"Report," Janeway demanded as she exited the turbolift in a hurry, moving briskly across the bridge to take her place in the command chair. Seven was not far behind her, making her way immediately to the science station.

"Three Kazon vessels," Zar said crisply. "They were lurking in a gas cloud, which obscured their warp signatures, and came out firing. They seem to have been waiting for us."

"No response to our hails," Tarn said, her voice tense. Janeway could see the whites in the young woman's eyes, and to counter the heightened atmosphere on the bridge, the captain deliberately settled down in her seat, radiating an aura of tranquillity and competence in order to calm things down.

"I knew it was too good to be true when none showed up while we were orbiting the Ocampa homeworld," she noted coolly. "They must have detected us in orbit, and rather than confront us directly, they set up an ambush." She glanced around the bridge. "Status."

"Shields are holding," Ro Laren said. "Weapons are standing by."

"According to our sensors, the Millennium is far more powerful than they are, Captain," Zar explained as he took his post in the pit. "I wasn't ready to fire back just yet, even with the three of them attacking."

"Unfortunately, Commander, the Kazon aren't known for their diplomacy," Janeway said dryly. "They tend to shoot first and ask questions later. It's been my experience that first you have to get their attention before you can sit and discuss sweet reason with them. Commander Ro, please remind this group that it would be better to talk than fight. They seem to have forgotten how it works with Starfleet."

"Aye, Captain," Ro said, her hands moving lightly over the board. "Activating phasers. Targeting their weapons array."

"The flight deck indicates all fighters are prepared for launch," Zar reported, glancing back at the captain. "They're standing by for your orders."

For a second, Janeway stared at him blankly, wondering what the hell he was talking about. Belatedly, she remembered that her ship was carrying an entire fleet of auxiliary vessels, including eighteen KillerBee fighters designed to protect Millennium during a conflict. But she was used to dealing with things on her own, without benefit of a lot of little ships flitting about the area and confusing matters. With a slight frown, she shook her head.

"Tell them to remain at station keeping," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I don't think we need to try overwhelming the Kazon with sheer numbers just yet."

He glanced back at her, his expression slightly clouded, as if he didn't agree, but he nodded his head and conveyed the message to the three hangar decks.

Looking up at the viewscreen which dominated the fore part of the bridge, Janeway studied the three massive ships which lumbered across the stardusted backdrop of space. Eight years earlier, Voyager had been a respectable match for the Kazon, though three vessels would have made things difficult for the Intrepid-class ship. The Millennium, constructed with the very latest in Federation weapons and shield technology, enhanced greatly by the cruel necessity of the Dominion War, was to Voyager what a hawk was to a sparrow. It was more than a match for Kazon vessels that were probably the same type that had patrolled the area eight years earlier. Ruby beams of phaser fire lanced out from her vessel to impact with satisfying force, punching through the enemy's shields and hull plating like a hot knife through butter, and destroying all their weapons capability, leaving them defenseless before the might of the Federation.

Janeway knew that her ship would undoubtedly encounter great obstacles while exploring the Delta Quadrant, as well as potential threats which would require all their advanced technology and skill to overcome, but for now, the captain was impressed beyond reason with her new vessel. There had been many times when she had felt vulnerable in the Delta Quadrant, always aware of Voyager's small size and how fragile a lone ship could be when facing an entire civilization like the Kazon. Millennium was a distinct change, leaving the captain with a sense of empowerment. Even feeling vaguely like a bully as she watched the three Kazon vessels heel over and drift away, trailing gases and fire from their hull.

"Their weapons capability has been destroyed," Ro informed the bridge, with only the slightest trace of satisfaction lacing her tone.

"We're getting a response to our hails," Tarn announced from Ops.

"I'll just bet we are," Janeway muttered, straightening in her chair and raking her fingers through her hair in an unconscious and futile attempt to tidy it. "On screen."

To Janeway's surprise, the communication signal cleared to reveal not a Kazon, but a representative of the Trabe. Apparently, more things had changed in this sector than she had anticipated. She wondered how much of the change was due to the presence of a Federation ship which had crossed this territory years earlier, becoming far more involved in the politics and developing culture of the region than anyone, least of all her, had wanted.

"I am Maras, First Crim of the Trabe Republic," the man on the viewscreen announced, glaring at the Federation captain. "Why do you trespass within our space?"

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Millennium," Janeway said mildly, though she disliked the officious little man at first sight. "We meant no offense. We merely came here to contact the Ocampa who lived in the star system we just departed." She paused. "I was under the impression that this area was dominated by the Kazon."

