by her admission, but it also served to make him even more nervous.

"Why?" he asked finally.

She hesitated and began to speak, but there was the subtle sound of footsteps approaching, and they both became quiet, stiffening to attention. Seven of Nine was a majestic woman, tall, attractively proportioned, with ice blue eyes set in narrow features. Her blonde hair was drawn tightly back in a bun, giving her an austere look, while the cybernetic implants adorning her face, an eyepiece curving around her left brow, a starburst on her right cheek, were subtle reminders that they were dealing with someone who was no longer entirely Human.

"Ensign Marcos," she identified as she went around the desk. "Lt. T'Shanik."

The Borg settled gracefully into her chair, and regarded them much as one might regard a couple of not particularly interesting insects. It was uncertain whether she would choose to examine them, or squash them.

"Yes, sir," both junior officers responded promptly.

"You are early."

Seven's diction was clipped, precise, devoid of any warmth or humour. Marcos felt a shiver go down his spine.

"Yes, sir," T'Shanik, the senior of the pair, said. "We wanted to be ready for our duty shifts."

Seven tilted her head. "How long did you await my arrival?"

"Fifteen minutes," Marcos said, thinking that their apparent eagerness to get started would gain points in their favour, and then wished he hadn't when those cold eyes moved over to assess him impassively.

"Then it was an inefficient effort," she told him. She looked back at T'Shanik. "As well as an illogical one. You could have been doing something productive in that time. Alpha shift begins at precisely 0700 hours, nor do I report for duty before that time under normal circumstances. It was not necessary for you to arrive any earlier."

There didn't seem to be much they could say to that.

"Yes, sir," they responded.

Seven regarded them again, and then lifted her head, looking at something beyond them. Marcos didn't turn around, but he felt the presence of another being enter the office.

"Dr. Kahn." Seven identified the newcomer who turned out to be a Trill, statuesque with golden brown hair and wise eyes that took in the young officers at a glance. They were kind eyes as well, crinkled at the corners as if she found something amusing. Dressed in a lab coat over civilian clothes, rather than a uniform, Marcos wasn't sure of her position within the department, but it seemed to be significant since Seven was displaying a certain amount of respect for the older woman.

"These are our new additions?"

"Yes." Seven hesitated, and Marcos could have sworn that for just an instant, the chief science officer looked uncertain. "Perhaps you have a suggestion as to what form of training would be most immediately useful for these particular officers."

To the two junior crewmember's surprise, the Trill laughed, a musical chuckle that, astonishingly, drew a tiny smile from the Borg. It was so quick as to have been possibly imagined, but Marcos was sure that he had seen it on the rigid features.

"What sciences did you pursue at the Academy?" Kahn asked the pair. Marcos suspected from the depth and penetration of her gaze that she was one of the special members of her species, hosting a centuries old symbiont inside her abdominal cavity. She had that timeless, calm aura that he had encountered in other joined Trill.

"Astrophysics," Marcos managed to say calmly. "Propulsion theory."

"Astrophysics and communications," T'Shanik added.

Kahn smiled again. "Would you have expected anything else from cadets who majored in navigation and tactical helm training?"

Seven lifted her brow. "It would be the obvious selection. At the moment, there are no openings in Astrometrics."

"They're not going to be here long enough to pursue a career in it," Kahn reminded her gently, with a softened look at the other two to indicate that she meant no offense. Marcos didn't take any. He certainly wasn't there to become a astrophysicist. "I'm sure we could find something for them to do."

"The goal of this project was for these officers to learn the duties specific to the area they're assigned," Seven countered. "I do not believe we would be fulfilling our part to utilize them as..." she hesitated as she searched for the proper term.

"Gophers?" Kahn prompted.

Seven blinked, obviously not understanding the reference, and Marcos was reminded again that although the woman was initially Human, she had been assimilated by the Borg years ago, as a young child.

"I see your point," Kahn allowed with a bit of a sigh. "Our orders were clear, weren't they? Very well. Why not treat them as if they were going to join each department full time? How far they advance will be entirely up to them."

Seven seemed to consider that, then nodded. "Yes, that is acceptable."

Marcos was horrified, and beside him, even T'Shanik looked vaguely disconcerted. Of course, he realized that every science officer had to start somewhere, but he had a strong idea that he didn't have the slightest clue how to go about it.

"Uh, sir?" he offered hesitantly, and instantly, that laser gaze was focused on him.

"Yes, Ensign Marcos?" Seven asked with chill politeness.

"What would we be expected to do in that event?" he said, struggling on.

