The delta ships were unlike any type of shuttlecraft Zar had encountered before. They were roomier, for one thing, and provided several stations where personnel could do their work. That made it possible to include additional people on an away mission, as well as carry out that mission in greater comfort. The controls for piloting them were a little unusual as well, but were quick and responsive. Zar found the vessel a joy to fly.

Behind him, at Ops, Ensign Tarn worked studiously, her young face serious and intent. Zar knew that this might be the young woman's last shot at fitting into the role she was expected to play on Millennium. The captain was on the verge of requesting that Zar rotate Tarn back to the beta or gamma shift, placing someone else with more experience on the bridge for the more crucial alpha shift. He really didn't want to do that. Tarn had the intelligence, talent and ability to do the job. It was just a matter of getting her to believe in herself. He thought that perhaps the young woman had never really failed before, living with the complete and total confidence of ignorant youth. Her personnel file had revealed someone who came from a highly respected family on a planet with a paradisaical type of ecosystem. Accomplishments came easy, with Tarn succeeding wildly at everything she had ever attempted, including her attendance at Starfleet Academy. Yet, one learned from one's mistakes far more than one's successes, and for some reason, she had managed not to make any significant ones. It had been her many and varied abilities that had carried her so far, of course, but there had also been a tremendous amount of timing and sheer, unadulterated luck involved.

That luck ran out one day in a park in San Francisco when young Tarn made several key errors in judgment. The first consisted of badly misreading a situation and the people involved. The second came in the form of assuming that because she had things completely under control until this point, they would always be under her control. The third... Well, the third came in the form of a redheaded starship captain named Kathryn Janeway. Zar could only imagine where Tarn's sense of confidence, based on such a faulty perception of her life to that point, had been after the incident. It wasn't even that the encounter had been so catastrophic in itself. It was simply the power and enlightenment of the lesson taught by a woman who knew how to drive home a message better than anyone Zar had ever met.

Tarn had received that message loud and clear, and it had shaken her to the very core of everything she had ever believed about herself. The first officer thought that if it had come earlier in her life, the girl would have adapted easier. Her momentum to that point carried her through the last few months at the Academy, and allowed her to graduate with honors, but it was on the Millennium that the first serious cracks and chips in her personal foundation began to appear. It was Zar's job to find a way to help her rebuild herself, this time, basing it on something solid and real, rather than on what was primarily illusion.

"Dr. Spencer, how long have you had this interest in alien archaeology?"

The voice was Seven's, and Zar had to force himself not to turn around. The women were seated near the rear of the cockpit, Seven at the engineering station, Dr. Spencer just behind her at a console where the medical officer covered the science station. As he stared resolutely forward, his eyes pinned to his instruments on the helm, Zar was hard pressed to shake the image he had witnessed earlier of the science officer and the captain saying their farewells in the door of their quarters. Of course he had known they were married, but that was the first truly unguarded demonstration of their relationship that he had seen to this point, probably because they had been completely unaware they had an audience.

The achingly devoted expression he had seen in Janeway's features, the undeniable adoration with which Seven looked down at her, the sheer aura of love and passion that radiated from them as they stood together in the doorway, embracing tightly, had shook him to his very core. It was like a dash of cold water to his senses, seeing them in that display of unexpected vulnerability, forcing him to perceive both women in a completely different manner than he had until that moment.

Seven wasn't just married to someone else, she was in love with that someone to the exclusion of anything and anyone else. The captain simply didn't have a younger, exceptionally beautiful spouse; she was bonded to someone for whom she would give up everything if it was required, including her Starfleet career, her command, her ship. It was almost beyond love, beyond marriage. It was a unification, a joining of hearts and minds that nothing could sunder. Zar really hadn't understood that before, but after seeing that embrace, it seemed his heart finally, irrevocably, got the message, despite how much it hurt.

"Approaching the outer ionosphere of the planet," Seven announced, interrupting his train of thought.

Zar inhaled deeply and straightened in his seat. "All hands, prepare for entry into the planetary biosphere."

"Main escort is maintaining formation," Tarn announced. "The other two fighters are peeling off."

Zar sighed. It was important to involve the new fighter squads in missions, including them whenever possible, but it felt excessive to have three fighters shepherding them to the planet. One ship, piloted by Ensign Marcos, would escort them all the way to the surface where it would also land, while the other two would fly patrol in orbit around the planet until the team had landed and set up camp. Once the away mission officially began, they would return to Millennium until it was time to escort the shuttle back. Zar didn't think all this escort was particularly useful, but he supposed it gave the pilots some actual flight time, and that was always important. It also provided the away team with an extra body in the form of Marcos, who would remain on the surface with them.