His face twisted. "We and the Kazon are at war, and have been for the past three years," he said. "This area of space is under dispute and no place for casual travelers."

"I thank you for the information," Janeway offered genially, as if his vessel had not just attacked her ship. Of course, since Millennium had proven to be superior in both fire power and defensive capabilities, it was probably in everyone's best interest to present a peaceful intent, particularly since no one else was. "I'm curious as to how the Trabe managed to recover those vessels. The last time we were in this area of space, the Trabe were without technological support, and denied space travel."

Having defined themselves as not being allied with their enemies, the commander of the vessel seemed to soften slightly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You're aware of the situation?"

"Only the history of the sector," Janeway said carefully. "I'm aware that the Trabe had become nomads, wandering through space, and denied the right to settle on a new world by the Kazon." She did not add that perhaps they had deserved it, considering how they had treated the Kazon when they had held the upper hand. The Trabe had even attempted to betray Janeway when she made arrangements for a brief cessation of hostilities between both peoples in order to discuss a plan of peace. The conference had turned out be a trap by the Trabe leader, an attempt to assassinate all the Kazon first majes gathered together in one place.

She still possessed a little ill will toward the Trabe for that incident.

"Despite a failed attempt to destroy the majes once and for all, the Trabe nonetheless took heart in the initiative of Mabus, our leader, and we were able to retake some of our larger vessels. It has been a difficult struggle, but one we are slowly winning. While the Kazon are divided and fractured, our people are united and strong. We will overcome."

Janeway inhaled slowly in the face of this rhetoric, determining that Voyager's influence in the region had not been entirely benign. She was aware that part of her mission to the Delta Quadrant, though it wasn't common knowledge to most of the crew, was to find out just how big an impact the Federation's previous incursion into the Delta Quadrant had created. It wasn't just Voyager who had influenced the local civilizations either, since Janeway knew of at least one other Starfleet vessel taken from the Alpha Quadrant by the Caretaker. The crew of the USS Equinox had conducted themselves in a less than exemplary manner. There had also been reports of several missing vessels in the Bajoran Badlands around the same time that couldn't entirely be chalked up to Maquis or Cardassian attacks. They might have ended up in this quadrant instead.

"As I said, we're just passing through. We have no desire to interfere with your affairs." Any more than we already have, she added glumly to herself. She was already dreading how she would explain this development in her mission logs. She lifted a brow. "I don't suppose you know anything about the disappearance of the Ocampa?"

"The species that lived beneath the Kazon Ogla settlement?" he said dismissively. "They're gone. They were gone when we destroyed the settlement."

"Yes," Janeway said with forced patience, not allowing herself to react to the implication that the Trabe had destroyed a defenceless colony of Kazon. "I know they're gone. Do you happen to know where they might have gone?"

"That is not our concern," he said. "They were weak. Only the strong survive. The Trabe are strong."

She bit down on her first response, and managed to maintain a cool expression. "We will continue on this heading for the next few days. Am I correct in believing that will take us out of the disputed sector of space?"

He nodded stiffly. "Yes, but I would take care with any vessel that approaches you. Not all will be Trabe."

"Oh, you mean the Kazon will also shoot at us without provocation?" Janeway asked blandly, unable to resist. His gaze darkened, and she smiled sweetly at him. "We'll take care. In the meantime, perhaps you should be more cautious about whom you provoke. Not everyone will be as forgiving of misunderstandings as we are." Her voice deepened, became vaguely threatening. "Nor will we continue to be in the future."

He did not respond, cutting the channel, and she exhaled audibly, a little exasperated with herself for indulging her annoyance with him. It was obvious that her diplomatic skills were a bit rusty after a year and a half of running the Utopia Planitia shipyards, and she made a mental note to work a little harder at it next time. Just because she had been yanked out of the pleasant afterglow of a strenuous lovemaking session with her partner was no reason to take her aggravation out on an alien captain, despite his attempted ambush. Starfleet expected better of her, and she expected better of herself.

"The Trabe vessels are moving off," Ro said.

"Stand down from red alert." Janeway was suddenly aware of feeling sticky and mussed beneath her uniform. Neither she nor Seven had taken time to clean up before responding to the bridge, and while Seven looked immaculate, as she always managed with little effort, Janeway just hoped none of her bridge crew would pass close enough to her to get a whiff of what she had been so enthusiastically enjoying prior to being jolted out of bed.

"Standing down," Zar said, as the lights on the bridge brightened, and the crimson wash of the alert status disappeared. There was also a tangible relaxation of tension in the atmosphere, and Janeway saw a few crewmembers shake out their shoulders or rub their necks. It made her realize that she hadn't been the only one with slight apprehension about how they would operate during their first challenge.

