Alternate Choices by H.W.

Chapter 1, Prologue.

A theory states that whenever an important event is decided by fate, all possible outcomes will happen, forming alternate universes; most of which are unstable and stop existing after a short time. But some continue on, moving in totally different directions.

In 2063, such an event occurred. Zefram Cochrane was the first Human to reach faster than light speeds in a self-built rocket. Because of low self-esteem and heavy drinking the night before, he almost decided not to try his faster than light flight. But in the end, he rose to the task he set himself. His endeavors were noticed by a Vulcan space ship passing by and soon first contact ensued. But in the hundred years following first contact, the Vulcans successfully deterred Human space travel, stating that Humans were not yet ready for the responsibilities that came with space travel. Finally, after one hundred years, the USS Enterprise was the first Human interstellar spaceship built. And Humans began their space exploration.

But Zefram Cochrane's doubting had created a second reality, a second and alternate universe in which he made his faster than light flight a day later, after sleeping off the long night of drinking. In this parallel universe, the Vulcans missed his flight, since they had passed the day before.

Soon after this historic flight, Humans started to populate other planets, even if other species lived there. The Humans took over a vast part of space and called it the Sol Empire. A lot, but not all, of the races that were freely part of the Federation which had formed in the first universe, were not so freely part of the Sol Empire in this alternative universe, just like many races that had never been part of the Federation in the first universe. One could have said that the Sol Empire had been another version of the Federation, just without the Federation nobility. The humans had no problem enforcing their will on others, having the vast power and recourses of the Empire to back them up.

But then came the day of the uprising; the day that the line in the sand had been drawn, and crossed. The Klingons and Cardassians started fighting back. In the beginning, it had been nothing more than a little skirmish, something that the Empire could have crushed easily. And they would have, if they had not underestimated their slaves. The Sol Empire had sent some of its highly advanced warships to destroy the rebels, who had nothing more than a few warp one freighters. But just when all seemed over, the slaves that manned those warships rose up and overpowered the Humans that commanded them.

Suddenly 'the Coalition' had warships. They started fighting the Sol Empire more and more, freeing more and more planets from the Empire's oppression. The Bajorans were freed and also joined the rebellion, the same for the Romulans, and the Betazoids, and the Trill.

Then came the point where the Sol Empire had enough of it. They sent their entire space fleet to put an end to this nonsense of resisting the Sol Empire. The Empire had learned from the slave uprisings on the warships and had made it impossible for uprisings to happen again. Doors would only open for Humans; every slave that was not in their proper place was immediately killed.

Four thousand Sol warships faced a Coalition force of thirty captured warships. The fight would be over before it started. The Sol commanders gave the order to attack... but nothing happened. Once again they had underestimated their slaves. They had made sure that the slaves could not rise up and take over the ships, but that hadn't prevented the slaves from doing nothing at all.

Suddenly ships that needed one thousand people per ship to operate, had to be operated by forty humans per ship. The mighty Sol war fleet lay dead in space, far from any Empire help, and surrounded by planets that would support the Coalition. Before the day was through, the fleet was in the possession of the Coalition, and suddenly the 'mighty' Sol Empire had no fleet at all anymore.

The Sol Empire fell in the year that it took the Coalition to sweep from one end of the Empire to the other. The Coalition freed planet after planet. It moved its forces and supplies within days or weeks from one place to the other, while the Sol Empire troops were suddenly stranded on the planets they had once ruled. They received no help or reinforcements. They could only wait until it was their turn to surrender or die.

But with the obvious enemy defeated, fighting started between the different parties of the Coalition. Everyone wanted their part of the spoils of war. The Coalition fell apart and wars broke out all over the then known universe. The most infamous was the hundred day war between the Klingons and the Cardassians.

But it soon became apparent to the Cardassians that even though they were far stronger than nearly everyone, they could never hope to defeat the Klingons. Faced with a possible future of becoming a spoil of war for the Klingons themselves, the Cardassians decided that placing themselves second-in-command under a Klingon Reign would be a lot better than having nothing at all. So the Coalition was reformed.

Once and once again they started taking over other territory. Knowing that they needed allies if they wanted the Coalition to survive in the long run, they started dividing territory on the basis of loyalty given to the original Coalition. The separate parties could rule that part of the universe, as long as they were willing to be placed in a power pyramid with the Klingons and the Cardassians on top.

And so the Coalition's territory was divided into factions. The Klingon faction being the largest by far, having their own territory, and also taking all the territory of the old Sol Empire that would not fall under any of the new factions. Next came the Cardassians. Though their territory was nowhere near as substantial as that of the Klingons, it still was ten times as big as the territory they had been fighting for before they allied themselves with the Klingons once more. So the Cardassians were more than happy to give their support to the Klingons. The Bajorans, Romulans, Betazoids and Trill were not forgotten and received vast territories as well.

Those six factions formed from then on, the Coalition Council; which in reality was nothing more than five parties aligning themselves with the biggest party of all, making sure that nobody could ever take away their powers.

And this was the way Alpha and Beta Quadrant had existed for the last hundred and fifty years. In that time, a Coalition House was also formed. The three thousand members of this House had no real power, most of the members were part of one of the territories belonging to one of the six council members. They were there to advise the council, they were there to represent their planet or colony, they were there to make sure they would continue to get their share.

The real power in the Coalition lay with the Intendants. Each Coalition member had an Intendant who was the undisputed ruler over all that belonged to that Coalition member's faction. There were six Intendants in total; their importance amongst each other was determined by the race they represented.

First there was the Klingon Intendant, then the Cardassian, followed by the Bajoran, the Romulan, the Betazoid and the Trill. The only person more powerful than the Intendants was the Klingon Chancellor. So normally the Intendants only had to answer to one person, a person who in true Klingon fashion preferred not to be bothered with politics. Once appointed Intendant, the position was theoretically for life. There were only four ways one stopped being an Intendant: by stepping down voluntarily, by being demoted by the Klingon Chancellor, or by death.

This system was not liked by all, mostly by those that were not the ones in power, but it did give the Coalition the stability it needed to continue to exist. It also ensured that a lot of internal battle went on secretly if a new Intendant had to be chosen.

Which was the case in the Bajoran system.

Bajor: Dahkur province.
The palace of Intendant Kira Nerys.

"What is going on here?"

The Klingon grabbed the Bajoran priest and threw him aside. He tried opening the old-fashioned swinging doors, only to find them locked. One powerful kick later he was finally inside the private chambers of Intendant Kira Nerys. Seeing nobody, he moved to the bedroom where he had stayed the night a week before. Finally he saw the Intendant lying peacefully in bed while several Bajorans surrounded her. Some priests, some not.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" He pointed to one of the priests, "You, answer me."

But the priest didn't speak.

The Klingon pulled his disrupter weapon and pointed it at the priest. "Answer me right now, or die."

"He can't answer you," one of the other Bajorans spoke up in a soft tone. "All priests serving the Intendant personally, have their tongues removed. And show some respect for the dead. I thought that even you Klingons honored the dead."

"Dead?" The Klingon asked disbelievingly. The Intendant had been fine when he left her. He moved closer to the Intendant, wanting to feel her temperature to see if she was truly dead. She looked as if she was only sleeping. When he was almost touching the Intendant, the Bajoran grabbed his arm.

"Don't you dare touch her. Only priests may touch the Intendant."

The Klingon used his second hand to give the Bajoran a backhanded slap across the face. "She had no trouble with me touching her a few nights ago. Since I'm going to be informing the Chancellor that Kira is dead, I want to be sure that she is indeed dead."

The Bajoran barely stopped herself from jumping the Klingon. He had a point, and it would be a foolish move on her part right now to put herself in a bad light with the Klingons. But that didn't mean that she would suddenly be all nice to him, just that she wouldn't kill him where he stood.

After making sure that the Intendant was truly dead, the Klingon turned back to the Bajoran who was using a cloth to stem the blood flowing from her split lip. "Who are you woman?"

"I'm Ro Laren, one of the advisers of Intendant Kira." Ro answered through clenched teeth. "Would you please follow me? Maybe I can answer some of your questions and that way we can give the Intendant the peace and quiet she deserves."

The Klingon started to follow Ro, but it was more out of the need to get answers than out of respect for Kira. "Huh, don't try to fool me, you couldn't care less that she's dead. You're actually more than likely glad that she is."

They had reached one of the offices always used by the Intendant's staff and Ro pointed to a chair while she went to sit behind the desk before she answered him. "You're wrong. Oh, I'm not going to tell you that I actually liked her. I don't think you'll find anyone who did, not even her family. But right now I'm an adviser to the Intendant. That's a very nice and comfortable job. I only had to deal with the Intendant's temper from time to time. But a new Intendant will bring in new advisers. I'll never again get a job like this."

"Hmm, unless you lobby for getting the job of Intendant for yourself," the Klingon stated thoughtfully. He was surprised when the woman started laughing.

"Me? I'm only one of twenty advisers. There are nineteen people more likely to get the position than me. And that's without other people from the staff and people from outside the staff who see their chance at getting power."

"Why would the other advisers have a better chance than you?" The Klingon was surprised that the Bajoran was not promoting herself. It was a public secret that the new Intendant was chosen by the people, but that it was the Klingons who decided the outcome of this 'honest' vote.

"The Intendant didn't like doing the work that came with the job, she only wanted the spoils," Ro explained. "The advisers did all her work, except for things that required her personal presence. But I was only there to entertain her. She liked to be surrounded by pretty things, and apparently she thought that I was pretty. When she was bored, she asked me advice on certain things because it amused her to hear what I would come up with."

"I see," the Klingon said, leaning back in his chair, "Now, what happened to Kira, and why is her death not public knowledge yet?"

"The Intendant has been assassinated. She was killed by means of cellular destabilization. And that's also why this is not yet public knowledge. The Intendant had to be killed by someone who was able to get close to her with a cellular disruptor.

"As you know, this assassin's weapon is small and easy to hide. But the Intendant was paranoid as far as her security was concerned. It's more difficult to get into this palace without a weapon than it is to get into the Klingon high council packing a neutrino bomb... so to speak. To get a weapon in here, and to actually get into the Intendant's private chambers, it had to be someone close to her, someone from the staff."

"That still doesn't explain why it's been kept a secret," the Klingon persisted.

Ro sighed before explaining what she thought would be obvious. "Once it's known that the Intendant is dead, this palace is going to get swamped with people who want to get noticed by you Klingons as a possible replacement for Kira. With so many people around, it would be easy for the killer to get rid of the weapon they used."

"Hmm, I see," the Klingon once again said, "But the Chancellor has to know about this. I will contact him from my ship on a secure transmission. I'm sure that he'll send an official representative to take care of this, and to see who could be a likely replacement for Kira. In the meantime, I will order the personnel from my ships to secure the premises. Nobody is to come or go without permission from us. Once the representative arrives, I'm sure a full investigation will be started into the death of Intendant Kira. She may have been the least liked Bajoran around, but she was still an Intendant. Intendants are not killed unpunished. Pray to your Prophets that we will find the killer. You'll not like the alternative."

"And the alternative is?" Ro asked, already knowing the answer, but also knowing that the Klingon wanted to say it.

"If the killer is not found then the entire staff of the Intendant will be killed, thus still killing the killer."

Now it was Ro who leaned back in her chair, "I must say that you're taking the news of Kira's death rather lightly, considering that you used to share a bed."

The Klingon waved his hand dismissively, "Huh, she thought that she could secure some extra power by having my fleet in this system. If I have to be in this boring part of space, and she offers, who am I to turn down a good time."

Ro was about to react but was interrupted by the door opening. A handsome young Bajoran male, not much older than thirty, came into the room.

"Ro, they told me that you're keeping this secret? I," the man stopped talking when he had walked far enough into the room to see a Klingon sitting in the chair.

"Ah, that explains it," the at first so handsome face was quickly becoming an unhandsomely red, "That's why I had to find this out by coming here when I didn't hear from the Intendant. You're keeping this quiet because you want to be the first to win favor with the Klingons. Did you promise him a good time, hmm? I mean, since you're used to working like that. I'm sure,"

"Delik, before you say something you will truly regret," Ro interrupted him calmly from behind her desk, "You might want to think about how it looks that you're already throwing accusations around. After all, you are the first adviser, I'm only the twentieth adviser. You have a lot more to gain from Kira's assassination than I do."

"Assassination?" Delik Jetir asked in a suddenly quiet voice suddenly quite quietly, looking over to the Klingon who was following the exchange between the two Bajorans with full interest. "You've been able to establish that already?"

When he saw the Klingon raise his eyebrow slightly at his words, he quickly tried to find better words to say what he meant, "I mean, they told me that Kira was found dead only five hours ago."

"You seem to forget that I was Captain of the Special Forces before Kira appointed me her adviser. When you know how to kill people, it is easy to recognize if someone is killed in a way that you yourself have mastered."

Now the eyes of the Klingon went to Ro, and Delik looked pleased, as if he thought that she had said something wrong. Knowing what Delik and the Klingon must have been thinking, she calmly addressed the Klingon to defuse a situation that could turn out to be very deadly for her. "I was recruited into the Special Forces at age twelve after showing promising potential."

"Promising potential?" the Klingon asked.

"Being able to kill without remorse. My brother and father were killed in a street robbery, and after finding out who did it, I took my revenge by killing all members of the gang who killed my family," Ro explained calmly.

"Anyway, I stayed in the Special Forces for fifteen years. By that time, I had been promoted to Captain and I was becoming too dangerous for the Intendant, I held too much influence in the Special Forces. So, Kira had to either kill me or find another place to put me. She decided to make me an adviser instead. This way, I had no more influence in the Special Forces, and Kira had a highly trained person close around her, heightening her internal security. I've been an adviser for the last five years. I'm sure the first Bajoran you had asked about me would have told you this since it's common knowledge, inside the palace."

Delik Jetir saw that the Klingon was impressed by the state of service Ro had just laid out so calmly. And the Klingon was right to be impressed. The Bajoran Special Forces were amongst the most highly trained units in the Coalition, outshining even the Klingon Commandos. The only reason the Klingons allowed the Special Forces to exist, was because they had limited the numbers. Bajor was never allowed to have more than five thousand Special Forces at any time or else Bajor would have to suffer a Klingon embargo. Not worth it by any means. Having the Klingons as friends was much better than having more Special Forces.

Delik knew that he could forget about impressing this particular Klingon, he also knew that he had to get out of there quick before the Klingon asked about his career. Telling a Klingon that you've been a politician all your life without any military service what so ever would only bring you disdain from that Klingon.

"I'm going to inform the other advisers and ready an official statement," Delik said, turning around and starting to walk to the door.

"You do whatever you have to," Ro simply answered.

"But," the Klingon spoke up, "you wait with announcing that statement until my soldiers have secured the Palace and the compound."

"You're going to occupy the palace?" Delik asked disbelievingly.

"Only until Kira's killer is found. We don't want the assassin of an Intendant to escape, now do we? What kind of signal would that send? Either the killer will be found, or you all die. Now go."

Delik was smart enough to leave without another word.

Once Delik was gone, the Klingon stood up and tugged his uniform straight, "Well, as interesting as this was, it's time for me to inform the Chancellor. You do realize that with your background you'll become a prime suspect?"

"Of course. But I also know that investigation will reveal that I had nothing to gain from the Intendant's death, only to lose. And, if I had really killed her, do you think that I would have used a manner that would point to me? I would have broken her neck; anyone inside the palace could have done that."

"True," the Klingon agreed. "Are there any other former Special Forces working inside the palace?"

"No. But there are always some Special Forces amongst the guards guarding the palace from the outside."

"So either someone killed Kira and wants to use you as a convenient suspect. Or you killed her in a way that points to you so that you could say that it's way too obvious to have been you."

"Could be," Ro acknowledged, knowing that it would be of no use to dispute that this was a possibility.

"You know, you could use someone putting in a good word for you right about now."

"I could," Ro acknowledged once again.

The Klingon came closer and leaned a little over the desk towards Ro, "I could tell the Chancellor how helpful you were."

"At what price?" Ro asked, knowing where this was going.

"The nights can be so lonely sometimes, don't you agree?" The Klingon leaned a little closer until he was almost nose to nose with Ro.

"I'm sorry, Gowron. That price is a little too high for me. You might be commander over a fleet of battle ships. But I know that you've been ordered on patrol to the Bajoran sector so that you were out of the Chancellor's hair."

"True, the Chancellor and I get along better if we don't see each other too often," the Klingon agreed, "but I'm still one of his most valued commanders. Not everyone gets a command over thirty Birds of Prey."

"Nope, no can do," Ro said softly with a slightly amused voice. "You're just not my type, Gowron."

"Oh, and what is your type?" The Klingon asked, enjoying the little game.

"My type is female."

"What?" The Klingon asked, slowly standing up again.

"I told you that the Intendant apparently thought that I was pretty. You really don't think that all she did was watch? I'm the reason why Kira was sometimes too busy to see you."

The Klingon looked at Ro for some time, several emotions dancing over his face, amongst which mainly anger and disbelief. Finally the Klingon started to laugh softly, more of a chuckle. But quickly the laugh became louder and louder until it was a full-blown Klingon laugh.

"Very well, Ro Laren, adviser number twenty," the Klingon said between his laughter. "Have it your way. But if you were that close to Kira, then you could indeed have killed her much easier. I'll be in touch to tell you when to expect the Chancellor's representative."

With that, Gowron turned and left the office, still laughing.

Once the Klingon was gone, Ro let out a shaky breath to calm her nerves. It had been close, too damn close. The pride of a Klingon was a strange thing, especially the pride of a male Klingon. Turning Gowron down and then also telling him that she had been sleeping with the same woman he had been sleeping with had been a huge gamble.

She rubbed her hands over her face and let out another deep breath of air. If he had attacked her, it would have been all over. There was no way that she would have been able to get away with killing him. Gowron had told the truth, even though he was far away from the Klingon Chancellor, he still had the Chancellor's ear.

But no, Gowron had told her that he would be in touch with her. With her. Not with any of the other advisers, not with the prime minister, not with the Kai, no. Her, puny adviser number twenty.

She had managed to make herself the Bajoran the Klingons would deal with. Maybe she could really pull this off. If she just didn't blow it.

They had taught her a lot in the Special Forces, but politics were new to her. She was used to seeing a problem and removing it. But she couldn't do that anymore. She had to learn how to deal with people, how to give and take. Even after five years as adviser she had never closed a deal.

It really had been a simple thing. Kira had wanted her but even the Intendant could not make a Bajoran Captain of the Special Forces into her plaything without some effort; it would have turned all the Special Forces against her. So she had taunted Ro that she was going the kill her, which hadn't impressed Ro at all. Surprised, and strangely amused by this reaction, Kira had promoted Ro to adviser. Only to have her around so that she could try to seduce Ro.

But Ro had known that her survival depended on her continuing to be of interest to Kira. Ro had played the game well, giving in to Kira at just the right time, making sure to make it seem that she had done so reluctantly and that she had not been able to resist the Intendant's charms. Also making sure to look very ashamed and remorseful the next day.

Kira had never suspected that Ro was playing her, and always assumed that Ro was normally only interested in men. But that she, Intendant Kira Nerys, had managed to seduce Ro. And she continued to 'overwhelm' Ro once every several months. Every time Ro slept with her it seemed like a victory to Kira.

The nights with the Intendant weren't unpleasant, but they also didn't fill Ro with pleasure. Ro really couldn't care less. In the Special Forces she had learned that her body was a weapon, to be used in whichever way necessary to survive. And survive she had, for five years, waiting for her chance. And now her chance might just have arrived.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Deciding that she had given Delik enough of a head start, Ro got up and left the office. She knew that by now Delik would have gathered the other advisers together in one of the two conference rooms. She moved through the corridors until she arrived at the conference room the advisers normally used for their weekly meeting. But to her surprise it was empty. That meant that Delik had gathered everyone he could get his hands on and that they were in the big conference room instead.

She took a deep breath and walked further down the corridor. She wasn't afraid that they would hurt her, physically. None of the other advisers was anywhere near brave enough to try to attack a former Special Forces member. She was afraid, however, of them talking her under the table. They were all seasoned politicians, making deals in the name of the Intendant for years. The only thing she truly knew was giving and receiving orders. Taking another deep breath, she decided that she just had to learn and walked into the conference room.

The first words she heard when the door opened were Delik saying that Ro killed the Intendant.

"Throwing accusations around again, Delik?" Ro asked while she walked further into the room. Delik moved away from her a little bit, Ro liked that and it made her feel a little more secure.

"I'm only telling them the truth," Delik defended, feeling a lot more in control with a room full of people.

Beside the advisers, there were also the adviser's assistants. Ro had never seen the use in having an assistant. The only thing they could have helped her with was by coming up with new ways of playing the Intendant, and that she could do on her own.

"And I ask you again, how do you know for sure that it was me? To me it sounds as if you're shifting suspicion away from yourself. Tell me, Delik, why are you so desperate to point the finger at someone?"

Ro slowly walked to one of the seats at the mainly empty table and sat down. For some reason most preferred to be standing.

"You won't be able to accuse me of killing Kira, I'm so sure it's you, because all the evidence points to you," Delik said with a smooth voice. It was clear to Ro that he was really talking to the others rather than to her.

"What evidence?" Ro asked calmly.

"What evidence, you ask? What about the fact that the Intendant was killed in a manner favored by the Special Forces?"

"First of all, cellular destabilization is not a way preferred by the Special Forces, the Special Forces just know how to do it. Cellular destabilization is easy to determine, the Special Forces prefer ways that are untraceable. Second, while I'm trained to kill effectively using the method, it's something you all could have done. It doesn't take that much knowledge, you just need to know how to fire the weapon."

Knowing that he could not contradict the claim, and not wanting to lose his audience, Delik moved on to his next piece of evidence. "And you just happened to be the first adviser to arrive today."

"Delik, I've been the adviser to arrive first every day for the last five years. And the last to leave."

"And not leave at all some nights," one of the other advisers spoke up.

"Not my choice," Ro simply said, knowing that it would strengthen her statement of always being the first to arrive.

"And what about you fast-talking that Klingon?"

"Delik, you would be wise to research before making claims. If you had, then you would have found out that the Klingon had disturbed Kira's death vigil. I didn't search him out, he came in. I merely took him away so that the vigil could continue undisturbed. I can't help it that he started asking questions. What should I have done? Tell him not to ask? That the official statement would come later in the day and that he would find out then?"

"And what about you focusing the attention on us?" Delik came closer until he was almost touching Ro.

Ro stood up, pushing her chair back, and daring him with her eyes to actually touch her. "Sometimes I'm amazed at how you could become adviser, Delik. It's a fact that someone in this room has killed Kira. How long do you think it would be until the Klingons realized that? Then their attention would still focus on us. But by then hundreds of potential candidates for Intendant would have swarmed the palace, or they would have gone straight to the Klingons. Now the Klingons will focus on us. I thought that you would be pleased with a one in twenty chance of becoming the new Intendant, instead of one in several hundred."

Seeing that Delik had run out of accusations, Ro pressed on. "But here's what I find interesting. The Intendant is killed; you point the finger at me. Let's say you can make people actually believe your nonsense. It's very clean and convenient, don't you think? The Intendant is killed, you lead the 'search' for the killer, you find the killer and you trial her for the death of the Intendant. A sentence of death is immediate, and gone is your problem. Suddenly you're the hero, you're the one who found the killer of the Intendant, and you're the one who made sure that this killer got her just punishment. Hey, the Klingons might even endorse your bid for becoming the new Intendant for all this help you've given them."

"Nonsense," Delik said dismissively.

"Oh, and what you say about me isn't? You accuse me only because I've done something else in my life besides just sit around and tell people how right they are. You seem to forget, once again, that I had no ambition to become an adviser. I was more than happy to be Captain of the Special Forces. But now that I'm here I'm not about to roll over and play dead, certainly not for you. Now, I've been very patient with you, but from now on be very careful with pointing that finger at me, I might just rip it off your hand and shove it where the sun don't shine."

Delik was speechless. He had never heard Ro talk like that. She always was the quiet one, sometimes not speaking all day. Finally, not knowing what to say, he threw out a, 'this isn't over', and walked out of the room.

"Um, I have some PADDs to sign," the adviser who had spoken up before said and also left the room.

One by one people left the room until only two were left. Ro and Jetur Adami. Jetur was an assistant to one of the other advisers. She was a woman with blazing red hair, six years younger than Ro, who knew how to choose her clothing in a way that would show off her body in a very sexual, teasing way.

The flaps of her light blue shirt were held closed by a knot that showed off Jetur's stomach and navel, while pulling the rest of the fabric snug over the woman's very ample chest. And of course Jetur had made sure that the fabric of her shirt was thin enough that the silhouettes of her nipples could just be seen if one took more than just a moment to look at the woman. Ro had always assumed that the other adviser had hired Jetur solely for her looks. She was one of the finest looking woman that Ro had ever seen.

"Can I help you?" Ro finally asked when it became clear that Jetur had no intention of leaving like the rest.

"I would like to apply for the job of being your assistant," Jetur said in a pleasing and warm voice that sounded just as stunning as the woman looked.

"Come again?" Ro asked, thinking that she must have misheard.

"I want to be your assistant," Jetur repeated.

"I've never needed an assistant, why would I want one now?"

"Because of politics. Frankly, you suck at it," Jetur stated confidently. "Your mentality will get you a long way with Klingons and soldiers, but if you want to be Intendant you also need to be able to sit in a meeting for hours on end with a Denobulan and still seem interested in what they have to say. Or you have to be able to out-bargain a Ferengi. You aren't able to do so now. Eventually you'll learn on your own, I'm sure. But by then, a new Intendant will already have been appointed."

"And you know how to do this, and want to teach me how to do it?" Ro asked, not dismissing the woman because she knew that politics was her one weak point.

