M10 Prospective Paths

Prospective Paths

G. L. Dartt

Their computer banks were full, their science section had more data than they could possibly research for the next ten decades, and their navigational system contained detailed charts of space the Federation had never before encountered. There was even a Borg drone recovering from assimilation in sickbay. All in all, it had been a most eventful mission, but Kathryn Janeway, captain of the starship Millennium, was happy to be giving the order to head home. As much she loved her command, her ship, and her crew, it would be good to be back in the Federation, if only for a little while.

She was especially happy that her spouse of a few years would be able to spend time on Earth. The last few months had been particularly difficult, and Janeway hoped that some time in Indiana would help heal the young woman who was still dealing with the emotional repercussions of finding her mother alive after twenty-three years of being part of the Borg Collective. Unlike Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix One, Erin Hansen had not been as fortunate in regaining her individuality, and remained in a catatonic state that only attentive care from Federation specialists stood a chance of treating.

As Janeway stepped off the turbolift into her quarters, she faltered briefly in surprise. Soft music played melodiously in the background while a multitude of candles, scattered about the cabin, added to the warm and provocative atmosphere. Standing at the kitchenette counter, Seven looked up from the last details of her meal preparation, her expression unusually soft and inviting. She was dressed in a silver, silken garment that revealed a respectable amount of cleavage and even more of the long, lovely legs that made up most of the young woman's intimidating height.

Janeway paused momentarily, staring at her in bemused admiration before offering a bit of a crooked grin, raising her index finger in emphasis.

"I bet you thought I forgot," she accused.

Seven tilted her head marginally to the right, amusement warming those icy blue eyes. Her long blonde hair cascaded gloriously around her narrow, attractive features where metallic glints from the implant around her left eye and starburst on her right jaw caught the reflection of candlelight. "I thought no such thing, Kathryn," she protested mildly. "I know you have improved greatly in the time we have been married."

Janeway laughed and moved over to her spouse, drawing Seven away from her meal preparation and into her arms where she embraced her tightly.

"Happy Anniversary, my darling," she murmured, raising her face to Seven who obligingly kissed her.

"Happy Anniversary, Kathryn. I love you so much."

"The feeling is entirely mutual." She kissed her again and reluctantly released her. "Do I have time to change before dinner?"

"Of course. I have laid out your clothes."

"Hmm," Janeway said, moving toward the bedroom. "How do you know that I don't have something else in mind?"

Seven lifted a brow. "I do not." She paused. "Do you?"

Janeway shot her a coy look over her shoulder. "Wait and see."

Janeway entered the bedroom, ignoring the navy shift draped across the bed. It was Seven's favorite outfit for her spouse, but Janeway had been planning her anniversary for some time. She may have possessed a horrid track record when it came to remembering Seven's birthday, with only a two for six ratio, but she was much better at remembering the day the couple had been married. Which was ironic because she had been terribly hung over that morning and could barely count her toes, let alone appreciate the special event. Thank god the Doctor had administered an anti-intoxicant in time for the ceremony.

From the back of the closet, she retrieved a container that she had stashed during the ship's last diplomatic away mission in the Delta Quadrant. The fashions on Terris Four were a bit daring, but quite appropriate for what Janeway hoped would be a perfect anniversary. In previous years, there had usually been a party thrown for them by their friends and family, but this time, Janeway and Seven were limiting the celebration to only themselves. The crew was just too busy preparing for the upcoming transition jump to be distracted by an event that, truthfully, was only significant to the captain and the chief science officer.

Janeway took a quick shower, added some perfume and cosmetics, and finally dressed in her special outfit, evaluating her appearance in the large mirror over the sink counter. The dress was designed to enhance Janeway's physical attributes in a manner that wasn't exactly befitting a starship captain. It was cut up to here, and plunged down to there, while giving the impression that Janeway might possibly be somewhat less than hard to get this night.

Janeway moistened her lips with a touch of nervousness as she took in the final effect. Goodness, how can it reveal that much without actually revealing anything?

In any event, the bright glow of appreciation in Seven's eyes was well worth the effort. Janeway smiled as Seven met her in the living area, extended her arm and formally escorted her to the table located in the garden ... actually an arboretum filled with flowering bushes, dwarf apple trees and even a fountain. It was set with fine china and crystal, located in the fragrant shade of the apple tree that was in full blossom, starlight streaming through the vast viewports lining the hull to grant everything a silvery touch. Nearby, varied dishes, covered with metallic domes, waited to be savored.

"This is lovely, darling," Janeway murmured as she sat down.

"So are you," Seven whispered as she drew aside Janeway's hair to brush her lips over the back of her neck. It provoked a pleasurable shiver that ran down Janeway's spine. Even after four years, Seven could still turn Janeway's knees to jelly with just a touch. She watched as Seven slipped into the seat opposite, waited until she settled, and picked up her wine glass. The ruby depths glinted slightly from the candles flickering in the center of the table.

"To you, my love," Janeway said, her throat suddenly full. "Marrying you was the best thing I've ever done. You're my heart."

Seven's eyes glowed, and she clinked her glass lightly against Janeway's. "To you, my Kathryn. From the beginning, you are the perfection always sought and finally achieved."

Deeply touched by the words, Janeway blushed faintly and took a brief sip of her wine. Dinner proved to be several courses, each one more elaborate than the first, and it was clear that Seven had truly outdone herself in her meal preparation. Janeway relished every bite, the couple lingering over their food as they laughingly shared remembrances of those special times on Voyager, their year and a half on Earth, and the previous year on Millennium. It was wonderfully lighthearted, with both women deliberately shying away from any topic that might darken their evening.

Relaxing over dessert and coffee, Janeway with her special blend, and Seven with her raktajino, she was struck by how far her spouse had progressed on her road back to Humanity from her time as a drone in the Borg Collective. It thrilled her to know how much further they could expect to travel in their life together, and what wonderful discoveries awaited them.

"Are you looking forward to seeing Earth?"

Seven lifted a brow, a tiny curve at one corner of her full mouth. "It will be good to see Gretchen and Phoebe again. I have missed them greatly this past year. I have missed Jake, as well."

Janeway smiled as she thought of the Irish setter that the couple had raised from a puppy, but had been forced to leave behind with the captain's mother after accepting the posting to Millennium. Yet, there were no regrets. The Frontier-class starship had proved to be a most worthy command, and the vessel itself was a dream, specifically designed for exactly the sort of missions Janeway loved best. Despite knowing that she would be accorded leave upon their return, as possibly as long as six months, Janeway was anxious to discover where their next assignment would take them. Millennium's prototype transition drive offered the ship the opportunity to travel further and faster than any other starship had ever managed. The entire galaxy was there to be explored, and Janeway was determined to see as much of it as she could.

"What are you thinking?" Seven's head was tilted slightly so that her ocular implant was angled toward the captain.

Janeway smiled. "About our future. We're not even home yet and I'm already planning where our next mission will take us."

Seven was not put off. She knew her partner's nature very well and fully accepted it. Starship command was as much a part of Janeway as her rich, auburn hair and the bluish-grey eyes that altered shades, depending on her mood.

"In the meantime, will we be staying with Gretchen in Indiana?"

Janeway pursed her lips. "I sent a letter to her in the last communications packet." Every month during the past year, Millennium had paused long enough in its exploration to create a tiny transition conduit and fire a communications probe through it to the Federation. The previous month's transmission had been delayed slightly because of an incident with a member of the Orion Syndicate, but eventually, the torpedo had been launched. "There's no way of knowing if she'd like having us as house guests for that long."

Seven looked vaguely surprised. "Would it be an imposition, Kathryn? She was so disappointed the last time we refused her hospitality."

"You know she adores you, darling," Janeway pointed out, "but she is married now and has Michael to take into account." She sighed. "It's too bad we gave our house to Chakotay and Icheb. I wonder if I could persuade them to give it back."

"Such a request would leave them without a home," Seven pointed out. "It is an unacceptable demand, Kathryn, particularly since our stay on Earth may only be temporary."

Janeway shrugged lightly. "Well, if you want to look at it that way." She paused. "Any ideas?"

"Perhaps we could utilize an away mission habitat and place it near the pond at the farm in Indiana." Seven stared at her with an expectant expression. "I know how much you enjoy cohabitation with nature."

"With the ducks and the frogs, not to mention all those mosquitoes?" Janeway laughed and lifted her coffee cup, peering at her spouse over the rim. "Quit teasing me, or I may forget to give you your present."

Seven's eyes lit up. Even after all this time, she still exhibited a childlike wonder at gifts, perhaps because she had been forced to forgo such things during her eighteen years with the Collective. "I have a gift for you, as well."

Janeway blinked. "Darling, this dinner was a most wonderful gift," she protested mildly.

Seven ignored the comment, and drew out a small, neatly wrapped box from somewhere beneath the table, reaching over and placing it before the captain. Janeway eyed it with gratification. Truth be told, she rather enjoyed receiving presents as well, though not nearly to the same extent that Seven did.

"I'll open it in a moment." She rose from the table. "Wait here and I'll find yours."

Returning to the interior of the captain's cabin, Janeway retrieved the large, gaily wrapped gift she had been concealing in a cabinet next to her work station for the past month. She suspected that Seven had found it at one time or another during the occasions when she periodically altered the furniture layout of their living quarters, but she was also aware that Seven would respect what it represented and refuse even to touch it. The contents would still be a complete mystery to her.

Seven wiggled slightly as it was placed on the table in front of her. Janeway chuckled, knowing that Seven wasn't even aware of that delicate little shudder of excitement she displayed when presented with a surprise. As she resumed her seat across the table, she regarded her fondly, pleased beyond measure that she was able to provide her with this time of happiness. It was a relief to know that Seven could still recognize and accept the joyful moments, despite her current turmoil.

"You go first," Janeway urged.

Seven hesitated, shooting her a look that combined enjoyment and anticipation in equal measure. Janeway sipped her coffee with quiet pleasure as Seven carefully unwrapped the box with delicate precision. Her blue eyes grew even more brilliant as she opened the top and drew out the first item resting upon several smaller, similarly wrapped packages. There was a time when Janeway's primary gift would have been civilian clothing since Seven would not indulge in replicating them herself, content with her skintight biometric outfits. But during their time on Earth, or perhaps it was simply because she wore a Starfleet uniform now, she had greatly expanded her sense of fashion. Now she boasted more outfits on her side of the couple's closet than did the captain. In fact, Janeway had noticed recently that her half was becoming progressively more cramped and now consisted of only about a quarter of the space.

Seven definitely did not need more clothes.

She did enjoy art, however. Janeway painstakingly inspected every alien market her ship came across, constantly aware that for whatever reason, Seven's and her taste in sculpture was diametrically opposed. This particular carving had been discovered on a tiny world in a sector Millennium traversed midway through their mission. Spotting it in the merchant's booth, Janeway had immediately pounced on it, believing it to be the single, most ghastly thing she had ever encountered. Which was saying something considering the eclectic Delta Quadrant collection that already graced their quarters, particularly in the cabinet that lined one bedroom wall and Janeway was forced to look at every night before closing her eyes for sleep.

"Kathryn, it is beautiful," Seven exclaimed as she examined the carving with pleasure, drawing one fingertip lightly over the intricate lines.

Janeway wisely held her counsel. "There's still more to open."

With an affectionate glance, Seven carefully set the small statue to the side and peered into the box, drawing out another parcel that proved to contain several cooking utensils. They were grotesquely alien, but could be used for a variety of things. At least, Janeway hoped they could. If not, Seven could always stick them on the wall behind her kitchenette as yet another decorative, if hideous, display of alien artwork.

"They are quite unique, Kathryn." Seven's eyes were wide with delight.

Janeway grinned crookedly. "That they are, love."

Seven dived back into the box. Janeway had discovered over the years that it was far more enjoyable for the both of them she provided Seven with a lot of little items in one gift, rather than trying for a single, extravagant present. In contrast, Seven had mastered the art of making their special day such an event of monumental proportions from beginning to end for Janeway that her actual gift to the captain was something of an afterthought.

Not that Seven didn't always know the perfect thing to present to her spouse.

"Oh, Seven." Janeway lifted the necklace from the velvet padding, holding it up to catch the flickers of candlelight as she examined it with delight. "It's absolutely breathtaking." Fortunately, Seven was as cognizant of Janeway's tastes as she was of hers.

"Do you truly like it, Kathryn?"

"It's exquisite, darling." Janeway eyed her speculatively. "Just as you are."

Seven blushed faintly and offered a searing look that told her that the best presents were yet to be unwrapped this night. Janeway could hardly wait to get to them.

Seven held the compact form swaying in her arms and decided that as anniversaries went, this was one of the better ones. Dinner completed, and the dishes cleared away, the couple had returned to their quarters and were dancing gracefully to the soft music surrounding them. This was an activity that both enjoyed tremendously, perhaps because it led so easily to yet other physical activities. Eyes closed, Seven inhaled deeply, breathing in the wonderful scent of her partner's fragrance, a combination of perfume, fresh soap and womanly essence. The warmth of Janeway's body moving provocatively against her was like coming home to a safe and cherished place. She even enjoyed the sound of Janeway humming along to the music in her ear, though the captain's ability to find a proper key was lacking at the best of times.

This emotion grows stronger every year, Seven realized with some amazement. Perhaps not as overpowering in its intensity, nor as extreme in its response as when she first fell in love, but it most certainly became deeper and more solid with every experience they shared. Kathryn was so much a part of Seven at this point; it was as if she were as necessary as continued respiration. Without her, her essence would probably cease to exist.

Her arms tightened subconsciously at the thought, and Janeway let out a soft grunt as the air was squeezed from her lungs. Seven immediately eased her grip. "I am sorry, Kathryn."

Janeway laughed, a husky chuckle that skittered up Seven's spine. "I love when you hold me tight." Her hands slipped down Seven's back, tracing light patterns over her skin.

"I love you," Seven whispered.

Janeway sighed and lifted her face, seeking out her mouth and kissing her with tender regard. Seven prolonged the kiss, the tip of her tongue slipping out to part Janeway's lips and granted immediate entrance to taste her wonderful flavor. Emitting a soft sound from the back of her throat, Janeway molded her body to Seven's, kissing her back with ready abandon.

Seven could happily spend the rest of the night just as they were, kissing deeply and dancing in the moonlight, but she was keenly aware of Janeway's growing desire and responded in kind. Continuing their dance, she guided them unerringly to the bedroom, pausing only when they had reached the side of the bed. Never losing connection with her lover's mouth, she drew back the covers, revealing silken sheets of a deep midnight blue. Meanwhile, Janeway's hands moved over Seven, seeking out the fastenings of her dress and skillfully removing it by pushing it down over her shoulders to let it fall to the floor. Undergarments quickly followed, leaving her naked to Janeway's appreciative gaze.

Seven, on the other hand, was quickly stymied by the captain's outfit. She started in one area and quickly discovered it didn't unfasten that way. Her second attempt in another area was no more successful than the first. Bemused, she drew back.

"I do not know how this outfit is removed."

Janeway blinked, the mood slightly broken as she started to help. Unfortunately, though Janeway had obviously donned the garment in the first place, she had no more success in removing it than had Seven.

"This is ridiculous," Janeway muttered as she tugged and pulled at various places of the clothing, wiggling in frustration as it defied her at every turn. She frowned and lifted her chin. "Remove it, Seven."

Seven lifted a brow, understanding well what that order meant. "Are you certain, Kathryn? It is a most beautiful outfit and not the sort that can be easily replicated."

"It served its purpose." Janeway offered her a look that could have seared the paint off the bulkhead. "Do it."

Seven inhaled slowly, and with a certain applied pressure of her left hand covered in a Borg mesh, she very carefully tore the dress from Janeway's body, leaving it in tattered shreds on the deck. It gave her a certain twinge in her chest to do so, more for the painful memory it inspired than any regret at the destruction of the garment, but Seven was working very hard not to entertain any dark emotions this evening. She deliberately forced everything else from her mind, concentrating only on the reality of being here with her partner, loving her so much that it almost overwhelmed her.

"Finally." Janeway exhaled with relief as she reached for Seven.

Seven returned the embrace, glorying in the sensation of the smooth skin against her own. More as a result of long practice than natural grace, they managed to slide between the sheets without any further interruption of their heated caresses. Seven rolled them over so that she was on top, resting on Janeway with a light pressure, enough to cover her body with her own, but not so much that it felt restrictive. Janeway's fingers raked through the Borg's hair, holding her head to her as they kissed and kissed until Seven thought she had lost track of her senses. She never grew tired of this interaction, never wearied of this body, never felt as if their intimacy had become mundane or overly familiar. It was always a cherished experience to be able to touch Janeway, to run her fingertips over the smooth skin and seek out those places she knew gave her the most pleasure.

The joy of tasting Janeway never palled either, her lips so responsive to her own. Nor was that the only responsive part of the captain. Seven delighted in surrounding a velvet soft nipple with her mouth, teasing it with the tip of her tongue until it ached with sensation. Depositing feather light kisses along each slope and curve, she caressed hither and yon, exploring every familiar path to that intimate juncture, until finally, she opened her mouth wide, allowing the musky moisture quicken on her tongue like the finest of wines. Her tongue danced and darted, lingering over the tender flesh, swirling provocatively as Janeway bucked and moaned. So many private nooks left to explore, Seven mused wonderingly, so many sensations she could still provide with her mouth.

And her fingertips. Seven touched the wet opening, entering slowly, probing so deeply at times with her long fingers that she was amazed. Knowing well her lover's mood, she moved firmly within Janeway as she flicked her tongue, drawing out the pleasure until she cried out and clutched at Seven's head, holding her tightly to her juncture as she shuddered helplessly in her release.

Janeway moaned and swallowed, licking her lips, then reached down for her partner, urging her back into her arms. They rolled over languidly, reversing positions, and it was Seven's turn to tremble beneath the captain's hands, to utter involuntary sounds as Janeway stroked and fondled and loved her with exquisite skill. Just as Seven knew her, Janeway knew exactly what Seven liked and responded to, though that never prevented her from attempting something new now and again. She liked to tease, too, bringing Seven to the brink before pulling back, tormenting her in the best sort of way until finally, mercifully, she granted the release she so desperately craved.

In the afterglow, Seven reclined on her back, feeling her respiration and heartbeat slowly return to normal. Beside her, Janeway snuggled close, head resting on Sevens shoulder, her body curved against her so tightly, it was hard to determine where one woman left off and the other began. They lay in companionable silence for some time, listening to the other breathe, feeling safe and cherished and beloved. Slipping her hand over Seven's right breast, Janeway toyed idly with the nipple, circling it lightly, not necessarily to arouse, but simply because it felt so pleasant to them both.