"Good work, people," she said. "Lt. Nog, resume course out of Kaz—Trabe space. Let's keep our shields up."

"Captain?"

Zar had risen from his post and moved close to her, obviously wanting to speak to her more confidentially than a normal tone from his station could achieve. Janeway tried not to squirm in embarrassment, hoping he wouldn't detect the undeniable traces of her love life. Somehow, it had been easier with Chakotay, her previous first officer acting almost like a big brother to her at times, and ready to tease her at a moment's notice. With Zar, she wasn't entirely sure how he would react to a married captain, or how she chose to handle that marriage.

"Yes?" she prompted, hoping that she could finish it quickly and get back to her quarters.

"We have three squadrons of fighters prepped and ready to go from the flight deck. I know we didn't need them, but perhaps this would be a good opportunity for them to run some escort duty. Not only would it give them something useful to do, it will prevent all that pent up energy from being released in inappropriate ways."

Janeway considered it. She hadn't really wanted the auxiliary fleet on her vessel, but it had been determined by the Starfleet brass that the Millennium would carry the same type of support vessels on this mission as a space station possessed. It was to offset the fact that they would be out of touch with the Federation, and might need the extra protection.

"That's probably a good idea," she allowed quietly. "Very well. Contact Mr. Paris and have him set up regular escort runs until we're clear of this sector of space. I'm sure he has enough people to keep up a full rotation of duty."

Zar nodded. "It'll keep them out of trouble."

She regarded him. "Do you think that's something I need to look at?"

"Not yet, Captain," he said. "It's just ... I remember the problems we sometimes had with the pilots on DS12, and since these officers are undoubtedly cut from the same cloth, they undoubtedly have more energy than is good for them. Since their job is basically to stand by until they're needed, which is usually in a crisis situation, we're going to have to find ways to keep them busy the rest of the time, or suffer the consequences."

She nodded. "I'll leave it in your hands," she told him. "In the meantime, I'm returning to my quarters." She winced slightly at the reminder, hoping he wouldn't take it as an invitation to make some comment about her state of dishabille, as Chakotay certainly would have. However, he merely dipped his head in acknowledgment, and stepped back as she rose from her command chair, handing the conn over to him.

Shooting a look at Seven who moved to her side, the couple left the bridge and headed back to their quarters, hoping to reclaim that golden glow that had been so rudely interrupted, or at least, get some sleep before they were expected to report for duty the next day.

The Nexus, located on deck twelve, was packed this night, with the crew still agitated and energized from the ship's red alert, their conversations louder than usual, their gestures more animated. In the corner of the Millennium's central lounge where the crew gathered to eat and socialize, Ensign Tarn sat with her back against the wall and brooded about her actions during the battle with the Trabe, as well as how she had performed over the past few days. She thought she could have been more assertive with her responses to the captain, quicker to offer answers instead of more questions. She could have been more professional, taking the time to read logs pertaining to this area of space instead of appearing as someone with lax work habits and little ambition.

There was no question that being on the Millennium was a lot different than being at the Academy. There, Tarn had been respected, the top of her class and the one person the other cadets turned to for leadership. She had been pegged as the one most likely to succeed. On this starship, she spent most of the time feeling like a stupid kid, one whose presence was barely tolerated on a bridge full of adults, expected to fail at any minute. Morosely, she took a sip of her drink and wished she had never accepted this assignment, even though it was considered one of the more desirable postings in Starfleet.

"Tarn."

The ensign blinked and glanced up to see Marcos make his way across the room. The stocky pilot had attended the Academy with her, and was one of the few people on the ship she knew well enough to talk to beyond a superficial greeting. Accompanying him were a few other young people, including the ship's helmsman, all carrying drinks and bowls of snacks. Without asking, they plopped themselves down at her table, descending upon her like a tidal wave before she could avoid it. Part of her wondered if it was her company they were necessarily after, or the fact that the rest of the chairs at her table were unoccupied, making the location quite desirable in the crowded lounge.

"Elisa, this is Lt. T'Shanik, the beta squad leader," Marcos said, wasting no time in introducing his companions, gesturing first to the pretty Vulcan who offered a grave nod of acknowledgment. "Alexis Spencer is the xeno-specialist in sickbay." Spencer seemed a little older than the others, but that was to be expected considering medical personnel required four more years of training at Starfleet Medical after the Academy, and another period of internship at a ground or station-based hospital before being allowed to accept a shipboard assignment. That meant Millennium was probably Dr. Spencer's first deep-space duty as well. "You know Nog, of course."