"I'm willing to do it for you, for now. That way you can concentrate on impressing the Klingons while I take care of the rest. Once you're Intendant there will be time enough for you to learn yourself. You know how the Intendant had almost all her work done by the advisers? Well some of those advisers also applied that trick. I've been negotiating all the deals with the more boring political races for my boss, for the last three years now. I have connections that my boss doesn't even know of. And you need connections."

"And why do you want to help me? Being loyal to your boss might be the smart move right now."

Jetur stood up, came closer, and sat down again in the chair next to Ro, "I want to help you because they don't think ahead. Before you came in, they were talking about how they had to work together against you. But they seem to forget that if they truly could discredit you, there are still nineteen advisers left. Who's going to be next? Who are they going to conspire against then? At least when I'm working for you, I'll know up front that everybody else wants to put a knife in my back."

Ro could see the logic of that. It was a long shot betting on the one who seemed to have everyone against her, but long shots sometimes paid off. And when they did, you could often retire on the winnings. "What's in it for you?"

"Well," Jetur said sweetly, "If you make it to Intendant, then I'm sure that you would be very grateful to me, maybe even grateful enough to make me your First Adviser?"

"I might," Ro said, finding it a fair price for help. Besides, if Jetur turned out to be a lousy adviser she didn't have to listen to the woman. Ro felt Jetur's leg against her own, and the way the woman was leaning forward a little gave Ro a nice view of her cleavage.

"Are you trying to offer me some extra benefits to persuade me to give you the job?" Ro asked amused.

"I might," Jetur answered, mimicking Ro's words. "If getting the job requires it."

"No thanks, I don't want to get caught between fun and work on this." Ro looked the woman over once more and decided that it might be smart to think ahead once again. "But I might come back to you on that somewhere down the line. You got the job, but I expect you to make me look like the best politician that ever lived, for those whom it concerns."

Ro stood up and started walking to the door, but before reaching it she turned around to the redhead. "I expect you in my office in two hours. There's a lot of work to be done. Oh, and Jetur?"

"Yes?"

"You're not an adviser yet, only an assistant. I can get away with killing you. Don't double cross me."

"Don't worry," Jetur said with a smile, "For siding with you I can only lose my job right now, which was a big possibility already anyway. I know that on first impression you're the least likely to become Intendant, but I like taking a gamble sometimes. And I'm gambling on you. The others are used to using charm and deception; they don't seem to understand that this won't help them with winning the Klingons' favor. But half an hour ago, it was from your office that I saw an influential Klingon leave, laughing. Believe me, Ro, I'm just choosing sides now in a situation where everybody has to eventually."

Ro slightly dipped her head to indicate that she accepted Jetur's explanation. "Alright then. And if I'm going to have an assistant who used to work for another adviser, then I can just as well piss them off some more. You can call me Laren from now on."

"Thank you," Jetur said in a slightly respectful tone. "In that case, please call me Adami."

"Thank you, I will." Ro's tone was soft, giving the invitation the respect it deserved. "Two hours, don't be late." She said in a stronger voice before turning around and walking out of the room.

Now that Ro was gone, Jetur allowed herself to let out a soft laugh while she rubbed her hands in delight. Things were about to get very interesting.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 2

"Evasive maneuver Gamma six!"

Janeway gripped the armrests of her chair even tighter as another impact shook the ship with so much force that Harry couldn't keep standing anymore and was violently thrown to the floor. This was lucky for him, considering that a second later his instrument panel exploded with a force that would have killed him if he had still been standing there.

"Bring those torpedo launchers back online!" Janeway commanded.

"Hull breaches on deck six through eight." Under the onslaught they were suffering even Tuvok couldn't keep his voice as calm as it normally was. "Shields down to thirty percent."

Chakotay had quickly taken over monitoring the information that would have normally gone to Harry's station. "They're coming around for another pass."

"Janeway to Engineering, B'Elanna I need those launchers now! Janeway to Torres, answer me!"

"Carey here Captain, the launchers will be back online in five seconds."

"Where's B'Elanna?" The few seconds before Carey answered told Janeway that his news would not be good.

"She was caught in an explosion; she's been beamed to sickbay. Captain... I... I think she was dead at the point of beam out. The launchers are now online."

"Incoming!" Chakotay shouted. There would be time to mourn the loss of his friend later, now there was a ship to save.

Where before this had been just another attack, Carey's news had made this personal for Janeway, and she ordered with a voice filled with venom, "Fire at will."

They came straight for them; it was the oldest and deadliest game in the book. They assumed that Voyager would be the chicken and run, but they didn't know that Voyager had some very convenient Borg enhancements. The damaged shields that would normally have been destroyed within seconds, now held long enough for Voyager to fire a deadly mix of phaser and torpedo fire.

Finally, Tuvok spoke the words they were all hoping to hear. "Direct hit. The second Klingon Bird of Prey has been destroyed."

It was an incredible feat, but they had pulled it off. The Intrepid class spaceships had been designed to be able to take on a Klingon Bird of Prey in a one on one battle, but a one on two battle should have been lost. It would have been if it hadn't been for the Borg enhancements to the shields.

It was a bitter pill to swallow for Janeway, that they were basically only still alive because of the run-ins they'd had with the Borg.

"Janeway to Engineering, how fast can we get out of here?"

"Captain, the engines have now cooled down enough to can take warp seven. But the rest of the ship... I would strongly suggest going no faster than warp four. And I would also suggest finding a place where we can land the ship to do external repairs. There are four places that really need the repair capabilities of a shipyard or space station."

While Janeway was listening to Carey, she wondered about the report B'Elanna would more than likely have given her. She could almost hear it now. The Klingon would simply have said. 'Warp four at the most, and we need to look for a place to land. We have four gaping holes in Voyager's hull'.

"I'm going to check in sickbay. Tom, set a course for Earth. Harry, send a message, I want to know why we were attacked by people who are supposed to be Federation allies."

"Captain..." Tom spoke up hesitantly, only to be silenced with the shake of a head.

"I know you want to go check on B'Elanna, Tom, but right now we need everyone at their post, especially our best pilot. I will let you know what's going on as soon as I know myself."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, Captain."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Once in the turbolift, Janeway let her thoughts go back to what had brought them to the Klingon border to begin with.

It had been a wormhole, yet again. They came across one at least once every year. It seemed that wormholes were a lot more common in the Delta Quadrant than they were in the Alpha Quadrant. But it was a wormhole nevertheless, so they had stopped and studied it.

At first nobody had believed the results. They had been disappointed so often already. It just couldn't be, but they had run the tests a second, and then a third time; every time with the same result. It was a steady wormhole. And though it didn't end in the Alpha Quadrant, it came damn close. The tests indicated that it ended in the Beta Quadrant, inside Klingon territory, two days from the Federation border.

And that had made the Voyager crew suspicious.

If this truly was a fully functional wormhole, as the tests said, then why wasn't anyone using it? Why wasn't there someone making money off this stable wormhole? Especially one that was so close to Federation space. And why had nobody ever heard of this wormhole? Surely the Klingons should have known of its existence, since it was inside their own territory and so close to the Federation border. Even if the Klingons hadn't known about the wormhole, Federation ships should have picked up its readings long ago during border patrols.

But even if the Federation hadn't, the Klingons knew that Voyager was lost in the Delta Quadrant. Certainly they would have suggested traveling to the wormhole and going home from there. The honor of helping Voyager would have been tremendous. The boasting rights alone would have been worth it; that the Federation had needed the help of the Klingons to get its ship home. Things just didn't add up and none of the senior staff liked it. Not even the always positive Harry.

But in the end, they'd all decided that they couldn't let a chance like that pass them by. They had to try it. The journey through the wormhole had been an incredibly smooth ride and before anyone really had time to admire the beauty of the wormhole, they were already through it. They were in the Beta Quadrant, only a couple of days until they would be home. Janeway had agreed with B'Elanna's suggestion that it would be better to let the Klingons know how they got there. One never knew how... paranoid... the Klingons might be so shortly after the Dominion war.

But just when they were to make radio contact, all hell had broken loose. Suddenly, a ring of ninety-three Klingon weapon platforms decloaked around the mouth of the wormhole and started opening fire on Voyager. Voyager was hit three times before Janeway could order a warp jump. The ship went from zero to warp 8.5 in three seconds flat: A dangerous maneuver that Voyager only barely survived.

They had made it to just outside the reach of the unmanned weapon platforms before the computer initiated an emergency shutdown, which had left them without warp until the engines had time to cool down. B'Elanna had estimated that it would be two hours at least before they could go to warp again. Janeway was absolutely certain that they had only survived the situation because Voyager was amongst the fastest Federation ships ever built.

They had gotten out of there after only a few weapon platforms had fired. She thanked the gods that Klingon technology had to decloak before it could fire. Those ninety-three weapon platforms were enough to destroy an entire fleet of ships. Normally only one or two were used to protect strategic places.

But they didn't have long to celebrate that they were still alive. Six minutes before those two hours where up, two Klingon Birds of Prey decloaked and started opening fire. They never answered the hails or showed that they had any other intention than killing them all. Voyager had no other choice than to defend itself.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Janeway stepped out of the turbolift and walked to sickbay, nodding to the occasional crewmember she passed on the way to the Doctor's realm. When she entered, she was glad to see the Doctor treating relatively small wounds. A broken arm, some burns. And of course Neelix was there helping the Doctor; making up for the Doctor's bedside manners by taking good care of the patients with a gentle word or a comforting touch.

The Doctor saw her enter and after finishing with his patient he first made sure that the others could wait for a minute before he motioned her over to him.

She looked at the patient walking past her and out of sickbay before turning back to the Doctor. "I heard that B'Elanna had to be beamed out of engineering. How is she?"

"We have relatively few wounded, considering what we just went through."

A burden fell off Janeway's shoulders when the Doctor started speaking about wounded. It meant that this time nobody had died. But when he continued she soon understood that not all the news was good.

"I had to keep five people here because of severe wounds. Lieutenant Torres is one them. The other four should be alright in a couple of days; one of them will need a second operation in two days."

He moved to the only bed in sickbay that had been separated from the rest by a non-transparent force field. They both stepped through the low-level privacy field and Janeway could see B'Elanna lying on the bed, surrounded by machines that the Captain had never seen before.

"B'Elanna is another story. It's only because she's partly Klingon that she lived long enough for me to work on her. I was able to repair most of the damage. But I had to remove one of her lungs, her primary heart, some of her intestines, both of her livers, her right eye, and part of her reproductive system. There was more damage to other organs, but as I said, I was able to repair that damage."

Janeway could not believe the list of damage that the Doctor was listing. "But she looks as if she's only sleeping."

"That's because, thanks to my programming, you have the best doctor that Starfleet has to offer onboard... had to offer when we got stranded in the Delta Quadrant, that is."

For once the Doctor didn't sound as if he was boasting about his knowledge, but as if he was relieved that this knowledge had been at his disposal. "And also because most of her wounds are crush wounds, they're mostly internal. From what I understand, part of the second deck of engineering came down and B'Elanna, who saw this, jumped and pushed Nicoleti out of the way. This means that she was lying on the floor when the second deck fell on her. Besides the damage I just told you, I also had to repair thirty-seven broken bones, some with more than six fractures in them."

Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Ok, now tell me the good news."

"Um, Captain... that was the good news."

When Janeway's eyes shot from B'Elanna to him, he started to explain in more detail. "The organs I mentioned are fully Klingon. Because of that her heart, lung, and livers can easily be replaced with cloned organs. This is a standard Klingon procedure, and every major Klingon hospital usually has some cloned organs in stock. And since this is the Beta Quadrant, we should be able to get some. But even if we could not get cloned organs, I would be able to build some artificial ones, given some time."

He gestured to B'Elanna's head before continuing. "Her eye will have to be replaced with an artificial one. But as Seven can tell you, once replaced, the artificial eye functions just as a regular eye and over time the recipient of the implant forgets that it's not their real eye. The damage to her reproductive system is such that she will need some medical help if she ever wants to get pregnant, but once she is, there should be no problem with her carrying and giving birth to her child. She'll never notice the loss of part of her intestines, so that really isn't a problem either."

"Do I want to know the bad news then?" The question had been voiced in not much more than a whisper. Janeway didn't trust her voice to function at that point.

The Doctor knew that the Captain had to be told, but that didn't make telling it any easier. "The bad news is that I could declare her dead at any moment. At this point, she's only being kept alive by those machines. The really bad news is that there's also been brain damage, but not the kind everyone is familiar with."

"What do you mean?" Janeway asked confused.

"What I mean is, that if I were able to fix this, then B'Elanna would wake up and be the same B'Elanna she was yesterday, so to speak. Of course, her other wounds would still need time to heal. Unfortunately a metal splinter has penetrated her skull and brain, destroying the organ that produces stem cells. No production of stem cells means no healing what so ever in the Human body. The Human body simply does not know what to do, how to heal without the unspecified stem cells giving rise to specified cells like muscle cells, blood cells, or nerve cells which do not normally replicate themselves."

"But you were able to heal the damage. You just said so," Janeway objected.

The Doctor sighed. Trying to make a novice understand things, that some doctors even had trouble understanding, sure wasn't easy. "I healed the damage, but nothing else is happening. Captain, you're a healthy person. If you suddenly had no more stem cells, your body would no longer be able to repair itself, just like B'Elanna's can't now."

"I'm afraid I'm still not following, Doctor."

The Doctor hesitated before thinking of a different approach. "Alright, Captain. Have you ever heard of the disease hemophilia? How a person can bleed to death from a little scratch if they don't take their medication?"

"Sure."

"Well, this is different, but the same, in the fact that basically the body doesn't know how to heal itself. People with the disease need medication to do the work that the body can't. But with B'Elanna there is no medication. She needs the stem cell organ to heal her. I healed B'Elanna's body for the most part, but the body doesn't know what to do with those healings. Her body is simply not healing itself. At this moment there are thousands of cells that are dying off in your body, Captain, and they are being replaced by new cells at the same time. With B'Elanna, those cells are still dying off, but they're not being replaced unless I do it with a dermal regenerator. But I can't replace the cells dying off deeper inside her body."

Janeway nodded her head thoughtfully. "Ok, I think I understand what you're trying to tell me, so what can we do about this?"

The Doctor moved over to one of the machines, clearly stalling for time. "Nothing, I'm sorry to say. Her being part Klingon makes sure of that. It was that Klingon part that kept her alive long enough for me to heal her wounds, but that same part is preventing me from finishing my job. Had she been fully Human or fully Klingon, then it would have been a relatively simple procedure of finding someone that was a close enough match and then clone the organ from that person."

"And this is different now... how?" Janeway prompted.

"But because B'Elanna is a mixture of the two," the Doctor explained, "there's nobody genetically close enough, not even another Klingon/Human hybrid. The only way to get a donor would be to clone B'Elanna - make a second B'Elanna. But beside the fact that this is highly illegal, it's also no longer possible now because you need some stem cells of a person to clone that person entirely. Understand the problem? I need a healthy B'Elanna to clone her stem cell organ, but I first need a stem cell organ that is cloned from B'Elanna before B'Elanna will be healthy enough to have the organ cloned. It's the famous 'chicken and egg' dilemma. I need the one to get the other, but I can't have the one without first having the other."

"How... how long before you have to pronounce her dead?" Janeway tried to swallow, but her dry throat would not allow it.

The Doctor thought about that for a moment. "Well, I can keep her like this and use a dermal regenerator to reproduce cells that are close to the surface of her skin, but because no new cells are being made inside her body... I would say that in about two weeks to a month, the damage would be too great to be repaired, even if the organ were to be replaced at that point."

An idea came to Janeway. "Can't you put her in a stasis field? Prolong that time indefinitely?"

"Sorry, Captain. I can't. Remember when we had to put the whole crew in stasis to get through the void? Remember how weak you felt when Seven and I woke you again? The reason for that is that stasis does damage to the body, but a normal healthy person recovers from that damage in a few hours. But if I were to do that to B'Elanna, in the state she's in even now, she would die as soon as we take her out of stasis."

"Okay, so that means that we have less than a month." Janeway took B'Elanna's hand between her own and squeezed softly. "We will find a way to save you, B'Elanna."

"You have an idea?" The Doctor knew that there was no real way to save B'Elanna, but that didn't mean that he couldn't hope.

"We've been gone from the Federation for a number of years," Janeway pointed out. "The first thing we're going to do is see what kind of advances there have been in stem cell research while we were gone."

The Doctor followed Janeway out of the privacy force field. "Captain, I wish it was so easy. But stem cell research has been done since the late twentieth century. I really don't think that suddenly after almost four hundred years they will have come up with a way to clone a living stem cell organ from a dead one."

Janeway looked around sickbay at the other patients still there before turning back to the Doctor. "As I said, it's a first step. All I can tell you now is that I'm not just giving up on B'Elanna. I will find a way of helping her."

Without another word, she turned around and left sickbay, now even more convinced that she had to get Voyager home as soon as possible.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Janeway went back to the bridge and called a senior staff meeting before anyone could ask how B'Elanna was doing. Once the senior staff was in the conference room, Janeway gave the meeting over to the Doctor, who once again grimly told about B'Elanna's situation.

Once the doctor was finished, and all the obvious questions had been asked and answered, Janeway spoke up, "As you can see, our returning to the Federation has become top priority. Repairs will just have to be made on the run; I'm not stopping until we're in orbit around Earth. Harry, what did the Federation have to say about us being attacked by the Klingons?"

"Nothing, Captain," Harry answered uncomfortably.

"What do you mean nothing? Who have you spoken to?"

"That's just it, Captain. I didn't speak to anyone. There was no reaction whatsoever to our hail. And I also couldn't hear any Federation messages whatsoever."

Chakotay decided to help poor Harry out a little and spoke up, drawing that force ten glare towards himself. "We picked up something else though. Something that makes no sense at all. Klingon and Cardassian messages; a lot of them."

"Given where we are I don't think that's that strange. The absence of any Federation messages is more disturbing," Janeway pointed out.

Chakotay shook his head a little. "It isn't so much the messages that are strange. It's the things they're talking about. They're talking about places, planets we never heard of and other planets we know of, but the messages just don't make any sense. For instance, subspace was filled with messages talking about how the Bajoran Intendant has been killed and that nobody is sad to see the bitch go. Um... those are their words, Captain."

"What has Bajor to do with this? Hmm, maybe something happened at DS9,"

Janeway was interrupted by a hail over the comm. system. "Captain, sensors are picking up a Ferengi ship that will cross our path."

"Ferengi? Maybe they're friendlier than the Klingons in this part of space. At the very least they might be willing to sell us some information. Set an intercept course. We're on our way. Janeway out."

She took a quick look around the table to see if someone had something they desperately needed to say, but nobody spoke up. "Alright, let's get some information."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Two hours later they were once again sitting in the conference room, this time trying to digest the information the Ferengi had sold them. They were indeed in Klingon space in the Beta Quadrant, but there was no Federation. They were so close, and yet so far from home. The wormhole had led them into an alternate universe. Of course, for the Ferengi it was Voyager that came from an alternate universe. In this universe things were so different.

There was some kind of Coalition that ruled over everything that the Voyager crew had known in their Alpha and Beta Quadrant, and then some. The way the Ferengi had mostly been talking about Klingons and Cardassians, it was clear that they were the major powers that pretty much ruled all and that their word was law... literally.

In Janeway's mind that combination meant nothing good. Cardassian deviousness combined with the Klingon's willingness to fight everyone. In her mind a picture of the Coalition governing had formed, and the more the Ferengi told them, the more solid and dooming that picture had become.

"Clearly we have to get back to our universe," Chakotay said, "but we have two problems with that. The only way back that we know of is guarded by Klingon weapon platforms. There's no way that we can go back through that wormhole. But even if there was, that would not save B'Elanna. The only chance we have of saving her, is if we could get the help of the Klingons."

"Why would they help us?" Harry asked. "Those two Birds of Prey made it pretty clear that they wouldn't help us."

Tom could only agree. "Right, especially since we destroyed those ships. I don't think the Klingons will take that very lightly. A bunch of Humans, who are normally slaves here, destroying not one, but two Birds of Prey."

The Doctor was the third person to object. "And as I just pointed out, the Klingons can't really do any more for B'Elanna than I can."

Janeway let the arguing go on for a moment, wondering what kind of points would be made. But when no new points were forthcoming she spoke up. "Ok, calm down everyone. Chakotay didn't actually say that we should ask the Klingons for help or that they would help us. He just said that it would be B'Elanna's best chance. And on that point I have to agree with him. We were about to go to the Federation to see if they could help us. But here there is no Federation. The Klingons and Cardassians have ruled for the last one and a half centuries, so it stands to reason that the Klingons would also have the most advanced medical science. Who knows? Maybe the Klingons here were not hampered in their research by the moral rules the Federation normally abides by."

Then she shifted focus a little. "But beside B'Elanna we also have another problem, the state that Voyager is in. We simply can't go on like this for much longer. We have to make some major repairs at some point. So for now I think it would be best if we try to find a smugglers hole somewhere. They might have some things we need to repair Voyager, and they should be able to tell us just what the standard of Klingon medical science is. Once we know whether or not they would be able to help B'Elanna, we can then make a plan dealing with that situation. I would like some plans within the hour. Carey, I want to know what's needed to put Voyager back in the state she was yesterday. The rest of you concentrate on thinking of how we can find some smugglers. Questions anyone?"

"I do not have a question," Seven said, speaking up for the first time, "but I would like to point something out. The Ferengi are known for trying to make a profit on everything. It is very conceivable that they would first make a profit from doing business with us, and then make an extra profit from selling what they know about us to the Klingons. The Klingons might already know our present course and that our ship is damaged. I would strongly suggest changing course."

Janeway nodded her agreement. "Good point, Seven. We'll do that. I want plans in one hour, dismissed."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Two hours later, they were on their way to some of the old Maquis hideouts. Of course they knew that there wouldn't be any Maquis there, but the only real plan that they had been able to come up with, was to go to these places and hope that some smugglers had found them to be just as convenient as the Maquis had.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

The Doctor didn't try to stop the steady flow of visitors. It wasn't as if B'Elanna needed to rest from having too many visitors. How he only wished that this was the problem; that B'Elanna was healing and needed rest to do so. Instead, he let them all be, hoping that this way at least the visitors would be able to handle this tragedy.

Seven came into sickbay just when the Captain was leaving. "Captain."

"Seven, how are you?"

"I am functioning within acceptable parameters," Seven gave the standard reply.

"And how are you really doing?"

Even though it forced her to talk about feelings, Seven was glad to see that the Captain knew there was something wrong, "I am severely worried about Lieutenant Torres. She has to get better."

"We will find a way." Janeway stepped past Seven and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Seven. If it takes too long, then we'll find someone else to help you with the repairs. You shouldn't have to work that hard for much longer."

When Janeway left sickbay, Seven felt sick to the stomach. After all this time everyone still thought that she didn't have any real emotions, not even the Captain.

"Hi, Seven. I'm glad you came. B'Elanna will be happy."

Well, almost everyone. "Tom, do you think she will know that we are here?"

Seven and the pilot were well on to their way to becoming friends. After he and B'Elanna had broken off their engagement, he had tried to date Seven to get back at B'Elanna, by showing the Klingon that he didn't need her; that he could have everyone, including the woman that always made B'Elanna's blood boil. But Seven had been smart enough to see right through that plan. She had told him that his chances of copulating with her were zero, and not likely to ever improve. He had given up on his plan, but during the time that he had tried, he had discovered that he did indeed like Seven and slowly a friendship was starting to form between them. Luckily for him, shortly after that incident, he was also able to call a truce with B'Elanna and they had gone back to being the friends they were before they got involved.

"The Doctor says no, but I like to think that she does. It makes me feel better to know that I'm really talking to her, you know?"

Seven moved closer until she was standing beside B'Elanna, "I believe I do. It is... hard seeing her like this, knowing that my last words to her were me telling her that I thought that she was a mediocre engineer, at best. Now, I might never have the chance to tell her that this is not really how I feel. That in reality, I like her very much."

Tom smiled weakly at her. "Don't worry, she will get through this. And she also knows that you like her. She told me so."

"She did?" Seven was astonished to hear this.

"Come now, Seven. You know that B'Elanna is a smart woman. She discovered long ago that you like the fights just as much as she does. Hell she... um, this was going to be a little surprise for you, but seeing the circumstances I think I can tell you. She was going to invite you to her birthday party. Only five other people were invited, her five closest friends."

"She was going to," Seven repeated softly.

"As close as she can ever come to asking you to be her friend without actually saying the words. Don't you think?"

"Indeed," Seven agreed, making a vow to herself at that moment, and voicing it to make it more... real. "I will not say that she will get well, since the odds against it are phenomenal, but I will do everything I can to make sure she gets better. I give you my word. She will get better; she has to get better."

The voice of the Captain interrupted them before Tom could ask what she was planning to do, which was a good thing since Seven didn't have any plans, just a rock steady resolve.

"Red alert, all hands to battle stations."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Seven and Tom arrived on the bridge just in time to hear the demand.

"Surrender or be destroyed. You have five minutes."

Their eyes went to the viewscreen where the face of a Klingon was replaced by a huge Klingon ship.

"I'm not even going to suggest fighting that," Janeway said while Seven and Tom took their places, "but can we outrun them?"

Knowing that time was limited, Seven gave the answers that others would have to look up. "It is a Klingon Negh'var class ship. If Voyager was in good condition, we would be able to outrun them on speed, and also outmaneuver their weapons which retarget relatively slowly. But what they lack in speed is made up in force. Their weapon strength is four times that of the Federation Galaxy class, and their hull armor is three times as strong. In the Federation universe, the original Negh'var is, to the last of my knowledge, currently serving as the Klingon Flagship. In our present state, we are no match for them."

"They are hailing us again," Harry informed.

"Short five minutes," Janeway mumbled before saying in a louder voice, "On screen."

The view screen changed once again to show the Klingon Captain. "If it was up to me, I would destroy you right now, but the Intendant wants to see the slaves that were able to destroy our ships. Surrender now, or die... now."