"This was a wonderful anniversary."

Seven smiled faintly into the darkness. "They will only become better from here."

Janeway hummed happily, settling closer. There was a pause. "One of us has to go blow out all those candles before they activate the ship's fire suppressant system."

Seven lifted a brow, suspecting she knew which of them it was going to be, but to her considerable surprise, Janeway stirred first. Depositing a kiss on Seven's mouth, she wiggled out from between the sheets. Seven dozed in cozy contentment until Janeway finally returned, diving energetically into bed as if trying to escape capture by some unnamed threat, startling Seven awake. She was laughing as she snatched at the covers, causing Seven to quickly snatch them back. The pair wrestled briefly for supremacy before finally settling down in the center of the mattress, cozily wrapped up in each other's arms.

"You are incorrigible, Kathryn."

Janeway, tucked under Seven's chin, tightened her embrace and bit lightly at her neck. "Always." She sighed. "Two more days, darling, and we'll be back in the Alpha Quadrant."

"Yes." Seven circled her metal clad fingertips lightly at the small of Janeway's back, activating them so that they vibrated gently. She considered what it meant. "We shall lose crewmembers."

Janeway made a sound of agreement in the back of her throat. "Not as many as happened with Voyager after our return to the Federation, but yes, we'll be losing our first year officers to other postings while we take on second year personnel from other ships. We'll also be receiving a whole new crop of fresh graduates."

"Can the first years not remain on board Millennium if they wish?" Seven thought wistfully of the friends she had made among the junior officers.

"I'm afraid that in the beginning, you go wherever Starfleet determines you're needed. It's normal for an officer to serve in a wide variety of positions during the first few years of their career."

"I did not," Seven pointed out.

Janeway lifted her head and smiled at her in the lowered illumination, the white flash of teeth barely visible. "I think we can agree, my darling, you're a very special case."

Seven perked up with interest as Janeway shifted further, slipping a leg across Seven's groin and lifting herself until she was straddling her. Obviously, Janeway was still amorous, aggressively so, meaning that her hormonal time of the month had coincided nicely with their anniversary. Obligingly, Seven rose as well, arranging the pillows behind her back so that she was reclining against the headboard, her face only inches away from Janeway who took the opportunity to kiss her with lingering passion.

"Could you not request that some of the first year officers remain?" Seven persisted as she lazily stroked Janeway, running her fingertips teasingly over those small, wonderfully proportioned breasts.

Janeway arched under the caress, resting her hands on Seven's shoulders. "I could, but I'd only do that if an officer looked particularly promising. I thought Tarn might be one of those special cases, but apparently I was wrong. She never fulfilled the promise she had, and obviously, I gave her more than she could handle in the beginning."

Seven, who knew how much Janeway hated to be wrong about anything, smiled faintly and slipped her hands down the wry torso. Janeway sipped air audibly between her teeth.

"Hmm, love, could we talk about something other than the ship and the crew?"

Seven eased her right hand between them and touched Janeway lightly, making her twitch and press closer.

"Such as?" She eyed her expectantly, knowing how much verbal interplay contributed to her partner's arousal.

Janeway threw her head back and smiled. "I think you know."

Taking a deep breath, the musky scent of their lovemaking strong in her nostrils, Seven fondled the tender flesh, moving back and forth over the little ridge that became firmer with each delicate stroke. Janeway moaned happily and leaned into her partner, resting her head on Seven's left shoulder. Arms tight around her neck, she nuzzled into the long blonde hair, and pressed herself rhythmically against the swirling fingertips.

"Mmm, that's absolutely lovely, darling."

"You are so easy to please," Seven noted dryly.

Janeway laughed huskily. "I'm easy, period, particularly when it comes to you." She kissed Seven, a moist, open-mouthed kiss. "Tell me, darling ... oh, heavens ... is there any place on this vessel ... god, that's good ... that you would like to make ... ah, ah, oh ... um, love before we return?"

Seven lifted a brow thoughtfully. "We were not as adventurous on Millennium as we were on Voyager."

"Well, we managed ... ah, that one time ... oh my ... in your office." Janeway trembled.

"Yes, but on Voyager, we made love in the holodeck, in the auxiliary room beneath the saucer section, on your desk in the ready room..."

Seven suddenly froze, reminded again of the incident that had occurred only a few weeks earlier. It was still a very painful and sensitive subject for the Borg, despite her knowledge the captain had completely forgiven her for the attack prompted by a 'pheromone bomb'. Janeway immediately sensed the disruption of their intimacy, reining in her passion as she cupped Sevens face in her palms. Kissing her with sweet tenderness, she soothed away the dark thoughts that had temporarily invaded their togetherness.

"I love you," she murmured against her lips, "so much, my darling. When you touch me, when you make love to me, it makes me feel so complete. It excites me so much to think about our being like this in different places, even after all these years of being married. You are and always will be my ultimate fantasy, Annika."

Seven swallowed hard and resumed her caress, moving her fingers lightly in the captain's moist heat.. "We could always attempt the bridge," she suggested in a low voice, attempting to recapture the mood, not just for the captain, but for herself. "Your command chair is at the perfect level for me to use my mouth on you."

Janeway shuddered lightly. "Yes, love, what a delicious thought."

With her left arm, Seven pulled her spouse closer, putting her mouth next to Janeway's ear. "It will counteract the detrimental effects of a transition jump, Kathryn. You could lean back in the captain's chair as I consume you, preparing you for the upcoming journey to another quadrant." Janeway's hips began to undulate once more, and Seven could feel a renewed rush of moisture bath her fingertips. She quickened her motion, fondling the nodule with greater intent. "Can you feel me tasting you, Kathryn? Can you feel my mouth on you as around us, the bridge crew strive to carry out your bidding, your ship readying itself to take you wherever you wish to go. You order the transition drive to be activated as I slip my tongue into you." Seven did her best to match action to word, pushing two fingers into Janeway, the clinging walls closing around them tightly.

"Oh, Seven ... that feels so good..."

Using her thumb, Seven manipulated the swollen nub, rubbing it firmly.

"You put your hands in my hair and hold my head to you tightly, even as you demand more power from the warp engines. Your ship plunges toward the slipstream conduit that has been opened, moving faster and faster."

Janeway licked her lips, her breath coming hard in Seven's ear, guttural groans of accelerating pleasure.

"The ship enters the conduit, eager to do your bidding, even as I strive to maintain your arousal. I will carry you through this jump, Kathryn. Your desire will protect you against the effects of the drive. The faster the ship travels, the more pleasure I give to you."

She could tell she was close now, responding to both the touch and the sound of her voice describing the fantasy.

"Come for me, Kathryn," she whispered hotly. "We're almost through the jump. Come for me."

Janeway trembled, perspiration breaking out over her as she strived to reach that pinnacle, her breath coming in a rasp.

"Come for me, Captain."

The use of her rank pushed her over the edge, as Seven knew it would. Wonderful flutters surrounded her fingers as Janeway jerked and moaned, helpless in her release. Cradling her, still intimately joined to her, Seven acted as an anchor while Janeway slowly gathered herself in the aftermath of her climax.

"Damn, if only I could make a transition jump like that rather than sprawled out unconscious in my ready room." She paused, tensing abruptly. "That isn't really an option, is it, Seven?"

Seven laughed, a sudden expulsion of amusement. "No, Kathryn. It was only a fantasy." She drew back and looked at Janeway expectantly. "I am curious. Would you allow me to pleasure you on the bridge if that was truly a viable alternative to sedation?"

"Let's just say I'd have to grant the idea serious consideration," she admitted sheepishly as she wiggled on her spouse.

Amused, Seven gently and lovingly withdrew from her, the two women sliding back down the bed where they snuggled together amid the tangled sheets. Janeway reached down and cupped Seven suggestively, her middle finger pressing deliciously in the wetness, fondling her lightly.

"Darling?"

Seven smiled, responding to both touch and suggestion. "Slowly," she requested as Janeway's fingers moved gently against her. "I wish to prolong our evening."

Janeway laughed huskily, moving her mouth close to her spouse's ear as she stroked her with lazy delicacy. "So tell me, darling ... what would you like your fantasy to be?"

Seven swallowed hard and told her, invoking the image of the geometrics lab on deck ten and a piece of large mining equipment that vibrated in a most intriguing manner when activated.

The Nexus was practically empty this evening, not a normal state of affairs at all. The ship's crew lounge was usually jumping, with loud music and energetic motion on the dance floor at the far end of the room. Zar, Millennium's first officer, decided that as they moved closer to the return to the Federation, the crew was saving their excess energy for recreational pursuits at home.

Across the table, Lenara Kahn, a civilian scientist, seemed to catch his thought.

"It's quiet tonight." She was a beautiful woman, statuesque, with golden brown hair and delicate spots that traced down from her temple to disappear beneath the collar of her tunic. A joined Trill, the wisdom and experience of her symbiont shone through her gentle eyes, making the Cardassian/Bajoran hybrid feel very young at times.

"The crew's been busy," he said as he picked up his glass and sipped the wine. "Perhaps they're too tired to play."

She smiled. "It's been my experience with Starfleet officers that the harder they work, the harder they play."

He returned her smile but didn't reply. A part of him vaguely wondered if she was flirting with him. They had begun a tentative relationship a few months earlier, spending time together whenever possible over lunch and dinner, but they hadn't reached the intimate stage. Nor were they likely to at this point, Zar decided with regret. While he had every expectation of receiving a new posting upon their return to the Alpha Quadrant, Lenara would most likely remain with Millennium.

"Ready to head home?" Lenara added, prodding her pasta as if unsure she was going to finish it.

"It's been an interesting year."

Lenara abruptly lifted her head, studying him keenly. "You like it here," she said with certainty. "You don't want to move on."

"A part of me doesn't," he responded honestly. "This is the first posting where I've actually been happy. The crew respects me, if for no other reason, in some cases, than because the captain and the senior officers do. I've made some really good friends, and Janeway is the best commanding officer I've ever served. She's taught me so much about what it means to be a starship captain."

"So don't go," Lenara said reasonably. "Request a permanent assignment as Janeway's exec."

"I've seriously considered it." Zar broke apart his bread and spread some butter over it, more for something to do with his hands than because he was still hungry. "I doubt very much that I'd find another captain who would accept me as readily as she does."

"But..."

Zar blinked. "But?"

"It sounds like there's a 'but' in there somewhere."

That was part of the reason Zar liked Lenara so much. Whether it was the symbiont or just a natural gift of her host, she was exceptionally perceptive.

"But," he continued, "I'm worried that I may be drawn to that decision because I am so comfortable here."

"I'm unaware of any rule that says you can't be happy in your position."

"I know, but 'comfortable' could be the first step toward stagnation," Zar said seriously. "I've been fighting for respect and acknowledgment my whole career. Should I be satisfied with only an initial taste? I've always wanted my own command."

"Are you sure they'll offer you one?"

"Not at all. That's why I think I'll speak with the captain and sound her out about remaining on board as her first officer." He shrugged suddenly. "It's possible she won't even like the idea."

Lenara looked thoughtful. "I don't think that would be the case. From what I've heard, she's very pleased with your work. But I wouldn't plan on talking to her this evening."

"No?"

"It's their anniversary."

"Excuse me?"

"Seven told me that it's their anniversary today," the Trill elaborated patiently. "I don't believe either of them would want to be disturbed." She quirked an eyebrow at the first officer. "Hard to take, isn't it."

Zar experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Lenara smiled faintly. "I doubt you're the only one on the ship who's ever entertained thoughts about Seven." She paused to take a sip of her wine. "In fact, were she not so obviously besotted with her wife, I might be a little tempted to become closer to her, myself. She has an incredibly brilliant mind."

Zar was speechless, finding it hard to believe he was suddenly having this conversation.

"Nor is it just her mind or those voluptuous physical attributes," Lenara went on in a tone that was difficult for the Cardassian to pin down. Was she teasing him? "It's the combination of looks and brains, coupled with an innate innocence and vulnerability simmering just below an icy, professional exterior. Who wouldn't be attracted?"

"Uh," Zar began, and stopped when he realized he had nothing else to contribute.

Lenara began to laugh, and with some relief, Zar laughed, as well. There was nothing like humor to put things into perspective, including his futile crush on the ship's science officer. "How did you know?"

"Three hundred years of experience," Lenara offered. "I tend to pick up on emotional vibrations that others would overlook. It wasn't hard to figure out why you suddenly started participating in the science department's evenings out. It certainly wasn't for the technical discussions."

"Prophets, was I that apparent?"

"Only to me," Lenara offered. "Definitely not to Seven. Otherwise, I'm sure she would have mentioned it to me." She dropped her napkin on her unfinished meal, put her elbows on the table, linked her fingers and rested her chin on them as she looked at him. "She never did."

Zar exhaled. "I moved past it, but I admit, it took a while." He took a restorative sip of wine. "Besides, even if I were the sort to dare interfere in an ongoing relationship, there's no way to disrupt the one between the captain and Seven. It's far too solid."

A wry twist touched the corner of her mouth. "That it is." She eyed him contemplatively. "So, what are your plans for the rest of the evening, Tulek?"

The commander tilted his head, not entirely sure he was reading her correctly. "I'm free," he said carefully.

Lenara offered him a smile, a rather predatory one. "Why not join me in my quarters for a nightcap?"

He wondered if her sudden increased attraction to him was because he was going to be leaving the ship, or because he had told her that he might not. She seemed to detect his hesitancy and she leaned forward. "There's a Trill saying, Commander: if you can't be with the one you love, then love the one you're with."

"That's a Trill saying?"

Lenara's smile widened. "I just said it, didn't I?"

Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, but quite pleased, he returned the smile and finished his wine. Rising from his chair, he courteously offered his arm. "I would be honored, Lenara." They didn't look back as they exited the Nexus.

Zar started the next day with a much greater esteem for Trill experience and a sort of bittersweet understanding that the exceedingly pleasant evening offered no expectations for either of them. Lenara made it clear that it was an encounter between friends who would remain as such. Still, Zar did regret that it had happened so late in the mission. He might have moved past his crush a lot sooner.

At the first opportunity, he asked to see Janeway in her ready room. Fortunately, a lull had occurred in the feverish preparations for the transition jump, and the captain was able to grant him a moment, leading him into her office. Taking a seat in the conversation area located on the upper level of her ready room, Janeway offered him some tea before settling on the sofa with some coffee from her ever present thermos. She appeared tired, fine lines edging her eyes and mouth, and he wondered if the preparations were taking more out of her than she would admit. She looked physically uncomfortable as well, shifting slightly on the cushions as if sore.

"What's on your mind, Commander?" Evaluating him keenly, she sipped her dark beverage with quiet pleasure.

"Captain, I've been thinking seriously about remaining on board Millennium," Zar said, leaning forward in his chair. His large hands dangled easily between his knees. "Of requesting a permanent posting."

Janeway blinked, and a smile spread across her face. "That would be wonderful, Tulek. You've become a marvelous first officer." She paused, and a mischievous expression crossed her face. "Not to mention the fact that Nechayev's diabolical plan to saddle me with a new exec every mission would be nicely foiled. I can't expect to be as fortunate in officers two years running."

"I doubt very much that driving you mad is the reason behind the Admiral's decision." He paused. "Not entirely." She laughed, and he regarded her with something akin to affection. "You're an amazing teacher, Captain Janeway. I've learned so much about commanding a starship over the past year, more than in my entire career to date."

Janeway sobered. "Ah, starship command," she noted, holding up an index finger. "We can't overlook the fact that, thanks to the war, Starfleet is in desperate need of commanders for their vessels." She reached over and put her hand on Zar's arm, the warmth penetrating his tunic. "You'll make a wonderful captain, Tulek. As much as I would love to have you stay on board, you have to look at all your options. You may be offered your own starship rather than merely another exec position. It'll be a chance to make your mark in Starfleet in a way that perhaps you won't have by staying with us."

"That's why I wanted to speak with you, Captain. I'm torn between doing what I want, and what feels comfortable, and doing what's best, not only for myself, but for Starfleet."

Janeway nodded, her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Why not wait and see what's waiting at home," she suggested. "Certainly, if it's just a transfer to another post, I'll fight to make your assignment here permanent. But if they offer you a ship of your own, I can't, in good conscience, hold you back. My father once told me that the best of the best should be in command. That's you, Tulek."

Zar offered her a grateful look. "You're making this very easy for me, Captain."

"Well, I don't believe in limiting anyone's options." She favored him with a mock stern expression. "Just be sure you guide my ship home safely tomorrow or the deal's off."

Zar returned her grin and dipped his head, recognizing the audience was at an end. As he stood up, he cleared his throat. "I understood yesterday was your anniversary, Captain. Congratulations."

Janeway's smile widened and her eyes grew very bright. "Thank you, Commander."

"No celebration?"

Color rose in the captain's cheeks. "Oh, Seven and I celebrated." Her tone was oddly ironic and wryly amused in a way Zar didn't quite understand. The corner of her mouth quirked. "Four wonderful years of marriage and it only gets better with every passing day, Commander."

Zar managed a smile. "I envy you," he said honestly.

Janeway walked with him down the ramp to the lower level, slapping him companionably on the back. "All you have to do is find the right person, Zar, and you'll have everything I have."

Zar wondered if it would ever truly be that simple, especially since the 'right person' was already taken.

Janeway rolled over on the couch in her ready room, her head pounding, the sour taste of bile lingering at the back of her throat. The effects of the transition jump had not eased in the slightest, not even with the new combination of sedatives and muscle relaxants tried by the ship's medical staff. In fact, it might even have been a little worse. Weakly, she tottered over to the replicator and programmed in a flat ginger ale, sipping at it until her stomach settled a little and she felt ready to face the bridge. She never liked this abdication of her command, but she no longer held any illusions about the necessity for it. Being unconscious was the only way for a Terran to face a transition jump. Even those Humans born on other planets, with differing environmental adaptations to their physiology, had difficulty coming through it unscathed, though not all had to be sedated.

The viewscreen at the front of the bridge revealed familiar stars and the welcoming escort of a Federation starship that she immediately identified as the USS T'Kumbra. Janeway had expected a Starfleet vessel to be in the vicinity of the exit coordinates, waiting to greet the returning Millennium, but she was surprised to discover it was the all-Vulcan starship. Captain Solok wasn't the sort of experienced captain who would find it logical to be assigned such a relatively minor escort duty.