He turned his attention back to his own helm. The intention was to do several passes over the largest set of ruins which had initially attracted Millennium's attention, mapping the region extensively. Then they would settle on a landing site and set up a base camp for those who would subsequently follow. It wasn't their purpose to study the ruins in any detail. That would be left to the runabout with the xeno-archaeologists. It was their job to scout the terrain, to determine there were no surprises that the ship's long range sensors had not detected. That was what made preliminary away missions so exciting, and so dangerous.

Zar supposed he didn't blame Seven for wanting to come along, even though biometrics was not her specialty. A spatial anomaly was studied with instruments from the interior of a vessel. Planetary missions required a scientist to get her hands dirty, to walk around on the actual surface of where she'd be working. There was a certain sense of adventure to it that space missions didn't quite match.

The two security officers, seated in the rear of the cockpit, peered out the side windows in fascination as the shuttle descended through the white mist of clouds, revealing the curve of the green and blue planet beneath them. It was M-class, quite Earth-like, and temperate in climate. There were no lingering traces of radiation, and the ruins appeared to be pre-industrial, perhaps an agricultural society. Why the civilization had died out, leaving no traces of intelligent life on the planet, remained unknown, and it was hoped that the ruins would reveal the answer to the mystery.

After several passes over the city large enough to have housed up to ten thousand in its heyday, the Delta Sky descended to a clearing located near the center of the ruins, settling onto its landing struts which bit deep into the layer of top soil deposited over a more solid surface beneath. Possibly paving stones of some sort, Zar mused as he shut down the ship's engines. Nearby, the fighter also landed, its cockpit facing in the other direction. For several moments, Seven and Dr. Spencer ran extensive bio-analysis scans, making sure that there were no viral or bacterial agents in the atmosphere or surrounding bio-matter that could prove harmful. Meanwhile, Zar secured the shuttle, and Ensign Tarn contacted the Millennium, updating the ship on their current status. The security officers, Prell and Tannic, were checking their equipment which included type-two compression rifles, their faces somber and impassive.

Zar eyed them briefly, aware that Ro would have assigned very competent officers to such a mission, but still wishing he knew them a little better on a personal level. It would make it easier to gauge how much to trust them in varied situations.

He glanced over at Dr. Spencer. Barely into her thirties, she was the xeno-practitioner on board the ship, the doctor who specialized in the care of alien physiology ... alien meaning anyone not of Terran genealogy ... and who held degrees in Cardassian, Bajoran, Vulcan and Klingon general medicine. Golden brown hair framed her intelligent features, and her dark eyes were focused intently on Seven as the two discussed the readings from their scans. Zar realized abruptly that she was a very attractive woman, and he wondered why he had never noticed it before.

"Commander?"

Zar looked over at Tarn. "Go ahead."

"Millennium requests that there be another update once we begin to set up the base camp, rather than wait until this evening."

Zar blinked, wondering why the captain was being so stringent, and if it had anything to do with the fact her spouse was on the away team. Then he decided that since this was the first preliminary away mission for Millennium, not to mention involving Tarn and Marcos, new Academy graduates, it made sense that Janeway would be a little more 'by the book' than usual.

"Inform them that we will check in at that time, and again prior to night watch."

"Commander, all readings indicate that it is safe to exit the Delta Sky," Seven said.

Zar dipped his head. "Excellent. Contact Mr. Marcos and have him meet us outside. Seven, you and Ensign Tarn are with me. Dr. Spencer, remain behind to monitor our progress."

The first officer noticed the look of dissatisfaction that crossed the doctor's face, but that couldn't be helped. Someone had to stay with the ships in the event that things were not as placid as they seemed. If Janeway was paying particular attention to the regulations on Millennium, she undoubtedly expected him to do the same on the planet's surface. Once the crew was more used to working with each other, more familiar with everyone's quirks and limitations, then certain protocols could be relaxed.

The security officers were the first outside, stepping down onto the spongy turf lightly, weapons at the ready as they fanned out to cover the area. Zar knew such an approach to away missions was partially a leftover from the Dominion War. Starfleet officers were far more aware of their surroundings, and more apt to expect danger, even in the most peaceful of surroundings.