For a moment Janeway was thinking of initiating the self-destruct, but if this Intendant wanted to see them they still had a chance. "This is the Captain to all hands, prepare to be boarded. Cooperate and do not resist."

She looked over to Tuvok and sighed before giving the final order. "Tuvok, lower the shields."

Tuvok had barely done as he was told when the sound of transporters could be heard and ten heavily armed Klingons appeared on the bridge, making the bridge suddenly seem a lot less spacious, and a lot more crowded.

One Klingon had appeared close to Chakotay's chair and he barked at the first officer. "Get up."

Chakotay looked at Janeway for a moment and slowly started to get up, but this was apparently not fast enough for the Klingon. He gripped Chakotay and pulled him out of his chair.

In reflex, Chakotay took hold of the arm that was doing the pulling. "Hey, easy."

The Klingon brought his second hand up and slammed his fist in Chakotay's face with enough force to break his nose.

Tom had turned around at the commotion behind him and when he saw how Chakotay was being treated, he jumped up from his chair and moved to the Klingon to intervene. "Hey, come on. There's no need for that."

But Tom had hardly taken a step when another Klingon took hold of him. He was spun around and a fist hit his face, breaking his jaw. But the Klingon wasn't done yet. The Klingons were clearly pissed, and they were taking it out on them. The Klingon took hold of Tom's arm, twisting it behind Tom's back with enough force to dislocate his shoulder. He pushed Tom forward, sending him flying six feet through the air. This was followed by a powerful kick to the crumpled man's stomach.

Seven started to move, wanting to interrupt Tom's treatment, but when she had almost reached him, a voice stopped all movement of the Klingons on the bridge.

"Stop it, you fools. The Intendant wants to see them. Do you want to stand in front of the Intendant and explain why the prisoners look like they do now? The Intendant will decide what happens to them, not you."

As he spoke, Seven looked at the man who had just beamed onto the ship. She saw that it was the same Klingon that had been on the viewscreen a moment before.

Janeway had already stood up to help Tom, now she turned to the Klingon who had just spoken. "Do you always treat your prisoners like this?" Janeway asked, wanting to radiate enough superiority to make the Klingons back down a little.

The Klingon stepped in front of Janeway and looked down at the woman he towered above. "You're damn lucky that the Intendant wants to see you first, that the Intendant wants to be the one to decide what should be done with you. If it was up to me, you would all die a slow and painful death. You destroyed our ships. You killed Klingons. You deserve to die by torture."

"They attacked us," Janeway objected. "We had to defend ourselves. What would you have us do? Sit and wait to be destroyed?"

"Yes." The Klingon took hold of Janeway's uniform and lifted her of the ground. "You are slaves. You shouldn't have a ship, and you do whatever you are told. And if we decide to kill you, then you as slaves should sit, wait and be happy to be killed. Don't speak to me again."

He let her drop back onto the deck and turned to the other Klingons. "The Intendant wants to see the senior staff of this... scrapheap. Round them up and clean them. It should not be visible that they have... fallen down. Bring them to a doctor if you need to. But the ones that aren't part of the senior staff..." the Klingon grinned, "...well, the Intendant didn't say anything about them."

"What about the blonde?" Another Klingon asked while looking at Seven, giving the impression of licking his lips without actually doing it.

"Since she is on the bridge, I assume that she is part of the senior staff."

"Damn."

The other Klingon laughed. "You really didn't think that you would get her, did you? If the Intendant is willing to part with her, I'll take her. Now, time to get going."

The Klingon pointed at Tom and Chakotay. " Clean those two up and take inventory of all the slaves onboard."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 3

A little more than half an hour later, all the senior staff members, except the engineering representative, found themselves standing in a room inside the Klingon ship. They were awaiting the arrival of the Intendant who, Janeway assumed, was inspecting his latest spoils of war: Voyager. The door behind them opened and someone came storming in. From the reaction of the guards in the room, Janeway assumed that this would be the Intendant. The Klingon stopped in front of them and the Voyager crew was shocked to find themselves face to face with a fuming and obviously severely pissed off B'Elanna Torres.

"What are you doing with that clone of me?!"

Janeway took in the warrior uniform this B'Elanna was wearing and she saw the clear confidence with which she was wearing it. This B'Elanna had been wearing Klingon battle armor for a long time. Knowing that this was not her B'Elanna, Janeway spoke carefully, not sure how volatile this B'Elanna could be.

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway. I oegf!..." She was cut off by a fist to her stomach; the force behind it had been enough to actually lift her off her feet.

When the Human had started to give her name, Intendant B'Elanna Torres stepped up to her, taking a good hold of her with one hand and hitting her in the stomach as hard as she could with the other.

"Listen, Human, I didn't ask for your name. I asked what you're doing with a clone of me. Don't try my patience again." The Intendant let go of Janeway who immediately sank to the floor, trying very hard to draw air into her lungs.

The man with the facial tattoo further down the line spoke up, clearly trying to get the Intendant's attention away from the woman lying on the floor gasping for air. "She isn't a clone. She is B'Elanna Torres, the B'Elanna Torres from our universe."

"There, that wasn't that hard." The Intendant strolled up the line until she was standing in front of the man. "Well, go on. Don't stop now that you got my attention. Talk. And you better make sure that I believe you."

And so Chakotay started to explain in a short and clear manner the story of who they were, where they came from, and what had brought them into the situation they were now in.

The Intendant barked a short laugh when Chakotay was finished. "Oh, are you ever shit out of luck. I love it. Here you poor Humans go from being so fiercely independent, to being slaves, all in the matter of hours; and that while your Terran Homeworld is within spitting distance. Do you know what your planet is here? It's nothing more than a slave breeding ground."

The Intendant took a step to the right and was standing in front of Seven. She looked into Seven's eyes for a moment and then reached up to tap against the metal above her left eye. "Hmm, looks nice. But I'm willing to bet that this is no mere decoration."

"What of our B'Elanna?" Seven asked.

"Good question," the Intendant agreed. "Your doctors should not have tried to save her. They cheated her out of an honorable death."

She looked to one of the guards and addressed him, "Give the order to have those machines turned off. Let her die."

"No!" Before any of the guards or the Intendant herself could react, Seven had taken a hold of her, whirled her around and pulled the Klingon against herself; threatening to break her neck. "She can fully recover with your help. Help her, or die."

The Intendant was surprised to find that she couldn't break the hold the woman had on her, and that with having trained to escape holds like that. It was the sheer strength of the blonde woman that was preventing the Intendant from doing so now. The Intendant was also surprised to find that she was enjoying the situation. The blonde presented a real challenge for the Intendant, and she didn't come across those that often these days.

"Stay back," she ordered the guards before addressing Seven. "I find it interesting that you're threatening to kill me, B'Elanna Torres, to save B'Elanna Torres."

"Irrelevant."

"Yeah? Then how about this? You say that I can save your B'Elanna, but if I'm dead I can't save her, now can I? So if you kill me, you also kill your own B'Elanna."

The Intendant could feel the hands of the blonde start to shake a little as she began to realize her dilemma.

"I... You can save her. You have to help her, please."

The Intendant stopped the struggling that she had been doing the entire time. "I must admit that this is the first time that someone is begging and pleading for my help, and yet at the same time has my neck ready to break. What's it going to be, Human? Are you going to kill me, or release me?"

Realizing her emotion driven stupidity, Seven let go of the Intendant.

The Intendant turned around and in one fluid motion treated Seven to a right hook that would have floored Kahless himself. Seven was indeed floored, but stood right up again. While the Intendant on her turn, first put her hand between her legs before then starting to shake it; all in an effort to get rid of the pain. Blood was seeping from the wounds where her fist had hit Seven's implant.

"Kahless be dammed! What the hell are you!?"

"I am Borg."

The Intendant snorted. "I have no idea what that means, but I'm sure that explains it all."

She looked at Seven for a moment, not really sure what she should do with this Human woman who had challenged her in front of her men. The obvious response would be to kill her, to kill them all. Kill... an idea snuck into her mind. She was going to have some fun with this Human.

"Hehehe," the Intendant chuckled while she licked the blood from her knuckles. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you. You're going to be my little special project."

Seven was surprised to see several of the guards looking slightly disappointed at the Intendant's words.

The Intendant strolled up and down the line of the senior staff until she was standing in front of Seven again. "Tell me about my counterpart, and why you think I can save her."

Before the blonde could start, the bald man in the middle of the group cleared his throat. "Intendant, I know I have no permission to speak, but I'm the medical officer onboard Voyager. Maybe I could explain."

The Intendant strolled back to the man and gave him a quick once over. She liked the way he had addressed her, like someone that knew his place and who only spoke up if it was about something he could actually talk about. However, there was something strange about him but she couldn't quite make out what it was. Taking a deep breath she realized it was something about his smell, or lack thereof. The man wasn't giving off any smell at all. "You're not Human."

"No, I'm not. I am a sentient hologram. I started my life as an emergency medical program. Originally, I wasn't designed to be online for long, only in emergencies. But since Voyager's original medical officer died, I have been online constantly as his replacement. Over the years I have become a sentient being." The Doctor knew that speech by heart; he had deliberately stopped counting the times he had to give it to get people to see him as more than just a thing.

The Intendant strolled back until she was standing in front of the blond, but talked to the bald man. "Keep your holographic shirt on. You might be glad to know that in this universe, that means that you're above Humans. Now, start talking, but keep it quick and simple."

The Doctor did and a couple of minutes later the Intendant spoke to Seven again. "So that's what you meant when you said that I could save her. I, as B'Elanna Torres, can save your B'Elanna Torres. You need me, and only me. So, Borg, wh... is that your real name by the way, or was that more like 'I am Klingon'?"

"It is a description," Seven elaborated, slightly.

"Alright, and what's your name then?"

"My name is Seven of Nine."

"Seven, huh? Well, Seven, what's it worth to you if I were to save your B'Elanna?" The Intendant knew only too well that there was nothing that the slave could offer, but that didn't mean that she could not torment the blonde a little.

Seven thought about that question for a few seconds. What was it worth to her to save B'Elanna? She remembered what she had vowed less than an hour before; she would do everything to help B'Elanna. But there was one problem. There was nothing that she could give the Intendant in exchange for help. There was absolutely nothing. She possessed nothing... except for one thing.

What was it worth to save B'Elanna? What was it worth to help the rest of the crew? Seven had heard the Klingons. She knew that she would end up with one of them if the Intendant didn't keep her with her. She had a feeling that this was something she would not like at all. She had seen how the senior staff was treated, and the ex-Borg could only guess how they would be treated if the Intendant actually gave the other Klingons free rein to do with the Voyager crew whatever they wanted. Seven knew there was no easy way out. The only thing she could do was to beat the Intendant to a decision that the Klingon already had hinted that she would make.

What was it worth to help the Voyager crew? "I would do anything you want, save killing someone." Her blue eyes never left the Intendant's brown ones and Seven got the feeling that she had made a smart decision to put the limit of killing in her statement.

"Anything?" The Intendant laughed.

"Anything," Seven repeated calmly.

"Human, you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into."

"I believe I do," Seven disagreed.

"We will see, we will see. I'll think about whether or not I'm going to help your B'Elanna." The Intendant now looked at the rest. "And I will also think about what I'll do with the rest of you."

She walked away from the group a little and addressed one of the guards. "For now, throw them and the rest of their crew in cellblock A. There should be enough room there, since I had to kill those two hundred slaves that tried to escape."

Though the Senior staff wondered, and some even doubted, if the statement was true, they understood very well that this last statement was a warning towards them.

"Intendant, there are also some non-slave races in their crew. Including, Bajoran and Trill."

"Never easy," the Intendant said in a way that made it almost a curse. "Until we know their loyalty, they go with the rest of the crew. Throw some other slaves into the A block too, so that the non-Terrans can hear from them what kind of life they can expect if they don't distance themselves from the slaves."

"Intendant," one of the other guards braved, "there are also several blonde slaves amongst them..."

He left his sentence unfinished, knowing that leaving his statement open would be the best thing to do. Make a clear suggestion, and chances were that the Intendant wouldn't do it just to spite him.

The Intendant waved a dismissive had. "Put them with the rest. Until I make a decision on what I want to do with them they are to be left alone, and not just the blonde ones. I'm talking about all of them."

"Yes, Intendant." The guards started to shove the senior staff out of the room, but when one of the guards went to Seven, the Intendant spoke up.

"No, not her. She stays here. She's mine. She said she would do anything, so I'm going to keep her reeeaal close."

Two of the guards stayed behind while the rest and the Voyager crew disappeared out of the room.

"Leave us," the Intendant told the guards.

She crooked a finger at Seven. "And you, come with me."

"Intendant..." one of the guards said when being dismissed.

"Don't worry. I'm perfectly safe. Aren't I, Seven?" Seeing the doubt on the faces of the guards, she said what Seven obviously had already understood. "Of course, were something to happen to me before I can decide what I'm going to do with these new slaves, then you can just kill them all. Including my look-alike."

The Intendant was not in the habit of explaining herself to guards, but they had a right to be concerned. Seven had already shown that she was capable of overpowering the Intendant.

"Yes, Intendant, you are safe from me," Seven agreed in a clear voice.

"See? Now leave us."

The guards left without another word.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Seven followed the Intendant through the ship for several minutes, which included one turbolift ride, until they entered what were obviously the Intendant's living quarters. The Intendant headed straight for the bathing room and started to strip out of her uniform. Once she was naked, she got into a large sunken bathtub that could hold at least ten people.

"I was about to take a bath when we caught up with you." The Intendant looked up at the blonde who was still standing fully clothed at the side of the tub. She pointed a leisurely finger at Seven's implants."Do those things rust?"

"No."

"No Intendant," the Intendant corrected. "In that case, strip and get in. I'm about to explain my rules to you."

She paused for a moment as Seven hesitantly started to undo the bio-suit. "Ooh, no underwear, nice. You sure you aren't a trained slave?"

Seven opened her mouth to reply, but Torres waved her off. "Never mind. Now, let me get to the first thing you should know; it's up to you how we do this. We can do this easy, or we can do this hard. As long as you always do whatever I say, we should have no problems. Since you're new to being a slave, I can accept you not knowing certain things. So if you do something wrong I won't punish you for it... the first time. I'll tell you what you did wrong and what you should do the next time. If you do it wrong a second time though..."

The Intendant left the sentence unfinished since it didn't really need further explanation, and because Seven was now standing naked at the tub's edge. The Intendant took her time to admire the blonde's beauty. "Very nice. I see that those things are also on other parts of your body. I never saw anything like it before. They look good on you. Get in."

Seven did as she was told, for a moment wondering how the Intendant could find her Borg implants attractive. Standing in the bathtub the water came exactly to the apex of her legs, covering her most private parts, but showing off some of her blonde curls. Seven realized that if she had embraced her humanity as much as the Captain had wanted her to, then she would have felt insecure and ashamed standing in front of a virtual stranger naked. But being naked didn't bother the blonde at all. She could help B'Elanna; she could help the Voyager crew, her collective. The how was irrelevant. Why else would she feel glad to see approval in those eyes?

The Intendant took her time taking in Seven's body, her eyes flashed to Seven's breasts first but soon roamed to every other part of the blonde's body. Taking in every square millimeter; loving every curve she saw. "Turn around."

Once again, Seven did as she was told, strangely satisfied when she heard the Intendant making a 'mmmhmm' sound behind her back. She wondered why she would feel satisfaction from the fact that the Intendant liked her body. Then she reasoned that it was that if the Intendant liked her, she would be more willing to help B'Elanna. That had to be the reason why hearing the 'mmmhmm' felt so good.

"Sit." The Intendant grinned when Seven sat down on the other side of the tub, as far away as possible. 'That will change soon enough.'

She took the bath soap and put some on a sponge and started to move it over her body, "You know what you are from now on?"

"Your slave."

"My body slave," the Intendant corrected, "You'll see to all my needs. You'll do this next time."

She lifted the sponge lightly to explain what she meant with 'this'. During the next bath Seven would be washing the Intendant. "You'll get my food for me. Stuff like that. Since this is actually the first time I'll have a body slave since I was a child, I don't know all of your tasks yet. I'll make them up as we go along. But there's one thing you can be sure of, you'll have to service me whenever I'm in the mood, including tonight."

"Service?" Seven wasn't sure if the Intendant meant what Seven thought that she meant.

The Intendant rolled her eyes. "Pleasure me, fuck me, whatever you want to call it. We can do that two ways too. You can resist, or you can work along. You're mine. If you try to resist me, I'll take what is mine. Oh, I know that you're stronger than me, but I can put you in chains. I can have you beaten. I can have you violated until you die from it. You understand me?"

"Yes."

"Yes Intendant," the Intendant corrected again. "Really, trying to show your defiance by short replies is so useless. You think you're the first to try that trick? Believe me, I'm well used to dealing with people that use that trick."

She grinned. "Guess what? That too I do in two ways. If I like the person I 'might' ignore it. If not... Well, I 'am' the Intendant. And since you don't know yet what that means, let me just say that I can literally get away with murder. Get me?"

"Yes," Seven said, pausing only a fraction before adding, "Intendant."

"Good. Because I normally don't like that kind of stuff in my quarters. I can beat people senseless whenever I want, so why should I do it in bed as well? As long as you do what I tell you, it shouldn't be too hard for you."

She put away the sponge before turning back to regard Seven. "When we're in private like now, you can talk to me without being spoken to, just don't argue with me and shut up when I tell you to. You understand?"

"Yes, Intendant."

She grabbed the sponge again and threw it at Seven, who caught it in mid air. "And for Kahless sake, we're in a bath, bathe yourself."

Seven started to use the sponge to wash her body. It took her a moment to realize that the Intendant was watching her closely, her eyes following the sponge on its way over the blonde's body. "I will not resist, but you cannot make me enjoy it. Is that what I should call you all the time?"

"I think I could prove you wrong if I wanted to put the effort in to it," the Intendant disagreed. "But I really don't care if you enjoy it. You just make sure that I enjoy it. And what do you mean, with what should you call me?"

Seven finished her quick and efficient bath, and sat back against the tub wall. "I just thought that since I am your slave, you would not like me to call you the same as your soldiers call you, Intendant. Neither would you like me to call you B'Elanna, I assume."

"Did I tell you to think or assume?" The Intendant asked, raising her voice slightly.

"No you did not. Are you now telling me not to think?"

The Intendant laughed at the question. Her new slave certainly was smart, in more ways than one. "No, I'm not telling you that. Just don't try to outthink me. And you can call me Mistress until I get tired of that."

"Yes, Mistress."

The Intendant grabbed the bottle of bath soap and threw that to Seven, showering the blonde in a spray of soap before she could catch it. "Use this on the sponge and wash yourself again, slowly this time. Make it an enjoyment for me to see you bathe."

The Intendant watched Seven's slow movements for a few minutes. "Much better. Don't rush, take your time. And remember."

"Remember, Mistress?"

"Yes, that whole thing of me telling you stuff, once. Next time we're in this bath, will I have to tell you again to use the sponge, to use the soap?"

"No, Mistress, you will not," Seven assured.

"Good." After her one word statement, the Intendant spread her arms along the edge of the bath and simply looked at the blonde.

Seven was glad that for now, the Intendant seemed happy to just watch her take a bath. It gave her a few minutes to sort her thoughts and think.

The last hour, from the moment that they had first seen the Intendant, Seven had only been reacting to the situation at hand. Now she had a moment to think about the situation she found herself in. She knew from what the Ferengi had told the Voyager crew, that in this universe the Klingons were the most powerful race. And that meant that the Klingon Intendant had to be one of the most influential people. Nobody would dare to ask the Intendant about the fate of a group of Humans.

The Intendant, this B'Elanna, could have them all killed with a single word. However, that also meant that this B'Elanna had the power to heal Voyager's B'Elanna; that she could have Voyager repaired, that she could deactivate the weapon platforms guarding the entrance to the wormhole. Seven knew that she had to gain the trust of the Intendant. It was the only way that she could help Voyager. And she could gain the trust of the Intendant, simply by doing whatever the Intendant told her to do.

She judged this Intendant on what she knew of Voyager's B'Elanna, keeping in mind that the character of the Intendant would be different because of living her life as a Klingon, and because she was a very important person, used to people listening to her. From that, she guessed that the Intendant had told her the truth. The Intendant would treat her fairly, as long as she did what she was told. But she also knew that she was only a 'thing' to the Intendant, a mere slave. The Intendant had more than likely also told her the truth about what would happen if she resisted. The Intendant would take what was hers.

Seven's thinking focused on what it would be like to be a slave. Her first reaction was that she wouldn't mind it too much. She had been told what to do, how to move, when to regenerate, for twenty-four years. The first six years by her parents, and then eighteen years by the Borg. She missed the simplicity of that life sometimes. She had tried to explain this to the Captain once, but Janeway had not been able to see the freedom that came from having someone else make all the decisions for you.

"I know that you're thinking," the voice of the Intendant suddenly interrupted. "But you better start moving again; give me something to watch while you make up your mind."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven continued to move the sponge across her body, making sure not to stop again.

However once she was severed from the collective, she also discovered that she liked her individuality, to make decisions on her own. The Captain had informed her that she could not have it both ways: have someone order you around, yet keep your individuality. Janeway had assured her that eventually she would grow out of wanting someone to have control over her. Seven had not been so sure.

Seven focused her eyes on the Intendant, surprised to see that B'Elanna was caressing her own body leisurely. "Do... um, I know that you own me, Mistress. But as a slave, does it mean that I have to do whatever anyone else tells me to do?"

The Intendant's fingers stopped for a moment before continuing across her own throat and down her side. "If you were a common slave, yes."

The Intendant could see that the blonde did not like that answer at all, and for a moment, she thought about leaving things at that. But there was something about the blonde. Something that made the Intendant suddenly take a personal slave, even though she had not had one since she killed the annoying slave that was supposed to raise her as a child.

For some reason the Intendant wanted the slave to be hers, willingly. This, she assumed, was also the reason why she had already given the slave more patience and explanation than she usually showed her subjects. The Intendant was not in the habit of explaining herself, especially not to a slave. But she had a feeling that treating the slave with some patience at this point, would only pay off in the long run.

After letting the slave wait for a moment longer, the Intendant finally continued. "But that's the advantage of being a body slave. You're mine. You have to do whatever 'I' tell you. This means that the trials and tribulations of all your actions fall back on me. If someone has a problem with something you do, then they have to take it up with me. If I think that they're right, then it's up to me to give you what I deem a proper punishment."

The Intendant pointed a finger at Seven. "You," then she pointed at her own chest, "are 'my' slave. If I say that you have to lick my boots, then you will kneel and do so right away, no matter where we are. But as far as Humans go, you'll be one of the most independent Humans alive; one of only a hand full of Humans that actually have rights. If anyone but me commands you to do something, you actually have the right to say no. Not even the other Intendants can order you around."

The Intendant could see that this answer was a lot more to the liking of the blonde. "And now, Human, it's time to make a decision. What's it going to be?"

It was an easy choice for Seven, having already decided that working along with the Intendant would be in the best interest of the Voyager crew, and herself. Seven lowered her eyes, assuming that a slave was not to look her master in the eyes, "I am yours to command, Mistress."

Torres grinned. Yes, a smart slave might actually be a good thing; no useless and stupid bravado for nothing more than stupid spite. No useless thinking, 'I'm not saying yes unless you beat me until I can't talk anymore and have to nod my yes'. No, this was so much better.

"Good, but look at me. There's no need to lower your eyes... when we're alone. If we're in public your position as my body slave means that you can look everyone lower than me in the eyes. So that really means that in public you can't look me or the Klingon chancellor in the eyes."

"There is something you need to know, Mistress." Seven lifted her mesh-covered hand out of the water. "These implants need periodic maintenance. The Doctor has the right tools for this onboard Voyager. In addition, because of these implants I need to regenerate for eight hours every seventy-two hours. This is done in certain alcoves also onboard Voyager."

The Intendant moved her arms from the edge of the bathtub and used them to lift herself out of the water until she was sitting on the side of the tub, her legs still hanging in the water. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, come here."

Hesitantly Seven came closer until she was standing in front of the Intendant.

"Kneel."

Once again, Seven did as she was told and kneeled in the tub. This brought her head to the same level as the Intendant's knees.

"Enough talking for now, it's getting late and I need something from you. We'll talk more in the morning." The Intendant leaned back until she was resting on her elbows. Without a single trace of shame or modesty she spread her legs, opening herself for the blonde. "Service me, Human."

Seven blinked her eyes a couple of times in a severe un-Borg like manner and tried to swallow against a suddenly dry throat. She could smell the Intendant and see her most private parts fully exposed thanks to the wide parted legs. Seven leaned in slowly, hesitantly. She knew why the Intendant was doing this. Beside obviously also needing release, this would make it real. Up to that point it had only been talk, but once she started to satisfy the Intendant, to touch and taste her, it would be more than words. From then on, she would truly be the Intendant's slave. She started to use her tongue and lips slowly, hesitantly; exploring the Intendant's most private parts.

After a few minutes of that, the Intendant suddenly gripped a hand full of blonde hair and pulled Seven's head back. Brown eyes filled with annoyance locked on blue eyes filled with unease. "What?! You don't like women? You better learn real quick."

The Intendant's question made it clear that she was disappointed in the way Seven was pleasuring her.

"No, Mistress. I have not yet been with anyone, male or female, but I know that I like only women. It is... please, Mistress, give me one minute."

"I'm starting to lose my mood here. Don't make me regret taking you as a body slave, Human."

"Please, Mistress, I do want to please you." While she was saying it, Seven felt it to be the truth.

The Intendant let go of the blonde's hair and leaned back again, mentally counting the seconds of a minute.

Seven looked at the sight in front of her, knowing that what she did at that point would plot the course of the rest of her life. She deliberately forgot about any possible consequences that would come forth from her choice. She asked herself what she really wanted. Disregarding the rest, what did Seven of Nine really want?