Seven's brows drew down, and she glanced at Kahn who offered her a somewhat sheepish expression to indicate she didn't really know either. "We shall begin with a tour of the various scientific facilities."

Marcos and T'Shanik exchanged a glance of trepidation, but Seven was rising to her feet, striding purposely from the office, and the pair had no choice but to follow her. Dr. Kahn trailed behind, an expression on her face that indicated she expected this to be entertaining in some fashion. Seven led them to one end of the lab where a large imaging system dominated one wall, with an advanced sensor grid that could scan space for light-years beyond normal ship detection.

"This is the main astrometrics array," Seven said flatly.

"Seven of Nine and another Starfleet officer, Lt. Harry Kim, actually developed the prototype for this lab," Kahn interjected at that moment. "Of course, on Voyager, the crew was unable to draw on updated and new Federation scans or charts, so they were required to make their own way through the Delta Quadrant. Starfleet repeated the techniques that were developed by Seven and Mr. Kim, and incorporated them into this array, giving us an advantage in exploring this unknown area of space."

Seven seemed content to allow the civilian scientist to elaborate, and Marcos wondered why, since as the Starfleet officer, Seven was clearly the authority in this section. Seven and Dr. Kahn appeared to work more as a team, as opposed to being two people from different spectrums, a decided change from any other Starfleet/civilian collaboration he had encountered to date. Certainly, he was aware that the science section had far more civilians working in it than any other area on the ship, and perhaps this was part of incorporating them into the chain of command. Even space stations did not seem to have this ease of synergy. Marcos knew that because, as a ten year old, he and his family had moved from Greece to Deep Space 3 where his father had worked as a systems analyst for three years. Young Davinus remembered well the division between civilian and Starfleet personnel that arose at times, elaborated loudly by his father on more than one occasion. All of them had been relieved and happy to return to Earth.

"I understand this array is far more powerful than the traditional ship sensors," T'Shanik offered.

"It is," Seven said. "Most spatial anomaly can now be studied in detail at a safe distance, without requiring the ship to enter it."

Marcos wasn't sure that was an advantage. He preferred the adventure of actually exploring such anomalies up close, anxious to fly his first mission into one. Of course, he hadn't had the opportunity ever to do it for real, but he had enjoyed the challenge of tests and obstacles offered on the holodeck that included varied spatial distortions and energy discharges.

After seeing the rest of the lab, which was extensive, Seven and Kahn led the younger officers to the turbolift that deposited them two decks down. There, they took a brief tour through the geometrics department, where various planetary environments were studied extensively, from the rocks and minerals in the earth, to the atmospheric conditions that surrounded them. On the same deck, xenometrics was a large series of labs devoted to the culture and history of the various alien civilizations they would come across in Millennium's exploration. At the moment, the entire staff was fully involved with data pertaining to the Iboneb and the Okunda, two alien races between whom Captain Janeway had recently negotiated a trade agreement.

They returned to the turbolift which lifted them one deck up to the biometrics department, which seemed as extensive as the astrometrics lab above. It was presided over by Lt. Samantha Wildman, a stocky, blonde Human who seemed delighted to see Seven.

"Lt. Wildman oversees the planetary studies, as well as working closely with both geometrics and xenometrics," Seven explained. "You will each be spending time in the various departments, but for now, you shall begin in astrometrics."

"We can always use new bodies, Seven," Lt. Wildman offered in a friendly tone. "Particularly during away missions that require extensive sample gathering and micro-scanning. I wouldn't mind you sending them my way next."

Seven dipped her head in acknowledgement. "I promise to assign them to you during the next planetary scans, assuming they are scheduled for science duty at that time."

Marcos felt a little queasy, envisioning a series of away missions where not only would he have to ferry the scientists down to the planet's surface in one of the runabouts that flew like glorified rocks when the science modules were attached, but would also have to spend the rest of the time on the surface picking bugs out of mud and sticking them into tubes. He felt considerably depressed as Seven led the pair back to astrometrics and into one of the smaller labs where several people were working at flat tables containing star charts.

"For today, I shall assign you to Lt. Delaney," Seven said, motioning for one of the Starfleet officers to join them. "You shall assist her in creating the new navigational charts for this sector."

Marcos took one look at the woman he would be working with for the day, and abruptly decided that this assignment wasn't as bad as he had anticipated. Delaney was a blonde, buxom package of barely repressed sensuality who smiled easily and often, a decided contrast to the severe demeanor of her superior officer.

For every cloud, as his mother had said on more than one occasion, there was always a silver lining.