The away team followed, waiting briefly for Marcos to join them, and proceeded across the clearing, phaser in one hand, their tricorder in the other. The air was humid, thick with the scents of vegetation and earth, and a bit warmer than was comfortable for many Humanoid species. Zar found it quite invigorating. Around the clearing, which appeared to be a central plaza of some sort, the remaining structures were covered in vegetation, dotted with blossoms in a variety of colors, offering a plethora of competing fragrances. There were bits of movement, flashes of silver and dark, which the tricorders revealed to be insects and small animals of some sort.

"Mammals, reptiles, typical fauna for this type of planet," Seven said at one point.

Zar glanced over at her. "Anything of particular note?"

"The winged creatures possess a toxin that could prove damaging to certain Humanoid nervous systems under unprotected circumstances." Seven studied her tricorder intently. "However, it is nothing that our standard inoculations cannot resist."

Zar nodded, and they continued to scan the region, moving over to the closest building. This close, they could see it was made of stone fitted together in unique patterns, a hexagon shape rather than square or rectangular. It was repeated in other buildings, and undoubtedly provided a clue as to the type of people the builders were, but further investigation would have to wait.

"There is no indication of any larger predators in the area," Seven added. "Long range scans do detect animal dens deeper in the city."

"They're probably nocturnal predators," Zar said. "We'll set up a perimeter for the evening."

The first officer fell behind a little, where Tarn and Marcos were walking side by side. They were a little too close, he noted critically, bunched up when they should be covering more ground.

"Spread out," he instructed, and the pair of young officers abruptly put more distance between themselves. "We want full coverage. Are any energy readings detected?"

Tarn looked at him, surprised. "Are you expecting any, Commander?"

He flashed her a tight grin. "We won't know until we check, Ensign. Never assume. Just because it looks primitive, doesn't mean it was."

"Yes, sir," she said, hastily readjusting her tricorder.

There wasn't any form of advanced technology. Zar had already scanned for that, but it didn't hurt to remind the youngsters not to take things at face value. Marcos was also adapting his tricorder to scan within a higher bandwidth. Sometimes, Zar wondered just what the Academy was teaching these kids nowadays.

He conveniently forgot that on his first away mission, he hadn't set his tricorder to scan for anything below a certain size, in the belief that large predators were the primary danger. It was a minor mistake that resulted in a tiny lizard taking a nasty nip out of his knee when he stumbled across its nest. For these officers, how they conducted themselves in alien surroundings wasn't yet second nature to them, each action still having to be consciously considered and implemented. It wasn't surprising that some things were forgotten in the tension and excitement, but that didn't mean they shouldn't feel stupid when it was pointed out to them.

He took another look at the security officers who continued to walk gingerly through the ruins as if they were deep in the heart of enemy territory. In a way, that wasn't much better than how the new officers were handling the away mission, and he drifted over to Prell.

"At ease, Lieutenant, don't fire at anything before you know what it is you're firing at."

"Yes, sir," the Bolian replied shortly.

"Heavy stun only."

"Aye, sir," the security officer said, adjusting the setting on his compression rifle, which had been set at maximum. Zar should have specified the setting before they left the shuttle, he knew, but he had forgotten how quick security officers were on the trigger, particularly after the Dominion War. He wondered how long it would be before Starfleet officers were used to the simple, straightforward, scientific missions again, rather than always expecting an ambush by an unknown enemy.

Of course, it never hurt to be cautious, he reminded himself. One never knew what could happen on an away mission. Or when.

Seven inhaled deeply as she stood in the clearing, listening to the sound of insects in the thick foliage, and the sound of the nearby stream rushing from a break in what was once a huge fountain in the center of the plaza. With the preliminary scans complete, it was now time to set up the base camp for the science mission that would spend the next two weeks studying the ruins in closer detail. Zar had chosen the part of the plaza which fronted the largest building, perhaps an administrative structure of some kind. Seven approved of his choice, determining that it was where she would have set up camp had she been in command.

What had made this civilization extinct? she wondered as she surveyed the area. Had the Borg been through here, plucking the inhabitants from their world, leaving too few to successfully propagate the species? It seemed unlikely, considering these ruins appeared pre-industrial. Unless the species had been telepathic, the Borg would find little distinction in such a primitive culture. Nor did Seven have any memories pertaining to this particular world.