The Intendant had counted to fifty-six when she felt a tongue start to explore her once more. After only a moment she noticed that it felt different this time, a lot different. It felt right. She gasped in a mix between surprise and pleasure. Suddenly her elbows didn't seem able to keep her up anymore and she dropped back.

The blonde had suddenly turned wonderfully relentless in her ministrations and the Intendant grasped around her with flailing hands, hoping to find something to hang on to. Her hands found a leg of one of the two small benches set against the wall so that people could sit down to remove shoes, or sit as they dried off.

She griped the bench leg, pulling the bench from its place. "Kahless."

She felt the blonde shift position and was just about to look down when the relentless attack of pleasure was back in force, and then all the Klingon Intendant could do was lay back and hold on for the best ride she had ever had in her life.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 4

The following day Intendant Torres woke to the sight of her new slave standing against one of the walls, looking off into nothing. She took a moment to take the blonde in. "I don't like what I see."

Blue eyes went to the Intendant immediately and Seven came closer until she was standing beside the bed. "Mistress?"

Torres moved back a little until she was sitting against the headboard. "You're still naked, yet you're not here in the bed. You're just standing around. I don't like it at all."

Seven didn't know what to do. Was the Intendant telling her to get into the bed, or was she telling her to get dressed?

Her unease must have shown because Torres continued to explain. "I want you to do whatever I tell you to do, but I don't want to have to tell you every move you should make. I want you to act on your own, to a certain degree. As soon as I tell you to do something, you do it. For instance, I want to be able to tell you to go get something for me, but I don't want to have to tell you to get up, walk to a certain place, get what I want, and come back. You did it the right way last night. I told you what I wanted and you did it. But I didn't have to tell you how to move your tongue or when to use your fingers. I want to give you an order and it's up to you how you fulfill it. You understand?"

"I believe I do. However, I fail to see how this affects my current state of dress."

Torres let her eyes drift over the blonde's body. "Why are you naked?"

"Because I do not know if you need my services again."

Torres sighed. "When I went to sleep last night, that was a good sign that I wouldn't need your 'services' again for at least a couple of hours. It's ok to get dressed then. If I had needed your 'services' again this morning, I would simply have told you to strip. Got it?"

"I believe I do."

"Don't believe; know," Torres corrected.

"Yes, Mistress. Should I dress myself now?"

"Yes."

While Seven went to the adjacent bathing room to retrieve her bio-suit, Torres got up herself and looked around for her uniform. Not seeing it, she realized where she left it and shouted after her slave; "Get my uniform while you're in there."

Torres was standing beside the bedroom replicator when Seven came back. "Come over here."

The Intendant waited until the now fully dressed blonde was standing beside her before she continued. "I don't believe in having a slave dress me. It takes longer than when I do it myself, and my clothes fit better if I put them on and in the right place myself. But, from now on it's your task to make sure that every morning there's a clean uniform replicated for me. You take my old uniform, take these decorations off, put it in the replicator and choose clothes cycle one, on this replicator."

While Torres was explaining this, she was also showing it by replicating her uniform. "I saw replicators on that ship of yours so don't tell me you don't know how to use them."

"Yes, Mistress."

"I worked very hard for those decorations. The Chancellor didn't make me Intendant on the mere fact that I'm adopted family. I earned that title. These are the original decorations. If you forget to take even one of them off and I have to replicate it, you will be severely punished."

"Yes, Mistress, I will not forget," Seven assured.

Torres started getting dressed and realized that the blonde was wearing the same clothes as the day before. "I'll also put some patterns in the replicator for clothes for you. I expect you to change whenever I do. You'll always do what I do. If I bath, you bath, if I eat, you eat. If I change clothes, you change clothes. Unless I'm using the toilet I also expect you to always be in the same room as me, unless I tell you otherwise. So from now on I'm not going to tell you anymore that you should follow me. If I move from one room to another, you will follow."

"Yes Mistress." Seven realized that she had already stopped seeing B'Elanna in the woman in front of her; she had become Intendant Torres. For a moment Seven wondered if she shouldn't be resisting the woman more. But she decided that this would not be the right move. The best course of action was to wait until she got the chance to help the Voyager crew in some way. She would not help the crew by testing the Intendant's patience. "Mistress?"

Torres tugged her uniform straight before looking over to the blonde. "Yes?"

"This suit is called a bio-suit. There is technology incorporated in it that interacts with my implants. Wearing these suits allows me to go up to seventy-two hours without regenerating. If I were to wear normal clothes, I would have to regenerate more often. More importantly, my implants would need twice as much maintenance."

They left the bedroom and headed to a small room attached to it. Seven noticed that the Intendant's quarters were basically divided into two parts; the main section that she had seen the day before when entering the quarters, and a more private part that, as far as she had seen until now, consisted out of a bathing room, a sleeping room, and the room they were in now. It was a combination of a cooking area and a resting area. For a moment it looked as if the Intendant was going to sit on one of the couches, but then she changed her mind and sat down at the table to the side of the cooking area.

"Who made the clothes you're wearing now?" Torres wondered out loud.

"The Doctor designed this and two other suits."

"The Doctor? That bald hologram?" Torres asked surprised. "Get me program thirty-nine from the replicator and get yourself the same. You'll always eat the same as I. And when we're alone you're allowed to sit when you're not doing something I ordered you to do. But if I have a guest, or if someone enters and it seems that they're staying longer than just a moment, I expect you to get up quietly and go stand out of direct sight against a wall."

Torres waited until Seven was sitting at the table before continuing. "I'll give the hologram some clothing patterns for the clothes I would like you to wear. He can incorporate the needed technology into them."

They ate in silence until the Intendant was finished eating. She looked over to Seven's plate and saw that pretty much half of the food was still on it. "Stop eating. Whenever I'm done, you're done. I don't care if you still have something left or not."

"Yes, Mistress."

Torres noticed that the blonde had put her fork down surprisingly fast for someone that had just been told that the eating was over. As if she had been glad for the order. Hmm. "Once I'm done you clean everything up. Don't wait for me to leave the table or something. When I get up to go somewhere, I expect you to be ready to go too. And that goes for everything."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven got up and put the plates and utensils back in the replicator. Once done she went back to the table and sat down, but not before looking at Torres to see if it was alright to do so.

The Intendant nodded her head slightly to indicate that Seven had acted correctly. "Stop saying 'yes Mistress' all the time. If you keep that up I'll be tired of hearing it by tomorrow. Just keep it for when I ask you something. If I tell you something, let's just assume that you get it. However, if you don't understand something, tell me. It would be a shame if I had to punish you simply because you misunderstood me."

Torres got up and moved to one of the couches. She noticed that the blonde didn't move with her and was about to say something about it, when she realized that a little earlier she had told the slave that she could be seated, but she had not told her that she had to be as close as possible. The Intendant thought for a moment about adding that little part to the rule but then decided against doing so.

'The fewer rules I make for her, the fewer rules I have to keep track of.' She closed her eyes for a moment, mentally going over the tasks that lay ahead. She had to meet the Klingon Chancellor in two days, but for the rest there were only unimportant things; things that could easily be postponed until after her visit with the Chancellor. So if she wanted, she had two free days on her hands. Time to play with her new toy, and the ship that toy had arrived on. She opened her eyes and found the slave looking at her. "What?"

Having been caught staring, Seven quickly looked away. "Forgive me, Mistress. I am not used to having nothing to do. While I was on Voyager, I was either working or regenerating."

"Get used to it." Torres knew the golden rule, keep slaves uneducated, and they are less likely to cause trouble. That was why slaves were normally only trained in one thing. Of that one thing they would know everything there is to know about it, but have them do something else and they would be hopelessly lost. Put a farmer slave in a field and he would get the highest yield out of it, but put that same slave in a house to clean and he wouldn't even be able to clean the windows. The only exceptions to this were the engineering slaves. Since they had to work on so many different things, they were trained in a broader spectrum; everything having to do with engineering.

So it only stood to reason that one should have a body slave learn nothing except what pleased her master. But the thing was that this blonde slave had not grown up as a slave. She already knew a lot. She was already smart. There was no changing this and it could be a mistake to disregard it. It would be a lot better to use it.

"On second thought, I'll give you something to read later on. It's the history of this universe. The history of the Klingons from the moment we started to walk upright. And also the history of how three hundred years ago the Sol Empire started to form, and how we eventually defeated them. I want you to study all of this in great detail. When I ask you a question about history, I expect to hear the right answer. If you're wrong, you'll be punished. Why did you eat so little? Didn't you like the food?"

The last two questions had come out without Torres really realizing it. Why would she care if a slave liked her food? The blonde should be happy to get food in the first place.

"Klingon food is normally too... strong for me," Seven started, since that was the reason why she ate so slow, but not why she ate so little. "But I normally do not eat much because regenerating takes care of a lot of my bodily functions, including imbuing my body with energy."

The Intendant seemed to understand this and nodded her head slightly. "Alright, I can accept you not eating much for that reason. But you will eat what I eat, and you also will eat when I eat. Now, get over here and sit down."

Seven went to the second couch, the one across from the Intendant and sat down on the place the Intendant had pointed to.

Torres looked Seven in the eyes for a long moment and finally asked, "Why are you so submissive?"

"Mistress?"

"Yesterday you overpowered me, no small feat by any means, and you even threatened to kill me," Torres explained. "And then suddenly last night you turn around as if someone threw a switch and now you're all 'yes Mistress'. Why? I expected more of a challenge from you. Don't tell me that I've broken you. I did nothing that would even come close to breaking someone like you."

Seven thought for a moment about how to answer that. There were several answers she could give, all of them true. Finally, she decided on an answer, keeping in mind that the Intendant had thought she would be a challenge.

"No, you have not broken me. However, you have my fellow crewmembers under your control, you are the only one that can save our B'Elanna Torres, and you have the means to have Voyager repaired. You are more likely to help on these matters if you are pleased. Annoying you, at this point would be... unwise."

"Hmm, I see your point," Torres agreed. "So you will double-cross me when you get the chance?"

"My priority lays with Voyager and her crew," Seven started slowly.

She knew she was treading a fine line between telling the Intendant too much, and not telling her enough. If she told the Intendant too much, then it would be too easy for the Intendant to counteract whatever plan Seven would come up with in the future. But if she didn't tell the Intendant enough, then the Klingon would think that Seven was already planning something and be suspicious of everything the blonde would do.

Then, having decided on what to say, she spoke in a more normal tone, "In this universe, at this point in time, you are actually the best hope for them. The Klingons are the most powerful race here. You, as Klingon Intendant, are one of the most powerful Klingons here. There is no reason to double-cross you. I would always get less than I have now."

"At some point I have to decide what I'm going to do with the rest of your crew. I won't be able to hold them over your head as leverage forever. What's there to keep me from just simply killing them all?" The Intendant had smiled while asking that, but it certainly hadn't been a nice smile.

"Their safety is the one thing you have over me. If they were dead, there would be nothing to stop me from killing you."

Torres laughed when she heard the slave's answer. She liked the blonde's honesty. Oh, she knew that the slave was choosing her words very precisely, and that there were things she was keeping to herself. But still, maybe having a smart slave wasn't that bad after all. "You really think that you would be able to kill me? There are some very nice cells I could put you in. You would never get close to me."

"I would escape, and I would reach you."

Though she didn't show it, Torres was impressed with the confidence she had heard in the blonde's statement. "Well," she said still amused, "let's hope we never have to find out. It would be a shame to lose you. I was very impressed with your services last night. Which reminds me, what changed there? In the duration of one minute, you went from being a huge disappointment to giving me the best lay I ever had, doing things to me that even I didn't know my body could do or would like."

Seven hesitated before saying softly, "You just said yourself that you have not broken me. I think that the day will come where I tell you what happened last night. But for now, I will not tell you."

Suddenly Torres was up from the couch and had a hand at Seven's throat. "You will answer me right now!"

For a few minutes nothing happened, Torres was depriving Seven of air to breathe, while Seven just kept sitting there, looking up at the Intendant. Finally the Klingon applied some more force, and then let go with a growl, "I should kill you right now! I can't believe I put up with this shit!"

Torres started pacing back and forth, thinking about how to handle the situation.

Seven was about to say something, but realized that she should not be sitting on a couch with her Master pacing around. She got up and moved to block the Intendant's way. Before Torres could say or do anything, Seven sank to a kneeling position on the floor and lowered her eyes. "Mistress, I could have told you a lie. I did not. Please, Mistress, if you allow me not to answer on some questions, I will swear to you that I will never deceive you, and at some point, when I am ready, I will remind you of your question and answer it."

Torres grabbed some of Seven's hair and forced the blonde's head up until she was looking at the Intendant. "I can't believe that a slave is giving me terms."

Then she pushed Seven's head away and went back to sit on the couch. Once seated, she pointed to the floor in front of her. "Get over here."

The Intendant waited until Seven was kneeling in front of her before leaning back. "And I also can't believe that I'm actually inclined to listen. But if I really want to suggest my plans to the others, this might be a good training."

"Mistress?"

"Never mind, maybe at some point when 'I'm' ready I will tell 'you' what I'm talking about." Torres let the slave's words go through her mind again, and realized something. "You said that you wouldn't deceive me. But that means that if you say things in just the right way that you can still lie to me."

"Yes, Mistress, I know," Seven agreed. "However, I chose this approach deliberately because certain questions could be asked in such a way that my saying that I will not answer, would be an answer in and of itself. I want to prevent this from happening."

"Very well, slave. I accept your deal. But pull anything like you just did in front of my men, and I'll have to kill you just to retain my authority."

"I know this, Mistress. And I will not."

Torres was about to tell the slave to go sit on the couch again when she decided that she kinda liked having the slave sit in front of her like that. She opened her legs and motioned the slave closer until she was kneeling between the Intendant's legs. Seeing the look in the slave's eyes, she had to laugh. "Don't worry slave, you don't have to service me right now. But you are my Pet, and I'm in the mood to pet you. Let your hair down."

Seven did as she was told and freed her hair. As soon as she had, Torres grabbed the slave's chin and forced her head up with a surprisingly soft touch. "This looks better on you; from now on you leave your hair like this."

The Intendant let go of Seven's chin and started to move her fingers through the blonde hair. "Mmm, nice. Klingons don't have soft hair like this. You are one very fine slave."

Seven didn't really know what she should do. What the Intendant was doing to her felt nice; she liked the feeling of fingers running through her hair. But it also seemed strange to be kneeling in front of someone and be looking at the cloth-covered place she visited so thoroughly the night before. Finally, she decided to just close her eyes and enjoy. Only a minute later her head was leaning against the Intendant's thigh, eyes closed, while enjoying the feeling of the Intendant's fingers caressing her scalp. But then her thoughts started to roam and she remembered something very important. "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"Forgive me for bringing this up, but the state of affairs considering Voyager's B'Elanna Torres' health deteriorates with every passing moment. Have you considered helping her?"

Torres' fingers stopped for a moment but almost immediately continued. "Actually, it's good that you've reminded me of that. I was about to explain the reward and punishment system I've thought up for you. But first answer me this, why are you so concerned about her? Are you lovers?"

"The relationship between us is... complicated. But no, we are not lovers. I told you last night that I have never been with anyone."

Torres took hold of Seven's chin once again and lifted it. "But you want her to be your lover?"

"I want her to be my friend," Seven corrected. "B'Elanna Torres is the chief Engineer onboard Voyager. She had been maintaining Voyager for four years when I came onboard. Even though she did an excellent job of maintaining Voyager, I had several suggestions on how to enhance the ship. The captain ordered some of those suggestions implemented and the Lieutenant felt threatened by me because of it. I assume she feared that the captain would soon make me Chief of Engineering. I, on the other hand, did not understand why the Lieutenant was being so difficult, it was highly inefficient. Soon a hostility started to form between us that has lasted for several years. But over the last half year, this slowly changed to a mutual respect for each other, and the last couple of weeks we were moving in the direction of being friends. I think we already are friends in some way, just that neither of us has actually said the word."

"Very interesting," Torres said, and Seven could hear that the Intendant actually meant it. "But that still doesn't answer my question. You want her to be your lover?"

"I think that B'Elanna and I could become very close friends, but not partners. There is something I want from a partner that I know B'Elanna would never do. No, I do not want her to be my lover."

"What do you..." Torres stopped talking when Seven raised her head and looked the Intendant in the eyes.

"Please, Mistress. Do not ask me what it is that I want. Not yet." Seven lowered her eyes again, but straightened up a little, fully expecting the Intendant to explode again.

But instead of exploding, the Intendant softly put Seven's head back against her thigh and started to run her fingers through the blonde hair again. "You're making it very hard for me not to beat some sense into you, slave. But I have a feeling that you have a very high tolerance for physical pain."

Torres moved her hand until she was caressing Seven's cheek. "Besides, I like your flawless skin intact. So here's what I'll do. I'm a firm believer in that if you punish slaves, you should also reward them from time to time. And here's my reward and punishment system for you. Look at me."

The Intendant waited until those azure colored eyes found hers. "The crew that you were a part of consists out of 139 people. From now on, each of their lives represents one point. So that means that you have 139 points to work with. You'll start with zero points. Every time you do something that I think should be rewarded, you get a number of points I deem a fair reward. That could be one point, but it could also be twenty points. As soon as you have more than 139 points, the others live. They're still my slaves, but I won't order them killed and will see at that point what I'll do with them. But whatever it is, it won't be work that still gets them killed. So 140 points or more buys the lives of your friends. Understand?"

"Yes Mistress," Seven confirmed, not breaking the eye contact.

"Good. That's the reward part, now comes the punishment part. Whenever you do something that I think you should be punished for, you lose points. This also can vary from one point or up to twenty at one time. And from now on, whenever you don't tell me something, like you've already done twice now, you'll lose one point for it; having zero points is the bottom line. If you lose even one more point after you have nothing left, you pay with the life of your friends. They'll all be killed at that point. I won't tell you all the time how many points you have, make, or lose; I'll keep track of that in my head. But I do promise you that I'll be fair and keep an honest score. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Torres let her hand drop to Seven's shoulder and patted it softly. "I want a drink. From now on, if I don't specify what I want, then I want you to get me drink pattern one. And again, if I drink something, you drink too. You'll have the same as me. Get my drink, but keep listening."

The Intendant waited until the slave had reached the replicator before she continued. "This reward and punishment system starts from now on. But there's one thing we have to deal with first. I'll gladly admit that you gave me the best lay of my life last night."

Torres took the drink Seven handed her and was glad to see that the slave sat between her legs again, not as close as she had been, but still close enough that the Intendant had to open her legs to give the slave some room. "I hope that you keep being so good by the way... which reminds me, why is it that someone who's never been with anyone, is so good in giving pleasure?"

Seven took a sip from the drink, expecting it to be some strong Klingon beverage, and was surprised to find that it was the beverage that was known on Voyager as prune-juice.

"At some point during my stay on Voyager, I did some research into the mating rituals of several people on the ship. I noticed that each species had different rituals, and this also made me curious as to whether there were also differences in actual copulation techniques between species. So I researched everything I could find on the subject, including what pleasured the different species. Since B'Elanna Torres was one of the people I studied, I also researched all I could find in the database about Klingons."

"Ah, remind me to thank my counterpart in making you curious enough to research this. Anyway, as I was saying, because of last night, I'll reward you by having the best Klingon doctors look at my counterpart. As long as it doesn't harm me, I'll allow them to clone from me whatever is needed to heal her. However, she'll still be one of those 139 people."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Mmhmm, don't thank me too quickly. Remember, you're at zero points right now. So that means that as soon as you do something wrong now; or even don't answer one of my questions, all the slaves will be killed. Doesn't sound really fair now, does it?"

"No, it does not."

"Well, that's one of the differences between being a master and being a slave. As master I can do whatever I want. As slave you have to do whatever I want. But, you're in luck, if you only have zero points then the game is over too quick. So I'll give you the opportunity to earn twenty points right now by promising something."

"Mistress?" Seven took another sip from her drink, making sure that she kept the same level as Torres did. She suspected that one of, if not 'the' reason why the Intendant told her to drink and eat when she did, was because the Intendant didn't like eating alone. For Seven, the best way to be sure that she was eating when the Intendant was, and not already finished when the Intendant was only half way, was by keeping the same pace as Torres.

"All over coalition space, the penalty for slaves trying to escape is death," Torres informed. "Only if they actually succeed in escaping and are captured again is it up to the master to decide their punishment and might it be possible for the slaves to continue living. Now, I know that you can't escape, but that doesn't mean that you can't try. Now that I've taken a body slave, it would be a shame to lose you anytime soon. So, you can start with zero points and hope that you make some points soon, or you can earn 20 points right now by promising me on whatever is important to you, that you'll never try to escape. But think before you say yes. Since this is a starting amount of points, there's a special condition. If you say yes, and you still try to escape at some point, then all the slaves will immediately be killed, including you."

Seven took a moment to think that through. She was sure that she would make those 140 points, but she also knew that first she would do some things that would cost her points. If for nothing else than learning how to interact with the Intendant would most definitely not be flawless, she knew. Having a twenty point buffer was certainly not something she could refuse. But having that threat loom over her was also not very tempting. Even if she didn't try to escape, at some point some of her actions could be seen as such. Finally, she chose her words very precisely. "Very well, I will promise that I will never try to escape."

Torres lifted the head of her slave once more. By now she knew that the blonde could be very exact in the words she spoke. "And if someone takes you along against your will, against this promise, you'll try to get back to me for as long as it takes you to get back."

Seven sifted through the words once again, thinking of how she should answer that one. Finally, she decided that in this case less was more. "Yes, I promise."

"Hmm, I got the feeling that you're planning something," Torres said amused. "But very well, you just earned yourself twenty points."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

They sat like that for almost an hour more, Seven kneeling between the Intendant's legs and Torres absently playing with the blonde's hair while she let her mind drift over what she wanted to do next. There still were rules to explain, but she had told the slave the important parts and she decided that the rest could wait until situations arose that needed new rules. Until now, keeping track of the rules already made was relatively easy, she had basically told the slave to do whatever she herself did.

"Computer, time."

"The time is ten hours and twenty-one minutes."

The Intendant's sudden call for the time had startled Seven and she looked up to Torres in reflex.

"Easy, my Pet." Torres caressed Seven's cheek for a moment, "No need to be afraid... if you did nothing wrong. It's just time to get moving."

Torres pointed to a door opposite from the one they had used to enter the room they were in. "Through that door you'll find my private office. On the left of the desk you'll find a rack with blank PADDs at the bottom and in use ones at the top. Remember that. You'll have to go there frequently since I like working out here more than behind the desk. Now, get me two of the blank PADDs."

Seven got up to do as she was told. Upon entering the office she noticed that it was apparent that it was really more a place to put things than a place to work. The whole room was bare of any kind of decoration, while in the other rooms there had at least been some wall decorations. Even if they were bold Klingon weapons or armor. The computer unit had been folded closed and gave the impression that it hadn't been opened in a long time. There were even some boxes piled against one of the walls. The only thing that looked like it saw some use was the rack with PADDs that the Intendant had described. She took the bottom two PADDs and left the office to bring them back to the Intendant.

Torres took the PADDs from the slave and ordered her to get some more to drink. When the blonde came back, Torres pointed to the place beside her on the couch. "Sit here. Even though I really like how you feel between my legs, I do like to close them once in a while."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven sat down on the second cushion and busied herself with taking a sip from her own drink. She had seen the little grin the Intendant had given while speaking the words. She knew that the Klingon had been making a joke, and it surprised Seven.

This woman was nothing like how she was the day before when the senior staff had stood in front of her. Though come to think of it... Both commander Chakotay and the Doctor had been able to speak to the Intendant. Seven, herself, had been able to talk to her, even after trying to kill the woman first. Why then had she punched the Captain in the stomach?

Maybe... maybe it was because the Commander, the Doctor, and she had done what the Intendant had told them to do, while the Captain had not. Seven once again leaned on her knowledge of Voyager's B'Elanna Torres to find an explanation. On average it had been possible to work decently with B'Elanna. The fights between them usually started as soon as they disagreed and Seven refused to do whatever B'Elanna's illogical way of thinking had come up with.

From this, Seven assumed that the Intendant was someone with whom it was easy to get along with, as long as you did what she told you to do. If you did not, then you would see the other side of the Klingon; the side that she had seen briefly the day before and a little more than an hour ago.

The Intendant looked at the PADDs and recognized them from the numbering as the last two in the rack. "Wanted to make sure you had empty ones?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Don't worry. The ones that hold information always have the data line on top of the screen active. It shows you what's downloaded on the PADD. I saw PADDs on that ship. Didn't you work the same?"

"No. Privacy is very much an issue with the Voyager crew. Not counting a small serial number in micro writing, PADDs are unnumbered, and the contents secured with a password if the information on the PADD is of a personal nature."

"Huh," the Intendant grunted. "What a waste of effort. PADDs can be broken into. There hasn't been a PADD invented yet that I couldn't get into. My approach is a lot easier and affective."

"What is your approach, Mistress?" Seven asked when the Intendant didn't continue.

The Intendant put her thumb on the PADD window to activate it fully. "PADDs need to be activated. You always leave proof behind that you've read information off a PADD. Whoever is found reading information off one of these PADDs, without being authorized to do so, is killed the moment it's found out."

Torres looked to the side to see those azure colored eyes looking back at her. "Remember that. It would be a shame if I had to kill you because you accidentally opened the wrong PADD."

Torres didn't give Seven the chance to answer before addressing the computer. "Computer, download all non-classified Klingon history files in the database to PADD IN6334. Also download all non-classified Coalition history files to the same PADD."

"Insufficient storage capacity in PADD IN6334," the computer objected immediately.

"Sometimes it's a pain in the ass being the person that's allowed to know it all," Torres growled. Then she addressed the computer again. "Computer, access the Historical Records Hall on Qo'noS and copy the history files used in the education system that cover all of Klingon History and the history of the Coalition."