"Actually, we haven't had much of a chance to talk," Nog offered politely, shooting a glance at the young woman who felt a little overwhelmed by all this company.

"Uh, no, we haven't," Tarn agreed. "The captain doesn't seem to be the sort to encourage small talk on the bridge."

"Do you find Captain Janeway to be hard-nosed?" Alexis asked curiously as she scooped up a handful of nuts from the bowl. She was classically rather than outrageously beautiful, a studious type with golden brown hair and an intelligent gaze. "I haven't had a chance to meet her."

"Neither have I," T'Shanik added. She regarded Tarn with level ebony eyes, her features delicate and impassive. "It's quite an accomplishment to be assigned to the bridge so early in one's career, and to the alpha shift in particular."

Had T'Shanik been anything but a Vulcan, Tarn thought she might have detected some envy in the even tones. However, since it was understood that Vulcans were above that sort of emotional weakness, she decided she was imagining things.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," she told her gloomily. "I think the only reason the captain assigned me there was to see how quickly I could screw up."

Nog frowned slightly. "I don't think that's how Captain Janeway operates."

"How would you know?" Marcos asked curiously.

"I hear things," Nog said with a certain authority, lifting his head. "It's important to know what your superior officers are like." Despite his relatively young age, the Ferengi brought more experience to the table than the rest of them because of his service on DS9 during the Dominion War, and they listened avidly to him. He took note of their attention, and elaborated further, his chest expanding almost as if he were attempting to make himself larger. "Captain Janeway is a fair captain, but she has a lot of crewmembers who served with her on Voyager. That will give them an advantage when it comes to advancing one's career. But she didn't bring along her former operations officer, so that gives you the perfect opportunity to profit, Ensign Tarn. The spot is waiting to be filled by someone who can make the most of it."

Considering it, Tarn shook her head. "Making the most of it is the least of my worries. I just don't want to do something stupid. Otherwise, I'll probably end up scrubbing out plasma conduits on the gamma shift for the rest of my tour of duty."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself," Alexis said. "Every ship in Starfleet has new graduates operating on the bridge, simply because there aren't enough experienced bodies to fill the positions. I doubt very much that she wants you to fail. The only reason she would put you there is because she probably believes you have the potential to be successful."

"You don't know how much she dislikes me," Tarn told the doctor glumly.

"Why would she dislike you?" Marcos asked, as the rest of them all looked at the Ops officer with varying degrees of curiosity and uncertainty.

Tarn hesitated, and then told her new friends about her encounter with the captain and the Borg in a park in San Francisco several months before she had applied for the position on the Millennium. She didn't try to gloss over the details which showed her in a less than flattering light, despite how embarrassed she continued to be over her actions. Because of her honesty, she thought that all of them were looking at her with a certain empathy by the time she had finished, wincing sympathetically as she described how it felt when the 'civilians' that she had been dismissing so cavalierly were none other than Captain Janeway, and her spouse, Seven of Nine.

"That was unfortunate," T'Shanik noted calmly.

"You sure know how to make a first impression," Alexis agreed.

"They're married?" Nog said in surprise. "Seven and the captain?"

Marcos laughed as the others looked at the Ferengi with amusement. "You sound so disappointed, buddy. Did you really think you'd stand a chance with our science officer if that weren't the case?"

Nog dipped his head, his golden skin darkening, but he managed a bit of a rueful grin, revealing pointed teeth. "No," he admitted. "But it certainly makes appreciating Lt. Hansen a great deal more dangerous. Imagine what would happen if the captain noticed me doing it?"

"Hmm, leering at the science officer," Alexis said dryly. "I suspect that wouldn't go over well whether they were married or not." She glanced at Tarn and changed the subject. "You know, you're not the only one in a difficult situation. You ought to try working in sickbay for a few days. Pulaski is a real bear of a supervisor, and the fights she has with that sentient EMH have to be heard to be believed. I don't know why she authorized his assignment to her staff if she didn't want him around."

"Maybe that's just her way," Marcos suggested. "Besides, if you want a really tough taskmaster, you ought to be serving under Lt. Paris. He can make you feel two centimeters tall when you make a mistake, even if it's only in a simulation. Right, T'Shanik?"

The Vulcan lifted an elegantly slanted brow. "It is entirely possible that any mistakes made in the holodeck are not anything he wishes to see repeated in actuality," she pointed out. "However, it is illogical why he chose not to allow any squadrons other than the alpha to run escort. Nor do I understand why the captain refrained from dispatching us to deal with the attack on the ship."

