Kelly glanced over at the captain, trying not to be obvious as she did so. They had been doing personnel files for two hours and absolutely none of her suggestions regarding the crew had been accepted. In some cases, they had been dismissed with a casual disregard, while others had been considered for only the briefest of periods before being refused. At this point, Kelly wanted to throw the damned padds into Janeway's face, walk out and never look back. She might have, if they weren't stuck tens of thousands of light years away from the Federation.

She tried again. “There's an opening in biometrics. I think Ensign Esperanto would be suitable.”

Janeway shook her head. “He lacks discipline and long-term planning. Samantha doesn't need to be teaching an unqualified officer, along with all the rest she has on her plate now.”

Kelly didn't stop to wonder how the hell the captain knew anything about a lowly ensign on deck fifteen. She just exhaled explosively. “With all due respect, Captain, would you like to do these yourself? I don't seem to be contributing much to this task.”

Janeway flicked an eyebrow. “You rarely do.”

Kelly stood up abruptly, and the captain held up her hand, motioning her back down. “At ease, Commander. The comment was ... inappropriate. I apologize.”

Confounded by the apology, one she had never expected to receive, Kelly wavered, and then resumed her seat in the chair, uneasily regarding the captain sitting on the sofa. Janeway carefully put down the padd in her hand and settled back against the cushions, her grey eyes regarding Kelly with calm assessment.

“Do you know why Starfleet sent you here?”

“To punish me,” Kelly said bitterly without thinking. Janeway's face tightened and she added hastily, “I think it was to teach me some stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like how to be a better commanding officer.” Kelly hesitated. “Permission to speak freely?”

“I was unaware you weren't.” Taking a deep breath, the captain leaned back. “Go ahead.”

Kelly felt her way carefully around the conversation. “I'm not sure you're the one who can teach me to be a better officer.”

Janeway clamped her lips shut, as if she had been about to say something and swallowed it back. When she spoke, her voice was very mild.

“I ... appreciate that you have a certain reservation about me. I'm not sure where it springs from.”

Kelly wished she was anywhere but in this ready room. “I .... I have no sense of you as a captain,” she tried, struggling for the right words. She had never been particularly adept with language, or with conveying her thoughts adroitly. She was sure this conversation would result in being tossed out of the ready room, and possibly straight into the brig, but she gave it her best shot. “You're so rigid and by the book, that most of the time, I feel like I can't breathe. I can't do anything to please you, and I have no idea if I should want to or not. Most of all, I can't figure out why your crew doesn't feel the exact same way, but I've learnt that they would follow you anywhere, so they must know something I don't. I just can't see what it is.”

Janeway pursed her lips. “Fair enough.” She regarded her for a long moment. “Did you ever meet Boothby?”

“Who?” Kelly was startled at the apparent change in subject, trying desperately to keep up.

“Boothby. At Starfleet Academy.”

Kelly blinked. “The gardener? I talked to him a couple of times. I didn't really know him.”

“He's a groundskeeper.” Janeway frowned. “And if you refer to him like that, then you're right, you didn't know him at all. I learned more from him than I think I ever learned from my professors. I just didn't know it at the time.”

Kelly stared at her, skeptical.

Janeway sighed. “He gave me a very good piece of advice once. He told me to make sure I take damned good care of the details, because occasionally, I was going to have my way with something big, and the only thing that would save me from a court martial was the knowledge that all the small details were done strictly by the book.”

Kelly gaped at her. Court martial? She couldn't imagine Janeway doing anything that remotely put her at risk for such a punishment. “Yes, Sir,” she said finally, her standard response for something she didn't understand.

Janeway reached out for the china cup sitting on the coffee table and picked it up, sipping the coffee slowly. Kelly had the unmistakable feeling that the captain wasn't thirsty, but rather, was taking a moment to compose herself. She braced herself for the blast to come.

“Kelly, you're simply not qualified to be my first officer.”

Janeway held up her hand, undoubtedly seeing the red rise in the commander's face, the spark from the emerald eyes as the young woman struggled not to leap from her chair and storm out. The captain's voice was gentle as she leaned forward, and through her anger, Kelly realized Janeway really wanted her to understand that it wasn't meant as an insult, but the truth as she saw it.