Had it been biological, a series of plagues perhaps? If so, there was no longer any indication of it, nor was it the sort that was harmful to the Starfleet officers with their advanced medical protection. A biological agent also didn't explain why there had been no survivors. It was rare that a plague completely wiped out a people ... a civilization, perhaps ... but not an entire species. Of course, without knowing what kind of beings once lived here, it would be hard to say what diseases they would be susceptible to.

Perhaps a solar flare, or meteors raining from the heavens? Yet, there was no indication of that type of catastrophic end. The buildings were damaged of course, but it appeared from visual assessment to be a result of the ravages of time, not an environmental disaster. It was a mystery, and while Seven had been unimpressed with mysteries after being severed from the Collective, she had developed a fondness for them in later years. Solving them provided such a delightful satisfaction, regardless of what method it took to uncover the secrets, even if it involved a shortcut. Kathryn had once told her that she was the sort who would read the final chapter of an Agatha Christie novel before ever trying the book. Seven supposed that was significant in some manner, but since she had no idea who this Christie person was, she could not respond to the comment.

"Lieutenant?"

Seven turned her head to regard Marcos who had his arms full of compressed habitat packs. "Ensign?"

"Is there anywhere specific we should set up?" Seven noticed that the ensign had removed his flight jacket, leaving him clad in a tank top that showed off a muscular build. His skin was brown, glistening with sweat in the humid, jungle air, and while the Borg's tastes tended to compact redheads, she had enough life experience to appreciate the fact that to other humans, he was aesthetically pleasing in both looks and build. Tarn certainly thought so. The young operations officer had difficulty keeping her eyes off him as she worked at the communications array, updating the team's progress with Millennium. Seven noticed that Dr. Spencer and Tannic, who were setting up a sensor grid around the space designated for the camp, also gave Marcos more than a passing glance now and again as the young man walked across the plaza.

"The living habitats should be set up around the perimeter," Seven instructed. "They will surround a central work area."

"Aye, sir," he said, moving off to place the packs in the appropriate areas.

Seven returned to the shuttle where she retrieved more equipment from the rear compartment. The sun was sinking on the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground and the team hoped to be finished before full darkness. Discovering that there was indeed paving stone beneath them, they had used their phaser rifles to burn the debris and top soil away, leaving them with a flat, even surface with which to work.

The water gushing from the broken fountain was pronounced pure enough to drink. Rising from some natural spring set deep within the ground beneath the city, its availability and purity meant the Starfleet officers would not have to carry it in from outside. Certainly, Seven had been on less comfortable away missions, and she decided she was very satisfied with these arrangements. She knew Lt. Wildman, who would be heading up the follow up mission, would also be pleased.

Once the living habitats ... small, one or two person domes that expanded into shape from their initial packages when activated ... had been put in place, two large structures, intended for field labs and a makeshift mess, were set up in the center. Once they had set, Seven immediately moved into the nearest one containing the portable food replicators. She programmed a substantial meal for the rest of the team who had been working hard and were glad to break for the night.

Zar smiled widely at her as he entered the dome and took a seat eagerly at the table she had set up. "If I believed you'd be willing to do the cooking on a regular basis, I'd assign you to all my away missions."

Seven lifted an eyebrow at him, but did not respond to his gentle teasing or compliment, beyond a faint smile. She had grown very used to his sense of humor over the past month or so, encountering it often in the Nexus when she indulged in social interaction with her crewmates. But the other officers looked disconcerted and vaguely uneasy as they entered the dome, directed to their chairs by Seven.

"Something wrong, Ensign?" Zar asked Marcos as the young pilot stared at the pasta put in front of him as if never having seen food before.

"I, uh ... no, sir," he said. "I just thought ... I didn't think we'd be eating this well on an away mission."

"Anytime a person can get away from field rations, they should thank their lucky stars," Tannic said, digging into her spaghetti with relish. "This is fantastic, Lieutenant."

"You have a remarkable touch around a replicator, Lt. Hansen," Dr. Spencer offered in an approving tone.

"I enjoy preparing meals," Seven said, though she was greatly pleased at the response. Cooking was one of her favorite hobbies, and being complimented on it somehow meant far more than any compliments directed at her scientific abilities. Perhaps because her scientific abilities came naturally to her, while she had been forced to learn food preparation through trial and error.

"Isn't KP duty beneath..." Tarn began, and then trailed off, appearing sorry that she had spoken.

Zar eyed her narrowly, though there was some amusement on his boney features.