This time the computer merely beeped and a glance on the PADD told Torres that data was being downloaded. "Good. Computer download all Human female clothing designs on file to PADD IN3719."

Another beep was her answer.

"What, no crying from the damn thing? It must be the mentioning of only copying Human files."

"Or the 'on file', Seven suggested.

"What?"

"Forgive me Mistress, I assumed you were talking to me."

"I am now, so what did you say?"

"I said that it might have been the 'on file' part," Seven repeated. "Humans were once your Masters. I sincerely doubt that when the Sol Empire fell that much care was given to preserving Human history. And even more doubtful is that much time was spent on preserving the history of what Humans wore over the centuries."

"Crap, you're right; I forgot to give a time frame with the clothing. Oh well, I can have the data sorted by date later on. But for now,"

The Intendant handed one of the PADDs to Seven, but didn't let go when the blonde tried to take it. "As you probably noticed, my quarters consist of two major parts. The main room you entered through yesterday, and four other rooms are the 'official' part, where I meet anyone I don't call a friend. All the rooms you've been in today make up the 'private' part. You're only to read the information on this PADD in the private area, and this PADD is never to leave this area unless I tell you. If you find yourself with nothing to do, then you can read from this PADD when we're alone. You don't have to ask permission for that. But if the PADD is in a different room and I'm home, then you'll ask me if you can get it."

The Intendant let go of the PADD and watched the slave's reaction. The slave looked at the index part of the downloaded information, which indicated that the slave was interested in the information. But she also stopped reading after having read the index, which indicated that she was smart enough to not read something while the Intendant wasn't doing some kind of work. Torres liked that. Suddenly she realized something.

"That information is in Klingon. You can read, and I assume, write Klingon?"

"Yes, Mistress, it is one of the languages I know. I have also been speaking it since we were alone last night."

"Damn universal translator, I didn't even notice," Torres said with a slight growl.

She looked at Seven for a moment in a way that she had done several times before already. Seven started to understand that this was a behavior of the Intendant that she always did when trying to decide something.

Finally she added, "And I also didn't hear an accent. I would have noticed. Computer, when was the universal translator last activated in my quarters, main or private, and by whom?"

"Cardassian Intendant Dukat, speaking in his native language, last activated the universal translator in the main quarters on coalition date 5475.9. The universal translator has never been activated in the private quarters."

Torres pointed her finger at Seven. "Repeat what the computer just said."

Seven did as she was told, clearly impressing Torres.

"Nice, very nice," Torres approved. The Klingon that the blonde had spoken had been absolutely perfect, as if she had been speaking it since birth. "And also very convenient, since Klingon is the official language throughout the coalition."

But the flawlessness of the Klingon language made Torres wonder enough to ask, "You said that Klingon was one of the languages you know. That means you know more. How many?"

"Enough," Seven said, not wanting to give away something that would indicate how vast her intelligence was.

"There goes your first point," Torres said with a small grin. She was going to enjoy the game. "Alright, let's try this in a different way. Do you know Cardassian?"

"Yes."

"Bajoran?"

"Yes."

"Romulan?"

"Yes."

"Betazoid?"

"Yes."

"Trill?"

"Yes."

"Breen?"

"Yes."

"Ferengi?"

"Yes."

Torres wrecked her brain for a moment, thinking of a different language, "Cheronian?"

"No."

"No?" Torres asked, slightly surprised. After all the 'yeses' she had gotten, she had assumed another 'yes' as answer.

"No, in our universe the Cheronians killed themselves 109 years ago in a civil war based purely on their coloring."

"Based on their coloring?" Torres repeated confused. She really only knew the name from the reports she read. A race that was very loyal and very productive, but otherwise unremarkable, except for the fact that they could live for up to 100,000 years, if they were not killed before that time.

"The Cheronians are colored totally white on one side, and totally black on the other side," Seven explained. "The civil war was fought between the ones that were black on the left and white on the right, and the ones that were white on the left and black on the right."

"You're kidding me," Torres said disbelievingly. "With us they focus all their energy in being productive. They're very docile and willing to please."

Seven tilted her head a little while thinking. Finally she ventured, "The Federation found out about them after they destroyed themselves. What would you do if they did not behave the way they are now?"

Torres had to think about that for a moment. "If they would rise against the Coalition, you mean? If they were to become less productive, then so be it, they're a free member of the Coalition. As long as they produce the tribute, which they're providing by a three thousand fold now, we would leave them alone. But if they would truly turn against us, we would turn them into slaves."

"Which explains why they are so docile," Seven countered reasonably. "They have a choice of being free, working for you and, I assume, also making a good life for themselves. Or being your slaves for their entire 100,000 year lifespan and on top of that, working for you nevertheless, but this time to merely stay alive instead of having a good life. I believe they prefer being free in your Coalition above being slaves in it."

"I guess you got a point there," Torres had to agree.

"I think that it is rather ironic though, that their fear of becoming slaves actually kept them alive," Seven said thoughtfully.

"Meaning?" Torres asked.

"As I said, in our universe they killed each other. This because there was nothing to occupy their mind other than the fact that they felt that the 'others' had the wrong color division. I do not know what the situation is here, maybe the different colored groups also do not like each other. But here they do not do anything about it because now they do not think that they have to eradicate the others, now they think that if they eradicate the others they will have to do more work themselves, or even become slaves. So it can be argued that they are still alive because they would rather tolerate each other than be slaves."

"Thinking 'I would rather die than become a slave' actually prevented them from both; dying or becoming slaves, you mean?" Torres clarified.

"Yes mistress."

Torres shrugged. "Irony; got to love her. Anyway, I got sidetracked, now for some clothes for you. Stand up, and go stand there."

Seven moved to the place Torres had pointed to, about a body length away from the couch. For almost half an hour, Torres kept looking back and forth between the PADD, and then Seven, trying to envision the blonde in the clothes selection on the PADD; making selection after selection on what she thought would look good on the slave. Finally, Torres absently patted the cushion beside her, still focused on the PADD. "Sit."

Once seated beside Torres, Seven could clearly see what the Intendant was doing. She was going over design after design of clothing. Ranging from something made out of nothing more than transparent cloth, to something that came close to a full Klingon battle armor.

With all of the designs, Torres tried to put a symbol in the chest area, close to the throat if the design of the clothing allowed for it. Or to the left if the design of the clothing had some kind of cleavage to it, like most did.

One of the designs had a cleavage so deep that it was sure to also show off some of her blonde curls, not that the upper part would have been able to conceal her ample chest. Seven was glad to see that at least that design was discarded. Her reaction must have shown because Torres stopped going over the designs and looked at the blonde from the corner of her eyes.

"Didn't like that one did you?" The Intendant asked amused.

"I did not see the use of it," Seven admitted. "It served no purpose and was so revealing that one could just as well walk around naked."

"Now there's an idea."

Seven did not react to that, save for lifting her eyebrow.

The Intendant laughed at the reaction, "Don't worry, my Pet. You're all mine and I don't share, not even the visuals. You'll get some clothes that will show off your body, but only the curves and teasing patches of skin. It will be up to people who can use their imagination to think of what I have to play with when we're alone."

Torres continued to select between outfits, sometimes clearly dismissing a model because the symbol the Intendant was trying to put on it just didn't work with the design.

"Mistress, what does that symbol mean?" Seven finally asked, remembering that she was allowed to speak without being spoken to, when they were alone.

Torres enlarged the symbol until it was filling the entire PADD screen and showed it to Seven, not knowing that the blonde had already studied the design with her enhanced vision. Seven decided not to point this out, not knowing when it might come in handy that people didn't know that she could do things most Humans could not. Until now, the Intendant only knew that Seven was stronger than the average Human. No need to tell her more, yet.

"That, my little Pet, is my mark; the shield of the House of Torres. It will clearly state that you're mine, all mine."

The symbol was a depiction of a B'Rel. The B'Rel was a huge predatory bird on Qo'noS, the Klingon Homeworld. It had no natural enemies and was admired by the Klingons for its lust for battle and for its endurance. They admired the bird so much that they actually named the most known Klingon class of spaceships after it. B'Rel was the Klingon name for the ships everybody else called, 'the Bird of Prey'.

One of the strangest things about the B'Rel was a behavior often pointed to by Klingon politicians to defend deals and alliances they made. For some reason the B'Rel always let some of the birds that were its favorite prey, the Ver'Zok, live peacefully near its nest, even going so far as to protect these select few against other predators. It was generally assumed that this was done so that the Ver'Zoks would lure more of its kind closer to the B'Rel's nest simply by being there.

This particular B'Rel in the symbol had a bat'leth in one of its claws, the well known Klingon sign for power. And in its other claw it held one of its favorite prey birds, a Ver'Zok, in a struggle for life. The meaning was clear. The house of Torres had power within Klingon society, and they were not afraid to use that power.

"I thought that slaves were always physically marked to indicate who their master is?"

Torres flashed the blonde a toothy grin before concentrating on the PADD again, "Why do you assume that? Is it something you're into? I can oblige you if you want."

"No, Mistress." Seven assumed that the Intendant was joking, since it went against what she had witnessed the night before when she was pleasuring the Intendant, but it was wise to be careful.

"What use is it to put a mark on a slave, when that mark is removed within seconds using a dermal regenerator?" Torres stated reasonably. "The only reason I can come up with is to unnecessarily torture the slave, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Any mark or symbol is easily made or removed, so why not clearly put it on the clothing? That way no one can say that they didn't see the symbol indicating who you belong to."

The Intendant changed the design she was working on when Seven had asked what the symbol meant and decided that for now she had enough garments selected.

"Mistress, why is it so important that people know that I belong to you the moment they see me?"

Torres put the PADD down and turned a little more towards the slave. "It's not uncommon for a pretty slave like you to be taken advantage of. It's something I'm trying to change. But old habits die hard, and of course no slave is going to step up to me, the Intendant, to tell me that he or she was raped by one of my soldiers. Violating a slave that's not yours has been outlawed close to ten years ago. But a slave first has to find someone who actually cares. And since slaves, including you, are nothing more than things often treated with less respect than work animals, it's pretty damn hard to find someone who would do something about a complaint."

She gave a small shrug before admitting, "It's not unknown that slaves who bring forth a complaint against a soldier, are violated a second time; this time by the superior of the soldier, for bringing forth such a 'preposterous' claim. This symbol will clearly mark you as mine and nobody will be so stupid to even touch you unless they want to feel my wrath. Since they'll know that there's no superior that can discard your claim. There is only me."

Seven digested what the Intendant had said. She was glad that she would be clearly marked as the Intendant's property. She had a feeling that other slaves did not generally have the luxury to be touched by only one person.

But something that the Intendant had said made Seven ask, "If violating a slave that is not yours, is illegal, does that mean that violating a slave that is yours is in fact legal?"

"A slave is a thing, property," Torres reminded. "As long as the property is yours, you can do with it whatever you want. Even the lowest ranked Klingon can maim and torture his or her slave without even the Klingon Chancellor having say in the matter."

She paused for a moment. "Well, only theoretically of course. Nobody will ever be stupid enough to make the Chancellor an enemy over a mere slave."

"That..." Seven stopped herself before she started to talk to the Intendant about the illogic of Klingon rules.

But Torres had heard the start and wanted to know what her slave had to say. "That... what? Speak."

"Yes. Mistress. It is just that I believe that it is illogical to not be able to overrule someone on this matter, or stop someone from being unnecessarily cruel. Even if slaves do not rank higher than animals, they are still living beings. Slaves serve households, should they than not at least have the same rights as the pets of that same household?"

Before Torres could reply to the question, Seven continued. "Also, should you as Intendant not be able to overrule someone on decisions about their slaves? The slave that might not be of value to the owner might be of value to you or someone else because of knowledge or demeanor of the slave. As a matter of fact, with this rule, slaves are more than likely helpless tools in internal battles between family members fighting for power in the family."

"Whoa down, my little attack targ," the Intendant said, not knowing if she should be amused or enraged. Never, since she had been a child, had a slave spoken to her like that. Finally she decided that since she had told the slave to speak, that meant that she also had to deal with what the slave had to say. "Alright, first of all, what is necessarily cruelty?"

"Mistress?" Seven asked, not knowing what the Intendant meant.

"You said that I should be able to stop someone from being unnecessarily cruel," Torres reminded. "So I ask you what necessarily cruelty is? It isn't up to me to decide for everyone what a rightful punishment is. A master should be able to punish a slave as they see fit,"

"By raping them?!" Seven interrupted disbelievingly.

Then Seven saw the change. For a moment she had forgotten that she was talking to the Klingon Intendant, and not Voyager's B'Elanna Torres. Torres grabbed Seven by her bio-suit, pulled her off the couch and pushed her into a kneeling position. There was a deep growl in her voice when the Intendant spoke. A growl Seven had heard from Voyager's B'Elanna once, just before the Klingon had punched her in the face.

"Listen, slave. Don't you ever, ever, again interrupt me when I'm speaking. And don't you ever again try to educate me on rules and shortcomings of those rules! You hear me, slave?!"

"Yes, Mistress." Seven had clearly found one boundary she could not cross.

After a moment, Torres pushed Seven away with a growl, making the blonde fall backwards to the floor.

Seven looked up at the still sitting Klingon. Torres had never moved off the couch, even though her actions had been so filled with motion that Seven could have sworn that the Klingon had suddenly grown to a huge being that had filled all of the room.

Presence, Seven knew, was an interesting thing. Seven herself had the presence that made it possible for her to walk into a room and take charge. Even people that were in a higher command position than her often fell victim to it. It was why Astrometrics had clearly been her domain, why even the Captain asked her questions politely there and gave orders in a tone that sounded more like a suggestion. For anything else, Seven was normally called to the ready room instead.

Voyager's B'Elanna also had presence. Her volatile nature, coupled with the fact that she knew how to get things done, made sure that people always stepped aside, always assumed that B'Elanna would get the job done. It was the main reason why Engineering was clearly her domain; something even Seven had come to understand and accept... after some time.

But Intendant Torres simply had presence, period. It wasn't tied down to a department, a room, or an ability; it was tied down to her. She, was presence. She could literally fill a room merely by walking in. She could take charge simply by opening her mouth and do nothing more than breathe. She was the embodiment of power. Not only the power given by the fact that she was Intendant and could order armies around. But also personal power; the kind that could warm your soul with an approving grin, and that could chastise you with a frown.

Seven felt herself drawn to it like a force of nature. Like a planet circling a star, or a moth to a flame. Big or small; the result was the same. An inescapable pull that held you captive in its power... and you didn't want to be anywhere else.

But that didn't mean that such attractions were without problems, and Seven was surprised to feel that she was missing the relaxed atmosphere that had been present a moment before. She got up to a kneeling position again and moved closer to the Intendant. She moved until she was sitting against the knees of the Intendant, but this time the legs didn't open to let her sit between them. Seven looked up to the Intendant and saw the telltale storm clouds of an angry Klingon.

But she saw also something else, maybe disappointment? Maybe the Intendant had enjoyed the atmosphere too. For a moment forgetting that Seven was only a thing, only a common slave.

"Mistress, I am sorry. Please forgive me." Seven placed her hands on the Intendant's knees and applied some pressure, nowhere near enough to force the legs apart. Just enough to let the Intendant know that she wanted to get closer. But the knees didn't move. "Please, Mistress. Please."

Finally the legs opened a bit, enough to let Seven know that she could move them further apart and come closer, but that the Intendant had not forgiven her. Seven moved between the legs, as close as she could. She took the Intendant's hands and kissed the knuckles.

"Mistress, I am sorry. I did not do that on purpose. I am used to fighting with B'Elanna. It is something I know both her and I enjoy. When we were talking just now, I forgot for a moment that you are not the B'Elanna Torres I know. Please, Mistress, forgive me for this discrepancy. It will not happen again."

For a long moment nothing happened, but finally the Intendant started to move her fingers through Seven's hair, which caused the blonde to let out a mental sigh of relief.

"How long have you known her?" The question had been spoken softly and nowhere near the angry tone that the Intendant had used before.

"For almost three years now."

Torres brushed some of those golden strands out of Seven's face before continuing to move her fingers through the hair in somewhat of a combing manner. "And you fought a lot?"

"From the first day until present day," Seven assured softly. "Only did the meaning behind the fight change over those years."

"Very well, you're forgiven. I should keep in mind that you're used to handling B'Elanna Torres in a certain way, and now you have to act in a totally opposite way. I'm sorry too."

Torres didn't know what had possessed her to say those last words. Never before in her life had she apologized to a slave. Never.

She shook her head a little, unseen by Seven. "Anyway, to go on from where I left off, things are changing, my Pet. But change doesn't come over night. Laws are being made and enforced. Slowly but surely. It's only fifteen years ago that a law was put in effect which stated that slaves should be treated as living things. It's a small step, but a step. Make too many rules at once and everyone will oppose them. Make one rule at a time, and everyone will sigh, get annoyed, object, and then abide by the rule."

Torres softly pulled on some of the hairs, and Seven was glad to feel the playful tugs. Playful was good, playful was not angry. "You're so smart, surely unlike most people you must have some small idea of just how truly big the universe is."

"Mistress, I most certainly do," Seven assured in a tone that made Torres decide not to ask further. She had a feeling that the answer would even teach her a few things.

"Well then," Torres said instead, "Then you must surely understand that in such a vast universe change happens slowly. Just seven years ago, a female Intendant was unheard of. Then I was appointed. It was an outrage, everyone and their mother objected. But finally nobody dared to go against the Chancellor on the matter and I became the first female Intendant. And you know what the situation is nowadays? Four of the six Intendants are female, still counting the assassinated Bajoran Intendant for the moment."

The Intendant lifted the blondes head up a little. She realized that she must have done that close to ten times already and for a moment she thought of telling the slave to not always lower her head. But she decided against it because she liked performing the little gesture, and there was something to those azure colored eyes looking up and focusing on her own. "Be a little more careful in the future. That's one hell of a way to ruin a good morning."

"I will, and I am sorry, Mistress."

"Don't be sorry, improve."

"I will."

"Now listen very carefully, my Pet. I don't know what it is about you that made me take a body slave, and I also don't know what it is about you that allows me to let you get away with things that nobody else would."

"Mistress?"

"Shhh. You have done things in the last two days that would have even gotten Klingons killed, you hear me? Klingons, not mere slaves. Yet you're still alive, and so are your friends. I don't know what it is, and as long as I don't have to, I'm not going to think too much about it. But, I 'am' the Klingon Intendant. And I have to make sure that my command over my soldiers is undisputed. Please, my Pet, if I take you out, don't do anything that makes me have to punish or kill you. For I will, immediately if I have to. You understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. And I will not," Seven assured.

"Alright then. Now, tell me. You've been talking about regenerating. When do you have to regenerate the next time?" The Intendant asked, changing the subject entirely.

"My next regeneration cycle was planned for last night."

"Well then, get up, my Pet. We'll go to my new ship and while you do your regenerating thing, I'll talk to that doctor about your clothing and what he would need to heal my counterpart."

Seven stood up and moved a little away, giving Torres some room to get up herself. "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"Am I to walk behind you or beside you?"

"Hmm, good question, I hadn't thought about that." Torres moved to a third door, which led them to the main entrance room. "How about you walk beside me when there's room. If not or someone else is with me, you move behind me."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven confirmed, moving with the Intendant out of the quarters.

"Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"I am sorry."

"I know. Forget about it."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 5

Torres had ordered Seven to show her where she regenerated and once there, the Intendant had told Seven to start her regeneration cycle while she herself went to take care of some other things.

When Seven woke up in Cargo Bay 2, eight hours later, after a full regeneration cycle, she was surprised to see a slightly older Klingon standing a little bit further away, looking intensely at the Borg machinery surrounding him. He turned towards her when she stepped out of her alcove and Seven could now see that he had only one good eye.

For a moment Seven wondered why he did not have an artificial or cloned eye but then realized that he, as a Klingon, would probably rather suffer from a reduced field of vision than having the battle scar removed. To Klingons, scars often were a badge of honor to be worn proudly.

Seven was glad that apparently both B'Elanna Torres' stayed away from wearing their scars like that. Voyager's B'Elanna had once told her that she didn't need to prove to everybody that she didn't duck fast enough. And she had seen some scars on the body of the Intendant, but nothing that would take away from the beauty that Seven had to admit the Intendant had. So either the Intendant thought the same, or she was such a good warrior that she had never gotten a bigger scar.

"Come," the Klingon said roughly while he started moving to the door.

Seven was about to follow the Klingon, but then decided against it. She was the Intendant's body slave. If she, as a slave, wanted to get into a position where she could help the Voyager crew, she had to start from the beginning to make some kind of impression that she was more than just another slave. "No."

The Klingon stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned towards Seven. "What?" He drawled slowly. "Did you just say 'no' to me, slave?"

Seven moved a little closer to the Klingon, portraying the cool air of superiority she had mastered so well in the first year on Voyager.

"Indeed I did. I am the Intendant's body slave, and I will only follow her orders. I will certainly not follow the orders of some Klingon who does not even see the need to introduce himself."

The Klingon came closer until he was almost touching Seven. "Don't make me make you come along, slave."

There had been a small growl in the Klingon's voice when he spoke, but Seven was starting to understand that with Klingons that was quite normal. "You can try, but then I will be forced to hurt you. I would like to avoid that. I believe that it would upset my Mistress."

"You know something, slave? You... just... cost me a keg of blood wine." The Klingon reached into his uniform, making Seven take a defensive stance. "Easy, I just have a message for you."

Seven took the small PADD the Klingon handed her and read it.

"Well done, my Pet, I'm very pleased with you. Now follow Martok, he will bring you to me."

The message had been signed by a thumbprint that the PADD had recognized as the Intendant's. Seven saw that Torres had called her 'my Pet' again and she assumed that most would consider it demeaning to be called that. But to Seven, who was used to the fact that names were nothing more than designations, it sounded... nice. For her, it meant something. It meant that the Intendant was pleased with her.

Seven handed the PADD back to Martok and asked, "She bet you that I would not follow you?"

Martok started walking to the door again, and this time Seven did follow. "Not quite. She asked me to come and get you because she's still busy. It was when she said that she would write you a little message that I told her that I didn't see the need for it. That's when she bet me a keg of blood wine that you wouldn't follow me without a message."

Seven moved behind the Klingon when they passed some other Klingons, but once there was room again she moved back beside him. "May I ask who you are, Martok?"

By adding his name, Seven indicated that she really wanted to know more 'what' he was instead of 'who'.

"I'm General Martok, Commander of the Klingon Security Department, ever since I lost my eye in a fight against twenty-five Cardassians."

Knowing the Klingon habit of exaggerating, Seven guessed it to be about five Cardassians with whom Martok had gotten into a disagreement in some kind of bar. "Why is the Security General getting me? Is this not seen as beneath you? To 'fetch' a slave and bring her to her master?"

"Security General..." Martok let the words role off his lips slowly. "Security General, I like that. It sounds a lot better than 'Commander of the Klingon Security Department'. Simple, and to the point. And after seven years of serving the Intendant, I don't question Torres. She may do things differently than the average Klingon sometimes, but she's one of the best and fairest Intendants we ever had. If she asks me to bring a slave to her, so what? It won't kill me, and I have nothing else to do."

Seven had assumed they were going to the bridge, but it quickly became clear that they were going to sickbay instead.

"And she knows what she's doing," the Klingon continued while he carefully stepped past some wires hanging from the ceiling. "I mean, look at this ship. It's damaged so badly it almost falls apart; it's of a technology that we don't know. And even if we are able to repair it, we won't know how to maintain it."

He hesitated for a moment while prodding a piece of metal lying on the floor before shaking his head and moving on again. "Most commanders would just destroy it and have it over with. But not Torres. No, she wants to study it. She remembers that this ship withstood the combined attack of two enhanced Birds of Prey. When repaired, this ship can be very much of use to the Intendant. Most people will be fooled into thinking that this is merely a civilian ship by its lines and looks. Never suspecting that it packs the wallop it does. And the technology that's built into this ship might be of some use, too."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

They entered sickbay and Seven saw Torres sitting in the Doctor's office, while the Doctor was standing in front of what used to be his desk. Seven quickly looked to the beds and found them all empty, except for one. She wanted to go over to B'Elanna but saw that Torres was motioning them into the office.

"And?" Torres asked amused when Seven and Martok entered the office.

Martok grunted good-naturedly before admitting defeat. "Huh, I will have the keg delivered by tonight."

Torres let out a loud laugh and looked at Seven with approval. "I'm glad I didn't have to break you, this is much more entertaining."

"Then I am glad I was able to entertain," Seven said neutrally, knowing that in fact the Intendant had been testing her. Seeing how she would react, seeing if she would follow Martok's orders as well. Guessing from the Intendant's behavior, Seven suspected that she had acted to the Intendant's liking.

Torres saw how her slave and the hologram kept looking at each other. For a moment she wondered what would be better; having them talk to each other, or keeping them apart. Finally she decided that if she wanted the slave to keep being so compliant, she had to give the blonde information on her friends from a source she fully trusted. She picked up the only PADD that was lying on the desk and handed it to the Doctor. "Here, go show my slave her new clothes, I have some things to discuss with Martok."

The Doctor took the PADD and was about to leave the office when Torres spoke to him again. "That corner back there is far enough."

The Doctor looked back to the Intendant and saw that she was pointing to the back of his former office, as far away from the two Klingons as could be, while still being in the office. He nodded his head and moved to the corner where Seven was already waiting.

"Seven, are you okay?" He asked in a soft whisper, wanting to make sure that they were not overheard.

"I am functioning." Seven took a look at the information on the PADD and saw the clothing she had seen before, only that twenty-three of the sixty-eight garments had been marked with 'doable'. She assumed that those were the ones in which the bio-suit technology could be incorporated. "How is the crew?"