Tarn, who was gradually feeling better as she realized she wasn't the only junior officer facing difficulty in her new assignment, shook her head. "The auxiliary fleet wasn't required," she told them with a touch of awe in her voice. "You should have seen it. Captain Janeway just leaned back in her chair and told Commander Ro to teach the Trabe a lesson. The security chief took out all three ships in about ten seconds. It's scary how advanced our technology is in comparison to theirs."

"That's probably how Voyager survived for so long in the Delta Quadrant," Nog offered. "The Intrepid-class vessels are primarily Scout ships, after all."

"Let's not forget the reputation of our commanding officer, either," Alexis offered, sipping her drink as the waiter brought over another round for the group. "Whatever else happens, we have it a lot better on Millennium than they did on Voyager."

"Not including those who didn't make it back," Marcos said, and for a moment, silence descended on the group, abruptly reminded that their choice of career was not the safest one to pursue in the Federation.

"Still, it's obvious that Janeway is a captain who knows how to get her people through the worst of situations relatively intact," Alexis insisted, breaking the awkward moment. "How many other captains could keep an Intrepid-class ship intact for seven years without backup? Maybe Picard on the Enterprise, but very few others. Look what happened to Captain Ransom and his crew while they were out here. We should consider ourselves lucky that we have this assignment."

"Maybe you're right," Tarn said thoughtfully. Now that she was thinking about her situation in less pessimistic terms, she had to admit that things weren't so bad. She had even noticed that the first officer, as sinister as he appeared, seemed to be making an effort to boost her confidence, taking her along on an away mission and listening to her ideas. It had taken all her courage to speak up not only on the surface, but in the conference room, but in both cases, she had been listened to as courteously as any of the other officers by both he and the captain. Perhaps Janeway wasn't out to get her, after all.

Across the room, Lenara Kahn heard the cheerful chatter and good spirits of the young Starfleet officers in the corner, gazing over at them with a bit of envy. She vaguely remembered how it was when she was young, when her whole future lay before her like a shining jewel, just waiting to be seized. Many paths had beckoned, not the least of which was the option of joining to a symbiont, of hosting an alien life-form within her body and becoming one with it, experiencing the lives of all those who came before her. That had been her ultimate choice, her destiny, and by doing so, she had sealed her fate. Now she was old, as old as her symbiont, well over three hundred years. It didn't matter that her body was only thirty-eight, her mind was that of several lifetimes, but sometimes, the chatter of young people reminded her what it had been like, when she had known nothing, and had been blessed for it.

She sipped her raktajino and stared at the stars passing by the large windows which dominated this part of the lounge. She didn't know who had tagged the social center the 'Nexus', but the name had stuck, and someone had gone so far as to replicate a glowing sign to hang on the wall behind the bar. It flashed a glaring pink neon and provided the atmosphere with a sort of disreputable tinge, as if it were a station-side bar where it wasn't entirely clear she would be able to leave with all her credits, limbs or wits intact. The fact that it was located on a starship, where it was unlikely anything untoward would happen, did not alter the impression. Lenara wasn't sure how she felt about it. Kahn reveled in it. Together, they were content to drink their Klingon coffee and contemplate the unfamiliar stars passing by.

"Dr. Kahn?"

Lenara blinked and glanced over to discover Dr. Lewis regarding her uncertainly. As a hologram, he didn't need to eat or drink, but apparently he required company, and the somewhat plaintive expression on his face was the sort that only the hardest heart could deny. Lenara didn't have a hard heart, and graciously, she lifted her glass.

"Doctor," she invited. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," he said politely and settled in the chair across the table from her. He looked at her drink with slight envy and she smiled faintly.

"It must be difficult to be unable to imbibe," she said. "Eating and drinking is such a social behavior, and one that's denied you."

"It's not easy being a hologram," he agreed. He tilted his head slightly. "You seem somewhat isolated yourself, if you'll forgive my saying so."

The two had become better acquainted at a dinner Seven had hosted their last night at DS9, and Lenara had been surprised to discover he was quite animate and rather charming. She had heard of the claims to his being sentient, and how he had actually gone to court to fight for his rights as a viable life-form, but she had not expected him to be ... well, so human. Only the fact that he didn't breathe set him apart visually, and one actually had to study him closely to detect that.

"It takes time to adapt to new surroundings," Lenara admitted. "I guess all those years at the Trill Ministry of Science didn't do my socialization skills much good. I'm rather rusty at meeting new people and fitting in."