"You weren't about to say such a task is beneath a chief science officer, were you, Ensign?"

Startled at the thought, Seven regarded the young woman, realizing from her flush that the first officer had guessed correctly. "I do not understand such perception," Seven said honestly, remembering how the crew of Voyager had sometimes treated Neelix with less respect than he deserved. Certainly, he had found far more appreciation for his skills on board the Enterprise. "Nutrition is crucial for continued survival. Good food, prepared properly, results in heightened morale among those who consume it, yet I am often told that it is considered a 'lesser' task. I do not understand why since few Federation citizens are capable of programing a replicator to take advantage of its full capabilities. Even fewer are able to prepare meals from organic materials."

"It's a subtle prejudice." Zar buttered a roll with every evidence of enjoyment. "Perhaps there is a belief that anyone can learn to cook if they wanted to, yet when you encounter truly unique and well prepared food, you realize what a fallacy that is. It takes incredible skill and talent to accomplish this sort of masterpiece in the middle of a jungle on an away mission."

"Why would anyone learn to cook in this day and age?" Tarn asked hesitantly. She wasn't trying to be snide, Seven realized. The young ensign was honestly confused.

"For many reasons," Seven said, not prepared to share the most important one which involved her spouse. "Sharing food is a very basic human social interaction. It is one of the first I encountered after leaving the Collective. As a result, I subsequently learned as much as I could about it, since eating, itself, was not a natural behavior pattern for me."

"My mother loves to cook," Marcos piped up. "You should try her souvlaki, Seven."

"I would enjoy that," the Borg remarked politely as she felt a small smile touch the corner of her lips. She had not added that the most intriguing thing about her research into food, its sharing and its preparation, was how it softened the barriers between people, allowing for further understanding and tolerance. She was not unaware of the rumors flying about the lower decks about her, nor was she insensitive to how most new officers reacted while in her presence, particularly when it came to her Borgness. Nothing was as quick at making people more comfortable with her than discovering she did something so natural ... so human ... as cooking.

Prior to this, Marcos had always referred to her as Lt. Hansen. His voice had been filled with odd inflections indicating fear and trepidation, and he acted very uneasy around her, particularly while working in the astrometrics lab during his shipside rotation. Now, suddenly, he was treating her as a fellow crewmember, respectful of her rank, but no longer frightened by her implants. It was all because he had seen her with new eyes, with a new perception. Seven prepared food. His mother prepared food. His mother was not a threat, therefore Seven must not be a threat.

Seven made a note to discuss this with Kathryn to find out if her assessment of the situation was correct.

The rest of the meal heightened the sense of companionship, with the team becoming quite loquacious before it was over. Zar even unbent enough to reveal a little about his background, including what it was like growing up looking as he did in a Federation colony, as well as his adventures at Starfleet Academy. Meanwhile, Dr. Spencer spoke of her childhood in New Hampshire, and Marcos expressed his feelings for Greece, and growing up by the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean. It was a very congenial evening, and when they retired to their respective habitats for the night ... with the exception of the security officers who set up a precautionary watch in addition to the alarm grid ... Seven was quite satisfied that her meal preparation had brought the away team closer together, thus making them a more efficient unit.

But, as she crawled into the Starfleet issued bedding, she found herself missing her partner with an painful intensity. Lying together in the warm darkness, they could discuss Seven's perception of the evening, their conversation sparking new insights and understanding. Alone, Seven's sense of accomplishment lessened, and she curled up in a ball, loneliness a ache in her midsection. She and her spouse had spent few nights apart during their marriage, and of those, even fewer were voluntary. She didn't like having a bed to herself, and she wished that she had some way to contact her partner, for no other reason than to wish her good-night, to tell her that she loved her ... and that she missed her.

She wondered if Janeway was feeling the same. She suspected she was. A certain part of her devoutly hoped she was.

Forcing herself to concentrate on several relaxation techniques, Seven finally managed to clear her mind enough to drift off, though her dreams were filled with dark scenarios where she was lost and alone, unable to find her spouse, knowing Janeway was just around the corner, just beyond that wall, but never able to reach her. It made for a restless night, and when the first beams of sunlight penetrated the morning haze, slipping into her habitat to fall across her sheets, Seven was more than eager to roll out of the tangled bedding and start her day. Concentrating on scientific pursuits made it easier to be without her spouse, and she made a note to not volunteer for this type of duty any more, despite how much she enjoyed planetary missions. It occurred to her that she enjoyed the outdoors most when her spouse was there to complain frequently, and at length, about its disadvantages.