“That isn't your fault. You have no experience with a ship this size. You have no experience with a science vessel. You have no experience dealing with all the administrative duties required in the position. Hell, you have no experience being a first officer at all. You jumped directly from security to command. Nechayev did you absolutely no favors by posting you here. She didn't do me any either, but here we are, and we're stuck with each other. So, it's time for me to stop demanding you act like my first officer, and it's time for you to see that you have a long, long way to go.”

“Are you relieving me of my post?” Kelly said stiffly, through lips so tight, they were almost blue.

“No, but I've finally realized that I can't make you something you're not. You're not ever going to be a good first officer, but that doesn't mean you can't make a good captain. In some cases, they're not even compatible.”

Kelly had to stop and absorb the words, her anger ebbing somewhat as she tried to figure out what the captain meant. “What?”

“Being a good first officer means becoming the right hand of the captain,” Janeway said, leaning back now that she was sure Kelly was listening and not just reacting. “Overseeing the command support system, the consummate professional subordinate. Your predecessor was the perfect exec. He stepped in and took on the position like he was born to it, but he had an advantage you didn't. He'd spent years trying to achieve career advancements that you must have managed in months. He had the time to fully understand his innate skills and advantages, and learned how to compensate for his disadvantages.” She shook her head, almost sorrowfully it seemed. “The war has cost you dearly. It demanded that you progress as an officer quicker than you were ready, as it must have for so many others. Now Starfleet is trying to rein you in, bring you back to a more controlled and disciplined evolution.”

“Believe it or not, Captain, I understand that.” Kelly raked her fingers through her short shock of dark hair, frustrated. “I know the war threw things out of whack when it comes to developing Starfleet officers, including myself, but it's not as if I can go back and change it.”

“What is it you want, Kiara?”

Startled, Kelly looked at her. “Sir... I mean, Captain?”

Janeway took another sip of coffee. “What do you want to be? Do you really want to be a starship captain, with all that entails, or have you simply been on this command track through necessity for so long that you don't remember what you intended to be when you started?”

Kelly thought about it, wondering if she dared be that open with Janeway. “I ... when I was at the Academy, I pictured myself in the command chair. I went into security because it best suited my abilities, but I always went after the command track.”

The corner of Janeway's lips twitched upward. “Then you're one up on me because I wanted to be a science officer when I started out. I was channeled into command by my superiors because they believed that was where I was best suited.” She put down her cup. “They were right, but it took some time before I became the captain I needed to be.” Lacing her fingers across her abdomen, she fixed Kelly with an evaluating look. “I don't believe you would have made it this far if something in you wasn't meant for command.”

Kelly lifted her chin, surprised. An apology and a compliment all in the same conversation. What the hell was happening?

“Thank you, s... Captain.”

Janeway's eyebrow quirked. “It wasn't a compliment, it was merely an observation. Your record shows you have a knack for making the right decision when things are falling apart around you, and any wrong decisions to date haven't held too much in the way of consequences. But you lack a certain awareness that every captain needs, and frankly, I have no idea how to teach it to you.”

“Are you saying you have this awareness?” The question could be considered rude, but it was phrased as an honest query, so Kelly got away with it.

Janeway pursed her lips. “I do, but more importantly, my crew believes I do.” She paused. “Being a captain means more than just making the decisions. It means taking responsibility for the lives of others. Furthermore, it means accepting the consequences of that responsibility.”

“Having the power to choose between what's right and wrong.”

“No, often choosing between what's wrong and what's less wrong,” Janeway insisted. “You rarely have the luxury of a clearly defined 'right' in any given situation. And sometimes, even when it does seem right, it's not right at all.” It was her turn to look a little frustrated, as if she knew what she was saying wasn't enough for Kelly to understand. For the first time, the first officer liked her a little, and it made her want to bridge the gap between them.

“Regarding our initial encounter with the Raeliens.” Kelly lifted her chin. “How did you know?”

Janeway paused, looked startled for a moment, and considered the question carefully. “I just did,” she said finally, and immediately looked apologetic. “I know that doesn't help.” She took another moment to think, the muscle in her jaw jumping slightly. “In the Delta Quadrant, there was potential destruction in every encounter. We had no backup, no one to call for help, only ourselves to rely upon. That experience has greatly shaped my current approach to handling a First Contact scenario.”