"We are doing relatively ok. We were all put in some big... cellblock, I guess you can call it. There are a lot of rooms in there. When we all double up with two people for each room, as the rooms are designed, we all have a decent amount of space. There's even a small sickbay. Nothing big, but enough for me to be able to treat the ones that still need treatment. Surprisingly enough, we're left pretty much alone. There are no guards or anything in the cellblock. But the passageway to the rest of the ship is guarded by two force fields and some Klingons. I must say that I'm surprised with the amount of room we got, especially since to them we're nothing more than slaves."

"You seem to forget that the Negh'Var in our universe is also capable of transporting ten thousand ground troops," Seven reminded. "It stands to reason that in this ship of similar size, a lot of that room is used to make this into a home away from home for the Klingon Intendant. I am sure that the 'cellblock,' as you call it, is also designed to function as housing for the staff of dignitaries when the Intendant holds a gathering onboard this ship."

Seven had used the time she needed to make the explanation to gather the courage to ask the question of which she dreaded the answer. "How is B'Elanna?"

She tried to look out of the window, but from where she was standing, she couldn't see B'Elanna's bed. "I am in the process of ensuring the Intendant's help in healing her."

Surprisingly the Doctor looked very relieved, and his answer made clear as to why. "B'Elanna is going to be fine. Almost eight hours ago, shortly after I was brought here myself, the Intendant came in here with a Klingon physician and we talked about B'Elanna's situation. The Klingon doctor agreed with my account of B'Elanna's situation, and how we could save her. After that we were all beamed to the Klingon sickbay and the relatively easy procedures were performed superbly by the Klingon doctor. For B'Elanna's sake, we can be glad that we came across the Intendant. We had no trouble cloning what we needed, and since she is the Klingon Intendant, the main sickbay on her ship is even above the standards required for a Klingon hospital. They even had the organs that B'Elanna needed in stasis storage."

"B'Elanna is out of surgery already?" Seven asked surprised. "I would assume that it would take hours to repair the damage you mentioned, that she actually still had to undergo surgery."

The Doctor shook his head. "No, I already did most of the work when B'Elanna was brought in after her accident. I mean, it still was major surgery, but I could not help B'Elanna any further before because I didn't have the organs to help her. If I had, it would have been a relatively easy procedure of attaching the organs to the blood vessels and nerve endings, as it was now. It took more time to clone the stem cell organ, than it took to do all the operations. All B'Elanna needs now is rest, a lot of rest. The Intendant said that B'Elanna would be placed with us. I don't know why she ordered us beamed here first."

"I know why," Seven said softly before continuing and changing the subject before the Doctor could ask what she meant. "The Intendant is thinking about having Voyager repaired. I will see if I can convince her that it would be wise to have the repairs done by the Voyager crew. I think she might see the logic of this. The crew will need Voyager repaired if they are ever to escape. Plus, having them all work on Voyager will prevent them being split into several groups. Yesterday the Intendant said that some other slaves should be put with the crew. How are they?"

The Doctor took a breath to answer, and then apparently changed his mind. Seven assumed that he had decided to forgo his more standard negative or sarcastic reply. "They're pretty ok. There are ten of them and they're what are called engineering slaves. Apparently they're considered some kind of elite amongst the slaves because they know a lot and are actually encouraged to think and solve difficult problems. But they are slaves nevertheless. I think they would escape with us as soon as they get the chance. The only thing they worry about is the 'Master Slave' that they are expecting."

Suddenly the voice of the Intendant interrupted them. "Find anything you like?"

The tone had been amused, making it clear that the Intendant knew that they were certainly not looking at the clothes. "We will leave in a few minutes."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven replied, glad that the Intendant was granting her a little while longer with the Doctor.

Torres looked over at her slave, still amused that the blonde had acted as she had hoped she would.

"What are you doing?" Martok asked.

"What do you mean?" Torres averted her eyes reluctantly from her prized possession. What she had not told Seven was that fully blonde slaves like her were the most sought after slaves in the Coalition. Their light hair was so different from most known species that they quickly fetched twenty times the average price of a slave. And then such a body, the blonde was easily worth a hundred thousand credits.

"The slave, what are you doing; leaving her so loose?"

Torres frowned. "Martok, I have no idea what you're talking about. I captured a pretty slave and I decided to have some fun before I sell her."

Martok looked over to Seven and pulled his beard thoughtfully. "Alright, if you're going to sell her, I will give you two hundred thousand credits for her right now. You know you'll never get a better price."

"I don't want your fucking credits. I make a million a day, just for being Intendant," Torres said annoyed, knowing that with what Martok had offered, she could not possibly say that she wanted more. Two hundred thousand was way too much for any slave, even such a fine one as the blonde.

"Precisely my point," Martok persisted. "And then you also make her a body slave? You could have said that before making me that bet, by the way."

Torres flashed a toothy grin at him. "What's the fun in that? I wanted some of that excellent blood wine that you somehow manage to get your hands on all the time."

"Torres," Martok growled softly, keeping in mind the two slaves standing in the back of the office.

"What?" Now it was Torres that was growling. "I don't like to be questioned, not even by you. I'm not one of your suspects that you are interrogating, Martok. Remember that, or else I'll take your second eye too."

Not many people knew that it had been Torres that had taken Martok's eye in battle. Martok had challenged Torres, disagreeing with her decisions. After a battle that had lasted one-and-a-half hours, Torres had stood with a bat'leth over him, deciding whether or not she would spare his life. In the end she had spared his life as a favor to the Chancellor, since he and Martok were close friends. But his eye had been beyond saving; having suffered the point of the bat'leth during the battle.

As it often was with Klingons, that fight had been a base for mutual respect, and soon a friendship had started to form. It made the three most powerful Klingons alive into friends that trusted each other with their lives: the Chancellor, the Intendant, and the Commander of the Klingon Security Department.

"I'm not challenging your decisions; you do with her what you want. But I 'am' the Commander of the Klingon Security Department, and I need to know what's going on. I can't investigate you, my friend, and I don't want to. So I have to rely on what you tell me. All I'm asking is that you tell me what's going on. A body slave?"

Torres sighed, knowing that Martok was right. "It's a common practice," she said, a lot more deflated.

"Yes!" Martok said in a hissing tone, not wanting the slave to hear his next words. "For everybody else. Every household has at least one. But not an Intendant, never an Intendant. Damn it, B'Elanna, you have given that slave more power than almost anybody else in the entire Coalition. She can give an order and say that it's from you and everybody will believe her. Only the other Intendants, the Chancellor, and I, would dare to question an order coming from you!"

"Martok, I would know, or find out really quickly, if she gave an order in my name. There's nothing that I can't counteract."

"But by the time you find out, things might have happened. Some things only need hours, minutes to have the desired effect." He made a wiping gesture with his hand, as if wanting to demonstrate just how quickly something could be changed.

"Look, Martok, I..." Torres sighed, not really knowing how to explain what she herself didn't know. Martok was right, making the blonde into her body slave had been a foolish thing. Intendants usually never had body slaves. They could simply take what they wanted. It was one of the advantages of being an Intendant.

Martok sighed and made an effort to try and calm down. "B'Elanna, listen. As I said, I'm not questioning you or your actions. If you want a body slave, fine have fun. But level with me, my friend. Let me know what I can expect."

He reached over, took one of the chairs standing in front of the desk and placed it beside Torres. He sat down and shifted closer yet until he sat as close as possible to his friend without touching her. While doing so he thought about how he could get the information he needed.

"Tell me this, what made you make her into your body slave? The last time an Intendant had one of those was decades ago, the reason being that normally Intendants just take what they want, or don't want to give a slave that much power, or both. Did you tell her that as a body slave, she also has certain rights over you? How do you feel about not being allowed to touch any other slave in a sexual manner?"

"This is the first time I used a slave for that, and you know it," Torres defended. "I don't need slaves for sex, people always stand in line to win favors in any way possible from the Klingon Intendant, including by sleeping with her. I can still have sex with everyone that isn't a slave."

"B'Elanna, those are excuses, and you know it. True as they may be, they are still excuses."

"Look, I don't know, okay?" Torres finally admitted while banging her fist on the desk. "There's something about her that made me want to make her mine, all mine. Something inside me told me that I should make her into my body slave. Call it a gut feeling, a hunch. Something tells me that she will be part of my life for a long time. And I didn't want anybody leering at her. She is mine, and Kahless help the person who would try to take her away from me."

Martok looked at her in amazement for a moment. "You are damn possessive over a mere slave."

Torres managed a grin, but was still deadly serious in her next statement. "Have you ever known me to be anything but possessive of the things that belong to me?"

"Alright, I have to give you that," Martok relented. "But she isn't broken, you just said so yourself. That means that you must have something that you're holding over her. What? Or do I have to investigate that?"

"I do have something," Torres admitted. "The crew of this ship. I made up a reward and punishment system for her. To put it simply, as long as she does what I want her to do, the crew will live, not to forget my counterpart out there. The slave wants to do everything in her power to make sure my counterpart is going to be alright, and all she has to do right now to make this happen is please me."

Martok sighed, he saw the signs that Torres herself didn't want to see: Torres was developing feelings for the slave. It was damn risky and possibly damn painful for his friend. "You won't be able to hold that above her head forever."

"I know, and I will cross that ravine when I get there."

Finally, Martok grinned a little. He was not happy with the situation, but he also saw no immediate threat. "You have truly lousy timing, my friend. Some will say that you are doing this..."

He reached into his uniform, took out a different PADD than he had shown Seven, and handed it to Torres. "...because of her."

Torres took the PADD and saw that it was her proposal to the Chancellor. "What did he say?"

"He told me... to ask you to go to Bajor..." Seeing the frown of displeasure that Torres was pulling, he continued with mild amusement. "...And I have to accompany you. I will research the death of Kira, while you are to see who is going to replace her."

"He's milking this for everything it's damn worth," Torres said with a growl.

"Can you blame him? That's some plan you're suggesting there. But the good news for you is that he also said that once the new Intendant of Bajor is known, he, me, and you, will meet and talk about your plan."

"He did?" Torres asked, suddenly a lot happier. "That means that the meeting in two days is postponed until then and we're to go to Bajor at once?"

"It does," Martok agreed. "B'Elanna, I have to ask this since everybody else will, have you done this for her?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, knowing that he was talking about her proposal. "I gave you this PADD two weeks ago; I've been making small suggestions for over a year now. And I've only known the slave since yesterday."

"Yesterday?!" Martok said so loud that the two slaves must have heard him.

"I know, I know," Torres said quietly. "Please don't ask me again if I know what I'm doing. You might actually force me to think about it, and I don't want that."

"Torres." Somehow Martok was able to fit a whole tirade of profanities, insults, and outrage into that one word.

She placed a hand on his arm and looked him straight into the eye. "Listen, there have been extremely few times in my life where I had a certain feeling. A feeling that wasn't driven by logic, or explanation, or understanding. But by something... something so powerful, as if Kahless himself was whispering in my ear. I followed those feelings, and they were always for the better. The last time I had that feeling it was telling me that I had to be at Qo'noS on a certain day and visit the Chancellor. You know what came from that; me being Intendant. Now I have that feeling again."

She tilted her head a little in Seven's direction. "Mine."

Martok nodded slowly. "Alright, for now. But I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me that when the rest of her crew is no longer a piece of leverage you can use against her, you'll tell me so that I can keep a closer eye on her."

"Martok..."

"Come on, B'Elanna, you know it's a reasonable request," Martok persisted.

Torres sighed. "Alright already, I promise."

Having the promise he needed, Martok looked over to the blonde slave once more. "Is she really worth it, B'Elanna?"

Torres knew that the answer to that question should have been 'no, she isn't'. Or to ask him what he meant, but despite that, she heard herself say, "Yeah, she is."

Torres looked to the face of her friend and gave him a smile. Not many people rated a smile from the Intendant. "Thanks for being concerned, my friend. Well, I have things to do, including having my slave walk me through this ship. Go tell the captain of the change in plans. Tell him to tow this ship behind mine and make a little detour to my home planet. The extra day of waiting probably won't kill anyone on Bajor. And if it does... good, less people to choose from. It should make my task easier."

They stood up and Torres addressed the slaves once again.

After Torres had gone back to talking quietly to Martok, Seven also lowered her voice once again. "What is a Master Slave, and why are the other slaves worried about this?"

"Apparently, a Master Slave is the highest thing a slave can be," the Doctor explained. "They are slaves who have shown their reliability and who are normally put in charge of overseeing the other slaves. The other slaves worry about it because it's known to happen that these Master Slaves occasionally turn very loyal to their masters and on occasion very cruel to the other slaves, knowing that they can get away with it. The slaves told us that if we're put to work on some project, then we can be sure to expect a Master Slave being appointed to us."

"I will try to find out more about this," Seven said. But before she could say anything else, Torres spoke up.

"Time to go. Doctor, since you chose to stay with the humans for now, you'll be escorted back to them. My slave has told me that she needs to regenerate every seventy-two hours, and that her implants need periodic maintenance from you. For the time being, until I decide what to do with you all, the procedure will be that my slave will regenerate when needed, and after that she'll come and see you for maintenance."

"Mistress?" Seven asked when she was sure that her question would not interrupt the Intendant.

"Yes?"

"Often regenerating is also a cure against small defects. But to do so the cycle has to be slightly changed. It would be more effective to first do the maintenance and then the regenerating."

Torres waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, same difference to me. Now come."

Seven followed Torres out of the office and looked over to the bed that held Voyager's B'Elanna Torres.

"Go already."

Seven looked back to Torres to see if the Intendant meant that she had to leave sickbay, but the Intendant was making an almost dismissive hand wave to the bed.

Seven moved to the bed and only now did it register that the machines that were there the day before, were now gone. It gave clear visual to the words that the Doctor had spoken. B'Elanna was doing better, and needed only rest.

She closed her eyes and savored the moment. B'Elanna was going to live. She opened her eyes again and took B'Elanna's hand, speaking softly to the Klingon. "Be well. I look forward to the day that you will actually call me your friend, for now I can. Now I know that day will come. I only wish that we both had not been so stubborn. We would have had time to enjoy our friendship."

Seven was delighted to see B'Elanna move, it was only a twitch of the lips and a faint squeezing of the hand she was holding, but Seven had felt and seen it.

"Time to go, my Pet," Torres said softly from behind her. "You'll get another chance to see her when she's doing better."

Seven stepped back from the bed, only letting go of the hand with great difficulty, and followed the Intendant out of the door. They were already in the turbolift when Seven softly whispered, "Thank you."

"What?" Torres asked, turning to the blonde. "What did you say?"

"I said, thank you, Mistress."

"What in all levels of condemnation are you thanking me for?"

"For bringing B'Ela,"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, slave," Torres interrupted sharply. "So just drop it."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now, I'm going to take another look at this ship, and you're going to be my guide. You will tell me what the rooms are, what's important in them, and whatever else you might think I should know."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven agreed, knowing that this would be the perfect chance to point out that the Voyager crew would be best suited for the job of repairing the ship.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 6

"I'm sorry, Captain," Harry said turning away from the replicator he had been studying. "There's just no way to get anything except food, drinks, and those... uniforms out of here."

Harry pointed to the gray jumpsuit style uniforms that had been the only type of clothing pattern in the replicator file. There hadn't even been underwear programmed into the replicator's memory. "These replicators are, as far as I can see, not linked to anything other than a power supply. They're stand alone units with, as it seems, a relatively limited choice."

"But they must be able to program them," Janeway persisted.

"Sure, by manually uploading the data into each replicator." Harry pried away a little metal plate and tapped his finger against a socket behind it. "The uplink point is right here. But we don't have the programming device to do so. And even if we did, we still wouldn't have the replicator patterns that are needed."

"Can't we manually input those patterns?" Janeway asked, not about to admit defeat that easily. "Replicator patterns aren't that big."

"They aren't that big volume-wise considering storage space," Harry partially agreed. "But Captain, even a simple thing like a knife exists out of thousands of strings of coding. A phaser, like you asked for? That's millions of strings of code. And if only one letter or one number is out of place in one of those strings of code, it might very well happen that the phaser explodes in our face. It's just not doable, Captain."

Chakotay, who had been standing a little bit further away to give Harry room to work, came closer and voiced what he had been thinking from the moment that Janeway had suggested reprogramming the replicator. He hadn't said anything before because he knew that Janeway would not be happy until she had tried anyway.

He gave Harry an approving pat on the back and assured him, "It was a good try."

Then he looked at Janeway and continued, "But I don't think that they would put replicators in here if they weren't sure there was no way they could be misused. If they know how to make replicators, they also know how to prevent prisoners from reprogramming them to produce weapons."

Janeway crossed her arms and pursed her lips a little. "Well, I'm not about to give up until we have another plan. Harry, you check every replicator you can check without the guards seeing you. Maybe we'll get lucky and some careless engineer left some programming in one of them that we can use."

"Yes, Captain," Harry said in a halfway defeated voice. He knew that the chances of that were absolutely zero, but at least it would keep him busy.

Neelix came strolling into the room, but once he was in, he hurried towards them. "They're bringing the Doctor back, and I think B'Elanna. They have a bed with them."

"Why not just beam them in here?" Janeway wondered out loud as she left the room.

"Maybe this part of the ship is shielded off," Chakotay ventured to guess. "They keep prisoners in here. Maybe they wanted to make sure that no one else could just simply beam the prisoners off the ship, making escape that way impossible."

He moved closer to Janeway and gave his view on things. "The Intendant called this cellblock A. This isn't just a convenient spot they put us in to hold for the moment. This part of the ship is a prison, especially designed as such. There's no doubt that it's secure against all known ways of escape. Maybe we should concentrate more on making a plan as to what to do once we're out of this part of the ship. At some point, they'll have to move us and then,"

"I know that," Janeway snapped, surprised that Chakotay saw the need to point out something that clear. "But since we're in here twiddling our thumbs, we might just as well try some of those ways. At the very least, it will give us a better impression of their security."

By the time they arrived at the passageway, the force-field further down the corridor had been activated, and a moment later the first force-field deactivated, letting the Doctor enter, pulling the hoverbed behind him.

"Sickbay," he said shortly before moving that way himself.

He put B'Elanna in the same room where the Voyager crew members who still needed bed rest were, then went to the little office in front of it. Only to see it packed with people wanting to find out what happened.

"This won't do," he stated firmly, and moved out of the little sickbay before the questions could start.

Once he was in the main gathering room, he addressed the crowd that had pressed itself into the room. "First off, B'Elanna is going to be fine, she just needs a lot of rest now. So unfortunately, from now on I have to limit the number of visitors to sickbay to two at a time."

"Seven succeeded in persuading the Intendant to help?" Janeway asked relieved, surprised that Seven had succeeded in doing so in such a short time.

"She has," the Doctor confirmed, before adding sadly, "but she had to pay a high price for it."

"What price?" Chakotay asked.

"She," the Doctor wondered if he should say it, or if that meant that he was breaching Seven's confidentiality. Finally, he decided that the others would find out eventually anyway, and that Seven had not asked him to not tell the others. "She is now the Intendant's body slave."

"Body slave?" a crew member asked, not familiar with the term.

"The slave most favored by the master to conduct sexual acts," Chakotay explained, trying to at least keep the explanation clean.

Hearing only half of what was said, one of the slaves that had been put with the Voyager crew pressed himself into the room. "Wait, what are you talking about? Who is whose body slave?"

Chakotay moved a little closer to the man and started to explain. "Seven of Nine, one of our crewmembers. The Intendant has taken her as her body slave."

"Are you kidding?" The man asked in disbelief. "The Intendants don't take body slaves."

The Doctor was mildly miffed that his speech had been interrupted. "Well this Intendant apparently did."

Surprisingly, the man started to smile. "That's great!"

"I don't see how," Chakotay said, wondering what Seven had to suffer through.

Seeing the angry faces around him, the man started to explain quickly. "Well, you see, I told you about the Master Slaves, and their standing, how they're the highest a slave can be. Well, there is one kind of slave that can, under the right circumstances, give orders to a Master Slave. And that is a body slave. If the master of that body slave has enough power then the body slave is seen as powerful as well, since the body slave sometimes relays verbal commands of a master. If your crewmember truly is the Intendant's body slave, the Master Slave that we will get will have to take orders from your crewmember."

"That is indeed good news," Janeway spoke up.

"Not so good for Seven," Chakotay countered, he could see that Janeway was in one of those mindsets again. She was going to save the Voyager crew, no matter what the sacrifices.

"Of course not," Janeway agreed. "But if one of the crew has to suffer through that... at least it will not harm Seven emotionally. Sometimes it's a good thing that she doesn't have the emotions that we have."

Only a few saw the enraged Tom leave the room before he did something he would regret. But Chakotay had seen him go, and he could understand the pilot. The person that Janeway had been for more than the last year now, was nowhere near the glorious Captain he had admired so much in the beginning.

"Alright Doctor," Janeway prompted, "tell us all you can from your little excursion. I want to know all you can tell me about this ship and the people onboard it."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Delik Jetir looked at the time indicator on the screen in front of him. Three more minutes and it would be time, then the other two would contact him, if they were going along. Delik hated that he had needed to ask these two for help but things had changed drastically since Jetur Adami had allied herself with Ro Laren. It had all looked so promising. Kira dead and the perfect person to blame it on. Who cared if she actually did it or not? The Intendant title had been as good as his, but then that damned Jetur had switched sides.

For years, they all had shoved the boring species in her direction. Giving them to her boss to deal with and he, in turn, gave them to her to deal with. And she had. But now that they needed the support of those species, they suddenly discovered that these boring species were also the ones that had the tendency to only deal with one person. They often didn't even respond if the message didn't come from Jetur. And if they did respond, they only told him to have Jetur contact them.

Needing to find another power base, Delik had tried to win the favor of the Special Forces, promising them all he could think of. They had just laughed at him and thrown him into the street, literally. Telling him that they would rather follow Captain Ro Laren than a worm like him. And to top it all off, those damn Klingons only communicated with Ro. Oh, it wasn't much, just when people would come and go. But everything the Klingons shared with the Bajorans, they shared only through Ro. And now Ro had kindly informed them all that the Klingon Intendant and the Commander of the Klingon Security Department were coming to Bajor to investigate the death of Intendant Kira.

Delik had seen the comfortable lead he had in the beginning starting to disappear quickly until only a small margin was left. That margin existed out of two things, and it truly pained him that for one of those he even had to thank Ro. Ro had been correct. By acting quickly and focusing the attention of the Klingons on the advisers, people from the outside didn't stand a chance. It was already certain that one of the advisers would become the new Intendant. The second part that made up his small margin was that the other advisers still thought that they should get rid of Ro.

Some had even suggested killing Ro, but in the end nobody had dared to try and kill the former Captain of the Special Forces. There wasn't a person to be found inside the palace, that was insane enough to try and kill a person whose job it had once been to train lower ranking Special Forces members how to kill more efficiently, and how to make sure that they didn't get killed in the process of doing the killing. Sure, there were assassins to be found on Bajor that would take the job, but since the palace was under lockdown they wouldn't even get onto the grounds to give it a try.

And so Delik found himself in a position where he had to deal with people that he would rather not be seen dealing with, at that point.

At the precise agreed upon time, the two people he had been waiting on contacted him and soon the face of a Klingon and the face of a Ferengi were sharing the space on his screen.

"Alright, I'm in," the Klingon said, being the first to speak.

"Me too," the Ferengi added, "but only financially. I'll put up the credits needed so that nothing can be tracked to you both. But if this is found out, then I know nothing about it. I already have the proof ready that will show that someone broke into my account and stole the credits from me."

"Fine," Delik said with a certain delight. He knew that in order to rebuild his power base he needed time and credits. His substantial buffer of credits was quickly shrinking now that he had to use his own credits to bribe everybody into supporting him.

Normally, he would have used the credits from the treasury, but now that it was known that Kira was dead, all government transactions had been frozen until a new Intendant was appointed. For a moment, he wished that he had saved more credits instead of living so lavishly. But he liked his life, and he would do everything necessary to keep it, or even improve it.

"You will make sure that I get the time I need?" Delik addressed the Klingon.

The Klingon snorted. "Oh, I'll make sure alright. I will kill Torres when she gets home. Then the appointment of the new Intendant of Bajor will not be important news anymore. By the time they've appointed a new Klingon Intendant, you'll have had all the time you need to make sure that you're the only viable candidate for Bajoran Intendant."

"How will you get away with killing the Intendant?" the Ferengi asked thoughtfully.

"Simple, by making this an issue concerning the House of Torres. I will kill her in a fight for leadership of the House. I can get away with that since she has no first degree family. This way it has nothing to do with the title of Intendant; especially since I won't compete to be the new Klingon Intendant."

"Why wouldn't you want to be the new Intendant, K'Trelan?" The Ferengi asked, amazed that someone would willingly pass on such a profitable position.

"Moron," K'Trelan almost spat. "If I would compete to be the new Intendant, then nobody would believe I killed Torres in a fight for leadership of the house, especially not the Chancellor. No, the House of Torres is the second most powerful house in Klingon society, right after that of the Chancellor. I'll be more than happy ruling it."

"Do you think you can beat her in a fight?" Delik asked concerned. It was a big risk to take since it was common knowledge that the Intendant actually knew how to hold her own in a battle. And it was even known that this was real information, and not merely the standard manner of enhancing the truth that Klingons were so known for.

"Of course I can... with a little help. I'll have to pay my helpers some extra credits to help me kill Torres. Credits I don't have."

"How much do you need?" The Ferengi asked warily.

"Five million credits."

"Five million?!" The Ferengi asked in outrage, hoping that he had misheard.

"Yes, two hundred and fifty thousand for each of the twenty men helping me."

"But that's almost all of my savings," the Ferengi lied.

"And the Bajoran treasury will show itself very thankful to you once I'm Intendant," Delik interrupted, not wanting to mention that if he became Intendant, he would make half a million credits a day as payment for being that Intendant. Besides, why use his own credits when he could use those of the treasury?