Breakfast was a matter of every officer for himself, taking turns at the replicator to program a meal, though Marcos did suggest in his most charming voice that he would be extremely grateful if Seven would program his. At which point, both Tarn and Spencer teased him so unmercifully about being technologically challenged, that he did not repeat the suggestion, and confused, Seven decided not to oblige him. After they had finished eating, and Zar had transmitted a updated status report to Millennium, he, Seven, and Prell took their tricorders to do another reconnaissance of the area, this time to choose the most interesting sites for the science team to examine since they would only have a limited amount of time to do the follow up excavation. Marcos, Tarn, Spencer and Tannic remained at the base camp, cataloguing the samples taken the day before.

Prell took the lead, the Bolian pushing through the foliage as they moved deeper into the city. Swarms of insects danced around their heads, not biting because of the repellent they had prudently put on before leaving the camp, but still making a nuisance of themselves, buzzing around ears and eyes and mouth. Frequently, Seven had to shake her head to dislodge them, to disrupt their pattern in a futile attempt to make them leave. It was a part of nature that she did not appreciate, and she could easily understand why Janeway so intensely disliked this aspect of outdoor activities.

They were working their way through a low building, examining the carvings uncovered after Prell had sliced through a particularly stubborn tangle of vines, when they heard sudden explosions and shots coming from the general vicinity of the city plaza. It was unmistakably phaser fire, interspersed with some sort of heavier disrupter blasts.

Startled, Zar and Seven glanced at each other, and then the first officer slapped his comm badge.

"Zar to base camp," he said urgently. "Report."

There was no answer, and Zar looked particularly grim. "The channel's being jammed," he said, drawing out his phaser. "It's some kind of ambush."

Seven also drew her phaser, clipping the tricorder to the fastening on her uniform. The pack in which she had been storing samples was left on the ground, knowing that they had to travel quickly, and that she could easily retrieve it later, assuming there was a later.

Their response was already too late. She had barely straightened from doing this when a flash of light erupted from the underbrush, catching her high on the chest and slamming her down onto the ground.

Apparently, the ambush had been planned for more than the campsite.

Janeway woke in an empty bed, and for a moment, she wasn't sure where she was or what had happened, only that something was missing. When she realized what it was, she put her hand over her eyes and stifled a sigh. It had been a tremendous effort to try to sleep, requiring, in the end, for her to retrieve one of Seven's T-shirts which she put on, positioning herself on the Borg's side of the bed so that she could smell her on the pillow, wrapping her body around it completely. It was a poor substitute, of course, but it was enough to finally allow her to drift off.

You need to be more mature than this, she told herself sternly. It astounded her that as their marriage progressed, the less easily Janeway adapted to their separations. It was almost as if the longer Seven was a part of her life, the more necessary she became to it. Janeway didn't like to think of herself as being so dependent on another person, yet she could not deny that she had grown very used to having Seven around, not merely as her lover and spouse, but simply at having her presence involved with the every day aspects of life. When that was missing, it was as if a part of Janeway became damaged, like a lack of fresh lubricant in a machine. The captain could still function, but it wasn't nearly as smooth or as easy as when Seven was on the ship, only a comm badge signal away.

She hated not having Seven on board her vessel, Janeway realized. It felt wrong, in a way that she perhaps shouldn't feel considering they were both Starfleet officers. There was no question that Seven was the one way to bypass the captain's defenses. She was Janeway's most profound weakness.

And greatest joy, her little voice prodded her. If you didn't love her so much, you wouldn't miss her so when she's away.

The captain certainly couldn't argue with that, and as she rolled out of her cold, lonely bed, she hoped that her duties would keep her busy enough that she wouldn't remain as conscious of Seven's absence as she was while in their quarters. A quick shower later, Janeway pulled on her freshly replicated uniform, and then wasted several minutes trying to find her pips ... she had no idea why they went missing so easily without Seven there to keep track of them ... before finally replicating new ones. Out in the living area, there was no breakfast waiting for her, nor fresh brewed coffee filling the air with its intoxicating fragrance. There was no kiss good morning, no one to talk to about her upcoming day, and no one to share with her what was going on in the science section.

You'd better keep that girl very happy, Katie, her little voice told her wryly as the captain programmed some toast and coffee into the replicator. There's no way you could live like this for very long should she decide you're not worth the trouble any more.