Kelly spread her hands, confused. “But then you should have backed me up and fired on them. Taken care of them before they tried to take care of us.”

“But they weren't a threat.”

“You couldn't know that!”

“I did.” Janeway shifted in her chair, barely confined energy. “Kiara, take a step back. You're Raelien. Someone has invaded your space, someone much larger and from all indications, much more powerful. If you're going to throw it all away on an attempt to destroy us, how would you go about it?”

Kelly took a moment, wondering why she hadn't thought about it before. “I'd remain concealed until the last possible moment, and then I'd go after any weak ... or in this case, apparently weaker ... spot.”

“And that is?”

Kelly didn't hesitate. She knew this one. “The aft dorsal transwarp pod. The shielding in that area is distorted by the proximity of the coil, which makes it appear defenseless, even though it's more heavily shielded than the rest of the ship.”

“You certainly wouldn't attempt to ram us.”

“No, I'd come in from above and behind, using the nebula for cover as long as I could. That's the only possibility for a weaker vessel.”

“And a stronger vessel intent on destroying us wouldn't pass up such an obvious weakness. They might be suspicious of it, but they'd attempt to rule it out completely before they went after anything else. The Raeliens did none of this. They approached openly, and they didn't attempt to fire on us.”

Kelly exhaled slowly. “I didn't consider that.”

“Yet battle tactics are your strength, Commander. They're what you've relied upon your entire career. That shouldn't change just because you're in a bigger ship.” Janeway paused, dipping her head as she pinned her with a look from beneath her lashes. “You're used to being prey, Kiara. Your mistake was in suddenly thinking of yourself as a predator because of the size of Millennium. You didn't ignore your instincts entirely; you merely applied them incorrectly.”

“So, you're telling me that you command Millennium as if you're still commanding an Intrepid-class vessel? A courier ship?”

“Not exactly. What I did is take a split second to put myself on the other ship. It may or may not have a bearing on the next split second when I must make the decision. Had you done that, you would have known the approach vector was all wrong for a vessel that size to attack us, regardless of whether they returned our hails or not.”

“But they could have been attempting a distraction, or been really stupid and suicidal.”

“Perhaps, but the bridge crew would have given you information to indicate that. Ro would have let you know if there were other ships in the vicinity. You need to rely on your people. I have the best Starfleet has to offer. I made damned sure of that when I built my crew.”

Kelly stared at her bleakly, the words seeping into her consciousness with a power that was undeniable. “I have so much to learn.”

Janeway regarded her evenly. “I'll teach you, Number One ... if only you'll let me.”

Kiara blinked. There was no sarcasm lacing the appellation.

Finally.

Janeway maintained the calm, pleasant expression on her face until the door had hissed shut behind Kelly. Then she rolled her eyes skyward and let out her breath in a huff. Seven had advised her to reach out, try to see things from Kelly's side, but it was difficult. She simply wasn't used to anyone possessing that number of pips being so uninformed. She was also painfully aware that there were at least ten officers on the ship who were better suited for the position of first officer. Of course, that made Janeway realize how lucky she was to have maintained the crew she had. She kept Ro, she knew, because it was recognized that as long as she was training first officers, she needed a solid third officer. And as long as she had Ro, she had B'Elanna, because neither woman was prepared to serve somewhere without the other, and neither was afraid of walking away from the uniform if they weren't accommodated. Seven, of course, was protected because of her marriage to Janeway. Everyone else was up for grabs. Maybe it was a good thing Nechayev kept sending these unproven and untried people to her. It was certainly better than Starfleet taking Janeway's other officers away and assigning them to various parts of Federation.

Thinking of Seven made the captain reflect on the morning. The Borg was off kilter about something, and Janeway realized she should have taken her partner's display of neediness a little more seriously. Feeling a decided sense of regret over not pursuing it, she was about to contact the young woman to find out if she were free for lunch, intending to have a long talk with her, when a hail from the bridge abruptly interrupted.

“Captain, you'd better see this.”

Outside the ready room, Ro and Kelly were gathered in the pit, hovering over the science station where Seven of Nine was working. On the fore viewscreen, the constant pink and purple cloud had dissipated somewhat to reveal a black void. In it, a tiny sliver of something hovered tantalizingly in the center of the area that appeared unnaturally clear of dust and gases.