Janeway slipped into her captain's chair, Zar relinquishing it to her without so much as a glance, the exchange quick and easy. As Janeway surveyed her bridge, the dark head of Lt. T'Shanik covering operations caught her attention, and it occurred to her suddenly that perhaps Solok had reason to request the assignment. T'Shanik was his youngest sibling, and from what the captain had gleaned from the young woman's personnel file and subsequent conversations with her, Janeway had the distinct impression that there was a little tension there. At least as much as Vulcans were apt to display.

She would have to keep an eye on that, she decided. T'Shanik had turned out to be a fine operations officer, and Janeway wasn't about to give her up, family be damned.

"Report," she said, pleased when her stomach stayed where it was. A part of her thought that the jumps grew progressively harder to recover from, and she wondered if there was some kind of limitation on it. Would she know it was time to retire when her body could no longer withstand the stresses of a transition jump? She couldn't imagine settling for an Alpha Quadrant assignment or an administrative desk job, not after tasting the true explorative joy of going where no one had gone before with a ship as powerful as Millennium.

"All systems nominal," Zar said from the first officer station he assumed. "The jump was perfect."

Seven shot him a look. She was slightly pale, perhaps even a little ill. Though her nanoprobes enabled her to maintain her composure through a jump, it still made her nauseous. Janeway wondered if she shouldn't insist on the Borg being sedated as well.

"That is incorrect," the Borg told the first officer coolly. "There was a three-point-five phase variance within the slipstream integrity flow." Obviously, Seven still hadn't forgiven Zar for overriding her wishes and severing her mother from the Collective. She wasn't exactly angry with him, just piqued that his command decision on the sphere had subsequently caused her such emotional turmoil, and she displayed it with an even more exacting Borg demeanor. Janeway was quite familiar with the mood. Zar appeared considerably disconcerted at the frosty attitude emanating from the science officer.

"I stand corrected," he said mildly.

"You are sitting. If such imprecision is maintained—"

"Seven," Janeway said in a low, warning tone, amusement warring with command discipline in her voice.

Ice blue eyes briefly peered reproachfully at her over a slender shoulder, but she subsided and returned to her duty.

Janeway lifted her chin. "Ops?"

"The USS T'Kumbra offers its welcome and has fallen into position seven thousand meters off our port bow," T'Shanik stated. "It will escort us to Deep Space 9." The Vulcan's tone was a little more defined than normal, and Janeway's eyes narrowed. Definitely some kind of problem there. "Engineering reports transition drive secure, warp engines online."

"Standing down phasers and torpedo bays," Ro announced from her post at tactical, shutting down the weapons array that had been activated while the ship was making the jump. Not that it would have done any good, of course, but the psychological benefits of thinking one was ready for anything that might happen was always good for the crew.

"Course to DS9 plotted and laid in, Captain," Nog offered.

"Very good," Janeway said. "Warp factor five, Lieutenant. Engage."

She felt the slight surge vibrate through the soles of her feet as the warp drive kicked into gear and the ship leaped forward, their escort keeping pace. It would take a few hours to reach DS9, and Janeway chafed slightly at the restrictions placed on her ship. It had been discovered that frequent warp travel damaged subspace, and, as a result, a 'speed limit' of warp five had been established within Federation space. Millennium, with its newer technology, did not cause the same damage, but until most of the vessels in the Federation had been upgraded, the moratorium would remain. Starfleet vessels were expected, as a courtesy to all those civilian vessels, to keep to warp five unless it was an emergency.

In the meantime, that left Janeway with little to do, having caught up on all her administrative duties prior to the transition jump. She glanced at Seven.

"Lt. Hansen, that three-point-five phase variance; what's the problem?"

Seven half turned in her chair to look back at the captain. That was the only disadvantage to this current bridge layout. Officers either kept their back to the captain as they replied to her queries, appearing slightly rude, or they were forced to look away from their consoles. Still, Janeway preferred this design, especially since the command chair was a distinct and separate entity, dominating the bridge simply by its placement.

"It is most likely the result of the damage sustained by the power cores in the sabotage," Seven replied. "It represents no danger at the moment, but left unchecked, it could cause a shift in the stream, altering the exit coordinates."

"We could end up God knows where," Janeway translated. She lifted a brow. "Good thing Millennium is up for an overhaul now that we're home."

"A full ship-wide diagnostic and maintenance upgrade should correct the problem," Seven agreed.

Janeway offered her a smile and, since no one was looking, blew her a kiss. Seven's eyes widened disapprovingly at such behavior on the bridge, and turned back to her board. Resisting a chuckle, Janeway leaned back in her chair. She was surprised at how exhilarated she was to be home, even though a part of her couldn't wait to start exploring the unknown again. Perhaps it was a leftover from her experience with Voyager where their eventual return home was always an uncertain prospect. She was simply more sensitive to it than other captains would be in her place.

Once docked at DS9, Janeway no longer had time to sit back and muse. During the trip to the space station, a flood of communications had been transmitted from Starfleet, ranging from new orders to various members of the crew, to updating the senior officers on what had happened in Federation during their absence. Arrangements for leave was undertaken and Janeway was issued several invitations to drop by the other vessels in port, as well as a personal request to accept Colonel Kira's official welcome home. A diplomatic soiree was also scheduled for that evening, requiring Janeway and all her senior officers to attend. Seven tried to demur once the couple had returned to their quarters.

"Oh no, you skipped out on the one just before we left," Janeway told her as she pulled on her dress uniform. It was the same outfit in which she'd been married, and it always put her in a good frame of mind, despite how little she enjoyed formal functions. "You have to be there at my side tonight, darling, just so I'll have someone to talk to."

Seven's arms were across her chest, looking absolutely spectacular in her whites. "You always have someone to speak with, Kathryn. That is the reason I am adverse to attending. I am frequently left alone while you converse with various dignitaries and admirals. It is tedious."

Janeway paused long enough in her preparations to hug her and brush her lips over her cheek. "Nothing could be tedious with you present," she murmured reassuringly. She drew back and smiled. "Besides, the entire senior staff is expected to be there, not just you and I. I'm sure with B'Elanna and Ro lurking about, you three can find yourself some trouble to get into somewhere."

Seven wavered. "Very well," she said grudgingly. "I wish to visit with my mother first."

Janeway nodded. "That's fine. I have some last minute tasks I need to attend to as well. Let's meet at the air lock on deck fourteen at 1800 hours."

Seven dipped her head. "I will comply."

Janeway took the turbolift back to her ready room. The ship, docked to the station, sounded different than while in space, the constant hum of the engines and life support no longer audible, replaced by a slightly different vibration as the vessel fed off the umbilicals leading to DS9. Through the large windows dominating the captain's office, the solid arch of a pylon loomed, while small worker pods and space-suited engineers darted merrily around the station and its attending vessels. Frequently, another ship would either arrive or depart, sometimes through the nearby gamma quadrant wormhole in a spectacular display of light and color that spread across the sky.

It was 1753 hours when the captain was interrupted by the admittance chime. She frowned slightly, checking the chronometer, but settled into her chair behind her desk.

"Come."

She was surprised when Ensign Elisa Tarn entered. Junior officers were not in the habit of bearding the captain in her den. It was Zar's job to deal with anything that arose with them. This had to be of the utmost importance in the girl's mind for her to bypass the first officer.

"Captain, do you have a minute?"

Janeway was curious enough not to dismiss the girl out of hand. "I can give you five," she offered. "No more." Even so, she knew she would be late meeting Seven. It took at least five minutes to make her way to deck fourteen.

"That would be fine," Tarn said, taking up a position in front of the desk, hands linked behind her back, posture so straight it made the captain's back ache.

"At ease, Ensign," Janeway said mildly. "Have a seat."

"Thank you, sir." Tarn sat gingerly in the chair across from Janeway and peered intently at the captain. "Sir, I am tendering my resignation."

Janeway blinked, displeased. "I see."

"Not for the reasons you might think," Tarn added quickly. "It's not because of my tour of duty here. It's just that—" She hesitated, then plunged in. "I thought I knew what to expect from Starfleet. I was wrong. I didn't really understand how I had been looking at things until I was thrown into that escape pod. I was so busy trying to get what I wanted and needed from Starfleet, I didn't come to grips with what Starfleet wanted and expected from me. If I had been more aware of what was happening instead of dwelling on my personal grievances, I never would have ended up on that planet. Before I accept another assignment, I have to be certain that this life is the right one for me."

Janeway inhaled. "Are you sure this isn't really to do with losing your position on the alpha shift?"

Tarn smiled. "I'm positive, Captain," she admitted, and the look in her eyes revealed that she was actually telling the truth. "I wasn't ready for that shift. I'm not even sure I was ready for this ship. I still have so much to learn, not only about being a Starfleet officer, but about myself."

"I suppose that's the first step, realizing what you don't know."

"I believe I've finally figured that out." Tarn dipped her head. "I want to thank you for your patience, Captain. I know you offered me a wonderful chance. I just wanted to let you know this had nothing to do with you. It's completely my undertaking."

Janeway lifted her hand. "I once told you that success and failure should be treated exactly the same. I want you to reconsider this decision, Ensign. I don't believe you'll be any richer for leaving Starfleet, and I know Starfleet will be the poorer for losing you. If not for yourself, then please, for me, don't make any final decisions until we're back on Earth and have been debriefed by Starfleet Command."

Tarn hesitated, and then dipped her head. "Very well, Captain."

Janeway nodded. "Dismissed." As she watched the young officer leave, she made a mental note to speak with Zar at the diplomatic function about what they could do to prevent Tarn's resignation. It would be a shame for Starfleet to lose such a promising officer, and she was sure that by putting their heads together, she and Zar would find the perfect solution.

Seven peered through the transparency at the woman lying in the biobed. Her mother had not regained any kind of conscious awareness since being severed from the Collective weeks earlier. She occasionally opened her eyes, but, otherwise did not resist being moved for the staff when they washed her or changed the bedding, nor did she offer any response to stimuli. For Seven, it was exceedingly disturbing. Erin Hansen appeared less than Human, and even less than a Borg drone. She was almost less than sentient, and it weighed heavily on the young woman.

"Seven?"

She turned to meet the light blue eyes of the ship's counselor, Kes. The Ocampa was also wearing her dress uniform, the stylized snowy outfit cut to her slender form, making her appear even more petite.

"Counselor." Seven inhaled slowly. She had been warming to Kes over the past few years, but since the Ocampa had taken over treatment of Erin, Seven had regained her wariness and distrust. She wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because she didn't really understand what Kes did or what sort of results she expected to achieve with Seven's mother. To Seven's mind, Kes' efforts were insufficient, though everyone she had talked to regarding the issue had counseled patience, even B'Elanna for whom the concept seemed totally foreign.

Seven found it very hard to be patient.

"Have you considered the institutions I recommended?" Kes had provided Seven with information regarding potential care facilities on Earth. There were, of course, many institutes throughout the Federation that could provide the necessary care, but Seven had specified her spouse's home planet, in the event the couple chose to remain close by throughout Erin's recovery.

"I have," Seven replied. She took a breath. "I would prefer a facility in San Francisco or Indiana."

Kes nodded soberly. "You still want to be an active participant in your mother's care."

"It is my responsibility."

"I could debate that," Kes said quietly. "Certainly, your mother did not share that sense of obligation."

Seven felt a thread of anger stir in her chest. "I am not my mother," she said coldly.

"No, Seven, you're not. But that doesn't mean you have to act as you think she should have acted, as opposed to what's best for you."

"I do not understand."

Kes reached over and put her hand on Seven's arm. She did not pull away, but she did stiffen at the touch, and Kes dropped her hand. "Seven, there's no way of knowing how long Erin's recovery will take. Don't put your life on hold. No one wants that."

Seven took a last look at her mother, feeling very uncomfortable. Sickbay suddenly felt very oppressive. "I promised to meet the captain," she said, needing to escape. "Please, keep me updated on my mother's progress."

She did not look at the counselor again as she fled the room, her thoughts in turmoil. Moving hastily to the turbolift, she instructed it to take her to deck fourteen. No one was there when Seven arrived at the airlock, and with a brief sigh, she took up a position to the side of the corridor, linking her hands behind her back as she waited for the captain. Janeway arrived some ten minutes later, slightly out of breath from her dash from the turbolift.

"Sorry, darling, I had a visitor just before I logged off." Janeway tilted her head. "How's your mother?"

"Unchanged," Seven said shortly.

The couple stepped through the lock and walked down the short tunnel to another air lock, where a round, rust-colored door of Cardassian design rolled back to grant them entrance into the station itself. Traffic within the docking pylon was light, but up on the docking ring, conditions grew considerably more crowded. Many species made DS9 a regular port of call, and the varied sights, sounds and even scents that assaulted Seven's senses made her feel uneasy.

"The counselor told me that I must not put my life on hold while my mother recovers," Seven said abruptly as the couple exited onto the Promenade. Janeway shot a look at her and took her arm, drawing her off to the side where an oval viewport looked out onto the area of space containing the wormhole.

"Tell me more."

Seven hesitated. "We are expected at the function."

"The party can wait," Janeway said firmly. "Talk to me."

Seven found herself looking out at the colorful swirl of light and energy as the wormhole was accessed by a departing vessel, the image lingering on her retinas even after it collapsed into a bright point before completely disappearing.

"I have spoken to Kes about my mother's future treatment, and which institutions would offer the best care. I specified Earth, and the counselor believes that both the facility in Brisbane, Australia, and the Starfleet facility in Atlanta, North America would be capable of providing the necessary medical staff and advantageous surroundings. There are treatment centers in both San Francisco and Indiana, but they are not of the same quality, either in personnel or in administrative structure."

"I see," Janeway said quietly. "Why San Francisco and Indiana, specifically?"

"So that I could remain close by. I believe that is why Kes gave me that advice. She indicated that there is no way of knowing how long Erin's recovery will take." Seven found it difficult to breathe, forcing herself to take measured breaths. "She clearly believes I should not participate in my mother's recovery."

"I don't think it's that, Seven. I think Kes just wants you to do what's best for yourself." Janeway was leaning against the nearby bulkhead, the silvery illumination from the viewport softening her classic features.

"Erin is my mother, Kathryn," Seven said raggedly. "I must take care of her."

"If that's what you have to do."

Her voice was unnaturally even, and Seven stared at her, feeling hurt and confused. "Why will you not advise me in this, Kathryn? You said that this must be our decision as a family, yet you refuse to tell me what you think is best."

Janeway exhaled audibly and glanced out the viewport, her eyes growing distant as she crossed her arms over her chest. "There's a fine line between my supporting any decision about your mother, and my influencing you into a decision that suits only my needs, Annika," she said quietly. "I want desperately to do the former, while assiduously avoiding the latter."

Seven frowned. "Your needs are very important to me, Kathryn."

"I know, darling. Believe me, I know. That's what I'm so afraid of." Janeway pursed her lips, pausing, and Seven attempted to wait patiently, knowing her spouse was searching for the right words. "Do you remember the baby we rescued from the Borg?"

Seven blinked, confused by the apparent shift in the topic. "What does that have to do with our current situation?"

"Do you remember how much you resented my making the decision to return the child to her people? Even though we spoke about it, argued about it, in the end, you felt that I totally disregarded your opinion and made the decision completely on my own. That wasn't the case, but as captain, I also had to do what I believed was best for the child." Janeway inhaled slowly. "I'm afraid that here, if I offer too much of my viewpoint, if you utilize what I want and think as part of the reasoning behind your decision, that sometime in the future, you may find cause to resent me again." She swallowed visibly. "That would rip out my heart."

Seven considered that carefully. "I think I understand, but I need to know your opinion, Kathryn. You are a part of my life. I cannot make such a decision on my own without your input. It must be our decision as a family unit."

"I know. It's just difficult for me to know where the line is." She turned to face Seven. "If you want the truth, I don't want our life to alter, Seven. I'm the happiest I've ever been, both professionally and personally, commanding Millennium and having you as my science officer." She spoke quietly, but Seven could detect the passion beneath the words. "If you choose to look after your mother, you'll have to accept a planetary assignment, assuming you stay with Starfleet, which might not be the case. You certainly wouldn't be able to remain on active duty, nor would you be able to ship out with me."

Seven lowered her head, her gaze shuttered as she realized what that meant. "You would leave me behind," she said softly. "Or give up command of Millennium to remain with me." She was keenly aware of how much her ship meant to Janeway. "Neither choice is acceptable. It would then be you who would find cause to resent me."

Janeway took a breath, a hint of moisture in her eyes. "Now, do you understand why I'm so reluctant to give you my opinion?" Her voice was touched by huskiness. "I want the decision to be based on what's best for you and your mother, not what's best for me. Not even what's best for us."

Seven felt sick. "Oh, Kathryn, it must be the best decision for all of us."

Janeway reached over, putting her hand at the small of the Seven's back. She could feel the warmth penetrate her dress tunic. "Darling, I love you so much. I love our life together. I would be lying if I said I'd be happy if you decided to stay near your mother in order to care for her, but I can't, in good conscience, ask that you not. You have to do what you believe is right, and whatever that is, I'll be right there with you. I promise, there'll be no resentment on my part, regardless of your decision."

Seven crossed her arms over her chest, knowing she could promise no such thing. "This is so complex."

Janeway moved closer, turning her touch into a full embrace despite the fact they were in a very public place, slipping into Seven's arms and easing the tense body language. "I know, and I don't mean to make it more complicated for you, darling. The last thing I want is to be part of the problem, rather than the solution. Consider this: we'll move your mother into the very best facility we can find, whether that's on Earth or somewhere else in the Federation. Then we can decide what we need to do for ourselves after that. All right?"

Seven felt as if she were only delaying the decision, and perhaps she was, but she greeted the suggestion with no little relief. "Very well, Kathryn. I believe the Stockholm Institute is the best choice. It may not be the most renowned in the Federation, but it is considered the best on Earth. I honestly believe that being on her homeworld would be beneficial to Erin."

"Then, that's what we'll do," Janeway told her in a reassuring voice, her embrace strong and comforting. "We'll make the arrangements first thing tomorrow morning. Everything will be in place by the time we return to Earth."

Seven squeezed her spouse, burying her face in her auburn hair, oblivious to passing pedestrians who tended to take a second look at two Starfleet officers, one of who was a captain, embracing lovingly in the corner of the Promenade. "I love you, Kathryn."