Janeway made a face of agreement as she sipped her coffee, choking down her toast, more so because she knew she had to eat than from any kind of appetite. She was relieved to step off the turbolift into her ready room, still carrying her half finished mug of coffee, because on deck one, it wasn't so constantly apparent who wasn't present.

She walked out onto the bridge, discovering that she was a little early for her shift. That didn't prevent her from checking with the comm to see if either of the missions had sent an early update, even though she knew it would still be dark in the part of the planet the away team had set down. There had been no new communication, and she made the officer covering Ops promise to inform her the second the morning update came in.

The turbolift door hissed open and the alpha shift filtered out to start their day, relieving the gamma shift who headed off, laughing and chattering, undoubtedly headed to the Nexus for dinner. Janeway, reminded of another concern beyond the current away mission, motioned for Lt. Commander Ro, her tactical officer and acting first officer in Zar's absence, to join her in the ready room.

"Yes, Captain?" Ro said once they were inside the confines of Janeway's office.

Janeway took a seat behind her desk, gesturing toward the chair opposite her. Ro hesitated, and then sank down into it, sitting alertly, shoulders square, her dark eyes focused on the captain. The Bajoran was a dynamic woman of barely restrained energy, her every movement effused with a sort of deadly grace. She had been the obvious choice for the position of security chief when Tuvok had refused the position.

"Paryk," Janeway said shortly, referring to the young man currently working as the ship's resident bartender. It was a role that hadn't existed when Millennium left the Alpha Quadrant. The charming young rogue had stowed away, and it was Ro's job to make sure he was what he said he was: a bartender with a sense of adventure, as opposed to being something a great deal more threatening.

"So far, it's on the up and up," Ro reported. "I've talked with several people who served on or near Mars, and visited the bar he claimed to have worked at. They all remember him. The details he's given of his homeworld are also accurate."

"They would also check out if he was an enemy agent," Janeway said seriously.

Ro nodded, allowing the point. "Yes, they would. It's conceivable that he could have been placed in the bar on Mars to pick up information from the patrons who worked at Utopia Planitia. It's also conceivable that he then would have been instructed by his superiors to stow away on Millennium before it left."

Janeway eyed her narrowly. "But you don't think so."

Ro leaned forward. "No." She paused, as if searching for the right words. "It's too complicated and uncertain, Captain. A Romulan or Breen agent would be more subtle. They'd have come on board as a civilian engineer or a technician, someone less suspicious, as well as possessing a way to transmit any information they have back to the Alpha Quadrant. A Dominion shapeshifter, meanwhile, would have simply replaced someone who already belonged here, an individual without close ties, taking care to avoid being the center of attention where something might be noticed."

"What about Section 31?" Janeway's last encounter with the covert Intelligence group still rankled, leaving her with a sense of unfinished business, particularly when it came to Seven of Nine.

"You and I both know if they wanted to infiltrate Millennium's crew, they wouldn't use a civilian bartender," Ro said soberly. "It would be a Starfleet officer with all the necessary clearance and access to sensitive areas. Someone who wouldn't draw any attention at all."

Janeway stared at her, then finally looked away. "Damn, you're right."

"I'll keep my eye on him, but so far, Paryk seems to be exactly who he says he is. He's too clumsy and obvious to be anything else in my professional opinion."

"What about the crewmember who helped him fool the ship's internal security?" Janeway knew that had irritated the Bajoran as much as it had the captain.

Ro exhaled audibly. "It appears Commander Zar's suspicions were correct. There was an addition made to the personnel files not long after we left Utopia Planitia, and not long after the renovations on the Nexus began."

"So you knew about the renovations."

Ro paused, appearing vaguely uncomfortable. "The final decor of the ship's main crew lounge has always been at the discretion of the captain of the ship, not that of Starfleet Administration," she said evasively.

"The discretion of the captain," Janeway repeated. "Who usually knows about it as it is going on."

Ro inhaled deeply. "Do you want me to spy on them for you, Captain?" she asked seriously, not challenging, but honestly needing to understand the ground rules. "Come to you with every little breech in protocol and minor bending of the rules which every crew is subject to? Tell you about the still in biometrics, and the various gambling pools that go around the ship, and the various romantic liaisons that go on between senior and junior officers?"

Janeway considered that. "Of course not. I trust your judgment as my security officer, just I trusted Tuvok to know when not to come to me with certain information. But tampering with personnel files is not a minor infraction."