“What is that?” she demanded as she took a seat in her command chair.

“Sensors indicate it is a vessel,” Seven said without looking back, as Kelly and Ro made their way to their own stations. “Located in what appears to be a sort of 'clear zone' within the nebula. I do not fully understand these readings. They are unlike any I have ever encountered.” Since Seven maintained knowledge from over ten thousand species from her time in the Collective, it was a somewhat disturbing statement.

“Captain, I would recommend we tread carefully,” Kelly offered.

Janeway flicked a brief glance in her direction, but nodded in agreement. Kelly had a decided bent for suspecting the worst of a situation, but that wasn't always a bad thing. “Helm, slow to one quarter impulse.” The ship, already traversing the nebula at impulse, slowed even more. “In fact, take a course that orbits the outer reaches of this clear zone until we know more about it. Keep us within the boundaries of the dust cloud.”

“That will hinder our scan of the vessel, Captain,” T'Shanik, the Vulcan operations officer objected logically. “We'll be able to access long range sensor readings only.”

“We'll have to live with that,” Janeway told her with no uncertainty. “There's no need to take Millennium any closer until we figure out exactly what's going on.”

At the helm, Nog quickly made the adjustments to the ship's heading and Millennium began a slow sweep around the empty zone.

“This could be considered the center of the nebula, Captain.” Ro's hands moved lightly over her board. “It's also the origin of the magnetascopic radiation we've been tracking since entering the nebula.”

“The zone?”

“The vessel.”

Intrigued, Janeway stared at the small silver splinter floating in the darkness. “Can you magnify at all?”

“Attempting to, Captain,” T'Shanik said coolly. “There is a great deal of interference from the radiation. There are also some inert areas of space within the zone that deflects our sensor readings. It's almost as if they're 'void bubbles' of some kind.”

The viewscreen altered, fuzzing slightly before clearing to reveal a somewhat ungainly vessel, bristling with various protrusions and bulges, vaguely cigar shaped but lacking any kind of sleekness. They couldn't make out a lot of detail, but at least they had a better sense of its shape and size. It wasn't very large by Starfleet standards, but for other space-travelers, such the Raeliens who inhabited this sector and used the nebula extensively as a safe harbor, it dwarfed their tiny ships.

“It appears the magnetascopic radiation in the nebula has been artificially generated, rather than caused by a collapsed photon star as initially thought.” Kelly remarked, looking somewhat satisfied, as if some pet theory of hers had somehow been validated by the information. “Is it a weapon of some kind?”

Seven shook her head. “It appears to be a malfunction in the propulsion system. Some sort of pulse generated by the power source. It builds up until it reaches critical mass, then unleashes in a wave of pure energy. It may have been a failsafe designed to bleed off excess power.” She raised her chin. “Highly inefficient.”

“So, it would seem,” Janeway said dryly, thinking of how the random surges of energy exploded through the nebula, lessening in intensity as they traveled through the combination of dust and gas until they dissipated entirely in the outermost reaches of the spatial anomaly. But occasionally, they didn't decrease in strength due to some quirk in the ebb and flow of currents within the nebula, intersecting with unsuspecting ships with devastating results, as demonstrated by a response to a distress call by the crew of Millennium a couple of weeks earlier.

“Captain, the signature of the vessel is Elthanian, but it's been here for some time,” T'Shanik offered. “Our readings indicate that it is approximately 389.33 years old.”

Janeway's lips twitched. Her notion of approximate differed slightly from the operation officer's. It was enough to know that the ship was almost four hundred years old. She didn't need to know the day and month it had been launched. The Vulcan, of course, would not consider the readings accurate unless she could determine the exact moment it entered this area of space.

“Lifesigns?”

“Unlikely,” Ro offered, but she studied her data intently. “No indication of any, Captain, but there does appear to be a storage area maintaining large amounts of organic material. Part of the ship has been exposed to hard vacuum while the rest of the atmosphere is poisoned by burn off. Large concentrations of carbon dioxide and methane.”

“Was it a freighter of some kind?”

“Possibly,” Seven said coolly.

“Not from the weapons signature,” the security officer determined. “They have a lot of armament on board from what I can tell, though it's primitive.”

“A raider?” Janeway stared at the screen thoughtfully. “Is there any evidence of damage?”