"I love you, too, my darling. I promise; we'll find a way through this. It may not seem like it now, but I know we'll make the best decision for everyone concerned, including your mother." Janeway gave her a final hug and drew back, looking up at Seven with warm eyes. "Trust me."

"I do, Kathryn," she said with great sincerity. "I always will."

Janeway glanced sideways as a particularly indiscreet Bolian gaped at Seven and her. Color rose in her cheeks. "I think we need to move along, Lieutenant. We're providing too much of a show for the station's inhabitants."

Seven hesitated but, feeling better about things, offered her arm. "Yes, Captain," she said, gladdened when Janeway promptly accepted, nestling her hand into the crook of Seven's elbow.

"Have I told you how wonderful you look in your dress uniform?" Janeway said, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood as they entered the habitat ring where the party being held in one of the large conference rooms.

Seven managed a bit of a wan smile. "Every time I am required to wear it." As they entered the decorated room, she lowered her head so that she could add confidentially, "But I believe its true appeal stems from how much you enjoy removing it at the end of the evening."

Seeming surprised at the attempted humor but considerably gratified, Janeway offered her a soft, vulnerable expression. "Will you let me after this is over?"

"Perhaps," Seven promised lightly.

As Seven had predicted, her spouse was soon forced to leave her side, drawn away by Zar, some alien diplomats, the station's senior staff and several other starship captains. Seven retrieved some food, along with a glass of champagne, and found Ro and B'Elanna off by themselves in a corner, eyeing the proceedings with sardonic humor. The Klingon and Bajoran were as antipathetic to these events as Seven but, together, they could always find something to amuse themselves.

Seven was in dire need of some amusement ... anything that would take her mind off problems that seemed insurmountable, even with Janeway's support.

The party was an ambitious one, Dr. Kate Pulaski recognized. Not bad for a space station stuck out here at the edge of the Federation, but still not the sort of event she enjoyed. There was too much talk and not enough entertainment. Millennium's CMO was standing by the buffet table, not quite participating in an energetic discussion between an envoy from Betazed and Dr. Julian Bashir, the station's handsome chief medical officer. From the corner of her eye, she saw Janeway and Seven enter the room, and wryly wished that she had also used command privilege to be fashionably late. Though she bore the three pips of a commander, Pulaski actually held the rank of admiral, accepting a temporary demotion to ship out on Starfleet's only active Fast Explorer.

She was debating whether she would extend that assignment another year. She wasn't as young as she used to be, and there were a few times during the past months where starship duty had been a burden rather than an adventure. It wasn't pleasant to watch patients die, knowing that her ability to help them was restricted by the distance to the nearest Starfleet medical facility and the limited selection of equipment available on a starship. It weighed heavily on her at times, as she knew it would on any doctor.

"Kate?"

Pulaski turned and smiled as Ezri Dax approached. She had known Curzon Dax rather well, one might even say intimately, and she truly enjoyed his company. If the symbiont and personality now came in the form of a diminutive, dark haired young woman, that was just part and parcel of befriending a Trill. She recognized the host immediately from Bashir's description of his girlfriend who would purportedly be joining them later. Millennium's CMO had not mentioned her previous encounters with the symbiont's previous host. It would have been a bit awkward for DS9's resident doctor, all things considered.

"It's good to see you again, Dax," Kate said smoothly. "You're a counselor now, I hear." She paused. "Shorter too, but not by much."

Ezri laughed as she hugged her. "You haven't changed a bit, Kate."

Bashir blinked. "You know each other?"

"As Curzon," Ezri explained. "Kate and Dax had some ... interesting times." The slightest hint of a leer in her tone was pure Curzon, and Bashir actually needed a second to recognize what she meant. Pulaski had been right. It was awkward, and he looked decidedly uncomfortable. Kate shot an admonishing look at Ezri who didn't look the slightest bit repentant, which was also pure Curzon.

"I'll tell you what I couldn't believe," Ezri continued. "That you accepted starship duty again. I thought you had pretty much retired."

"I had," Pulaski said. "Not everyone gets the chance at a new body when the old one wears out." Ezri grinned, and Pulaski raised her glass slightly. "I was talked into it by a previous student."

"Janeway," Bashir identified in his modulated voice. "I understand she's quite a captain."

Pulaski's lips twitched. "Well, don't tell her I said this, but she's probably the best I've ever served with. I doubt anyone else would have talked me into going off into the great unknown this late in life."

"Too late, I heard it."

Kate exhaled audibly and turned to face her commanding officer. Janeway looked faintly smug, and Pulaski was annoyed.

"Eavesdropping again, Kathryn?"

"If I didn't, I'd never hear anything good from you," Janeway remarked as she accepted a glass of champagne from the waiter. "Particularly about me."

She appeared about to say more, but a dignitary from the Nurtari sector touched her arm, attracting her attention. Pulaski watched her for a moment. Sometimes it seemed like there was as much bureaucracy to the job of starship command as actual leadership. Fortunately, Janeway was as adept in diplomacy as she was in military tactics and scientific endeavors. She was a well-rounded commander, and such captains couldn't be underestimated.

Pulaski wondered how Janeway would react when the doctor told her she probably wouldn't be shipping out for a second year.

Across the room, feeling rather uncomfortable being at such a function, T'Shanik concentrated on maintaining her Vulcan impassiveness. Since she and Nog were members of the ship's alpha shift, they were considered 'senior staff'. She wondered if the Ferengi felt as out of place as she did, but she doubted it. He had served on DS9 for so long that he knew many of the people attending the function, not only the station's ranking officers, but the other Ferengi who were catering the affair. Indeed, one was actually his uncle and was currently occupying his full attention, speaking with the young helmsman avidly. Nog would be remaining behind on DS9, getting an early start to his leave, rather than journeying the rest of the way to Earth with Millennium.

T'Shanik drifted over to Commander Ro, hoping to speak with the security chief who had sponsored her appointment to the bridge, but she was in conference with the ship's chief engineer and science officer. T'Shanik was hesitant about joining such rarified company, though she lingered near them in the hopes of being considered part of the group. A motion caught her eye and she looked across the room, a sudden twinge developing in her chest.

Solok strolled briskly across the room, and T'Shanik searched frantically for an avenue of escape. There wasn't any readily available, and with a sort of resigned annoyance, she waited as he approached her location. He was tall, reed-thin as so many Vulcan males were, with severe features beneath the dark crown of hair. Penetrating dark eyes centered on her with a laser keenness, leaving little doubt that he had attended this party specifically to see her.

He greeted her in Vulcan, and for a moment, just for contrariness sake, she was about to respond in Federation standard. Repressing the urge, she dipped her head respectfully.

"Hello, brother. You are well?"

"Quite," he said. He looked her up and down in cold evaluation. "You?"

"Very well." T'Shanik did not bristle under what could be considered somewhat insulting scrutiny, but it was only because of the years of mental discipline. Switching away from Vulcan, she lifted her glass. "I had not expected to see the T'Kumbra awaiting our return.."

"I requested the escort assignment," Solok told her, ignoring her subtle discourtesy. "I bear a message from our sister."

This was worse than T'Shanik had expected. Admiral Sitak was a formidable woman, more authoritative than their mother in many ways. If she was involved, the youngest member of the clan had no hope of defying her. The family had never condoned T'Shanik's joining Starfleet, but once she proved capable of passing the requirements, they had done their best to keep her in inferior postings, ostensibly to keep her safe, but actually, because they believed her weak and potentially embarrassing to the family honor. T'Shanik hadn't actually countermanded their wishes by applying to Millennium, but she had done it in such a way that it was fait accompli before they could stop it or make any objection that she couldn't refute.

"Sitak has found your performance to be satisfactory," he said, surprising T'Shanik. For a brief second, her spirits rose before his subsequent words brought them crashing down as he switched to Federation standard. "I am arranging a transfer for you to the T'Kumbra. It will not be a bridge position, of course, but serving with an all Vulcan crew will be of considerable benefit to you."

T'Shanik suspected it was hopeless, but she tried anyway, straightening her shoulders. "I am content where I am."

Solok did not hesitate, ignoring her words as if they had never been uttered. "You can begin your duties immediately, Lieutenant. I am very pleased to have you on board my vessel."

"I'm afraid that's impossible, Captain." The voice was calm, but an underlying core of steel threaded through it, unmistakable and immediately recognizable.

Solok blinked, the Vulcan equivalent of starting abruptly. T'Shanik managed not to react that much, but she did feel her knees go slightly weak in relief.

"Captain Janeway." Solok turned to regard the compact Human with a certain kind of wariness. Obviously, her reputation had preceded her.

"Captain Solok," Janeway said calmly. She glanced at T'Shanik. "You're not anxious to leave Millennium, are you, Lieutenant?"

"No, Captain," T'Shanik responded, pleased when her voice was completely even. "I am quite satisfied with my post."

"There you have it." Janeway offered a polite smile to the Vulcan captain. "I'm not approving any attempt to raid my crew, Solok. I went through that the last time I was here, and I'm not about to have it happen again. You'll have to find your own operations officer."

Solok shot a look at his sister, and then back at the captain. "I'm afraid you don't understand, Captain. This is a family matter."

"Oh, I'm quite aware that T'Shanik is your sister," Janeway said pleasantly. "But unless she specifically asks for a transfer from my command, I'm holding onto her. And with all due respect, Captain, you just don't have enough pull to take her without my authorization."

"Perhaps, I do not, Captain," Solok agreed. His words were mild, but the meaning was clear. T'Shanik needed all her mental discipline not to give into the anger that rose within her, reining it in with an iron control.

Janeway's smile widened, completely unperturbed by the comment. "I'm sure Sitak will understand," she said with cool disdain for his sister's position. "I'll speak with her personally, if necessary. Or I'm sure Admiral Nechayev and a few friends of my father could convince her how serious I am about keeping my officer. They know that when I decide to fight for something, I inevitably win."

Solok lifted an eyebrow, but did not respond.

T'Shanik felt a tiny pain in her temple. Translating all the inflections involved, she concluded that Janeway had threatened to pull even more powerful strings than the Vulcan family was capable of drawing upon. Just to keep T'Shanik on Millennium? She wasn't sure how to react to that, but it made her feel warm in a way that she had not before experienced.

Solok inhaled slowly. "This is not the end of it, Captain."

"As far as I'm concerned, it is."

His dark eyes flashed, but he inclined his head and without looking at his sister, turned stiffly and headed for the exit. With her head tilted and a tiny curl forming on the right side of her mouth, Janeway watched him go,. T'Shanik discovered she was grasping her glass tightly and carefully eased her grip before it shattered.

"Captain, I—" she began.

Janeway held up a hand, forestalling her words. "Lieutenant, this is not the first time your brother and I have disagreed. He should have known better than to try something so clumsy." She lifted her chin, glancing at the Vulcan. "But I apologize if I caused any further inconvenience within your family situation by stepping in like that."

"You are not the cause of any inconvenience," she admitted quietly. "Thank you, Captain."

"As I said, Lieutenant, I have no intention of giving up my operations officer. It took too damned long to find you."

Janeway offered her a half smile and then, moved away, leaving T'Shanik to contemplate her champagne in bemusement. Nog abruptly appeared at her side, almost causing her to flinch.

"What was that all about?"

T'Shanik wondered how she should answer. "The captain was merely confirming her confidence in me."

Nog tilted his head, his large ears framing his knobby face, considering that, but to T'Shanik's relief, he appeared willing to let it go. Instead, he gestured toward the buffet. "Have you tried the snail juice?"

"It is unlikely I ever will," T'Shanik assured him.

"Come have a drink with me, anyway," he said, offering a snaggle-toothed grin. "I'll introduce you to my uncle."

T'Shanik suspected that she should not feel as elated as she did. It was positively un-Vulcan, but she would never forget the look on her brother's face during his confrontation with Janeway. Finally, she had seen someone put a dent in that aura of superiority Solok possessed and imposed on everyone around him. She'd cherish that image for a long, long time.

“I'm sorry, darling. You know how the first few days after returning to port can be.”

In the viewscreen, Seven's narrow features looked vaguely dissatisfied, but she did not object. Behind her, the couple's quarters on Millennium were clearly visible. “I understand, Kathryn.”

Janeway felt guilty, but this was a part of the job she couldn't avoid, as much as she might want to. “Beam down to Indiana without me,” she told her. “I know both Mother and Phoebe are dying to see you. I'll catch up with you as soon as I'm finished with the Admiral. I promise I'll be there in time for dinner.”

Seven brightened at this suggestion. “Very well, Kathryn. I will tell Gretchen you will be late, just in case.”

Janeway managed a wry smile. “Believe me, darling, she'd expect it in any event.”

Disconnecting the communications channel, she turned back to Zar who had been waiting patiently by the communications kiosk. The San Francisco Transport Center was bustling with a sea of Starfleet uniforms mixed in with the civilians. Large transporter pads dominated the area, the sound of materialization a constant hum over the roar of the crowd. Outside, monorail trains utilizing magnetic fields carried those who were distrustful of molecular teleportation to other areas on the North American continent. On the gigantic landing fields surrounding the center, interplanetary shuttles took off and landed with monotonous frequency, bearing passengers to and from the other planets in the solar system, or to the gigantic space station orbiting Earth where the great starships were berthed.

Janeway caught her breath. After a year in space, it was difficult to get used to the seething masses of people. As she and Zar wormed their way to the large windowed entrance leading to the nearest city street, she thought she understood well Seven's antipathy to large groups.

Of course, they could have beamed directly to Starfleet Command, but since the Dominion War, when the administrative buildings had been destroyed by a Breen attack, an officer had to present a good reason for bypassing the security net. Janeway had wanted a taste of home before her meeting with Nechayev, but now she was regretting that decision. Surely, she and Zar would have been granted authorization to transport directly to the admiral's office rather than go through the transportation center.

Once on the sidewalk, the press of people lessened, and Janeway inhaled the salt tinged air of San Francisco with decided relief. Nearby, the bay sparkled blue in the afternoon sun, reflecting light onto the white buildings that were almost blinding in their brightness. The walk to Starfleet Headquarters took about ten minutes. Beside Janeway, Zar strolled easily, taking everything in and calmly absorbing the various double takes that came his way. It wasn't often one saw a Cardassian in a Starfleet uniform.

“I had forgotten,” he said at one point.

Janeway glanced at him. “The scrutiny?”

“On Millennium, it pretty much disappeared after the first few days,” he said, his voice tinged with wry humor. “I got used to being just another officer on the ship.”

Janeway patted him companionably on the arm. “Perhaps one day no one will cause such disturbance when they walk down the street anywhere in the Federation.”

Zar tilted her head. “Oh, I don't know, Captain. I'd hate to live in a society that's so homogenized that nothing can cause a stir. I may not like the constant double takes, but I'm honest enough to admit there are times when I actually get a kick out of it.”

Janeway shot him a grin as they entered the plaza that fronted Starfleet Headquarters, bordered on either side by a six-foot marble wall. In the polished white stone, the names and homeworlds of all those Starfleet officers who had lost their lives in the Dominion War were engraved. Janeway had personally known more than a few of those names, and passing through here was always a moving, yet disturbing experience. It was a relief to enter the spacious, sunlit lobby of Starfleet Headquarters and take a lift to the floor where Admiral Nechayev's office was located.

The sector chief was a diminutive woman, with blonde hair streaking gray and keen eyes set in Slavic features. She radiated barely contained power like a warp core reactor, always on the verge of raining destruction down on whomever crossed her. Seated behind a desk that appeared too large for her, the admiral motioned Janeway and Zar to a seat.

“Welcome back,” she said, her cool, modulated voice making Janeway tense as it often did. She had forgotten how much she affected her. “I've been going over the reports, and it appears that Millennium's first mission was a resounding success.”

“If you consider having an agent from the Orion Syndicate infiltrate the crew a success, then I suppose it was,” Janeway said dryly.

Nechayev leaned back in her chair, fingers pressed together at the tips as she regarded her. “The contract imposed on you and Lt. Hansen remains a bit of a problem,” she allowed coolly. “Ever since we received the last communications packet, Starfleet has made a point of clamping down on all Syndicate operations, including those on border worlds that had previously been overlooked. Ongoing searches of vessels and raids of various companies with any ties to the Syndicate are making it very clear to allied planets that we expect more vigilance from them when dealing with these criminals. In short, we're letting it be known, in no uncertain terms, that to threaten one of our own is to attract nothing but the most extreme trouble. There are already indications from our sources that the Syndicate wants to retract the contract. But until it's confirmed, Starfleet Command has decided that rather than the normal layover, we're sending Millennium back out as soon as the ship has undergone inspection and a level ten diagnostic on all systems. By the time you return from a second mission, Starfleet will have finished their dealings with the Orion Syndicate once and for all.”

Janeway blinked, surprised. “Thank you, Admiral,” she said slowly. “But I don't want to deprive my crew of their accredited leave. They need that time off.”

“Starfleet understands that, and anyone not wishing to accept the new mission will not be censured,” Nechayev said in the sort of voice that indicated there was no room for negotiation here. “I will advise, Captain, that while you and Lt. Hansen are on leave, you should remain alert. It's unlikely the Syndicate would dare to strike so close to the central worlds at this time, but they have before.”

Janeway straightened. “I understand, Admiral.” When she realized how seriously Starfleet was taking this, she became slightly frightened, not for herself, but for Seven. “Lt. Hansen is on her way to Portage Creek—” she began, and stopped when the admiral held up a hand.

“We know. Starfleet Intelligence maintained a trace on her from the time she left the ship,” Nechayev explained. “Commander Patterson has made arrangements within the Indiana Agricultural Park, but it's very subtle. You won't even notice the increased security.”

Janeway sincerely doubted that, but she didn't say anything. There didn't seem to be too much else to say.

“Returning to your mission report, Captain,” Nechayev continued, “there's the matter of the fighters. Why are you so determined to have them removed from your ship?”

“As I made clear in my report, they didn't turn out as useful as we'd hoped.”

“You mean, as I hoped,” Nechayev said dryly. “Why do I have my doubts that you gave the fighters and their pilots a fair shake, Kathryn? Your distaste for their presence was clear from the beginning.”

Janeway firmed her jaw. “They can't even fly escort for Millennium, Admiral. They're far too slow at warp six, and frankly, we didn't encounter many situations that required their use in combat situations. It's my opinion that the vessels are just taking up space on our hangar deck, and wasting valuable personnel who would be better suited in other departments.”