"Whereas I, on the other hand, have spent my existence on one starship or another in a support capacity," he agreed. "Believe me, you're not alone at finding it difficult to fill one's time while not on duty."

She lifted a brow, regarding him curiously. "I know you have no need of sleep. What do you do, just roam around the ship at night?" If he was taking any offense at what could admittedly be somewhat presumptuous questions, he gave no indication of it. Instead, she had noticed at the dinner that he seemed to enjoy talking about himself, and that continued here.

"I can turn myself off," he replied readily. "Certainly, my programming requires the occasional reset now and again, but I will admit, the nights do stretch on at times. I think that's part of the reason I developed so many interests beyond medicine. The longer I was activated, the more aware I became of a lack of purpose. Sometimes I wonder why I exist."

"That's a question asked by a great many. Maybe you'll find the answer on this voyage."

He nodded and she studied the dark depths of her beverage in the garish pink illumination. Perhaps she too would find a purpose on this voyage, and discover just what exactly had brought her out to the final frontier. Running from a doomed love shouldn't be the driving force in her existence. It was time she started running to something.

Whatever that might be.

Janeway groaned as she settled onto the mattress, and Seven looked over at her, wondering if something was wrong.

"Kathryn?"

"It's nothing," Janeway responded to her concern, putting a hand over her eyes as she settled back against her pillows. "It's just that I had forgotten how a red alert can leave one so agitated and unsettled. I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight."

Seven reached over and wrapped her fingers around Janeway's wrist, pulling the hand gently away from her face. "Roll over," she instructed firmly, familiar with this problem and knowing exactly how to deal with it. "I will rub your back until you are relaxed enough to sleep."

Janeway made a small sound of rueful pleasure. "Who will rub yours after I drift off?" she protested mildly.

"I am perfectly capable of going to sleep without assistance. I am Borg."

"Of course you are," Janeway said dryly, turning over onto her stomach. "How could I ever forget that?"

"In the event you do, I shall remind you," Seven returned, straddling Janeway's hips as her hands began to move over the smooth back, fingers prodding gently at those spots that were particularly tight. There was a knot that formed just under Janeway's left shoulder blade whenever she had been especially active, requiring a tender touch to coax out. Janeway groaned in heartfelt relief as Seven probed it, manipulated it, and then finally soothed it away.

"Heavens, that feels so good, love," she murmured, her face resting on her forearms, a pillow tucked beneath them. She paused, obviously reveling in the relaxing sensation, a small smile curling the corner of her mouth. "You know, Annika, I'm getting too old for this."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "To be massaged?"

Janeway made a small sound of amusement. "No, I meant I'm getting too old to pull a full duty shift, make wild, passionate love with you most of the evening, and then have to face a red alert. I'm not a lieutenant anymore."

Seven moved her palms in a rotating motion over the captain's spine. "Which do you wish to give up? The wild, passionate lovemaking or the red alerts?"

"Definitely the red alerts."

"I suspect it is not something you have a choice about."

"No, I don't suppose it is," Janeway agreed lazily.

"Therefore we must curb the lovemaking for your own good," Seven concluded logically.
Janeway's eyes flew open and she turned her head, looking over her shoulder anxiously, as if afraid Seven might actually be serious. After studying her face for a moment, she determined that Seven had only been joking, and snorted briefly, settling back onto her forearms. Seven smiled faintly and intensified the massage.

"We may have to curb it for the rest of the crew's sake. A part of me is queasy at the notion Zar somehow detected what we had been up to prior to arriving on the bridge."

"Indeed? We are married, Kathryn. It is understood that such a relationship includes sexual interaction on our off-duty time. I fail to see why someone, least of all Commander Zar, would be either offended or surprised by that, or the fact that due to the immediacy of a red alert, neither of us were able to take the time to conceal what is and always will be a natural and normal expression of our love."

"Nonetheless, it's still a bit embarrassing to be offering every indication of it by how I smell or look. I know I can't take a shower every time, but perhaps there is a way to cover up any obvious clues."

"Are you sure they were so obvious?" Seven asked, not sure why this was so bothersome to her spouse, but allowing that there were human taboos and cultural tendencies which still gave her trouble on occasion.

Janeway hesitated, then sighed. "No, but I'll look for some kind of odor neutralizing agent that can be used to remove such traces quickly before I pull on my uniform." She paused. "Wasn't there something we used on Voyager when we were exploring new areas on the ship in which to make love?"

"There was a mist I discovered in the replicator menu. Apparently, we are not the only ones to have discovered this requirement, which again leads me to question why it is a problem in the first place?"

"It just is," the captain insisted.