“There are multiple hull breeches along the port side, battle scarring perhaps.”

“A battle it lost.” Kelly frowned as she stared at the screen. “Why hasn't it been salvaged, if not by the Elthanian, then by the Raeliens?”

“Maybe they tried and those magnetascopic pulses made it impossible,” Janeway pointed out. “Their vessels, even now, can't take too much of it at a greater distance. That many years ago, their technology would have been even more susceptible.” She took a breath. “I'm afraid to think about what might be in that cargo hold.”

Kelly looked back with a puzzled expression, and the captain realized that the first officer didn't know what she was referring to. An oversight, Janeway thought. She should have filled Kelly in on the revelations provided at the formal dinner the captain had held for Jiidan, the Confederation ambassador, some weeks earlier.

“Captain, if we could send over an away team, we might be able to retrieve whatever is in that cargo bay.” Ro glanced over her shoulder expectantly. “It could prove to be beneficial in any future negotiations with the Raeliens.”

Janeway thought about it. If what she suspected was true, and they could retrieve what were most likely the corpses of Raeliens killed by an Elthanian hunting party, they could return them to the aliens who held great store in the proper disposal of their dead. Better still, she could have Jiidan, in his role as ambassador, return them as a gesture of good will, possibly opening the way for future negotiations between the bitter race of people and the large multi-species alliance that bordered so much of their space. It could grant the Raeliens the opportunity to become part of something bigger than themselves, allowing them to evolve into a true civilization, rather than continuing to scrap by while clinging desperately to their limited territory. They had maintained their independence for a long time, but Janeway knew it was completely due to the benevolence of their neighbors who were currently governed by the policies of the Confederation. She had studied enough history to know that could change any time.

“Transporters are nonfunctional within the nebula,” Seven reminded the captain, turning her chair so that she could face Janeway. “A shuttle craft, lacking Millennium's multi-phasic shielding, would be vulnerable to the pulses.”

“We could adapt one of the delta flyers,” Kelly suggested, also shifting her seat around “Bolster the shielding.”

“Captain, those 'bubbles' T'Shanik referred to? They're 'dead zones' of some kind, possibly created by the long-term effects of the radiation. If intersected, all power, including shields, propulsion and life support, would be disrupted,” Nog offered over his shoulder. “It would be very tricky to navigate safely without running into one.”

The young lieutenant was merely offering information the captain required in making her decision, but Janeway saw Kelly shoot the Ferengi a quick glance of contempt, as if the first officer suspected the helmsman of some form of cowardice. The captain blinked, suddenly realizing what the woman's problem was with him. She'd have to do something about it and soon. The Ferengi's reputation for caution and avoidance of physical confrontation was legendary ... they preferred to buy or trick their way out of trouble ... but that hardly told the real story of the young officer who had served in Starfleet during the time of the Dominion War. Besides, Janeway would rather have an officer who thought his way out of trouble than one who tried blindly to fight his way out. It was obviously one more lesson Kelly needed in her ambition to become a good captain.

Janeway stifled a sigh and resolved not to think about it, because when she did, the looming task of teaching Kelly was so daunting, it made her quake inside. Instead, she focused on the need to send an away team over to the vessel. If it proved too dangerous, she wouldn't bother, but she expected her people to accomplish great things as a matter of course.

“Seven, could a delta flyer be modified to transport a team safely?”

The Borg considered the question for a moment, and Janeway took the time to appreciate the play of light on the narrow features, the way the brilliant blue eyes narrowed in thought, and how the muscles in the long neck shifted as Seven tilted her head slightly. The captain suspected the young woman had no idea how adorable she looked when she was concentrating on a problem. Of course, Janeway would be the first to admit that she was somewhat biased in her opinion.

“I would need to confer with Commander Torres,” Seven concluded finally. “It is theoretically possible, but she will know if it can actually be done.”

Janeway nodded. “Do it. In the meantime, we'll maintain orbit and gather as much information as we can. Commander Kelly, assuming Seven and B'Elanna are successful, I need you to draw up an away team roster.”

She took another look at the vessel, wondering if she dared lead the mission and whether it was worth the argument that was bound to arise when she made her intentions clear.