Janeway was aware of Commander Zar watching the wrangling between captain and admiral with ill-disguised fascination.

“Apparently, Starfleet Command agrees with you, despite my objections,” Nechayev said with a touch of sourness. “The fighters are being removed even as we speak.” Janeway was careful not to allow any hint of triumph show in her face, knowing that even when she thought she won a battle with this woman, inevitably, she lost the war. Nechayev looked down at her padd. “Which brings me to the matter of your first officer.” Her eyes rose to pin Zar in a steel gaze. “You've requested a permanent assignment to Millennium. This is the first time you've ever balked at a transfer.”

Zar glanced briefly at Janeway from the corner of his eye. “It's the first time I've ever wanted to stay.”

“Well, don't get too attached, Zar. Starfleet has other plans for you.”

Janeway opened her mouth to protest, and then for some reason, she paused. She should wait to see what those plans were before she started any fight to keep her exec, she decided.

“Three months ago, there was a skirmish on the Romulan border,” Nechayev said. “Captain Lydia Bedford was severely injured, but both she and her ship survived to make it to the nearest port.” Janeway blinked, recognizing the name instantly. Nechayev wasn't changing the subject; she had something specific in mind. “The ship has undergone a complete overhaul, but Bedford's recovery will take a great deal more time. It's uncertain whether she'll ever be well enough to step back into the command chair. The decision was made to replace her.”

Zar looked bemused, as if uncertain what Nechayev was talking about. Janeway was nodding slowly. In a way, it was an ironic twist on the adage, 'what goes around, comes around.'

“You've been tagged as that replacement, Zar.” Nechayev reached into her desk and drew out a box, flipping it open to reveal a single pip gleaming golden in the muted light. “Report to your ship, Captain.”

Zar didn't seem to know what to say, staring at the pip and then, the admiral, as if he suspected some kind of cruel practical joke at his expense. “Sir?”

“Not just any ship,” Janeway finally spoke, her voice laced with pride. “They're giving you Voyager, Tulek. My previous command.”

Nechayev rose from her chair. “Much as I'd like to stay and celebrate, I have other commitments,” she said. “Kathryn, I'll be contacting you soon on the particulars of your upcoming mission and the new exec who's being assigned to you. In the meantime, enjoy your leave.” She flicked a glance at Zar. “Congratulations, Mr. Zar. I wish there could have been a more formal ceremony for this, but nowadays, Starfleet can't spare the time. Be aware that you'll need to find a new CMO. The previous one was killed in the attack that injured Bedford. You're also going to need an operations officer. Voyager is currently in orbit around Tellus Three. There's a transport ship departing from McKinley Station at 0800 tomorrow morning. Be on it.”

She swept out, leaving Janeway feeling as she often did after an encounter with Nechayev; as if she'd been pummeled, only with all the bruises on the inside. The two officers sat there for a few minutes in contemplative silence, absorbing the news.

“Well, I guess I won't be late for dinner after all,” Janeway finally managed. She glanced over at Zar who looked as if he'd been stunned by a class two phaser. She reached over and nudged him. “Voyager's a good ship. She'll take damned fine care of you.”

“I can't believe it.”

“Believe it. It's not how Starfleet did things in my father's time ... or even when I made captain, but the honor is still the same, Tulek.”

“And the responsibility.” Zar swallowed and looked at her, his dark eyes pleading. “Am I really ready for this, Captain?”

“If I didn't think you were, Tulek, I wouldn't have recommended you for your own command.”

He blinked. “You did that?”

“Don't think it was easy to make that decision, either. I hate having to break in a new exec.” She exhaled audibly. “I'm not saying it's going to be a piece of cake. You're going in where the crew's already established. That's not easy at the best of times.”

“Let alone looking as I do.”

Janeway pursed her lips. “I won't lie,” she said, not unkindly. “That'll be the same obstacle it's always been, but you'll overcome it, just as you have every other challenge placed before you. I believe in you.”

There seemed to be an easing in the set of his shoulders. Not much, but still detectable to Janeway who had been a little worried he'd give in to his jitters. She stood up to reach across the desk, retrieving the box. “Here,” she said, waiting until he stood up before taking the pip and fixing it to his collar. At six foot six, he towered over the compact Janeway, and she had to stand on tiptoe to pat him on the shoulders and straighten his tunic. “You look terrific, Captain Zar.”

Zar's face changed at the appellation. “Hearing that is going to take a little getting used to.” He paused. “I need Tarn and Spencer, Captain. I don't have time to find anyone else.”

Janeway affected a look of mock outrage and slapped his chest with enough force to sting. “I knew it. Not a captain for two minutes and already you're raiding my crew.” She lifted a brow. “Spencer will make a fine CMO, but as we both know, Tarn's not even sure she wants to be in Starfleet. She promised not to make a final decision until we reached Earth, but she may have already tendered her resignation.”

“I'll talk to her, Captain, and convince her to accept the posting on Voyager.”

“And say what?”

He offered her a smile. “I fill her in on exactly what it's like to be a Cardassian in Starfleet,” he said, heading for the door. “Then I'll show her just what perseverance can get a person.”

The lush fields of Indiana stretched to the horizon, the corn stalks waving gently beneath the bright summer sun. Seven leaned on the railing of the front porch and inhaled the country air deeply, feeling a sense of peace descend upon her. It was ironic. Janeway spent so much of her life in space, and preferred to live in San Francisco while on Earth. Seven, for whom home was wherever Kathryn was, still felt a bone-deep connection to the farm that surprised her with its intensity. Or perhaps it was just the connection to the people who lived there.

Sitting nearby, Jake watched the Borg with unusual intensity. Seven had been vaguely surprised the Irish Setter had remembered her. The cranial capacity of a dog was not very large, offering little room for memory storage, yet he had bounded up to her immediately when she stepped off the shuttle at Portage Creek, dancing around her in unrestrained excitement for several minutes, as if he had desperately missed her. Now, he refused to move more than a few feet away, no matter where she went or what she was doing.

She turned her head slightly as the screen door opened and Gretchen stepped onto the porch, bearing two glasses of cold lemonade. At her gesture, Seven joined the Janeway family matriarch on the swing chair, accepting the glass and taking a sip of the tart liquid, letting it rest on her tongue. Jake scooted over and curled up at Seven's feet.

“What's troubling you, Annika?”

Seven lifted a brow, swallowing as she turned her head to regard the statuesque, snowy haired woman, honestly curious. “Why do you believe something is wrong?”

“I think I've come to know you quite well, by now,” Gretchen said kindly. Her brilliant blue eyes studied the young woman with affection. “Tell me about it.”

Seven had not intended to burden her mother-in-law with her problems, but the gentle invitation could not be resisted. Before she could stop herself, the entire story had spilled from her lips: from finding her mother on a Borg sphere in the Delta Quadrant, to the difficult decision she had to make about Erin's future. Gretchen listened patiently, nodding now and again to encourage her, reaching over to rest a hand comfortingly on Seven's forearm at the most emotionally taxing parts.

“I can't tell you what to do, Annika,” Gretchen said quietly when Seven had finished. “I can only offer another side of it. I know if I were in Erin's place, I would want my daughters to do what's best for them as much as for me. To remain nearby on the off chance that I might reestablish my connection with reality would be too much to ask. No mother I know would demand or expect it of her children.”

Seven felt a lightening on her shoulders, but the better part of the burden remained. “Yet, I am her family, Gretchen. If I am not nearby, then my mother has no one. It is my responsibility to take care of her.”

Gretchen offered a smile. “Annika, I thought you had an eidetic memory. You never forget anything.”

“That is correct.”

“Then how could you forget that you're not her only family? Mr. and Mrs. Erickson, Erin's parents ... your grandparents ... are still very much alive, along with Erin's brothers and sister. Don't you think you're assuming too much of the responsibility?”

Seven stared at Gretchen, absolutely shocked. She couldn't believe that she had forgotten about the maternal line of her family, not to mention the Hansen side who would undoubtedly also feel some need to be involved. She had never been close to her blood relatives scattered around Earth, perhaps because every time she encountered them, all they seemed to want to speak about were Erin and Magnus. As a result of the distance she maintained, she felt only Gretchen and Phoebe were her true extended family. Still, she couldn't believe that she had discounted the Ericksons' existence so easily. What was wrong with her?

“I had not considered that factor,” she admitted slowly. “Gretchen, this is not even my decision to make.”

“Not entirely,” Gretchen agreed. She slipped an arm across Seven's shoulders and hugged her, just as she would one of her own offspring. “Annika, it's clear to me that this has you so tied up in knots, you're not thinking clearly. I also know in my heart that Erin loved you dearly and will again. Just give her the time to heal. When she does return to herself, she's going to be so proud of the woman you've become: a renowned scientist, a valuable Starfleet officer, and one of the loveliest people it's my privilege to know.”

Seven felt a lump in her throat. Praise from this individual meant so much to her.

“She will be proud of me?”

“Absolutely,” Gretchen said. “But you have to keep living that life, Annika. You can't give it up for her. She would be horrified if you did.”

“You do not even know her.”

“No, but I know you. No matter what the Borg did, they couldn't change the basic nature inside you, Annika. That's kind and brilliant and warm and loving. You had to have acquired it from somewhere, and I believe it was during the first six years with your mother and father. Your parents made mistakes, Annika. God knows, we all do. We're only Human. But I'm absolutely convinced that they loved you with all their hearts, and if they had the slightest inkling that you'd be harmed in anyway, they never would have gone within a hundred light-years of the Collective.”

Seven wanted to believe her. There was a great deal of speculation and fanciful extrapolation in the elder woman's advice, none of which was based on proper scientific investigation, but Seven still wanted to believe that what her mother-in-law was saying to her was true. Gretchen seemed to sense it, and with a prescience that came from knowing when she had said enough, she kissed Seven on the temple and rose from the chair.

“I'm going in to start dinner,” she said. “You wait here for Kathryn. I'm sure she'll be along shortly.”

Seven doubted it, but she was content to sit on the swing, sip her lemonade and mull over Gretchen's advice. She realized she had not handled the situation with her mother with her normal analytical precision. Janeway had told her spouse more than once that she was too close to the problem, that she was reacting emotionally rather than rationally, but Seven hadn't believed her. She supposed Kathryn had been right all along, but she didn't know if she'd let her in on that little revelation.

A low hum attracted her attention and she looked down the long lane as a land speeder swept through the gate and up the graveled driveway. Beneath the chair, Jake lifted his head, ears pricked, but he didn't move from Seven's side. Easing to a stop near the garage housing Gretchen's hovercraft, the vehicle settled onto its landing struts as the noise of the engine died away. Janeway slipped out of the pilot's seat and strode jauntily across the lawn toward the porch, a smile lighting her face as she spotted her spouse on the chair.

Seven tilted her head slightly as the captain mounted the stairs and greeted the dog, scratching his ears enthusiastically. Then she casually leaned against the railing and pinned her partner with an expressive gaze that Seven couldn't quite identify. They stared at each other for a moment, and the smile widened.

“This is such a pretty picture.” Her voice had a certain husky note in it that Seven recognized immediately. “You on the porch waiting for me, sipping lemonade on a beautiful summer day.”

“What gives you the impression I was waiting for you?”

Janeway laughed and swung around, settling onto the chair next to her. “Who else?”

“Perhaps I am merely enjoying the fresh air.”

“Ah.” Janeway nodded and pushed off with her foot, initiating a rocking motion. Her eyes were a bright blue, strands of auburn hair blowing free in the breeze as a tiny grin curled one corner of her mouth. Seven thought that must have been how Kathryn looked as a child on this swing, all gangly elbows and knees as she sprawled over the cushions. Unbearably adorable.

“You're different.”

Seven blinked, so lost in her contemplation of her spouse that the words startled her. “Kathryn?”

Janeway turned her head to look directly at Seven, studying her face. “Over the past few weeks, you've had this little furrow between your eyebrows. Even when you thought you were relaxed, even when we made love, it was always there.” She reached up and touched Seven's brow with a gentle fingertip. “It's not there anymore.”

Seven blinked, bemused that she had displayed such physical evidence of her inner turmoil. Of course, Janeway knew her better than anyone and would detect such minuscule alterations in demeanor, just as Seven always did when it came to the exact shade of Kathryn's eyes.

“Gretchen and I had a most interesting discussion regarding my mother,” Seven allowed after a moment. “She was able to point out factors that I had not taken into consideration.” She shook her head. “I have been such a fool, Kathryn.”

Janeway flinched and dropped her hand, her fingers closing around Seven's wrist, holding it tightly. “No,” she said firmly. “Never that, my darling.”

Seven shook her head, half smiling. “Do not be so sure, Kathryn.” She tilted her head. “The Ericksons?”

Janeway stared at her, and then closed her eyes. “My God, I never thought...”

“How could I presume to make a decision about their child without their input? I am ashamed of my arrogance.”

“Not arrogance, darling. In the Delta Quadrant, we had to make the decisions. We were all the family Erin had.” She paused, her fingers warm on Seven's wrist. “I'm just glad that the burden is shared here on Earth.”

“They have not even been informed that Erin has been returned,” Seven said regretfully. “I must rectify that immediately.”

“It's quite early in Helsinki, darling. Wait until later tonight. There's about a seven hour difference between here and Finland.”

Seven considered that. “Then I shall have to remain awake until midnight.”

Janeway brought the Borg's hand up to her mouth, brushing her lips over Seven's knuckles lightly, and then turning it to kiss her palm lingeringly. “I think I can come up with a few ideas to keep you awake.”

“In that narrow bed with your mother and Michael just down the hall?”

Janeway made a face. “Dampen my mood, why don't you?”

Seven lifted her chin, realizing that Janeway had not been late, that in fact, she had been early to arrive. “Were you unable to meet with Admiral Nechayev?”

“Oh, there was a meeting.” Janeway lifted Seven's arm so that it was around her shoulders and she obligingly pulled her close. “It just didn't run as long as I anticipated. Not that the limited duration kept the admiral from packing as much information into it as she could.” As they sat and rocked, Janeway filled her partner in on the amazing revelations that had occurred at Starfleet Headquarters.

“We are being monitored?” Seven looked around, almost as if she expected to find an intelligence officer lurking amid the corn stalks.

“Not exactly. Starfleet's just keeping tabs on us. Patterson apparently had the farm's communications system upgraded to alert Starfleet instantly if anything untoward happens, as well as increasing security measures in the park. I know it has to be a fairly serious threat if Mother allowed that much technology to be installed in her home. It might be wise for us to spend the remainder of our leave here in Indiana.”

Seven nodded in agreement, more pleased at the idea than she let on. To have Gretchen nearby comforted her in a way so profound, it touched levels of her subconscious that she wasn't even aware of. “I have not asked if we are allowed to spend the night, Kathryn, let alone our entire leave. Perhaps you are being premature.”

“You're right, I'd better speak to Mom.”

“Perhaps we can stay at Phoebe's,” Seven suggested. “She has been spending a great deal of time in Paris over the past six months. Her latest showing is so successful that she has acquired a loft in the city. She will be here for dinner, but she is returning to France immediately afterward.”

“Wow, I'm impressed,” Janeway said, obviously meaning it. “Her career must be going very well.” She leaned over and kissed her gently, her mouth soft on Seven's. “And it works out rather well for us, giving us some necessary privacy.”

“Always beneficial.”

Janeway laughed. “Things seem to be coming together nicely, Annika.”

Seven smiled and lifted her chin, considering the ramifications of Janeway's meeting with Nechayev. “Captain Zar,” she said, tasting the words to see how they felt and what his new promotion meant. She guessed she would misshim, despite the annoyance she had displayed toward the end of their mission. She even felt slightly guilty at indulging in that emotional display. “Was he happy?”

Janeway shrugged. “It all happened so fast. He was gone before I had a chance to say good-bye. I didn't even wish him luck.” She shook her head. “I suppose that's the way of it now in Starfleet. I wonder if I'll ever see him again.”

“You will.” Seven hugged her. “I do not know if anyone else will say this to you, Kathryn, but I shall. You did a wonderful job. You provided Starfleet with another qualified and competent captain. You should be very proud.”

Janeway grinned, pleased at the praise, though technically, it wasn't Seven's place to offer it. “Thank you, darling.”

Gretchen chose that moment to poke her head through the door. “Ah, there you are, Kathryn. I need a potato peeler.”

“She's not talking about a device, you know. She actually means me,”Janeway sighed and glanced at Seven.

Smiling faintly, Seven rose from the chair, reaching down to help Janeway to her feet. “We must earn our keep, Kathryn,” she said quietly. “Particularly if we intend to remain on the farm.”

The dining room of the Peach Palace was quiet, with most of the lunch crowd long gone. In the corner, with little interest paid to them other than by the waiter assigned to their table, Dr. Lewis and Kate Pulaski lingered over their meal. Actually, Pulaski lingered. The hologram, incapable of ingesting food, watched her with an intensity that made the good doctor feel ornery, causing her to order far more than she normally would just to indulge in something he couldn't.

“I still don't see why you needed me along,” she said as she finished her steak.

“It certainly isn't for your company.”

She frowned, though it wasn't entirely serious. Almost as sarcastic as she was, their mutual antagonism had gone a long way in her learning to like him. Not that she would ever admit it to him. It was rare that Pulaski had someone who would stand toe-to-toe and refuse to back down, and their fights during those first days on Millennium were considered legendary among those on the lower decks. Eventually, they had achieved a basic sort of understanding ... they reserved their disagreements for private and attempted to show a united front to the rest of the crew. No one was really fooled, but it had cut down on the gossip to a certain extent.

“So when's your lawyer supposed to show up?” Pulaski took a sip of coffee and started in on her dessert. She was undoubtedly going to regret eating this much, but it was fun to go into raptures about the taste of the food, knowing all the while that Lewis couldn't experience it. It annoyed him, which was vastly entertaining to her.

“She said she'd meet us here. My God, have you no patience?”

“Your God? I never perceived you as the religious type.”

Lewis glared at her. “It was an expression.”

Pulaski shook her head sorrowfully. “You shouldn't take a deity in vain if you're not serious about it. At least, know when you're blaspheming.”

He frowned, his mouth twisted, which meant he was temporarily stymied by the comment and was unable to come up with a properly scathing response. She smiled faintly and took another bite of her peach cobbler.

“Doctor?”

Both medical officers looked up, but it was apparent the newcomer was addressing Lewis. He smiled and rose to his feet.

“Samantha. Thank you for meeting me here.”