"No, it isn't," Ro said ruefully. "Certainly, I was aware that Mr. Paris was fully involved with the alterations going on to the lounge, as were several other ... uh, senior officers. Had I known he would go so far in order to 'hire' a bartender, however, B'Elanna and I would have stopped him."

Janeway pursed her lips. "It was definitely Tom, then."

"I traced it back to him." Ro lifted a brow. "I guess Guinan impressed him a lot during his tour on the Enterprise, and he figured we needed a bartender as well.  He admitted his culpability freely when I asked him."

"But he hasn't admitted it to me," Janeway said coldly.

"He will, if that's what's required, Captain. Is it?" Ro frowned, her gaze dark and intent. "It's a question of how serious you want to make this. At the moment, it isn't all that dire. But if he comes to you with a full confession, then you're going to have to acknowledge it as his commanding officer, rather than have me deal with it unilaterally. Sort of like what happened with Harry and his alien girlfriend back on Voyager. When an officer has to step in officially, putting details on record and having to report the incident to a superior officer, then things can become very complicated very quickly."

"I agree," Janeway said sternly, "but I still want to know what's happening on my ship, Commander. Certain decisions must be mine, regardless of whether they're too small to inform Starfleet about. This one is dangerously close to being a very serious violation."

"I understand," Ro said somberly. "What do you want to do?"

Janeway hesitated. "Advise Mr. Paris that it would be a good idea to refrain from entering the Nexus, or any of the holodecks for the next fifteen days. He can take his meals and recreational periods in his quarters."

Ro blinked, then nodded. "Yes, ma'am," she said, probably as aware as Janeway regarding how much of a punishment that would be, particularly when the ship was at station keeping, and there was little for the regular crew to do while the scientists indulged themselves to the fullest.

"Also inform him that this is the last piece of free advice he will receive from either you or me," Janeway added evenly. "The next time he becomes innovative in his behavior, it won't be off the record."

"Yes, Captain."

"Dismissed."

Ro rose, but she didn't leave right away. Instead, she lingered as if wanting to say something, and Janeway frowned at her. "Yes, Commander?"

"Uh, B'Elanna and I are going to the Nexus tonight," Ro offered awkwardly, obviously not used to issuing such invitations. Undoubtedly, B'Elanna had put her up to it before the women had left their quarters in the morning. "You're welcome to join us if you'd like."

Janeway hesitated, wondering why such an invitation would be proffered, and then realized that the personnel who had served with her on Voyager knew well her mood when Seven was away. Probably, they were going to attempt to head it off at the pass. She appreciated the gesture, even as she bristled at the implication that without her spouse, she was a figure of pity.

Aren't you? her little voice needled.

"Thank you, Commander, but I think I'll enjoy a quiet evening at home," she said with what she hoped was the proper amount of graciousness.

Ro dipped her head. "If you change your mind..."

"I'll meet you there." Janeway dipped her head, indicating that the security chief was really dismissed this time.

Janeway stared after Ro long after the door had slid shut behind her, discovering that there was a distinctive pattern forming with her crew, though she wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not. To most of her officers, she was the captain, aloof, distant, the ultimate authority. To those who had served with her on Voyager, there existed a special warmth, the sense of family still lingering. She was going to have to decide how she was going to handle it. Certainly, she didn't want to push away her friends, but at the same time, such familiarity might confuse those officers who did not ... and could not ... know what it had been like in her previous command. There might be jealousies, resentments, and the sense that she was in some way, favoring those officers who had served her longest.

She leaned back in her chair and considered it carefully, wondering if there was anyone she could speak to about it. If she were in the Alpha Quadrant, she would arrange for a friendly dinner with another captain, or Admiral Nechayev, or even her new step-father ... her contemporaries within Starfleet Command. Here in the Delta Quadrant, there was no one with a superior amount of experience who could give her advice, very much as it had been while on Voyager.

She hesitated as she suddenly realized that assumption was incorrect. There was one person on board who was technically more senior than she, someone lured out of semi-retirement at Janeway's request. Furthermore, this person was in a perfect position within the chain of command to advise the captain, assuming Janeway was willing to take the advice. In fact, the captain would be depriving herself of a viable and valuable resource if she didn't avail herself of that person.

That didn't make it any easier, however.

Janeway exhaled audibly in the quiet of her ready room. Did she really want to go to Pulaski with this?