Seven settled into the seat at the ops station on the Delta Wing. Her head still ached slightly from the pointed and somewhat heated argument she had shared with Janeway regarding a suggestion about the captain leading the away mission. It didn't help that Kelly, Ro and B'Elanna had all agreed that Janeway really needed to remain on Millennium. That only made the captain more stubborn, and when the real discussion regarding the suggestion had taken place in the captain's ready room between the Borg and her spouse, far from the hearing and input of the other officers, the Borg had to use every bit of logic she possessed to convince Janeway she should remain behind. Even then, she wasn't sure she had. Sometimes, Seven didn't know if she won those arguments so much as it was Janeway strategically retreating to build up her resources for another, more important argument in the future that the Borg would not be able to win.

She did not underestimate the innate wiliness of her commanding officer, having intimate experience with it on several levels.

At the engineering station, B'Elanna took her place, while at the helm, Tom Paris began the pre-launch sequence. Ro made a final check on the cockpit to make sure things were secure before sitting down on the small seat behind Tom. For a second, it was like old times, with the original Delta Flyer and the crew of Voyager off on another adventure, but a glance at the uniforms, including the one that Seven now wore and hadn't then, dissipated the sensation quickly. The young woman dismissed the feeling and returned to work.

The trip over to the alien vessel was uneventful, though Tom had to navigate carefully to avoid the 'void bubbles' that would cause the engines to shut down and strand them in the clear zone. Not that they would have long to complain about going nowhere, since those same bubbles of nothingness would also remove life support, even within the environmental suits they were planning to wear while on the derelict ship.

“Approaching starboard side of the vessel,” Tom announced. “I think I can dock.”

“Do it,” Ro said, sounding very much like her captain. She glanced over her shoulder at Seven and B'Elanna. “Go suit up.”

Seven nodded and rose from her chair, following B'Elanna into the rear compartment where the suits were located. After pulling on the bulky protective garment and checking over B'Elanna's equipment, as the engineer did for her, they ran another scan with the external sensors on the alien ship, making sure there was nothing corrosive in the remaining atmosphere that would damage the material of their suits. By the time they finished, they had docked and Ro had joined them in the mission module, with Tom close on her heels.

“B'Elanna, I want you and Seven to head for the engine room and see if you can't shut down that pulse,” she instructed. “Tom and I will check out the cargo bay.”

Behind her, Paris looked surprised. “I get to come? I thought I had to stay with the ship.”

Ro frowned, shooting him a look. “Why? Are you afraid someone's going to steal it?”

Tom spread his hands. “It's just that the last few missions, I've been stuck holding the fort.”

Ro didn't exactly smile, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “Those team leaders were somewhat more by-the-book than I am.” She didn't add that was because the captain trusted Ro to run away missions her way, unlike Kelly who had been leading previous missions. “I have no intention of exploring that cargo bay on my own.”

Tom offered a charming smile. “I understand, Commander. It's scary being on a death ship.”

Ro looked bored. “Don't make me regret bringing you along, Lieutenant.”

The emphasis on Tom's reduced rank made the pilot wince as he headed for the compartment containing the suits. Ro ignored him and tapped on the transparent face shield of B'Elanna's headpiece.

“Be careful in there,” she said, her voice suddenly gentle. “Remember, communications are disrupted and we're only going to be able to talk to each other if we're in close proximity. Even bulkheads will interfere with the comm signal.”

The engineer, who was also Ro's spouse, grinned, revealing slightly pointed teeth. “I'll remember. You be careful, too. You won't have the Borg backup I do.”

She flashed the grin in Seven's direction and made a gesture for her to follow. Seven checked her tricorder a final time and entered the cramped confines of the airlock, listening to the hiss as the air was vented. Her breath from the respirator was loud in her ears as the door slid open, allowing them to move across into the other ship's access port. The outer door of the derelict had functioned properly, but the inner one was obviously damaged. B'Elanna needed a moment before she could pry off the panel and cross-link the circuits, providing entrance to the ship.

This portion of the derelict had maintained an atmosphere, though it was murky and thick with dust. The readout on Seven's helmet display indicated that it was non-breathable, filled with toxic gases and lacking any significant quantities of oxygen or nitrogen.