The woman who sat down at the table was small and boyish, with a short shock of dark hair and wide, elven-like eyes. She looked far too young to be a lawyer, yet Pulaski knew she had a formidable reputation. She had been in the courtroom the day Sam Cogley had won the doctor's freedom from Starfleet. Now, it seemed, she was doing her best, at Lewis's request, to arrange his reinstatement.

“Did it clear?” Lewis was anxious, almost quivering in his chair. Pulaski resisted a snort of derision and took another sip of coffee.

“It's completely above board, Doctor,” Samantha said, handing him a padd with the letter confirming his commission to Starfleet, along with several other legal documents that reassured him that there would be no unwarranted interference from Starfleet Medical in any way, shape or form regarding his programming or his practice of medicine. “Congratulations, Doctor. You're a senior lieutenant.”

Pulaski blinked as Samantha handed her a small box. “I thought you might want to do the honors, Admiral.”

Flipping open the lid, Pulaski eyed the two golden pips sardonically. “He's not even dressed properly,” she protested. “What am I supposed to do? Stick them in his neck?”

With a flicker, the Doctor was suddenly garbed in a Starfleet uniform, changing from the simple shirt and trousers he'd been wearing. Pulaski jumped at the unexpected transformation and frowned at him.

“Don't do that in public,” she scolded. She glanced around, relieved when no one appeared to have noticed. Sometimes, she would momentarily forget that he was a hologram, and then he would deliberately do something irritating to throw it in her face. “Do you want people to think you're a Changeling? Or worse, that I'm actually having dinner with one?”

Samantha tilted her head, evaluating the medical officer. “Are you a bigot, Dr. Pulaski?”

Pulaski shot her a look. “I'm a realist. Human nature being what it is, and the war still fresh in a lot of people's memories, as is their paranoia over the Dominion. People might decide to react before they think, and frankly, I don't want to get caught in the crossfire. He's immune to phaser fire. I'm not.”

The hologram stared at her, a provocative smirk on his lips. “Admiral?” he prompted. “I'm waiting for my official commission.” He stood up, his posture one of attention, hands at his sides.

Exhaling audibly, Pulaski also rose to her feet. “Fine,” she groused. “At least you won't be able to hide behind your civilian status any more. When I give you an order, lieutenant, you'd better damned well jump to it.”

Picking up the pips, she fixed them to the EMH's collar, wondering if they'd fall on the floor the next time he attempted a transformation. Yet, she could not deny being a little touched by the glow in his dark eyes. “Well done, Doctor. Welcome back into the fold.” She paused. “You're probably going to regret it.”

“Only the part where I have you as my immediate superior.”

Pulaski resumed her seat, waving the comment away with a flick of her napkin. “That's not anything you need worry about. I don't plan to be shipping out again anytime soon.” She eyed him with a wry grin. “Who knows, if you play your cards right, Lewis, you might end up as Millennium's CMO. I bet the captain would be glad to have you. At least, she'll be used to your limitations and be able to plan accordingly.”

His features underwent a remarkable change, and she wondered if she had finally managed to offend him.

“You're not coming with us?” His voice actually sounded a bit stricken, and Pulaski wondered what the hell was wrong with him. It was almost as if he were going to miss her or something. An odd sort of tension began to build between them as they stared into each other's eyes.

Samantha, looking back and forth between the two, chose that moment to interrupt. “Uh, I don't suppose either of you has any news about Ro Laren?”

Pulaski blinked, not only at the change of subject, but at the clumsiness of it. “Ro? What about her?” She looked at the young woman and saw her squirm slightly.

“I was .... ah, just wondering how she is. Is she still in Starfleet? Still a security officer? Is she still involved with Torres?”

While the Doctor began to fill the lawyer in on their recent mission to the Delta Quadrant, Pulaski shook her head and finished her dessert. It had been such a strange little moment there with Lewis, and it disturbed her more than she cared to acknowledge. She made an effort to put it out of her mind.

Unfortunately, it stuck with her, popping up at odd moments when she least expected it. Standing on her balcony, a few nights later, looking out over the lights of Atlanta, Pulaski sipped her brandy and wondered what she had seen in his eyes, worrying at it as she would a particularly difficult set of symptoms. The chime of her apartment door interrupted her chain of thought, and she put the glass down on the patio table, rising to her feet. She was surprised when she recognized who was standing on the other side of the door.

“Seven? What the hell are you doing here?”

Seven inclined her head politely, not at all put off by the doctor's abruptness. “I wish to speak with you,” she said in that cool, modulated tone of hers.

At the end of the corridor, loitering by the lift, Pulaski spotted another figure. “Who's that?”

Seven glanced briefly in his direction. “A Starfleet security officer,” she said dismissively, as if his presence were of absolutely no consequence. She turned back to Pulaski. “May I come in?”

Pulaski, feeling more than a little bemused, stepped aside to allow her to enter her small, one bedroom apartment. She had always felt a little uncertain around Seven, not because she was afraid of her, as so many on the lower decks were, but because she couldn't quite get a handle on her personality. It made her wary. On one hand, she recognized that Seven's haughty demeanor was partially that of her Borg conditioning and not necessarily reflective of the true person within. At the same time, Pulaski detected a sense of icy resolve that ran deep, the sort of unstoppable determination that could make Seven a formidable danger if she felt threatened, or more importantly, if those she loved were threatened. Pulaski recognized in Seven the temperament of an assassin, one who could terminate a lifeform without hesitation or regret. Yet, there had to be a great deal more to her than that, for no other reason than because Janeway loved her without reservation. The captain wasn't the sort to give her heart to someone who was anything less than a noble and honorable person.

Gesturing toward the glass doors leading to the patio, Pulaski dug out her little used social skills, trying to knock the rust off them. She didn't, as a rule, have many guests.

“Take a seat anywhere, Seven. Can I get you a beer?”

Seven glanced at her, an eyebrow arching slightly. “No, thank you, Doctor. I have no need of intoxicants at this time.”

“Okay.” Pulaski took a seat in the cast iron chair near the balcony railing. “What brings you by?” She suspected Seven was not the sort who appreciated small talk.

“I am here to discuss your decision,” Seven said. “I do not wish you to resign your position as Millennium's chief medical officer.”

Pulaski was taken aback. “How the hell do you know about that?”

Seven linked her fingers neatly on her lap. “Dr. Lewis contacted me yesterday. He wants you to remain as his superior officer, perhaps because you are aware of his unique nature and can adapt to it.”

“Why did he call you?”

“Actually, he contacted Kathryn, but she was unavailable. I took the message and decided to speak with you personally. I have my own reasons for wanting you to remain on Millennium.”

“You do?” Pulaski stared at her. “I don't see what they could be. Lewis is responsible for your implants, and any qualified physician can take care of the rest of your medical needs.”

“I am aware that any reasonably qualified doctor is capable of doing what you do in sickbay.”

“Thank you,” Pulaski said in an ironic tone.

Seven ignored the inflection. “It is not for me. It is for the captain's benefit that I am here.”

Pulaski snorted. “If you think Kathryn is more willing to come to me for medical matters than any other doctor, I'm afraid you're sadly mistaken.”

“It is not your medical expertise that is required. It is your seniority and history with the captain. You must be aware that Kathryn can speak with you in a way that she cannot speak with anyone else on the vessel. You share a special bond with her.”

Pulaski laughed, surprised at the comment. “I infuriate her, Seven. We're always disagreeing. What kind of bond is that?”

“She requires such confrontation.”

“I doubt she would agree with you.”

“Yes, she would,” Seven said with absolute certainty. “Perhaps she would not admit it to you, but I believe she knows herself well enough at this point to admit it to herself. She needs your wisdom and guidance, even when it appears she has no intention of following it. She even needs your obstinacy.”

Pulaski was doubtful. “She does?”

“You are her mentor and her friend, Doctor. She is not quick to allow many to be that close to her.” Seven paused. “Is starship duty so onerous?”

“It's not that, Seven.” Pulaski paused, searching for the proper words to convince her. “Out there, so far from the Federation, can leave a doctor feeling hung out to dry. I can't refer a patient or call in a specialist when I'm baffled by a case. I have only limited equipment in sickbay, and no way to transfer a patient to better facilities during an emergency. Ultimately, I know I'm going to lose patients because of it.”

“I understand, Doctor, but while any medical officer who accepts the posting to Millennium will face the same restrictions, only you can assist Kathryn when she requires professional advice. Only you can offer an evaluation of a peer. Only you can be her confidante even when she is required to be the captain. Are you prepared to deny her that advantage because of your personal trepidations about the upcoming mission? Fears, I might add, that may or may not prove to be accurate.”

Letting her breath out in a huff, Pulaski stared at her. “You don't mince words, do you, Seven?”

Seven shook her head. “No, I do not.” She lifted a brow. “Will you stay, Doctor?”

Pulaski tilted her head. “Let's just say you've convinced me to think about my decision a little further,” she said slowly. “A person could get used to having such a unique position on a starship.”

“Imagine being able to drive a captain crazy as part of the job description.”

Janeway slipped out of her shoes and propped her stocking feet up on the coffee table, sipping her coffee with quiet pleasure. A small fire crackled merrily in the hearth as outside the walls of Phoebe's house, a summer storm raged, the rain beating against the windows as lightning flickered and thunder boomed periodically. From the kitchen, she could hear Seven cleaning up after their lunch. Curled up in various parts of the living room, Phoebe's two Irish Setters, Maggie and Rufus, slumbered peacefully, oblivious to the tempestuous weather outside.

It was the sort of domestic bliss that made the captain wonder if perhaps space was really where she wanted to spend her life. Of course, she knew her wanderlust was far too strong to be pacified for long by these rare, perfect moments on Earth, but perhaps Janeway cherished them all the more because of it.

Seven walked into the living room, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, her hair loose and falling about her shoulders. Jake was at her heels, never far from her side since their return. Janeway was glad to see Seven had regained the relaxed if precise poise she had enjoyed prior to her mother's discovery on that sphere, content that Erin was now safe and secure in a facility not far from where her family lived in Finland. Seven made a point of visiting often, and in the process, was learning to know her entire family, beginning the first tentative overtures of truly becoming close to them.

“Come here, darling,” Janeway invited, patting the cushion beside her.

Seven offered a brief smile and settled on the sofa next to the captain, her long, lean form golden in the flickering firelight. Jake lay down next to the other two dogs. The couple was quite comfortable in this home, and Janeway was truly grateful to her sister for allowing them to live there during their leave. Of course, they subsequently discovered that the reason Phoebe remained in Paris had less to do with her very successful showing, and far more to do with a young man, another artist, who was currently sharing her loft. Neither Janeway nor Seven were quite sure where that was leading, but in the meantime, they enjoyed the comfort of Phoebe's home, taking care of her dogs in her absence.

Janeway lay her hand companionably on Seven's thigh, her shoulder nudging against hers, feeling lazily content “Penny,” she said softly.

“For my thoughts?” Seven finished, lifting an eyebrow. “Nothing specific. I enjoy being here with you, Kathryn.”

“I always enjoy being with you. Wherever we are.” She exhaled slowly. “No more doubts about leaving Earth?”

Seven shook her head. “No. My mother is being adequately cared for, and she has loved ones close by. Both Nana and Papa insist I pursue my career in Starfleet.”

Janeway smiled. Seven no longer stumbled over the names her grandparents insisted she call them, and at this point, they were even uttered with a bit of warmth. If nothing else came of the terrible fate that had befallen Erin, at least her daughter and parents had forged a bond because of her sudden reappearance.

“I think they're right,” she said quietly.

“Of course you do,” Seven said placidly. “Their opinion is in complete accordance with your own.”

Janeway snorted laughter. Her spouse had started reaching for humor more and more recently, even during the times when she was stressed. In fact, now that Janeway thought of it, especially during those times. It was as if Seven had finally recognized that humor could balance a situation, help her maintain an even keel when the ground beneath her feet felt so uncertain. It was a charming addition to her personality, and the captain was warmed by it. Seven might never entirely lose all her implants or her Borg conditioning, but she was inexorably making progress on her path back to Humanity.

“Quit teasing and put your arms around me.”

Seven smiled and complied, pulling her close to her. Janeway settled happily into the embrace, leaning her head back against Seven's shoulder. She could feel the Borg nuzzle into the top of her head, resting her cheek against her hair. The slender yet powerful arms were warm across her chest, making Janeway feel safe and secure. A particularly loud crack of thunder was even more jarring because of that sense of coziness, making her jump and almost spill her coffee as the dogs lifted their heads, ears pricked.

“Whew, what a nice day to stay inside.”

“Yes,” Seven murmured, brushing her lips over the curve of Janeway's ear, and then down the line of her neck. “Perhaps to indulge indoor pursuits?”

Janeway felt a pleasant little tingle radiate through her body. “Why, darling,” she said, her voice dropping huskily, “whatever did you have in mind?”

Seven tightened one arm,while with the other, she took Janeway's mug from her and placed it on the end table. “I shall show you.” Reaching back, she began to unbutton Janeway's western-style shirt.

Janeway smiled happily and helped her partner undress her, shrugging out of the garment and dropping it onto the floor. Turning around, she noted that Seven's nipples were already stiff, protruding through the thin material of her t-shirt. The sight sent a rush of desire through Janeway, and she quivered slightly as she tugged the shirt off over Seven's head, along with her bra. Seven fell back onto the couch, and Janeway looked down at her topless spouse with possessive anticipation. Dropping her hands to Seven's waist, she fumbled with the buttons on her jeans, finally unfastening them and grasping the waistband firmly to draw them down over the slim hips, bunching them around the Borg's knees. Seven was wearing a delicate pair of panties, a white triangle covering the blonde thatch of hair, the sight more erotic than if she were completely nude. Janeway stopped Seven as she reached down to remove them.

“Leave them on,” she instructed huskily.

Seven looked vaguely amused, but obeyed, lying back as Janeway leaned down and kissed the silken material, feeling the soft mat of hair beneath her lips. She glanced up at Seven, offering a wicked smile and dipped her head once more, lips parting to...

The sharp rap at the door nearly prompted a heart attack. Janeway fell off the couch in a frantic effort to grab for her shirt and pull up Seven's pants at the same time, terrified beyond reason that it was her mother and that the knocking was merely a gesture of politeness before Gretchen came barging in. Casually, Seven shook off Janeway, leaving her in an awkward sprawl over the carpet as she rose gracefully from the cushions. Drawing up her jeans in one smooth motion, Seven fastened them and retrieved her t-shirt, pulling it on with a coolness that Janeway could only envy and never emulate. Scrambling to button up her shirt, first having to waste time turning it right side out, all thumbs as the fastenings stubbornly resisted her, Janeway pushed her bra under the sofa with her toe, while Seven's bra was quickly stuffed under the nearest cushion. Janeway sat down on top of it, looking wildly at Seven who was already at the door.

Seven glanced back briefly to see that the captain was reasonably presentable, and opened the door. Janeway only had a clear view of Seven from this angle, and she blinked at the profound surprise that appeared on her face.

“Tuvok.”

Startled, Janeway rose to her feet, belatedly tucking her shirt into her trousers as the Vulcan, who had served as her chief of security for seven years on Voyager, entered the house. Rain beaded on the shoulders of his uniform tunic, his close-cropped hair dripping rivulets down the side of his dark features. He assessed the captain and Seven dispassionately, though Janeway thought there might have been a bit of a twinkle in those brown eyes as he took in her disheveled state.

“I apologize for arriving unannounced, Captain,” he said in his evenly modulated tone.

Janeway stared at him, her mouth moving, but no sound coming out. Tuvok regarded her quizzically, a dark brow raised at an angle, politely waiting for her to find her voice. It took another large crack of thunder to jolt her into coherence.

“My God, come in, get dry.” She gestured toward the sofa, hesitated when she saw a brief flash of white beneath the cushion, and instead guided him to the large armchair by the fire. Tuvok appeared not to notice anything was amiss as he sat down, head tilted curiously as the two dogs, Maggie and Rufus, sniffed the hem of his trousers warily. They knew he was alien, but were unsure whether he was friend or foe. Jake, of course, was quite familiar with him and ignored him entirely. Janeway shooed the animals away, glancing at Seven who shrugged lightly and disappeared in the direction of the hallway.

Catching her breath, Janeway took a seat across from Tuvok on the sofa, trying to unobtrusively stuff the bra back into concealment. “What brings you all the way to Earth? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's so good to see you again.”

“Thank you,” he responded. “I am gratified to see you, as well.” He glanced up as Seven appeared beside him and offered a towel. He thanked her graciously, using it to dry his hair and face while Seven returned to the kitchen, undoubtedly to see to refreshments.

“What's going on, Tuvok?”

He folded the towel neatly and placed it on the arm of the chair. His dark eyes centered on the captain's. “I had business with Starfleet Command in San Francisco. I've been assigned to the operation intended to bring down the Orion Syndicate.”

Janeway blinked. “Oh.” The Vulcan had conducted his share of undercover operations for Starfleet Intelligence over the years. She wasn't sure why he was filling her in on this particular assignment unless it was because of the contract on Seven and her. “You'll be careful, of course.”

“Of course, but that is not why I chose to visit you in person. While on Earth, I received a communique from Commander Ro.” He paused as Seven reappeared, bearing a tray with mugs of steaming tea and some cookies. Sometimes, she was so domestic, it seemed impossible to believe that she had been a drone only a few years earlier. “She inquired as to whether I was interested in resuming my position as your chief of security.”

“What?”

Tuvok eyed her. “I take it that she has not discussed this with you?”

“Not at all.” Janeway glanced at Seven. “Darling, have you heard anything about this?”

Seven shook her head. “Not directly.” She paused thoughtfully. “This may have to do with the incident involving Peter Martin. The last time we had lunch, B'Elanna mentioned that Laren feels she mishandled that investigation. She is somewhat concerned about Laren's current confidence in her abilities.”

Tuvok balanced a cookie incongruously on his knee, the napkin a stark white against the black of his trousers. Seeing him sip his tea, Janeway felt a sense of unreality slip over her.

“Wait a minute, let's back up a second,” she said, raising an index finger. “What did Ro say to you?”

“She believes I would better fill the position of Millennium's chief security officer,” Tuvok said. “Regarding the investigation Seven mentioned, Ro filled me in on the details. It is my impression that she feels her performance was less than adequate.”

Janeway raked her fingers through her hair. “Honestly, Tuvok, I have no idea where this is coming from,” she said, confused. “I thought she did a fine job. She tracked down Martin, stopped him from escaping and later assisted in saving the ship from being destroyed. What more did she expect of herself?”