"Alright, alright," the Ferengi agreed reluctantly. "Guess I have to suffer for a while if I want those women removed; female Intendants, how disgusting."

"Yes, well, I have to go now. Work the crowds, so to speak," Delik interrupted before the Ferengi could start another tirade about women in power, and how women were only good to bare sons and clean house.

"If the Ferengi puts the credits I need into my account, then you will not hear from me again," K'Trelan said. "The next thing you will hear is that the House of Torres is renamed the House of Erzian and that a new Klingon Intendant will have to be appointed."

"I look forward to that news," Delik said before terminating the connection.

He sat back and thought about his next action. He had to plan ahead, just to be sure. If K'Trelan failed, the Klingon Intendant would still come to Bajor. He had to be prepared for that. Maybe if he succeeded in making the Intendant his lover... then the Intendant would be sure to endorse him. And he would then also have her power to back him up, for as long as it would take him to take that power away from her.

He nodded, that could work. That meant that he had two problems now: Ro and the Klingon Intendant. He didn't worry too much about the Intendant; there hadn't been a woman yet that had been able to resist his charms, if he tried to be charming. No, Ro was the bigger problem now. At this point he couldn't try to charm her anymore. Ro was too smart for that; she would know what he was doing right from the start.

No, he needed something else. Maybe instead... a little something to take Ro's mind off things happening in the Palace. Maybe the kidnapping of some relatives... and then her friends in the Special Forces would investigate it. Damn, no, that wouldn't do. Maybe... maybe he would be able to convince Ro that he would be happy to be her first adviser when she became Intendant. That would drive a nice wedge between Ro and Jetur. Yes, that was a plan he could work with.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Several hours had gone by before Torres and Seven were back in the Intendant's quarters. Torres had listened very carefully to everything Seven had said while they were walking through Voyager. She had taken in even the smallest of detail. And when Seven was finished with her explanation of a room, Torres had always asked some very pointed questions.

When Seven had told her about the long-range sensors, Torres had asked the exact range of those sensors. When Seven had explained the output of the warp engine, Torres had asked for not the general, but precise number, including the fifteen numbers behind the decimal point.

Torres was about to tell her slave to get something to eat for them when she was contacted from the bridge.

"Intendant, the IKS B'Rel has just rendezvoused with us. Their captain says he has some prisoners you would like to see."

Torres chuckled. "Now that's an understatement. I want to do a lot more than just see them. Though I'm surprised he found those smugglers so quickly."

The Klingon on the bridge laughed before saying, "I told him the same thing, and he was forced to admit that he did have a 'little' help from the Security Department."

"Martok, of course. I should have known he would have found out where they were. Have them brought to the interrogation room. I'll be there shortly. Torres out."

Torres stood up with a sigh and headed to the door, but she stopped when she saw that the blonde was following her.

"No, you stay here this time. Those smugglers stole something that's mine. This... will not be pretty."

Torres pointed to the PADD that held the history information. "Why don't you read some? I'll ask you a question when I get back. You better know the answer to it."

She started walking to the door again and while walking through it she said, "This will probably take a couple of hours."

Once Torres was through the door, she wondered why she had left the slave behind. Why didn't she want the blonde to see her interrogate the smugglers? Maybe she didn't want the blonde to see how truly brutal she could be if provoked the right way?

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Once the Intendant was gone, Seven started to read the information in the PADD. A few minutes later she had read what a normal Human might read in a day and she thought it safe to stop. If the Intendant were to ask her a question, she was sure that she could answer it.

Her eyes went to the door to the Intendant's office and stayed there. The Intendant might be gone for a couple of hours. It would be risky to try something the first time she was alone, but Seven didn't know when the next time would be that she would get such a chance. Hesitantly, she went to the door and finally made her decision; she had to try.

She walked into the office and went to the desk. She had almost taken the first PADD in the rack before her eyes fell on the computer unit and she stopped herself. The Intendant had told her that she would get killed if she read the PADDs holding information. But the Intendant had never spoken about the computer unit.

Maybe... If she used it instead and she was found out, then she could point to the fact that the Intendant had never told her not to touch it. But even when Seven sat down behind the unit, she knew that she would never get away with it.

The unit activated as soon as it was opened. The Intendant had told Seven that there were no passwords or anything like that since she didn't see the use because she hardly ever took the unit out of the room, and absolutely never out of the quarters. But Seven was still slightly surprised to see a screen full of squares that she could touch to activate them. Things like troop positioning and the invoice of the Klingon treasury were only one touch away.

Suddenly, Seven thought that even though there were no passwords, it still was too easy, and she started searching for programs that were not clearly active. How she wished that she could simply plunge in her assimilation tubes and make the searching a thousand times quicker. But apparently the Intendant had never heard about the Borg and thought that Seven's Borg implants were just a replacement or decoration instead of substantial enhancements. It would be foolish to show the true potential of those implants if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

Had the Intendant, for instance, known about Seven's enhanced hearing, then she would never have had that conversation with Martok so relatively close that Seven could, and had, heard every word. She still had to digest the things she had heard, but now was not the time for it; she had just found the first tracking program.

A little program that did nothing more than passively track the 'movements' on the computer. Seven knew, where there was one, there was bound to be a second. She soon found the second and third program and was finally able to access the information securely. Seven had always found it slightly strange the way people were fascinated by the number three. People often got three chances. The third match was often the decisive match in many sports. And, like now, if people installed more than one security program, it was almost always three programs.

She spent about fifteen minutes accumulating as much information as possible to her photographic memory before she came across the information about Master Slaves and where they were stationed at the moment. It spoke volumes to Seven about the difference in slave types when she saw that the Master Slaves were the only ones listed with names. For the rest there were only numbers. So many slaves were working on this project, so many on that.

Seven came across a project listed as 'Intendant's ship renovation' and knew that this had to be Voyager, especially since 139 slaves had been 'appointed' to it. This had to be the Voyager crew, Seven was sure of it. For a moment, Seven wondered when the Intendant had the time to put in the order without her knowing it. Then she realized that the Intendant had probably done this in the eight hours Seven had regenerated. After all, the Intendant had really only been needed long enough to extract certain cells from her body.

So that meant that the Intendant had already made the decision to have the Voyager crew make the repairs. Which didn't really surprise Seven. After all, having the only people who knew the technology, working to repair that technology was the only logical step available. But Seven had already started to try and persuade the Intendant to have the Voyager crew make the repairs. Seven knew that she had to continue this or else the Intendant would start to wonder why she had stopped doing so.

It didn't escape Seven's notice that the repair of Voyager had been listed as 'Intendant's ship renovation'. That meant that the Intendant was keeping Voyager out of the official mentioning. Everybody reading that entry would think that the Intendant was renovating her ship, and of course was using some slaves to do so. Seven wondered why the Intendant was doing this. It wasn't like the Intendant had to hide things from others. Or maybe the Intendant did want to keep Voyager secret so that she could pass the ship off as a private luxury ship.

Finally, Seven decided that trying to guess the Intendant's reasons was only a waste of time. She could think about that when the Intendant was present. Seven took a look to see what Master Slave had been appointed to Voyager and saw that the entry for Master Slave simply read 'first available'. Remembering what the Doctor had told her about how some of the Master Slaves could be, Seven decided to pick one that was less likely to give the Voyager crew problems.

It was like Martok had said: nobody was going to question an order coming from the Intendant. And certainly not an order about something as simple as the assignment of a Master Slave. Seven knew that an order coming from the computer she was accessing would be processed as an order from the Intendant. She just hoped that what she was doing was so common that the appointment would not get back to the Intendant in some way.

Seven went over the status reports of several hundred Master Slaves before she came across a name that made her gasp. For several minutes, Seven sat looking blankly at the screen before appointing the Master Slave to the project of repairing Voyager.

She figured that it was time to shut the computer unit down again, but something made her also look at the status reports of the other Master Slaves she had not yet seen. Finding no further surprises, Seven shut the unit down and left the office.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

When Torres walked back into her quarters, she found the slave right where she left her, in the living area, reading the PADD, which she put down the moment the Intendant entered. Everything seemed like it should be, but Torres could feel that something was off. She looked at the blonde for some time, but she just kept sitting on the couch, looking back.

"Mistress? Is..." Seven stopped speaking when Torres lifted her hand in a silencing manner.

Torres looked around the room and stopped when her eyes reached the door to her office. She looked back to the blonde, but saw no reaction, and that tipped Torres off. There should have been confusion or nervousness. Something, anything, from the blonde, but she just kept sitting there looking back.

The Intendant walked into her office and looked around. Everything was where it should be. There was nothing to indicate that something was wrong. And yet...

She walked back out of her office and sat down on the couch opposite the one her slave was sitting on. Once again, she took her time to look at the blonde. Finally, she started talking. "Alright, first I'm going to try this the easy way. What did you do while I was gone?"

"Mistress? I do not..." But before Seven could say more, she was interrupted by the Intendant.

"Eh." Torres lifted her finger and pointed it at the blonde. "Think before you continue that sentence. I know that you're always very precise with your words. Well, so can I be, if it serves me. You told me; no, you promised, I repeat, promised me that you would never deceive me. Acting as if you don't know what I'm talking about, isn't necessarily lying, but it is deceiving. Now, I'm willing to forget the part of the sentence you started, and I'm asking you again. What did you do while I was gone? Think before answering me, slave."

Seven felt something she had not often felt before; a sense of panic. Should she lie and hope that the Intendant would not find out what she had done. Or should she tell the Intendant what she had done? If she told the Intendant what she had done, she was pretty sure that she would not be killed. But whatever she had done would also certainly be changed back.

"Seven?"

Seven's eyes found those of the Intendant, it was only the third time that the Intendant had called her Seven. Normally it was either 'slave' or 'my Pet'.

"Seven, don't make this hard on us both, talk to me. You know I'll find out eventually." The Intendant's voice had been soft and gentle.

Seven was certain that the Intendant was only trying to persuade her to talk. Finally, it wasn't how the Intendant tried to persuade Seven that made the blonde make her choice, but the fact that the Intendant tried at all. "You told me that I would be killed if I activated the PADDs that held data."

Torres hid a smirk, she just knew that the blonde had done something. "That's right, I did."

Seven closed her eyes before saying the rest, surprisingly enough she didn't want to see the disappointment in the Intendant's eyes. "Therefore I did not access any of the PADDs, but the computer unit in your office."

Seven was surprised when she heard the Intendant start to laugh and opened her eyes again.

"That's right, I forgot all about that stupid thing." Torres waved a hand in the direction of the office. "Go get it, bring it to me."

Seven did as she was told and soon was standing in front of the Intendant with the unit in her hands.

Torres took the unit and patted the cushion beside her. "You sit right here and show me what you did."

Once Seven was sitting, she took the unit back and placed it on her lap before opening it. "The main thing I did was read information."

"How much?"

"The f... the first five levels of information on each of the subjects on this screen." Seven knew that it would sound impossible to the Intendant so she had been expecting the 'what'.

Torres took the unit away from Seven and looked at the first five levels of information on each subject. Of course she knew it all, and for her it was more a matter of seeing something and knowing what the rest of the text was about as well. But for someone to actually read it all... and understand it, it would take days.

"Alright, this I want to see... Troop movements... Who is Gowron and where is he at the moment?"

Thanks to her instant recall, Seven knew the information as if reading it from the Intendant's screen. "Captain Gowron is Commander of the Klingon fleet delegated to the Bajoran sector. At the moment he is on Bajor, preparing your arrival. He is considered annoying and irritating, but also extremely loyal to the Chancellor and you. He is considered only an adequate commander, but a good adviser. He has,"

"Alright," Torres interrupted. "Next question, treasury. How much is my allowance for being Intendant, and what's the total value of everything connected to the House of Torres?"

"You earn one million credits a day for being Intendant. That is separate from bonuses and the credits you make out of the Torres holdings. The total reported value of everything owned by the House of Torres was 136,199,681,492 credits at the filing of the annual report."

"Damn, I'm worth 136 billion?" Torres asked impressed. Like most Klingons, she didn't care much for bookkeeping. As long as the weekly balance was in black numbers, her bookkeepers and financial advisers were doing a good job and she didn't care any further.

"No, the House of Torres, which you control, is worth 136 billion. You, B'Elanna Torres, are worth another 46 billion credits."

Torres gave the computer unit back to Seven and on a hunch asked, "How many colonies were represented in the first federal Klingon government ever created?"

It wasn't a question that had anything to do with the information in the unit; it was some of the history information Seven had to study.

"That is a trick question," Seven stated, wondering why the Intendant was suddenly asking this. "It is generally assumed that eighteen colonies were part of the first federal government. But the truth is that eighteen colonies combined themselves to form the federal government. So technically they were never part of it. They stopped existing when the federal government was declared."

Torres looked at her in open amazement for a moment. "How can you have read all of this in the one and a half hours I was gone? The history question alone is something you would normally only come across tomorrow at the earliest."

Seven knew that now was the time to mention one of the things that set her apart from most Humans. "I have, what is known in our universe as, a photographic memory. And I also have instant recall. It is a... convenient mix at times."

"I just knew I picked a smart one," Torres said with clear approval before continuing in a serious tone. "You said that reading was the main thing you did. That means that you also did something else, what?"

Seven lowered her eyes and looked down at the unit in her hands. She couldn't understand it, but she felt like a schoolgirl having been caught doing something naughty. "I... I appointed a certain Master Slave to oversee the repairs on Voyager. The position was originally listed as 'first available'."

"You realize that it will seem as if I made this appointment? Since it came from my computer?" Torres asked the obvious.

"Yes, Mistress, I know."

"Who did you appoint, and why?"

Seven opened the unit and went to the status report of the Master Slave she had selected before handing the unit back to the Intendant.

Torres read the report and was surprised by how clean it was. All the jobs the Master Slave had overseen had been completed with success, though success had come in different levels on different projects. But still. The other slaves also seemed to work well under the Master Slave. "Good choice," Torres finally said.

"The Master Slave was the best choice for this particular situation," Seven stated sincerely.

"I'm sure," Torres agreed. "But this is not the reason why you picked her, is it?"

"No, it is not," Seven heard herself say.

"Then who is this Annika Hansen?"

"She is this universe's version of me." While answering, Seven brought up an image of the woman in question.

Torres had to digest that for a moment. "I... see. No wonder she was able to work herself up to be a Master Slave."

She tapped with a finger against the computer unit. "Did you do anything else in here?"

"I did nothing else, except for bypassing the tracking programs and altering them to the point that they would not track any new possible moves from me, but would do their assigned task if others used this unit, Mistress."

"You know I have to punish you for this, and severely."

"I know."

"I give you a choice."

"Mistress?" Seven asked, looking up at Torres.

"You can choose, my Pet. Either you lose points for this, or tonight you give me a repeat performance from last night."

Seven did not understand what Torres was doing. Why did the Intendant offer to let her work off her punishment, when the Intendant could punish her and still order her to please her that night? But whatever the reason was, Seven choose the only smart answer there was. "I do not wish to lose any points."

"Good, I look forward to tonight."

"Mistress," Seven said, while folding the computer unit closed. "I am... sorry that I disappointed you."

Torres reached up and softly turned the blonde's head in her direction. "I never said that you disappointed me. You did exactly what I thought you would, what I hoped you would. Well, not literally, but you did something; that's what I mean. Why do you think I'm taking this so well? You would have disappointed me if you truly had just sat here and read. If the B'Rel had not rendezvoused with us, then I would have found a reason tomorrow to leave you alone. Though I must admit that I was fully expecting to catch you in the act, or not having read the history you should have. But then I didn't know about the capabilities of that brain of yours."

"You were hoping for my disobedience?" Seven asked surprised.

"No, not at all," Torres disagreed. "I was hoping for you to obey me, and find a way to get past my commands. I wanted to see how resourceful you could be. But a little warning, now I know at least a little of how resourceful you can be, now things change. From now on, if I tell you something, I expect you to understand not only the literal order, but also what it means. Anybody would have known that if I had forbidden them to read information from the PADDs, that they are then also not allowed to read that same information from a computer unit. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Alright then, act like that from now on, I wouldn't want to give you the punishment something like this would really demand."

Torres had tapped against the computer unit to indicate what she meant with 'something like this'. "You understand me?"

"Yes, Mistress." And Seven now indeed understood. The punishment that the Intendant had given her wasn't a real punishment at all; it was nothing more than a closure on the matter. She had done something wrong, and the Intendant had 'punished' her for it. "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"Will you appoint a new Master Slave to Voyager?"

"Why bother? To me, a Master Slave is a Master Slave. Tell me, you like working on this computer unit?" Torres suddenly asked, changing the subject completely.

"It was easily accessible and since the input field is six point five times greater than that of your PADDs, I could do several processes at once with more ease than it would have been on a PADD. And also, a PADD only holds information that is downloaded. The unit had direct access to the main database of this ship. And since this is the ship of the Klingon Intendant, it had a direct subspace link to the Klingon main information center on Qo'noS."

"A simple 'yes' would have been enough," Torres said amused. "I personally like working with the PADDs more. But that's mainly because most of my work consists of reading reports and then acting on that information; it's much easier done with a light and convenient handheld PADD. So until now this thing rarely saw any use."

Suddenly, Torres addressed the main computer, "Computer, restrict the access to my personal computer unit to clearance free information only."

"More data is required: clearance free information on Intendant level, or on general level?" The computer asked, knowing that two people were in the room.

Torres thought about that for a moment, she knew that she should say general level. With all her slave had done, the blonde had still not reached the level that was considered Intendant's clearance. The blonde would be able to get all information that didn't need a level two or one clearance, and the same went for giving orders. But from the first time she had seen the slave, she had followed her gut feeling about the blonde.

She decided with a sigh that now that she had gone this far, she might as well go all the way. "Computer, the clearance level is that of Intendant."

"Access restricted."

Torres laid her hand on the computer unit before looking Seven in the eyes. "From now on this computer unit is yours to use. I think that you know only too well what would go too far, so don't do it. If you misuse this, the game is over right away and I swear by Kahless that I will personally kill all of them while you're watching. You understand me, my Pet?"

"Yes, Mistress," Seven answered, wondering why the Intendant was giving her the computer unit.

Torres took Seven's chin in her hand and applied some pressure, but not enough to hurt. "You say that you understand me, but do you also believe me, Seven?"

Once again the Intendant had used Seven's name and the blonde started to suspect that the Intendant only used it in very serious situations, situations where she wanted to speak to Seven on a level different from that of master and slave. "Yes, I believe you."

Torres let go of the blonde's chin and used that hand to ruffle those blonde hairs. "Good, I'm glad we got this settled."

Seven looked down at the computer unit and finally asked, "Mistress, why did you give me this?"

"Because you're smart," Torres answered amused. "You're able to not only read the information in there, but actually understand it. It took me more than a year to figure all of that out when I was appointed Intendant. And also, you're able to understand the treasury reports. Frankly I suck at that, I don't care much for that kind of stuff. Since you do understand all of that, I would be stupid not to use that fact. So from now on you're going to be trained in what I find important information, and the rest you can keep to yourself and only tell me about something if you think I really need to know."

"But why are you doing this?" Seven asked, not understanding the reasoning. "I am just a slave."

"That's the point." Torres stood up and walked to the table. "I want something to eat, get us program fifty-three."

Suddenly Torres stopped where she stood, making Seven, who had started to follow the Intendant, almost walk into her. Torres turned around to Seven before starting to speak again. "I told you that you were only allowed to read the PADD I gave you in the private part of my quarters. That goes double for the computer unit. You're only allowed to use it in this room and my office."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said, taking a step back to give the Intendant some room.

Seeing the slave standing there with the computer unit in her hands made Torres start to wonder if she was maybe losing her mind. 'But,' she thought, 'somebody that's stupid enough to jump off a cliff, can't really complain about the wind in her face on the way down, though she can make sure that there's something on the bottom to break her fall.'

She pointed to one of the chairs at the table. "Sit. Here's your first legal use of that thing. Send a message to Martok that reads literally, 'The Intendant ordered me to send you this message from the computer unit that I'm now allowed to use. The Intendant has told me to inform you that the leverage is still there, but that you are to start keeping your eye on everything. Passive for now until further order.' And then sign it with your name."

"It is sent, Mistress," Seven said a moment later even though the Intendant had seen her send the message.

"Alright then." Torres sat down opposite the blonde. "Now close that thing and get the food I told you to get."

Seven did so and moments later they started to eat. After a few minutes, Seven broke the silence, "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"What did the message that I sent to General Martok mean?"

"It meant that I showed him what I already allowed you to do, and it told him to keep an eye on the things that you do, orders that come from that unit, and whatever he can think of. Passively only for now, so you won't notice it."

Torres put her fork down and looked straight at the blonde. "I'm not treating you like I should treat you, my Pet. And I think that it's not a bad idea to have someone with an objective view look at what you're doing. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, Mistress. I do," Seven agreed, knowing that it would make things more difficult for her, but that from the Intendant's point of view, it was indeed a wise precaution.

They ate in silence for a minute before Seven spoke up again, "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you giving me that power?"

Torres ate the last bit of her food before pushing her plate towards Seven a bit. Seven got the hint and cleared off the table.

"When you're done, get us something to drink and join me on the couch," Torres said while moving to said couch.

Once she was sitting comfortably, she waited for the slave to bring her the drink. Torres was slightly surprised, but didn't object when the blonde kneeled in front of her, instead of going to sit beside her on the couch. She took the drink the slave offered her and opened her legs to let the blonde come a little closer.

"To answer your question, my Pet, the reason I give you that power is because it's actually standard for people in higher places, and especially someone as high as an Intendant, to have someone to take care of the smaller unimportant, but time consuming things. I normally did those things myself because I never had someone I could trust with the information and power that comes from doing those things for me. Having to check the person would have been more work than just doing it myself. But now I can let you do those things."

"Mistress, I... I am glad that you feel that you can trust me with that, but I do not understand how you can think that you can trust me, especially after what I just did."

Torres started to run her fingers through the blonde's hair again. She just loved doing that, and she suspected that the poor slave would have to wash her hair every day because of it. But since she herself tried to take a bath every night, which was not that common for Klingons who on average washed themselves about once a week, the slave would get to take a bath every night anyway.

"What would you do, my Pet? In fact, what could you do?"

"Mistress?"

"Think about it," Torres urged. "What could you do with all the information in that computer unit? Use the financial information to make some credits for yourself? Or transfer some of my credits? To where? You don't have an account and you don't even have an official name. The only thing you would do is make me some credits since you're using my computer unit."

Seven had a feeling that she would be able to find a way to succeed in what the Intendant clearly thought impossible, but she was smart enough to not mention that aloud.

Meanwhile, Torres continued with her statement. "Or maybe you would want to offer some of the military information to... say the Cardassians. First of all, they would probably already know. One of the little known facts that make for the stability of the Coalition, is an agreement all members have signed that we would not search for, and flush out, spies... from the Faction leaders at least. The Cardassians have spies amongst us, just like we have spies amongst them. Hell, the last couple of years you can't really call them spies since nobody takes the trouble anymore to alter their appearance surgically. This tactic of allowing for spies was agreed upon to make sure that none of the Coalition partners could plan something against another Coalition member without them finding out."

Torres stopped for a moment to take a sip from her drink before going on. She was explaining this as much to herself as to her slave, trying to convince herself that this was indeed why she was doing something that everyone would call foolish. "And second, you know damn well yourself that I'm your best choice. Even if you didn't have to fear for the lives of your friends, having the Klingon Intendant be friendly towards you is the only way of having a decent life in the long run. No, my Pet, with all the information that computer unit gives you, and all the power that being able to use my name gives you, the only thing you can do with it is work for me."

Torres lifted the blonde's head and grinned at her. "I know what you're thinking now. You could still use that power to help your friends, to help them escape. But there's nowhere that they can escape to. Use the unit to do some research on it. There are no officially free Humans or Vulcans or... So no matter where they would go, everybody would know that they had escaped. And there's a standard reward of twenty-five thousand credits for every escaped slave, payable by law by the owner of the slave."

Seeing the frown on the blonde's face, Torres explained. "Yes, that's more than a basic slave costs. But it's also somewhat of a punishment for the owner who was careless enough that a slave could even escape. Anyway, one hundred and forty escaped slaves at twenty-five thousand credits apiece. How long do you think it would be before somebody wanting to make an easy three and a half million credits turns them in? That's more than most people make in a lifetime. Add to that the little fact that it also is a punishable offence to not report a possibly escaped slave. If your friends stayed together, they would be captured within a day."

"It is my understanding that in a situation where they cannot rely on anybody but themselves, most species, including Humans, team up with more people in the same situation as them. I am certain that such places also exist inside the Coalition," Seven pointed out.

"You're arguing with me, my Pet. I told you not to do that." It was clear that Torres was amused, despite her words.

"I am not arguing," Seven disagreed. "I am having a discussion with you, Mistress. Arguing would be, for instance, me pointing out that you did not tell me not to argue with you. Which you did not."

Torres tapped Seven on the nose with her index finger. "Don't go there, my Pet. Remember that I make the rules, and that means that I can also change them. I don't need your permission for that."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven lowered her head again and closed her eyes. "But if I may point out, if I am to do things for you, I should also be able to discuss them with you, Mistress. Give my view on them."

"Hmm, I guess you have a point," Torres relented. "All right then, what we are doing now is having a discussion, and you can do that when we're alone. But what you did this morning when we were talking about what a Master is allowed to do to his or her slave; that was arguing. Don't do that again. My counterpart might like it, but I don't."

"Yes, Mistress, I will not do that again," Seven assured, even though she had promised that to the Intendant previously.

"And no, my Pet, such places do not exist, inside the Coalition," Torres said, continuing her... discussion... with the slave. "But a few of those places do exist on the border of Coalition space; five places in total, pretty much equally spaced out around the border. We leave those so that we can monitor them. The amount of escaped slaves that reach them tells us if we need to sharpen the rules, raise the reward for capturing a slave and such. And, leaving those places prevents other places from forming that we don't know of. But the people that reach those places are only disillusioned. Two thirds of the slaves that reach those places eventually come back to their masters."