“The artificial gravity has been compromised,” the Klingon said, her voice sounding very close and intimate, emanating through the privacy comm located near Seven's right ear. “The power circuits are damaged all up and down the ship.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Seven had already determined the lack of gravity, feeling the magnetic soles of her boots automatically activate and clamp down on the metal deck. The Starfleet officers stepped carefully through the darkened corridor, their head lamps reflecting eerily in the dim atmosphere. Both women hesitated as something moved from a nearby compartment, both turning clumsily in that direction. Dispassionately, Seven realized it was the desiccated body of a ship's crewmember, disturbed by their passage through the dead air, floating toward them almost as if it intended to greet them.

It had curled up in a ball, knees to chest, arms wrapped around them, as if the individual had returned to the fetal position upon death. It was difficult to tell it had been Elthanian, though long white hair still flowed from the mummified scalp, fanning out as it tumbled gently. Seven frowned as B'Elanna reached out to fend it off, inadvertently breaking off a fragile limb, which spun away in another direction.

“Whoops,” the engineer said, somewhat irreverently.

“Commander, it behooves us to be as respectful of all the dead, not merely those who may or may not be discovered in the cargo bay.” Seven regarded her disapprovingly and the Klingon sighed.

“You're right, 'Nik, cannibal hunting party or not.” B'Elanna removed a small packet from a pocket in her suit, unfurling it to reveal a body bag. They were all carrying a significant supply on their persons, having suspected what they would find here. With difficulty, the engineer managed to snag the body and maneuver it into the pouch as Seven retrieved the errant limb and returned it to the engineer.

B'Elanna sealed the bag and attached it to the bulkhead with a magnetic clasp, holding it in place. “Come on,” she ordered. “We'll probably run across more on the way to the engine room.”

B'Elanna's words were prophetic as they made their way aft. Seven found the task of bagging the remains unpleasant, but not as much as it would be had they been freshly dead, the various bodily fluids not yet evaporated away in the arid atmosphere.

“This is like old times, Seven.”

Seven blinked. “I do not remember having cause to deal with the remains of the dead very often in your company.”

“I was referring to us being on an away mission together,” B'Elanna corrected. There was a hint of exasperation in her voice, and Seven smiled secretly to herself. “We don't get much of a chance to just 'hang out'.”

“We have dinner together approximately every two weeks.”

“That's all four of us, the captain and Laren included. I mean just the two of us having time together. We hardly talk like we used to.”

Seven pursed her lips. “It is the nature of our current assignment,” she agreed, not without her own sense of regret. “We rarely have the opportunity to work closely as we did on Voyager. Our responsibilities are different, and so are our daily routines.”

“I miss it.”

Seven turned her head to meet the Klingon's eyes. “I miss it, as well,” she admitted. “I shall make the effort to spend more time with you in the future.”

A grin spread over B'Elanna's face and she nodded before returning to the task of easing the contorted remains of what once must have been an engineering officer into the thin, yet strong interior of the bag. They worked quietly for a few more moments. There had been six bodies trapped in this compartment just outside what the Starfleet officers believed was the engine room. Seven wondered if these individuals had been afraid when they died, or if the end had come so quickly, they didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She discovered she was hoping it was the latter, and wondered at this sentimentality. She really was becoming very human, she thought in disapproval.

“These don't much look like the Elthanians we know and love,” B'Elanna remarked, sealing up the bag. She shot a mischievous glance at the Borg through the face shield. “Correction, the Elthanians that know and love you.”

Seven sighed. “I do not believe Tazna Jade loved me,” she informed the engineer. Perhaps she did not miss this part of their interaction so much, she thought wryly. Seven's love life had always been a topic of great interest to the Klingon. “She was merely attracted to me, finding me something of a challenge.”

“Her and the rest of the known universe. I hear you shot down Madison the other night. I can't believe he actually thought he stood a chance with you.”

“He did not realize I was married.

“He still wouldn't have stood a chance with you,” B'Elanna noted knowingly. “He's a jerk.”

Seven considered it. “He was somewhat inept in his approach.”

“Good thing Janeway doesn't know. She'd have him scrubbing out plasma relays the rest of the mission. Or have you told her?”

“It was an irrelevant incident.” Seven paused, and despite her better instincts, found herself adding, “Do you think I should?” B'Elanna's advice regarding personal matters was rarely useful, but Seven couldn't help falling into old patterns, even as she recognized what she was doing.

“Well, if she hears it from someone else, she could go ballistic. You know how jealous she is.”