“Perhaps to have accomplished those things in a more timely and efficient manner?” Seven suggested quietly. “She wishes very much to please you, Kathryn.”

Janeway glanced at her, thought about it for a few moments and inclined her head. Turning her attention back to Tuvok, she offered him a smile. “Thank you for coming to me about this. I'll certainly look into it.”

“I was certain that you would, Captain.” He paused. “And you? Have you encountered any incidents?”

“With the Syndicate?” Janeway shook her head. “No, we've been staying pretty close to home. When we do travel out of the park, Michael ... Commander Patterson ... has arranged for security personnel to accompany us at all times. It's inconvenient, but I've had to accept the precautions imposed by Starfleet.”

Tuvok tilted his head, staring at her. “I am gratified to hear you're being so prudent, Captain, though I will admit, somewhat surprised, as well.”

Janeway blushed, knowing full well what he meant. Seven had a small smile curve the corners of her full lips.

“In truth, Kathryn is currently operating under a much higher authority than Starfleet Command,” she told him.

When Tuvok looked inquiringly at her, clearly expecting further enlightenment, Janeway exhaled audibly. “Mother told me that if I put myself, or worse, Annika, at risk because of my foolish pride, she'd personally make sure there was nothing left for the Syndicate to even bother about.” She met Tuvok's eyes, seeing the glint of amusement in them.

“That's a threat even I wouldn't dare challenge.”

Seven lay on the bed, naked but for her underwear, perusing a padd as she waited for Janeway to finish her ablutions in the small bathroom attached to the guestroom. When she came out, she was wearing one of Seven's blue t-shirts, the garment too large for her as the sleeves fell down over her elbows. The hem modestly, yet provocatively, draped about her hips, swaying with the motion of her walk. Finding that the planetary climate served to dry out her hands, Janeway rubbed them together, working moisturizer into the skin. Seven could detect the faint odor of the lotion from across the room.

As she slipped onto the bed, Janeway reached over and stroked the white triangle of Seven's panties with appreciative interest.

“Did you wear these for me, darling?” Her voice was husky.

Seven glanced at her briefly, lifting a brow. “Why would I do that?” Seven wasn't a very good liar, but she had adapted to the art of answering a question with another question. Of course, Janeway always knew what it meant when Seven suddenly started to dissemble, so she merely grinned wickedly at her. Taking a breath, Seven resumed her attention on her padd, trying to ignore her as best she could.

Janeway laughed, a low, throaty chuckle. Seven affected not to notice when she leaned over further and kissed the inside of Seven's left knee, then nibbled gently along the tender skin of her inner thigh. She couldn't help but pay attention, however, when Janeway crawled up over Seven's torso, knocking aside the padd and insinuating herself into her embrace.

Seven eyed her indulgently. “Do you require something, Kathryn?”

Janeway leered elegantly and kissed her, a full mouthed, luscious kiss. “On the contrary, I think it's you who wants something. First, after lunch, when you were all over me, and now, tonight, wearing those cute little briefs.”

Seven attempted to sigh. It did not impress Janeway who reached down and tugged at the panties.

“You don't play hard to get very well, love,” she informed her as she deftly peeled the underwear down the long legs, with Seven helpfully lifting her hips to facilitate their passage.

“Was I playing 'hard to get', Kathryn?”

Janeway just laughed as she settled on top of her. Seven smiled, accepting the passionate embrace with enjoyment and returning it with equal intensity. “I thought you would appreciate my panties.”

“Mm, I do, love,” Janeway assured her between the long, lingering kisses. “I had visions of removing them with my teeth.”

Seven drew back briefly. “What happened?”

“It was the 'heat of the moment' sort of thing this afternoon,” Janeway explained. “Now I just want you naked.”

“Ah,” Seven said, not entirely understanding her spouse's reasoning, but willing to go along with it. “What of you?”

Janeway sat up, straddling Seven as she pulled off the t-shirt. “Easily rectified.”

Seven immediately reached up and covered the firm breasts, toying with the soft brown nipples. Janeway smiled and briefly leaned into the caress, but slipped away after only a minute.

“Kathryn?”

“Relax, love,” Janeway purred as she moved lower onto her with sensual intent. “We'll get to me ... eventually.”

Seven smiled and relaxed onto the mattress, allowing her partner to set the pace of their lovemaking. She had been feeling amorous all day, as frustrated by Tuvok's timing as the captain, though she was not apt to display it as overtly as Kathryn. To compound the frustration, Tuvok had stayed for supper, and had not left until late in the evening as he and the captain spent hours reminiscing about their shared service in Starfleet. Seven did not begrudge his need to visit with his captain, nor Janeway's need to visit with him, but there were a few times when she wondered if he somehow suspected her arousal and was deliberately overstaying his welcome in order to delay her gratification.

Fortunately, her patience had not been in vain. Janeway apparently sensed that Seven required special consideration this night, and proceeded to caress and stroke her with the utmost skill and loving attention. Her mouth was a tender benediction, light on her skin, moving over swells and curves to incite the most wonderful desire within her. Seven closed her eyes, her head lolling on the pillow, her hands tangled lovingly in her partner's hair. Squirming slightly as strong hands parted her legs, she felt the warm breath waft over her intimate flesh, sending a chill of erotic anticipation through her.

Janeway did not continue the caress as expected, however, and Seven opened her eyes as Janeway rose briefly from her body and reached for the drawer in the table next to the bed, pulling out the Mini-Marvel 450 and a jar of lubrication. To Seven's surprise, however, Janeway did not don the penile probe, but rather, kept it in her hand as she trailed down Seven's body, kissing and nipping with renewed intent. This time, Seven was rewarded with the sensation of Janeway slipping between her legs and tasting her avidly, tormenting with teasing flicks from the tip of her tongue, covering her sensitive nubbin of flesh with lips of pure velvet, tugging on it gently. Seven groaned, arching as she felt the rounded head of the lubricated accessory probe her opening, gradually easing inside the heat and moisture. It remained for a moment within the wetness, filling her as Janeway's tongue moved over her with greater intensity.

Then the probe was removed, only to press against Seven's body again, seeking entrance into the lower orifice, causing her to shiver with delight. Lifting her left hand from Janeway's head, Seven reached above her to grasp the brass headboard. Metal screeched as the small pain of initial insertion past the restrictive band of muscle gave way to the pleasure of penetration into the channel. Internal muscles flexed and adjusted to the intrusion as Janeway's mouth intensified Seven's need, driving her ever higher with every stroke. Seven realized the captain had far more control by using the accessory manually, quickly finding a complementary rhythm between her slow, gentle thrusts and the feverish manipulation of her tongue and lips. The combination was intense, and Seven felt the rush of sensation cascade through her, her hips jerking spastically, her peak rushing through her with exquisite joy.

Seven barely had time to savor it, however, before Janeway, her need acute, urged Seven over onto her stomach. Crouching on her hands and knees, Seven felt the captain position herself so that she could attach the device without having to withdraw it from its intimate resting place, the end of the device closing around her clitoris. It transmitted sensation to it from sensors aligned along the abbreviated shaft. Reaching around to Seven's front, Janeway began to caress her nodule fiercely, demandingly, as with her other hand, she grasped a warm handful of breast, squeezing with unrestrained delight. Seven shuddered as the caresses impacted on flesh that was still too sensitive from her previous climax, feeling overwhelmed by being taken so quickly. Moving vigorously within Seven, Janeway sought her own pleasure as she thrust against the soft cushion of buttocks, muttering words that were both loving and profane. Urged on to a second, more intense orgasm, Seven realized through a haze of pleasure that Janeway had finally reached her own, crying out in utter abandon as she buried herself as deeply as she could within her.

Seven collapsed on the bed, breathing hard as Janeway slumped heavily onto her back. Seven didn't know why she enjoyed this permutation of their lovemaking so much when previously, she had assiduously avoided penetration. Yet she could not deny that it was exciting to her in a way that other forms of lovemaking were not. Not that it was anything she would care for on a regular basis. It always left her feeling vulnerable, vaguely unsettled and slightly sore, but at the moment it was happening, it was all she wanted or desired. She needed the captain to possess her like this on occasion and, on some levels, she suspected that Janeway needed it as well.

Janeway inhaled deeply and rose, finding her strength again. Resting her palms on Seven's hips, she slowly and carefully withdrew, pulling the probe stickily from the intimate channel. Seven lay passively on the bed, throbbing pleasantly in time to her heartbeat as Janeway found a soft cloth and gently wiped away the excess lubrication from her spouse, and then wiped down the accessory. After putting it away, Janeway drew the covers up around them and curled around Seven, embracing her from behind.

“All right, darling?”

Seven sighed. “Oh, yes, Kathryn. You love me so well.”

A soft chuckle, husky and deep. “I'll admit, I'll never completely understand why you enjoy it so much, but I absolutely love doing it to you.”

“I do not know either,” she admitted drowsily. “I suspect it is because I have more nerve endings present in that part of my body than in others.”

Janeway, undoubtedly reminded of how the Borg had mutilated her spouse and left her lacking in certain areas, pressed against Seven, hugging her with wiry strength. “We’ll have to find new ways of exploring that aspect of your sexuality,” she offered quietly.

“I am unsure there are any further permutations to explore.”

Janeway laughed softly. “You’re not challenging me, are you, darling?”

Seven shivered, either in apprehension or pleasure at the thought. “I do not believe it is wise to challenge you, though you are the only one I would trust enough to be so intimate with me.”

“I would certainly hope so.” Janeway kissed her on the temple, and then moved lower, dropping her head to kiss Seven's shoulder blade. “Is there anything else you need, darling?”

Seven made a small sound of amusement. “That was quite sufficient.”

Janeway bit the point of the Borg's shoulder. “I mean, in general,” she explained, her voice warm with laughter. “Is there anything that you've ever wanted to try that I haven't provided?”

“I cannot imagine anything that we have not attempted, Kathryn.We always share our most secret fantasies and desires. If I do, you will be the first I inform.”

“I'll hold you to that.” Janeway drew her fingers up Seven's arm.

Seven forced her eyes open, though her lids were growing heavy. “Why, Kathryn? Is there something you have considered that you are hesitant about discussing with me?”

“No, love. Communication in the bedroom has never been one of our failings.”

“What of outside the bedroom? Is something troubling you?”

“Not specifically.” Janeway paused. “Tuvok is so proud of his youngest son. He talked about him practically all night.”

Seven nodded slowly, lifting a brow at the change of subject, and wondering where her partner was headed. “He is a most attentive parent.”

“It makes me wonder. We used to speak of having children all the time. Now, it's a topic that rarely, if ever, comes up. Why is that?”

Seven blinked. “I ... it has not seemed relevant recently. We shall have children one day.”

“I know, but when is that 'one day'?” Janeway lifted up, urging Seven around so that she was lying on her back and she could look down at the expression on her face. “It's so strange, darling. I was always the one hesitant about the concept of having children, but now I find myself thinking about it a lot, particularly since returning to Earth. But you seem to have completely forgotten about the idea.”

Seven looked into the bluish-grey eyes, reaching up to touch Janeway on her cheek. “I have not forgotten, Kathryn.”

Turning her head, Janeway kissed the tips of Seven's fingers. “Then please, talk to me, darling. Tell me what's going on with you.”

“I am afraid,” she admitted after a moment. “As I understand more about Humanity and what it means to be a mother, particularly after finding my own, I am frightened that I shall not make an adequate parent. I can be as self-absorbed in scientific pursuits as Erin Hansen ever was. Indeed, that preoccupation is why I drew back from the idea of having children during our previous residence on Earth. My interest in my profession has not lessened since that time. I enjoy being your science officer, Kathryn, and I enjoy our life in Starfleet. When I was contemplating the possibility of giving it up to look after Erin, I was resentful. It disturbs me to think that having children could provide the same sense of resentment. I once believed that having children was all I wanted, but now, I am no longer so certain. If so, I am afraid that I could not offer a child the proper attention and care he or she requires. I refuse to offer less than my best to any offspring we create.”

Janeway seemed about to speak, paused, and thought about it. Seven watched her face, detecting the slight alterations in muscle and skin that indicated more about her thought processes than she suspected the captain was aware.

“I was about to say that you'll make a wonderful mother, Annika,” Janeway said finally, quietly, “but I didn't want it to sound like false reassurance or just an idle comment. I want you to know that it's something I utterly believe with every fiber of my being. I know that Mom believes it as well, and you can't ask for a better authority on the subject than that. But I also know that it's natural to have doubts. I have them, too. After all, I'm more my father's daughter than my mother's.” She hesitated, her jaw moving as if tasting the words she would say. “We can't expect to be perfect parents, Annika. No one can. What we really have to discover is: do we want children in our lives right now, and will we love and care for them to the best of our ability.”

“You are still a starship captain, Kathryn. Do you really believe you could fit offspring into your life?”

“You mean, if you're not the principal caretaker? I guess that's what we've been assuming all along, but now that I understand how important your position as chief science officer is, we're going to have to change that assumption.”

“I do not want to give up any part of my work, Kathryn.” Seven told her honestly. “Not yet.”

“Nor do I want to give up any aspect of my command,” Janeway admitted with a touch of sadness. “Is it possible for both of us to compromise so that we both can give a little more? Be equally responsible for their upbringing, which is the way we should have been thinking all along?”

“Would it be enough?”

The starship captain considered it carefully. “Probably not.” She sighed quietly. “This is probably the wrong time to be having this discussion. The incident with your mother is still too fresh, we're being rushed back into space before we're completely ready, and the threat of the Orion Syndicate still hangs over us. I guess it's a bit much to ask that we do our family planning at the moment.”

“You have obviously been thinking about this, Kathryn.”

“Well, you know how domestic I become once I'm home.” Janeway smiled, leaning down to kiss her sweetly. “I think I forget sometimes that this is not really our life, nor do we want it to be. Once I'm back in space, it becomes very much about my ship and crew. I'm so fortunate to have you as my spouse. You understand me and what's required from both of us, but I can't expect a child to possess the same kind of understanding.” She settled down next to her, resting her head on Seven's chest. “I'm sorry, love. It was unfair of me to bring it up.”

“We need to discuss such issues on a regular basis,” Seven assured her. She paused. “Are you disappointed in me?”

“Of course not. You deserve to pursue a career in science as much as I do with my command. I'm glad that you can consider all the consequences before deciding upon a course of action. I'm even more grateful that you can be honest about how you feel, not only to yourself, but to me.” Her eyes grew distance. “It's a lot to ask of a child to understand why his or her parents can't be there when things become frightening or uncertain. I need to remember that.”

“In a crisis, we are always on the bridge, Kathryn. We are not able to be in our quarters, comforting and reassuring the child that he is safe. We cannot always leave our posts to be there when he is unhappy or disappointed. Who becomes responsible for the child then?”

“A nanny? Perhaps one of the ship's teachers?” Janeway rubbed her cheek lightly against the smooth skin of Seven's chest. “You're right, Annika. A child deserves better. Our child deserves better.”

“I did not always understand that on Voyager. I do, now.” The couple was silent for awhile, lost in their own thoughts. “One day, Kathryn. One day we will be able to let go of duty and turn that dedication to a family.”

Janeway snuggled close. “You're right, love. One day, we really will have it all.”

The controls of the shuttle were responsive beneath his hands, but not as enjoyable to manipulate as the joysticks installed on the delta flyers. That had been part of his contribution to their construction, appealing directly to his pilot's sensibilities, as he knew they would others. Tom Paris was proud of that, and he was proud to have served on Millennium as its wing commander, leading the contingent of seventeen fighter pilots and teaching yet another generation the fine line between thrills and skills.

But that was a thing of the past. Word had come down that the fighters were being removed from the Millennium. The official line was that the squadron hadn't reached its full potential, but Paris knew that wasn't the case. They had managed to operate to the full extent of their abilities. But when their launch vessel was more powerful, and possessed a faster cruising speed than the fighters, the squadron's primary mission as a protective escort was simply not required. Paris understood that, but the disappointment still lingered.

Now, he was the position of having to make a decision for himself, one that would affect the rest of his life. With his skills no longer required on Millennium, he needed to make a choice from all the offers that had poured in after their return to the Alpha Quadrant. The trouble was, none of them were really tempting. To take over a fleet on a starbase could only prove tedious. Paris was as much an explorer as he was a pilot. Having to remain on a planet or space station, only launching to run patrols or experience the occasional skirmish with a vessel up to no good, wasn't what he wanted for himself. Yet, accepting one of the helm positions on another starship didn't really appeal to him, either. After piloting vessels that touched space in all four quadrants, having to plod about the Federation, or even extending the boundaries within the Alpha Quadrant, just didn't have the same lure as sitting on the bridge of a Frontier-class explorer.

Then, there were personal concerns. He had made a lot of mistakes in his life, had let love slip through his fingers because of neglect or seeking some ultimate thrill that didn't really exist, all at the expense of his lovers, including B'Elanna Torres. He wasn't about to repeat that behavior. He and Kes, the ship's counselor for Millennium, were embarking on a relationship that could prove to be everything he had ever wanted or needed in his life. Kes wasn't going anywhere, her position on Millennium quite secure. It was up to Tom to find a way to stay with her.

That was why he was headed for the cornfields of Indiana. If there was one person who could give him advice on what he should do, it would be the captain.

To his dismay, as he descended through Earth's atmosphere, instructions were issued over the comm system, preventing him from implementing his flight plan. Apparently, shuttles and transporters were prohibited in the Brown County Agricultural Park, and he was diverted to a small city on its outskirts called Portage Creek. He had never visited the captain at the family home, though he had heard about it. A Traditionalist community, they limited technology wherever they could, farming and living off the land in the way of their ancestors. Paris certainly had an appreciation for history and tradition. He loved old things, particularly old machines, but while he freely indulged that fascination in holodecks and museums, or replicated antique devices to decorate his own home, he did so while still enjoying all the comforts of the 24th century. He had no idea why someone would want to live like that full time.

After landing the shuttle at the Portage Creek Transport Center, her shut down its engines and secured it against unauthorized access, even though this was Earth, and hardly necessary. Ingrained habits died hard. Crossing the tarmac, he inhaled the muggy Indiana air, tainted liberally with the metallic scent of environmentally friendly shuttle exhaust. Inside the cool, air-conditioned confines of the terminal, he found the nearest clerk, a fresh faced young woman with golden brown hair and hazel eyes.