Seven lifted her head. "Ah, you mean it is a human failing," she noted with deliberate provocation.

"Beast," Janeway said without rancor, not rising to the bait. Apparently, she was too relaxed at the moment to engage in an exchange of verbal jabs.

Seven did not feel particularly like a beast, but she did admit to a certain animal enjoyment in crouching over her spouse and rubbing her back. Not to mention the sensation of the captain's buttocks cushioning the tender area between her legs which tingled pleasantly as it moved over the smooth skin. As she did, she became aware of the aroma rising from her partner, the very fragrance that Janeway was apparently objecting to, a musky reminder of their previous lovemaking, made up of equal parts captain and Borg. The sheer headiness of it served to renew Seven's arousal, though how she was capable of it after their lusty interlude earlier was illogical. Perhaps, she reasoned, it had to do with the danger implied in a red alert. Though it had turned out to be a relatively minor incident with the Trabe, mild danger or excitement in one area easily translated into physical desire in the bedroom, particularly when the object of one's desires was lying so delectably beneath one, displaying a tantalizing length of elegant back and the soft curve of a breast that peeked out invitingly from between her torso and her arm.

Or perhaps it was being on a starship again, Seven mused. Lately, it seemed that she was more aware of her partner physically. She couldn't deny that there was something very attractive about Janeway being the most powerful person in their immediate world. That Seven was the only one allowed to see the captain's vulnerabilities, to be intimate with her in a way Janeway allowed with no one else, provided its own form of intoxication.

"Hmm, a penny for your thoughts, darling," Janeway muttered sleepily. It was an inquiry she had pursued frequently in the past few months, particularly after the couple had experienced difficulties in their marriage on Earth. Neither woman was willing to risk their relationship on assumptions that might turn out to be faulty in the long run. They tried to find out what the other was thinking or feeling whenever possible. Seven appreciated the effort, and lowered herself until her breasts were pressed against the smooth back, her face buried in the warm, auburn hair.

"How beautiful you are," Seven whispered huskily, nuzzling the delicate shell of the captain's ear, inhaling her scent deeply. "How much I want and need you."

Janeway made a sound of protest. "And you call me insatiable? What about sleep?"

"We have the rest of our lives to sleep," Seven said reasonably.

Janeway laughed low in her throat, and Seven drew her tongue lightly along the curve of her jaw, her hand slipping along the captain's side to prod lightly, questioningly, at the side of her breast flattened beneath her body. Groaning, half in dismay, half in pleasure, Janeway lifted slightly so Seven could slip her hand under her, covering the breast fully, feeling the nipple poke into her palm with rapidly hardening attention, squeezing it gently.

"While I may survive this mission, it occurs to me that I might not survive you."

Seven continued her caresses, detecting no real resistance or opposition from her spouse despite her words, until Janeway, squirming, indicated she wished to move. Lifting herself, Seven paused as Janeway rolled over onto her back beneath her, then settled down, able to kiss her mouth now and taking full advantage of that fact, tasting the sweet warmth and tenderness of her lips. She could feel the captain's leg come up between hers, the smooth skin of her thigh pressing insistently against her juncture, and she moaned happily into her mouth, pleasured by the tantalizing touch, undulating against it slightly.

Their desire was sharp, rising hotly, but required little to satisfy it. Seven shifted slightly so that she could touch Janeway, fingertips swirling over the tender nodule of sensation even as she felt the captain's hand on her, both moving quickly and rhythmically in mutual masturbation, not bothering to penetrate further, not needing anything more than this superbly sweet dance of fingertips over moist, intimate flesh. Their respective breaths rasped hard and fast into the other's ear, their sounds of pleasure abrupt, gathering speed until they both groaned in almost simultaneous delight, twitching as climax released the sweet stress, the flood of endorphins into the bloodstream chasing away the last of the lingering tension and apprehension from the red alert.

Blankets were pulled up, the lights brought down, and Seven exhaled in happy satisfaction as she held Janeway close to her. There was no question about either's ability to sleep now, drowsiness dragging heavily at both of them, drawing them down into warm slumber. The last thing Seven thought was that she shouldn't have wasted time on the massage beforehand. Sometimes, it was just more efficient to acknowledge the physical benefits of lovemaking and utilize it accordingly.

Morning came too soon, and Janeway grumbled and growled as she crawled out of bed, none of it directed at her spouse, but making it clear that she was not entirely pleased with her late night. But Seven also knew the cure for that and, after pulling on her robe, she padded out to the living area where she activated the coffee maker and programmed a hearty breakfast menu into the replicator. She even set the table, and by the time the captain emerged from the ensuite, fully dressed in her uniform and somewhat more prepared to face a new day, Seven was able to hand her a mug full of steaming black coffee and sit her at the table where her meal awaited.