“For no reason.”

B'Elanna laughed. “She thinks she has plenty of reasons. I bet she wouldn't have been as quick to grab you for herself if she'd known how hard it was to keep all the other hopefuls at bay.”

“I do not require Kathryn's protection when it comes to these matters.” Seven was a bit piqued. “I am quite capable of handling advances from others. Her jealousy can occasionally be flattering, but overall, it is an indication of her need for control. I have to remind her on occasion that I am the one person on the ship over which her control is exceedingly limited, particularly in personal matters.”

B'Elanna paused in her motion. “Who are you trying to kid, Seven? We both know that if Janeway asked you to jump off a bridge, you'd do it without complaint.”

Seven lifted a brow. “So, would you,” she pointed out reasonably. “That has nothing to do with her being my spouse, and everything to do with her being the captain we trust with our lives. We know implicitly that she would not ask anything of us that was not absolutely necessary.”

The Klingon blinked, becoming soberer and less jocular in her tone as she pursued the conversation. “Fair enough, but isn't that hard? Not only is she your wife, she's your captain.”

Seven considered that. “You are assuming that she holds the same dominant position within our personal relationship that she does in our professional life.”

“Doesn't she?”

“Only as much as I allow it,” Seven said with absolute certainty. “In truth, it is Kathryn who would 'leap from a bridge' if I requested it. My demands are not always as reasonable as hers.”

B'Elanna looked at her, obviously surprised by the admission. “No kidding?”

Seven lifted one shoulder briefly in a small shrug. “As an example, Kathryn is not, by nature, domestically disciplined. She enjoys a certain amount of clutter in her existence, particularly when working on personal projects. Yet, with me, she is scrupulously neat, picking up after herself immediately. I demand that of her, demand that she go against her basic nature to satisfy my desire for organization and structure. In contrast, I have not adjusted to become untidy for her.”

“That's such a small thing,” the Klingon scoffed.

“It is indicative of the greater adaptation she has made being married to me,” Seven insisted. “Kathryn is fiercely independent, even when she believes she is part of team. In truth, she is only part of the 'team' when she is in command of it. In our marriage, that is not the case. Occasionally, there are disagreements about how we shall adapt, but ultimately, we share equal influence in the relationship. Furthermore, I am aware that Kathryn would do absolutely anything to please me if I were to make it a demand. She would even give up her command. It would not make her happy in the long term, but I absolutely believe she would take that step if I asked it of her. No one else in her life has ever held that power over her.”

Her eyes grew distant. “I know that had I decided to remain on Earth to be close to my mother, Kathryn would have stayed with me. It would have required her to give up everything, not only her command, but possibly her commission in Starfleet. That is more important to her than I think even she realizes. It is her strongest tie to her father, and the most important touchstone in who she believes herself to be, yet she would walk away from it without hesitation simply to be with me. That knowledge is more powerful than any minor disagreement we may have regarding our respective roles in our relationship.”

B'Elanna was staring at her, eyes dark. “That's an impressive thing to be aware of,” she said finally, in a quiet voice.

Seven nodded somberly. “I must never take advantage of that part of her.”

B'Elanna tilted her head, a sudden awareness dawning in her eyes. “But isn't that what you did earlier today?”

Startled, Seven looked at her. “I do not understand.”

“Isn't that why you asked to see Janeway in her ready room after she said she wanted to lead the away mission? It wasn't really to discuss the scientific implications of the derelict, like you pretended; it was really to talk her out of coming along. After you came out, that's when she appointed Laren the leader and announced she and Kelly would remain on the ship. What did you say to her in there?”

Seven handled this one carefully. “The captain did not truly wish to lead the mission. It was merely a passing fancy. Had she truly desired to command the away team, nothing I could say would have made a difference and she would now be here. That is not the sort of decision to which I am referring.”

B'Elanna looked askance at her, but didn't say anything further. Seven had the sense that the Klingon didn't quite believe her, but that was irrelevant. Perhaps she could not explain the combination of tolerant acceptance and respectful compromises that comprised her relationship with Janeway, but it wasn't necessary that she do so. It was enough that she was aware of it when she approached the issues that arose between them.

As she followed B'Elanna into the engine room, she wondered how that partnership of give and take would apply when she informed the captain she intended to halt her progression toward Humanity.