Unconsciously, he offered a boyish smile. “Hi, there,” he greeted. “I'm trying to get to the Brown Agricultural Park. Where can I find a hovercraft?”

The smile she was displaying faded somewhat. “I'm sorry, sir, I can't help you. You need to visit the Starfleet kiosk on the upper level. Go left until you reach the third set of turbolifts on the right. That will deposit you directly in front of their offices.”

Paris blinked. That was unusual, but he inclined his head politely at the young woman and followed her directions. Starfleet generally wasn't involved with planetary transportation, particularly on Earth. He couldn't imagine what a Traditionalist community had to do with them, other than the fact that Janeway happened to be staying with her mother who lived there.

The officer manning the desk upstairs was nowhere near as attractive as the young woman downstairs. Sighing silently, Paris approached the young man, his smile no longer boyish. He wished he was wearing his uniform, rather than a short-sleeved blue shirt and tan trousers. Two gold pips would facilitate matters greatly, particularly with this Ensign.

“Yes, sir,” he said politely, glancing up as Tom approached. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, I'm Lt. Tom Paris, Wing Commander of the USS Millennium. I'm trying to get to the Brown County Agricultural Park.” Paris faltered again as he saw the guarded look appear in the young man's dark eyes. “Would you mind telling me what's going on around here, Ensign?”

“I'm sorry, sir, could you step back here and verify your identity?”

Paris stared at him, but when the young man indicated the instructions were not the sort that could be argued with, he shrugged and did so. He was considerably surprised when the verification process he was forced to undergo included everything from a retinal check to a full body scan. Tom wasn't all that familiar with a Traditional lifestyle, but surely it didn't require all this just to visit.

“What the hell is going on here, Ensign?”

Another officer appeared, this one sporting a rank above Tom's. She was pretty, but imposing, her dark brown hair tied back tightly, granting a severe cast to her features. Tom took one look and knew she was Starfleet security.

“That will be all, Ensign Graves,” she said quietly. “I'll handle it from here.” She nodded at Paris. “I apologize for the rather extreme procedures, Lieutenant, but we have an operation in place. I'm Lt. Commander Carol Atwood.”

“Tom Paris,” he said shortly. “But you know that, or you should, by now.”

She smiled faintly. “Yes, we do. What is your purpose in visiting the Agricultural Park, Mr. Paris?”

“I'm planning to visit my commanding officer. Captain Kathryn Janeway. She's staying with her mother.”

“Indeed. And why do you want to see her?”

Paris blinked. “That's ... uh, kind of personal, if you don't mind.”

She stared at him for a moment and then smiled. “Of course,” she said. “You can find a hovercraft in the parking garage on the sub-level.”

“Wait, aren't you going to tell me what's going on?”

She handed him a navigational chip. “Please drop this off here when you return the vehicle.” A rather blatant way of telling him that she wasn't, and that, furthermore, his presence was no longer required or particularly welcomed.

Paris knew better than to object, but that didn't prevent him from fuming over it all the way to the Janeway homestead located about fifty kilometers inside the boundaries of the park. Tom was greeted by three Irish Setters as he stepped out of the land speeder, and he stood still as they sniffed him, unsure as to how friendly they were. Seven of Nine appeared on the front porch, and he was slightly taken aback at how incredible she looked, her hair down, her voluptuous figure garbed in a light, summer dress that left her shoulders and those incredibly long legs bare. Paris had never begrudged the captain her capture of the young woman's heart, but he was man enough to regret that he would never have an opportunity with her.

“Hey, Seven.”

“Tom Paris.” Seven gestured at the dogs who promptly obeyed her, retreating back to the porch. “I am pleased to see you.”

He grinned. The Borg would never say anything she didn't mean, and it flattered him. “Thanks. The captain around?”

“She is down by the pond,” Seven instructed, pointing across a cornfield.

Paris could make out a grove of willow trees on the other side. He used them as a navigational marker, grateful that the corn was still at a height that allowed him to see over it and keep them in sight. Before long, he was jumping over a deep drainage ditch that separated the cultivated field from one that had been left fallow. Insects launched into the air as he walked through the long grass, grasshoppers, butterflies, and other unidentifiable species making way for his passage. Next to the still waters of a picturesque pond, he discovered the captain leaning against a tree, reading a book. She glanced up when he was only halfway across the meadow, shading her eyes with her hand. A smile crossed her face and she stood up, brushing off her denim pants.

“Tom,” she said with obvious enthusiasm. “What brings you by?”

“I'm sorry to interrupt your leave, Captain,” he apologized as he reached her.

She waved it off. “To be honest, it's starting to become a trifle boring.” Paris was struck by how young she looked, dressed in a light shirt that had the sleeves rolled up, revealing wiry and tanned forearms. “I'm looking forward to getting back to my ship. What about you?”

“That's actually why I'm here, Captain. I've been fielding a lot of offers, and I'm not sure what to do.”

Her bluish-grey eyes sparked with interest. “I see. Nothing stands out?”

She gestured at a boulder shaded by the willow tree, and Paris took a seat on it while she sat down on another large stone nearby. She was instantly composed, he noticed. This might as well have been her ready room rather than a grassy meadow beside a pond where ducks glided serenely. He was always impressed by that aura of command. “Not exactly, Captain. I've actually come to ask a favor. I want to remain on Millennium.”

Her face sobered. “Tom, you know the auxiliary fleet has been restructured. The ship no longer needs a wing commander.” She reached out and patted his forearm. “You also know how much I value your skills, but I can't use you as a helmsman either. Even if I were prepared to transfer Lt. Nog from the alpha shift, you're still Terran. The transition jump simply doesn't allow for it.”

“I know, but Captain, you can still use a good helmsman for the beta and the gamma shifts,” he argued. “Not to mention a pilot for all those away missions. As good as Nog is, you know he doesn't check out as well on the delta flyers as I do. I helped design the things, after all. Then there's all that time I spent in sickbay on Voyager. I can still operate as a medical assistant.”

Paris realized a pleading note had crept into his voice, and he shut up before it became worse. Janeway was regarding him with a slight frown edging her mouth.

“Tom, you're asking for a demotion,” she said, in case it wasn't clear to him. “You could be chief helmsman on any vessel in the fleet. I know for a fact, Picard would love to have you back on the Enterprise.”

“I know, Captain, and believe me, I'm proud of that assessment. But I don't want any other posting. I want to stay with Millennium.”

“What's this really about, Tom?” She was staring at him as if she had never seen him before.

“Kes,” he admitted. “I don't want to be separated from her. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stay with her. If that means a demotion, then it's something I'll gladly accept.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. He hadn't been more serious about anything in his life.

She propped her elbow on her knee and supported her chin between her forefinger and thumb. Her eyes were grey, but he was glad to see a definite blue tinge around the outside of the irises. “You'd need to be stripped of a rank, Tom, moved back to a junior lieutenant. That's not something easily done, especially since you're in line to be promoted to Lt. Commander on your next posting.” She grinned suddenly, almost mischievously. “You'd have to earn a demotion.”

“I know, Captain. That's why I want to tell you all about how I slipped Paryk onto the roster so he could be the bartender in Nexus.”

She knew all about it, of course, but it had never been formally brought to her attention. To do so meant she would have to make an official report to Starfleet Command and place a reprimand in his permanent record. There was a brief pause as she stared at him, her jaw firm. Then, she inclined her head slightly, granting him the invitation to go ahead. Paris smiled widely as he explained every security protocol he had breached in order to allow the enthusiastic, but somewhat unqualified civilian to remain on Millennium after stowing away.

That smile never left his face as he and Janeway returned to the house where the captain used the communications system to contact Starfleet Command, informing them of the sudden confession of the Wing Commander, his subsequent fall from grace, and the captain's request that he remain her problem to deal with as she saw fit.

Epilogue

The cold red planet of Mars was no longer cold and not even particularly red anymore. Extensive terraforming had provided a temperate climate, though a little lower in air pressure than Earth, while the rusty soil was covered with emerald vegetation. It was somewhat like being at a high elevation, and Janeway had to adjust her respiration accordingly in the thin air. The gravity also remained light, and she felt as if a running jump would launch her into space. She didn't attempt it, however. Running in this atmosphere, when unused to it, could see her pass out and hit the ground before she managed to cover twenty feet.

Stepping off the land shuttle from Marsport, Janeway looked up at the large buildings that housed the lower ranks of officers assigned to the base, as well as those transients who just needed a place to stay before shipping out again. It was a far cry from the lavish, lakeside home Ro and B'Elanna had enjoyed when the couple had been posted here prior to reporting to Millennium. The captain wondered if they weren't already wishing they were back on board the starship. Of course, considering what Tuvok had told her, it was possible that neither woman had any intention of returning to Millennium. Janeway was both aggravated and slightly hurt that they hadn't come to her to discuss what was obviously a bit of a problem.

She found their name on the listing in the lobby. There were several cadets and lower ranked officers in the halls, and she had to keep acknowledging their respectful nods, grateful that Starfleet didn't have a tradition of saluting. If it had, by the time she reached the floor containing Ro's apartment, her arm would have fallen off. As it were, she had a slight kink in her neck from inclining her head. She supposed she shouldn't have worn her uniform, but then, she wanted it to be clear that she was here in the capacity of Ro's senior officer.

She touched the chime on the outside of the door, waiting impatiently. She supposed she should have called first. It was possible the women weren't home. She had barely considered the thought when the door hissed open and she saw B'Elanna on the other side. The Klingon grinned widely, displaying sharp edged teeth, as she stepped aside, gesturing grandly.

“Come in, Captain,” she said, obviously glad to see her. “It's not a palace, but it keeps the rain off.”

Janeway smiled as she entered. It wasn't as small as she had anticipated, even boasting a tiny balcony through glass doors, but it was decidedly space efficient, with a single, medium sized room pulling triple duty as kitchen, dining and living area. It was entirely possible that the couple's quarters on the Millennium were larger. At least they had a separate bedroom. Janeway could see it through the door to her right.

Ro Laren, sitting at a work station in the corner, hastily rose to her feet. The Bajoran was dressed in a sapphire tunic and dark pants, her short shock of dark hair held back from her forehead by a blue headband. She moved toward the captain with a dancer's grace.

“Captain?”

“Commander,” Janeway said shortly, her emphasis on rank indicating this was not a social call. She glanced at B'Elanna. “I would like to speak with my security chief, if I could. I realize it's an imposition and this is your home...”

“No, it's all right,” B'Elanna said, frowning slightly as she glanced back and forth between them. “I was ... ah, going out anyway.” She retrieved a light jacket from the bedroom and disappeared out the door. Ro watched her go, seeming somewhat bemused, and then looked back at Janeway.

“Yes, Captain?”

Janeway regarded her, a muscle jumping in her jaw. “Tuvok came to see me.”

“Ah,” she said, closing her eyes. “I had assumed when he told me he was on a new assignment, that would be the end of it.”

“He worries about you. Why didn't you come to me immediately?”

Ro straightened her shoulders. “Until I found a replacement, it didn't seem fair.”

“I'm the one who decides about personnel, Commander, not you.” The whip of command was in Janeway's voice now, and she was pleased to see that it still stung, Ro wincing visibly. “Why do you think a replacement is required?”

“You know how I handled the investigation into the sabotage.” Ro's jaw was rigid. “The suspect practically had to attack me before I figured out who it was. Seven had to uncover the tie to the Orion Syndicate. Zar and B'Elanna had to rescue Tarn.” Her fists clenched. “I was useless.”

“If I thought that, I would have been the first to tell you. It was a team effort, Ro. It's supposed to be like that. If there was any mistake made, then it was mine by placing the entire burden of the investigation on your shoulders rather than calling on my entire senior staff from the beginning.”

“It was my job to find the saboteur!”

“You did.”

“Not soon enough.”

Janeway lifted her index finger, finding a chair and taking a seat. She thought it was time to lessen the intensity permeating the room. “So, it's a matter of failing to live up to expectations. The question is, whose expectations are we talking about here, Laren?”

Ro stared at her, her features the slightest bit confused, as if uncertain what Janeway was doing. Janeway knew that keeping Ro off balance was the best way to handle her, to remind her that despite her vast experience, when it came to Starfleet, she was still somewhat of a novice. “Captain, as chief of security, the safety of the crew and the ship is my responsibility.”

“And it's my responsibility to know the capabilities of my officers. This was a criminal investigation. I don't expect my chief of security to be a detective.”

“Tuvok is.”

Janeway shrugged. “So he is. It's one of his strengths, as a matter of fact. Yet, one of his weaknesses is that he's absolutely terrible in bar brawls. He inevitably swings when he should duck and I usually have to drag him out by the hair.” Ro frowned in confusion and Janeway suppressed a smile. “Don't you, see, Laren? I don't expect you to be all things as a security chief any more than I expected him to be. Nor do I want you to be an imitation Tuvok. I just want you to be the best Ro you can be.”

Ro stared at her, her face like stone. “What if that's not good enough?”

“Then I'm that one that decides that, not you. Are you tired of serving me, Commander? Do you want to transfer off? I can arrange it. I don't need anyone on my vessel who isn't prepared to give me her best.”

Ro bent her head, unable suddenly to look Janeway in the eye. “I had hoped, in the event Tuvok accepted the position, that I could remain as his assistant.”

“It doesn't work like that, Laren. You can't go backward. You can only move forward.” She decided not to tell anyone about Tom Paris just yet. Of course, he was still moving forward where it counted the most; in his personal life.

Ro's mouth twitched, as if she were tasting something unpalatable. “Yes, Captain.”

Janeway's voice gentled. “It's not a failure to ask for help.”

Ro's dark eyes came up to meet Janeway's, flashing slightly, and despite her best effort to restrain it, Janeway was forced to laugh. “All right, I admit that perhaps I'm not the best person to be offering that piece of advice, but that's a flaw that only starship captains are allowed. When you earn that fourth pip, then you can play the lone wolf and get away with it.”

”Do you really believe I'll ever see a fourth pip?” Ro suddenly looked bleak.

Janeway settled back in the chair, crossing her legs elegantly as she regarded the Bajoran. “Do you know why I like you, Laren?”

Ro blinked, obviously confused at the apparent change of subject. “Why?”

“Because you make mistakes,” Janeway said. “Sometimes, really big ones, but you never let them stop you. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and fling yourself into the fray once more. More importantly, I never feel that you give anything less than your best in whatever you're doing. It might not always be the proper course of action, or even what someone else would do in the same situation, but it's always your best. I don't want to see you back away from that unique quality. I think you're doing that here, and if that behavior is what you've learned serving under my command, then you've learned the wrong lesson.”

“Captain—” Ro's voice was unsteady.

Janeway stood up abruptly. “Think about it. Be there at the tactical station when it's time to ship out. Otherwise, send your replacement and make sure they can handle the job. In either case, nothing more will be said about it. It's completely your decision.”

Before Ro could respond further, Janeway swept out of there, the door sliding shut behind her. She wasn't sure if what she said had penetrated Ro's insecurities, but she hoped that she would manage to untangle herself from all her doubts. In the meantime, Janeway had a lunch date with a beautiful woman, and she wasn't about to be late.

She ran into B'Elanna in the building lobby. The engineer had been hanging out with a few of the base personnel, swapping stories when she saw the captain come off the lift. She immediately intercepted her.

“What's going on, Captain?”

Janeway eyed her judiciously. B'Elanna wasn't just her chief engineer, she was Seven's friend. That gave her a certain responsibility toward her. “Did you know that Ro contacted Tuvok to take over her posting on Millennium?”

From B'Elanna's expression, she had her answer before anything could be said, and she held up her hand. “Far be it for me to offer advice about a relationship, B'Elanna. It might be a good idea to have a talk with Laren. The sort of talk that Klingon stubbornness won't let go until it's resolved.”

B'Elanna stared at her, and then dipped her head in acknowledgment, heading for the lift with a determined set to her jaw. Janeway didn't know if it would do any good, but she figured she had done her best here, and now it was time to let events take their course. That was the other aspect of dealing with Ro. Not only did Janeway have to keep Ro off balance, she was never entirely sure how it was going to turn out in the end. Such uncertainty was not how the captain normally liked to operate, but there was something about dealing with Ro that intrigued her. Standing there, she realized she had absolutely no idea whether the Bajoran would be there at tactical when it came time to break orbit from Earth. In either case, she would be surprised, and she supposed that was the real reason she kept after the enigmatic Bajoran, kept trying to mold her into the officer she thought she could be. Ro Laren was such an exquisite challenge, and when it came right down to it, there was nothing Janeway liked better than a challenge.

She was waiting at an outdoor table at a café in the center of Marsport. Janeway paused on the walkway as she came into sight, taking a moment to simply appreciate the vision that was Seven of Nine. Nor was the only person to do so. Janeway could see at least ten others in the vicinity, only eight of them male, who were observing the icy beauty with undisguised fascination. That included the security officers who were shadowing the couple. Janeway did her best not to swagger as she finally approached the table and bent over Seven, kissing her on the mouth with a touch of possessiveness.

“Hello, darling,” she said as she slipped into the seat opposite Seven. “I'm sorry I'm late.”

Seven lifted a brow. “For you, this is punctual.”

Janeway laughed and raised her hand, signaling the waiter. Seven regarded her with brilliant eyes. “Did you speak with Laren?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

”I don't know. She'll have to make up her own mind as to whether or not she's ready to continue with Millennium. I've done all I can.” Janeway flashed her a smile.

“That is unlike you.”

“Darling, if there's one thing I've learned over this past year, it's when to leave things alone. I just wish the officers would come to me when they're having doubts.”

“Sometimes, other influences must be brought to bear to solve the problem, and you may never know anything about it.”

“Perhaps,” Janeway said carelessly. “I tend to find out eventually, no matter what.”

Seven did not respond to the comment, looking instead at the waiter who had arrived to take their order. She selected a light pasta salad while Janeway went for a heartier soup and sandwich. While they were waiting for their meal, Janeway leaned back in her seat and regarded her spouse with marked intensity. Seven became aware of it and lifted a brow.

“Kathryn?”

“I absolutely adore you, my darling. You know that, don't you?”

“I do. I love you, Kathryn.”

“We'll always be together, won't we?”

Seven eyed her, recognizing that an unusually sensitive moment had occurred with her spouse. Janeway wasn't quite sure why it had descended upon her, but both women had learned to indulge such instances when they occurred.

“Of course, Kathryn. Our two paths shall always be as one.”

Janeway smiled.

“That's all I needed to know, darling. In fact, that's all I'll ever need to know.”

The End