Only then did the Borg take her turn in the bathroom, showering thoroughly before pulling on her black outfit with the slate-grey shoulders, two gold pips adorning the collar of the sweater, shaded blue to indicate the science department. Janeway had been revitalized enough by the food and coffee to offer her spouse a smile as Seven joined her at the breakfast table, lifting a padd where the captain had been perusing the duty logs of what had occurred on the ship while the couple had been asleep.

"There's a trinary cluster a few light years away that looks intriguing," she said, her face smoothed out into the customary professionalism of her command role. "I think I'll have Millennium divert to spend a few days studying it."

Seven dipped her head in agreement, smiling as she saw the relaxation in her spouse. This was what Janeway should have always commanded, she thought to herself, a vessel dedicated primarily to scientific exploration and discovery. There was no question it was what Janeway wanted to do most, and to be able to share it with so many like minded people only made it better.

"What of the Trabe? Or the Kazon?" Seven asked, scooping up a spoonful of cereal. "That anomaly may still be in what they consider their territory."

"I think it's just outside their area. In any event, we can take care of ourselves."

Seven lifted an eyebrow. "Yes. However, do not forget that there is always a reason why the territory of a species terminates at a specific area in space. One might wonder why neither the Trabe or the Kazon chose to expand in this direction."

Janeway grinned over the rim of her coffee mug. "Good point. I suppose we'll find out in the coming days."

"I suppose we will." Janeway abruptly put her cup down and beamed at her. Curious, Seven raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "What?"

"This is it, the beginning of our mission, Annika," Janeway said, her eyes a brilliant blue. "The first step in what should be an amazing journey of discovery. Aren't you excited?"

Seven smiled, aware that her partner was indulging in a personal pleasure that she might not show to anyone else on the ship. "Very much so. We can go anywhere in the quadrant. Undoubtedly, we shall experience things that no one else has or ever will."

She raised her juice glass in an informal salute to her beloved spouse.

"That is definitely a future to look forward to."

​

Epilogue

​

The young Kazon was breathless as he rushed into the maj's quarters, and Jul Culluh regarded his son with a mix of exasperated fondness and the irritation of being interrupted by a youth who had yet to earn his name. The youngster was not of pure blood, his mother an alien from a quadrant so far away, it was beyond imagining, but he was being raised in the manner of his people, the Kazon-Nistrim, and none would deny that his quick mind boded well for his future.

"What is it?" the Jul demanded, leaning forward in his chair, brows drawn down.

"They're back."

Jul blinked. "Who?"

"The Federation," the boy said, barely able to conceal his excitement. "It is said that a vessel of their kind appeared in the same area as the destroyed Ogla colony and fought the Trabe."

"Fought the Trabe," Culluh said, surprised. He lifted his head. "How did you hear of this?"

"I heard Sanjur tell Burtan that the Kazon-Relora came across the damaged Trabe vessels and finished them off." The boy drew nearer, unaware in his excitement that he was being more presumptuous than even a son could be allowed with a Jul. But Culluh overlooked it this one time, too intrigued by the news the boy was sharing, and wondering why it had not been brought to him by now. Certain heads would roll, he decided.

"What else?" he demanded.

"It's her," the boy said, speaking in a tone one normally reserved for demons and evil spirits of the night. "The female Jul."

"Janeway?" he said, his voice a mix of astonishment and something that couldn't quite be identified. "This vessel is Janeway's?"

"But it is not Voyager. It is a much larger ship. And more powerful."

Stunned, Culluh leaned back in his chair and thought about this, as well as how it could be used to his advantage. The fact that he had always come out on the losing end with the female was not foremost on his mind. What was strongest in his thoughts had its roots in revenge and an acknowledgment of what the Federation's superior technology could do in this war which had begun partially because of Janeway's interference. Without her, the Trabe would not have regained some of their honor, daring to strike at the leaders of the Kazon. The fact that without Seska's influence, he would otherwise not have recognized the need to unite the various Kazon factions into a unified whole to fight the Trabe was irrelevant.

Janeway had started this mess, he thought darkly. She could damn well find a way to finish it, primarily by providing him with the technology to finish the Trabe once and for all.

"Send for my second," he told the officer on the other end of the communication channel, activated by the device embedded in the arm of his chair. "I require explanations. Set a course for the array system."

Leaning back, he lifted his head and smiled for the first time in years.

​

The End

On to M03