"Come back?" Seven asked surprised. "Do you mean willingly? That they manage to escape, find those places where escaped slaves go to, and then leave them again to return to their masters?"

Torres went over the words before nodding her head. "Yep, that's pretty much exactly what I mean. What most slaves only see is how terrible their life is; they have the worst fate of all slaves that ever lived, and all that sob stuff. But once they escape they soon realize that life as a slave was a lot better than it is in those places. A slave gets food, shelter, a relatively safe place to sleep. As long as they do their job they might only have to suffer the ordeals of finding their place between other slaves, and maybe a beating..."

Torres stopped talking but her lips quirked a little.

"Or a rape," Seven said in understanding.

"Or having to spend a few minutes thinking they are somewhere else while a guard or a more powerful slave uses their body to get off," Torres corrected. "Not all rapes are brutal affairs. After all, if you get down to it, I don't leave you a choice, so when I order you to service me I'm raping you as well. So does that mean that you've now suffered the worst fate anyone can suffer?"

"No Mistress," Seven assured.

Torres flashed her a grin before continuing. "Bottom line is, a slave that does his or her job, their life might not be perfect, but it might actually be a life worth choosing over death. But those places where those escaped slaves run to... They are lawless territories where the strong take all from the weak. There's starvation and food is normally bought from those that control it in the only currency the weak have; sexual intercourse."

Torres could see that the slave was about to speak and she could pretty much guess what the words would be. "Shhh, you're a body slave. That means that you have to... please... more often than most slaves. Most 'normal' slaves only have to do that a few times in their lives. A substantial part never has to do it at all. You, as body slave, have to do it more often, but you only have one person to please. Can you imagine having to please a different person every time you want to eat? Can you imagine that you had to please me simply for that drink that you're holding in your hand? Or maybe today it had been an ugly, big, smelly, guy who would have liked to slap you around a little while you had to service him."

"I do not like men, in that way," Seven pointed out.

"Ah, my Pet, but if you're starving you have little choice. And that's if you're alone. What if you have a child to feed, if you need two meals a day? Believe me, the only thing that those Humans have is that they can tell themselves that they're free. But the reality is that the life of a slave is better, and strangely enough freer, than the life of one of those 'free' Humans."

Seven had noticed that while the Intendant was talking, her voice had changed a little. It had become more serious, and more... poignant. Seven believed what the Intendant had just told her, and it made something clear that Seven had already suspected. If the Voyager crew were to escape, they would need Voyager. Not only to get away from anybody that was following them, but also as a place to live in decency.

Seven spent a moment going over the things the Intendant had just told her. Then she asked, "The escaped slaves that return to their Masters. Surely the Masters will not take them back. Or maybe only take them back so that they can sell them again. Most will probably just kill their slave."

"Some people do," Torres agreed. "The stupid ones I would say. You are right, it's a much better option to sell the slave and get some credits out of it. A lot of people also don't like to kill their slave because they have a moral objection against killing. Not everyone can kill and get away with it like I do. So slave or not, a lot of people are reluctant to kill another sentient being. Most people in the Coalition never killed a person in their life. Not even us Klingons with our challenges. Not every challenge is to the death. Rough guess, I would say that only a quarter of Klingons ever killed someone in their life. But you know what the really smart people do with those slaves that came back?"

"What?" Seven asked.

Torres grinned. "They keep them and give them a second chance."

Seven merely looked at her in total amazement.

"Did you ever hear of the saying 'the grass is greener on the other side?" Torres asked.

Seven nodded to indicate that she had.

"Well, those escaped slaves have been to the other side and seen that the grass is not greener at all; that in fact there is no grass. Now that slave realizes just how good the life they had was in comparison and comes back and begs to be yours again. Since we both like women, let's say the escaped slave is a woman since I don't feel like saying 'them' all the time."

Seven nodded again.

Torres caressed the blonde's cheek and almost lost her trail of thought when the slave turned slightly and placed a kiss on her hand. "Ima, imagine that you're someone that can only afford one slave. So you use that slave for cleaning the house and serving you food. And when you want the grass cut you have it done by the slave as well, right?"

"Correct," Seven agreed.

Torres used a foot to bump the blonde's behind softly. "But then you want some of this. Or to be more precise, you want some sex and you're single so no convenient source of sex that you're married to. So, you just rape the slave since you can't afford a second sex slave and your cleaning slave is pretty cute anyway. And if you did it once, hey, why not do it again the next evening? Come to think of it, why not just do it every night and get laid whenever you want it?"

Torres waited for a comment but didn't get one. So she continued. "So the slave escapes and now that slave has been to the other side, has been beaten by other escaped slaves for nothing more than the fact that they're the new one that still has to find their place. Has needed to beg and plead for food. Has been told, 'if you want some food, drop those pants and bend over'. So now that slave is back and pleads for another chance. You show some compassion and give it. Suddenly the slave is loyal to you and won't escape anymore because now they truly realize what they have."

She tapped the thumb of her left hand with her right index finger. "One, she knows how nice it is to have clean sheets to sleep in, to actually have a bed to sleep in that is her little safe place for the night where even the Master leaves her alone."

She tapped a second finger. "Two, she now realizes that the Master actually never beats her as long as she just does as she is told, so she does it."

Another finger. "Three, now she realizes just what it means to actually get food every day."

Torres tapped a fourth finger and then dropped her hands. "Four, she now realizes that even though the Master wants sex every day, it's not 'that' bad as long as she just works along and maybe even puts some effort in. Just make the Master come and that part is over. Fifteen minutes of spreading her legs, saying 'yes right there' and she can go and take a bath and then to bed."

She lifted her hand once more and tapped her pinkie. "Oh, right, bath, that's number five. She now knows the luxury of being able to take a bath whenever she wants, as long as she doesn't have to do some work for the Master at that time. So you see, giving a slave a second chance might actually be a good thing. If for nothing more than the fact that now she actually smiles at you when she brings you your food. Or for the fact that now when you're having sex she isn't crying but looking back at you with eyes that actually show that she is enjoying what she's doing; regardless of whether she truly is enjoying it."

Seven tilted her head a little while thinking about the Intendant's statement. "So what you basically mean is that the rape is going to happen no matter what. And if she says 'please no' it will hurt, but if she says 'yes please', it will not hurt, at least not physically, and will be over faster."

"Right," Torres agreed. "It's going to happen no matter what. Might as well try to enjoy it and get it over with as fast as you can. Remember, if you say 'yes please' you only get fucked. If you say 'please no' you will get beaten until you can't resist anymore and still get fucked. Why suffer the beating as well?"

"So the best defense would actually be to let it happen and not try to encourage, nor discourage, the Master," Seven deducted. "That way it will be relatively painless and as short as possible because the Master will stop as soon as they have reached their peak. With no encouragement for more after that, this will probably be the end of it, until the next time."

Then she asked. "Would you do that as well, Mistress?"

Torres grinned. "Ah, but we were talking about a slave. So one of the slave species. But I'm a Klingon. No way would I do that. We are stupendously stubborn; I would rather fight them to my death before saying yes if I mean no."

"Which is also why you think the slaves should say yes," Seven said in understanding. "Because that same stubbornness will make sure that the Klingon Master will get what they want, no matter how much the slave says no."

"Right," Torres agreed. "Of course, I'm speaking generally here; there are always exceptions."

Then Torres decided that it was time to change the subject. "Now, my Pet, I want to soak in my bath for some time, and during that time you can tell me all about you. Tell me your life history from being a child 'til now."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said while she got up in order to let the Intendant do the same, "Mistress?"

"Yes?" Torres asked while rising.

"There is something that I have been wondering about since the moment we told you that we came from an alternative universe."

Torres grinned. "Let me guess, you're wondering why I so easily believed such an outrageous story?"

"Yes, Mistress."

The Intendant walked to the bathroom and started to undress while explaining. "The reason for that is because we have known about that wormhole for the last... um, hundred years almost, I think. Why do you think there are those weapon platforms surrounding the exit point? Before we put those there, we researched the wormhole intensively. We came to the conclusion that basically plugging it up was the best solution. Which reminds me that apparently it's time for an upgrade on those platforms; you should never have been able to survive."

By now, they had both undressed and entered the bath that was apparently always kept full, clean, and heated. Remembering what the Intendant had told her the last time they were in the bath; Seven went to the Intendant's side and took the sponge on the side of the bath.

"Mistress?" she asked to see if the Intendant wanted to be washed, or just wanted to sit in the water for now.

"Later," Torres said and saw that this time the slave continued to sit beside her instead of moving to the other side of the bath. 'Ah, progress.'

Seven Put the sponge down again and sat back to enjoy the feeling of the water surrounding her. She had never taken a bath on Voyager, finding in an unnecessary waste of time and water. But she was surprised to find that she liked the feeling of the bath, and could now understand why others on Voyager often longed for a bath.

"But if you know of the existence of the wormhole, why not use it?" Seven asked after some time.

"And have whoever is on the other side stranded in the Delta Quadrant if the wormhole collapses?" Torres countered. "Not just the Delta Quadrant, but also the Delta Quadrant from an alternative universe? Apparently you've passed through the wormhole in one of its rare stable periods, but most of the time, the wormhole is an extremely unstable beast that bites and kicks without warning. Only this end of it stays in the same spot, however the other end starts jumping around in the Delta Quadrant. But that's not the worst."

Torres used a finger to draw a circle in the air. "It's only that nice round tunnel form in its stable periods. But once it becomes unstable again it also starts fluctuating; going from round to as thin as a hair in a second flat, and then back again to be stretched and pushed in other directions. And if that's still not enough, our scientists say that they simply can't tell us how long the wormhole will continue to exist. It could go on for another thousand years, or it could collapse the next time it becomes unstable. Keeping that in mind, and after losing several ships that were traveling through the wormhole one day, we decided to forget about it and make sure no uninvited guests would come through it."

Torres hesitated before adding, "Besides, that wormhole is not the only way to get into your universe."

"It is not?" Seven asked surprised.

"No." Torres moved her hand and absently started to move it along the length of Seven's upper leg. "Apparently your universe and mine exist very close to each other. We know of several ways to travel between the two universes, but that wormhole and a second way are the only safe ways of traveling back and forth."

She hesitated for a moment before slightly correcting herself. "As far as you can call a wormhole safe, if you know that said wormhole can become unstable any minute. There's no rhythm what so ever to it. Anyway, as I said, there are several ways, we found out that until now all of those ways led us to one and the same universe: yours. And truthfully, after seeing the Klingons from your universe, we didn't want to go there anyway. Why would we want to go into another universe, a universe where Klingons had to beg Humans for help, while we rule everything here? We like our universe just fine."

Seven felt the hand of the Intendant on her leg and thought for a moment that the Intendant wanted to do something entirely different than talking. But the hand just kept wandering up and down her upper leg slowly.

"Alright, now you can start to wash me, and while you do, you can start telling me about you. If Annika Hansen is your counterpart here, then it's a pretty sure bet that 'Seven of Nine' is not your birth name. In the studying we did do of the other universe, we've discovered that for some reason the same people tend to have the same names."

"It is not," Seven agreed and took the sponge. While she started to wash the Intendant, she also started to tell her story.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

It was more than two hours later when they dried off and went to the bedroom. Seven had told her story without too many details, more like an average person would have. She had done this for two reasons: Because she didn't want to bore the Intendant, and this way Seven did not have to tell in detail what the enhancements were that the Borg had done to her.

She had been sure that the Intendant had wanted her to start her services in the bath, so she was slightly surprised when the Intendant told her to get some towels from the replicator, and to make sure that next time she replicated the towels before getting into the bath. And a few minutes later she stood naked in the Intendant's bedroom, not really sure what to do.

"Make the bed," Torres simply ordered, and adding in an afterthought, "Program fifty," telling the slave which replicator program to use.

But the blonde didn't move.

"Well?"

"Mistress, I..." Seven started, sounding very unsure.

"What?" Torres asked. Spreading her arms slightly to emphasize her question, not caring in the least about the fact that she was naked as the day she was born.

"Mistress, I do not know how,"

"Wait," Torres interrupted while stepping closer to the blonde. "Are you in all reality trying to tell me that you don't know how to make a fucking bed?"

"I have not slept like a Human since I was six, and while I was a child, my parents made my bed for me. Since I did not think that I would be sleeping in a bed anytime soon, I never learned it. Making a bed was irrelevant," Seven said in a slightly defensive tone.

"Who said that you're going to sleep in the bed?" Torres asked, starting to get slightly annoyed at the situation.

"Nobody. I only stated the reason why I never learned," Seven defended.

Torres took a step closer, her irritation now clear to see. "You're starting to sound a damn lot like you're arguing with me, slave."

Seven involuntarily backed up a step. "I am sorry, Mistress. I am just slightly annoyed about the fact that I do not know how to perform a task others do not even have to think about."

Torres started to speak but then stopped when she realized the absurdity of the situation. There she was talking to a slave, a slave! About making the bed, and both of them were naked during all of it. She moved to the replicator and threw a short 'come' over her shoulder.

"You watch, and you better watch damn good. I'm not going to explain a single damn word of what I'm doing. Next time you better know how to do this like you've done it all your life, or else I'm going to be fucking pissed... a lot more than I'm already now. You got me?"

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said in an insecure voice. Once again she felt as if she had done something wrong and was caught doing it. It was absolutely illogical, but she still felt like that.

The first thing Torres did was replicate some simple but comfortable sleeping-shirts.

"Here, put this on," she said while roughly handing a shirt to Seven. While Seven put her shirt on, Torres did the same and then replicated some new sheets for the bed.

Torres indeed didn't explain a single thing about what she did, but she was talking to herself the whole time, saying things like, 'reads a fucking treasury report sixty margins long in a minute flat, but doesn't even know how to pull some sheets over a damn bed'. And, 'oh, I have this perfect recall memory thing, can't even guess how to put a sheet down'.

Torres was finished in a few minutes and turned around to her slave. "Got that?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Torres grabbed the sheets and pulled everything off the bed again. "Good, then now you do it."

Seven did a good and quick job of making the bed and stepped back.

"Good," Torres said in a voice a lot less annoyed. "Computer, lights on one-eighth intensity."

With a bleep, the computer acknowledged and the light dimmed until there was only enough light left to put everything in a dark gray.

Torres crawled between the sheets and stretched before noticing that she was still alone in the bed. She looked to where her slave was still standing and because it was so dark she wasn't sure, but she could have sworn that she actually saw the blonde fiddle with her fingers before putting her hands behind her back.

"Get in here already."

Seven went to the other side of the bed and moved until she was lying beside the Intendant, close but not touching. After a moment of heavy silence, Seven said softly, "I am sorry, Mistress."

Torres sighed; she knew that she had acted ridiculously. Good thing the blonde was only a slave, that way Torres didn't have to explain herself. Right? But after a moment, Torres heard herself speak to the slave, instead of just ignoring her.

"It's alright, my Pet." Torres turned around until she was facing the slave. She reached over and slowly caressed the blonde's cheek. "It really isn't your fault. Everything you did 'til now, you were excellent at. To then suddenly have you not know something as easy as making a bed... it just hit me from a blind corner. But, you better get used to that. You really have only seen me in a good mood the last two days. If I get in a bad mood, I can be an absolute bitch. Much worse than what you just saw. Just know that the next time something like this happens you can best simply let me rant and don't take it too personally. If you had done something I consider truly wrong I would not have acted like I just did, I would simply have punished you, alright?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"You ok?" Torres asked, having heard the slight tremor in the slave's voice.

Seven had learned long ago on Voyager that if somebody asked a question like that, they expected an 'I am fine' back. Nobody expected you to actually tell what your problem was, at least that's what the Captain had told her. Though sometimes it seemed as if B'Elanna and Tom actually really had wanted to know what was bothering her.

But remembering that she told the Intendant that she would not deceive her, Seven said honestly, "Being confronted with not knowing what to do unsettles me. Always knowing what I need to do, how to do it, it makes me feel secure."

"What? Don't tell me that you can't think for yourself. I'm not buying that after all that I've seen."

"I do know how to think for myself, as long as it is about things I know," Seven assured. "For instance many of my fights with Voyager's B'Elanna Torres came forth because of me knowing what I was doing, and knowing what had to happen next. I would then become what she calls 'stubborn as hell' and only be persuaded to her way of thinking if she could make a valid case."

"Then what made you snoop around in the computer while I was gone? I don't think that you learned that on Voyager?"

"I still knew what I needed to do. I needed to get information, and where else to be sure to find the information I needed than in the Intendant's computer? But making the bed was an action I had to perform at that moment without having the information on how to do so. If I would have had a few minutes to research the subject, I would have known what to do and handled it accordingly."

"Knowledge is power."

"Mistress?"

"An old saying, my Pet, meaning that having information, knowledge, makes you more powerful than the person that does not have that knowledge. Have knowledge and you will win the war, be ignorant and you'll be the first to die in that war."

"I see."

Torres sighed. "Anyway, as I said, I can be a bitch and frankly, you've seen nothing yet. So the next time simply keep quiet and you'll be fine. I can be, and often am, someone you don't want to mess with. But even in those situations I never punish someone for something they didn't do. Now, go to sleep, tomorrow will be a long day. First thing, you and I will go through some of the information in that computer unit and I'll tell you what kind of thing I want you to keep an eye on, what you should tell me, and what you can do by yourself."

She gave a small grin before adding, "Then, in the afternoon, we will go to your friends so that you can see how they're treated, and so that you can see my counterpart. Would you like that, my Pet?"

"Yes, I would," Seven assured her eyes never leaving those of the Intendant.

Torres grinned again, she liked how those blue eyes kept looking at her. In the back of her mind something was screaming for attention, but she ignored it after a moment since she couldn't figure out what it was. She was so used to her Klingon sight, that her conscious mind simply couldn't link the connection to the fact that a normal Human should actually be pretty much blind in the low light of the room.

"Good, I think that my counterpart should be able to speak to you by then. And tomorrow evening we'll arrive at my home. I'll leave my new ship and your friends there while we go on to Bajor. You can use that computer unit to keep in contact with your doctor. At my home we will probably also meet up with the Master Slave you so conveniently appointed. Do... do you want to talk to her?"

"No, Mistress, I... no."

"Alright. Tell me, you told me that you need regeneration every seventy-two hours, but how long can you go without regenerating and maintenance if needed? Could you go one week without? Two weeks?"

Seven wondered why the Intendant was asking her this and then realized that the Intendant wanted to take her to Bajor, a trip that was sure to last longer than three days. "I do not know, Mistress. The Doctor is convinced that I could already live without regenerating now, but if the time between regenerating is more than seventy-two hours it starts to affect me and soon it becomes uncomfortable for me."

"I see, affect you... how?" Torres asked, moving a little closer to her slave until she was lying against her.

"I become weaker, less strong. My endurance becomes shorter. My muscles start hurting after straining them for some time. I form small aches all over my body. The places around my implants start to itch. I get,"

"You know, my Pet, it sounds to me as if you lose some of the advances those implants give you and you start to feel more like a normal Human... except the itching of your implants of course."

"If it is normal for Humans to feel like that, then I do not want to become more Human."

"Who would?" Torres asked amused.

"The biggest risk," Seven said, ignoring what the Intendant had said, "is the absence of the periodic maintenance of my implants. Onboard Voyager, the Doctor had to remove eighty-one percent of all Borg technology because my body started to reject the implants once my immune system started to reassert itself. There is a chance that the remaining implants would also be rejected if I do not regenerate and get periodic maintenance done to the implants."

Torres frowned. "Hmm, how sincere is that risk? How certain is it that problems would arise from you not getting any regenerating or maintenance?"

"It is simply not possible to say, Mistress. We have no reference whatsoever. It is possible that my implants would totally shut down, which would mean my certain death, but it is also possible that my implants would adapt to the situation and continue on without needing regeneration or maintenance. Since there is a substantial chance of me dying, both the Doctor and I did not see the need to risk my death by trying to find out."

"Smart choice," Torres agreed. The talk about implants had finally given a stronger voice to that something that had been nagging at her, so she changed the subject to that. "Are you ever going to tell me what those implants enable you to do? I'm not stupid, I know you left out quite a few details about those Borg. If those implants would not be better than whatever they replaced, they would never have been put into you. Replacing something with something inferior to the original is plain out stupid. And if they put so much technology in you that there's still so much left after more than eighty percent is removed, then that can only mean that they used you, seeing you, a Human, as an inferior being, as a being that needed to be enhanced substantially. I did notice one thing already. You're looking at me, so they must have done something with your eyes since you shouldn't be able to see me at all in this light."

Seven thought about that, but she knew that she still had to keep some things to herself. "I think I will tell you this, eventually. But not right now. Right now it is still convenient for me to have some surprises left."

Torres had to laugh softly at the honest reply. "Alright, I expected as much. That's why I asked if you were going to tell me, instead of just saying that you should tell me. But tell me this; is there something that I have to worry about?"

"No," Seven was quick to say, before realizing that this was not entirely true. "Well, it depends on what you consider something you have to worry about. I could kill you right now, being that I am far stronger than a normal Human. But yet I am lying here beside you without you fearing for your life. As long as you do not fear the fact that if I wanted I could overpower you and hurt or even kill you, then no, there is nothing you have to worry about."

Torres moved her hand under Seven's nightshirt and up until her hand found one of the blonde's ample breasts. "Alright then, for now I'll let you get away with not telling me. But once the game is over, and you're still alive, you will tell me everything, holding nothing back whatsoever."

"Yes, Mistress." Feeling what the Intendant was doing made Seven understand that the time had come to please to Klingon. She moved her own hand up the Intendant's leg and was about to continue over the Intendant's side when the Klingon captured Seven's hand with her own free one.

"Not tonight," Torres said while she moved the blonde's hand until it was resting on her hip. "There, you can leave your hand like that and keep my ass nice and warm tonight."

"But I thought that..." Seven started to say confused.

"Shhh, let's just say that I was too tired and forgot all about your punishment, alright? Now go to sleep."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven left her hand where it was and closed her eyes, wondering if she could sleep since she couldn't remember how she did it the last time, more than twenty years before. Surprisingly, she was asleep before the Intendant was.

Torres quickly heard the breath of her slave even out. 'What are you doing to me, my Pet?' She thought. 'Why are you still alive? I have destroyed entire colonies for less than what you did today. Speaking back to me? Not answering me? Looking at classified information?'

Torres moved her hand from under Seven's shirt and up to the blonde's face; softly brushing away some of those silk-like hairs, 'And even making me not want to use you for sex while I'm horny. For the first time ever I take a body slave, and then you turn out to be someone I don't want to use like that.'

Seven shifted a little closer in her sleep until she was lying fully against Torres. Her hand fell off the Intendant's hip and automatically she moved it, taking the Intendant in a light embrace without knowing it.

Torres was about to put the blonde's hand back, but stopped when she felt how the slave's arm took her in a soft embrace. 'Damn it all, I'm in soooo much trouble. I'm in way over my head with you, my little blonde... treasure. But tomorrow that's going to change, from tomorrow on you'll be treated like the slave you are.'

Torres took in the face of her slave. It looked so innocent and unguarded in sleep. 'Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that, B'Elanna. You know that this little vixen will never be 'just a slave' to you. Better just accept it and go from there.'

The blonde moved again in her sleep and Torres felt how the slave's legs came to lay against her feet. Torres remembered with a small smile that her 'little' blonde was half a head taller than she was.

'Time to get some sleep.' Torres put her arm around the slave in much the same way as the slave's arm was around herself and closed her eyes to get some much needed sleep.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 7

Seven awoke the next morning to find herself draped all over the Intendant. As soon as she fully realized her position, she was quick to move off the Klingon.

"Morning, my Pet. Did you enjoy sleeping on your very own private pillow?" Torres asked amused, making it clear that the Intendant had been awake for some time.

In fact, she had been awake for a little more than half an hour. She had awakened to find that the slave had crawled even closer in her sleep until she had been laying half on top of the Intendant. Torres' first reaction was a trace of panic.

For a moment, she had felt trapped under the weight of the slave. A weight that was more than the blonde's slim figure would lead one to assume. But at almost the same moment, Torres had realized that the blonde was still asleep and she figured that since she had told the slave to sleep in the bed, she couldn't hold it against the blonde that the woman had moved in her sleep.

After coming to that conclusion, Torres had figured it was time to wake the slave so that they could get up. That's what she normally did: wake up and get out of bed immediately, the whole process hardly ever lasted longer than a minute. But this had been the first time that somebody had been with her through the night, the first time anybody but herself had slept in her bed.

On those few occasions she actually had sex in her own bed, she had always thrown the other person out afterwards. Sometimes being a Klingon was convenient. With one-night stands, it was almost expected to throw the other person out afterwards. So she had taken a moment to get used to somebody sleeping on top of her, holding her in a secure embrace. Torres had come to the conclusion that she actually liked it and so she had decided to enjoy the feeling for a while longer.

"I am sorry, Mistress."

"Don't be," Torres said with a smile. It was on the tip of her tongue to assure the blonde that she had liked the experience, but then she quickly decided to just leave it at that. "Now it's time to get going, replicate my uniform. And I don't want to see you in that bio-suit anymore for the time being. Pick one of the other outfits I selected. I told your Doctor to have at least five of those new bio-suit designs ready by this afternoon, so today will simply be one of the days that you won't wear a bio-suit."

Seven got out of the bed to do as she was told and realized that both the Intendant's uniform and her own bio-suit were in the bathroom once again. "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"Can I retrieve the clothing we were wearing yesterday?"

"Why do..." Torres started to ask, but then realized that she had told the slave to ask permission if she wanted to go into a room without the Intendant. "Yes, go get them."

Torres got out of bed herself and walked to the replicator where she waited for Seven's return. "I changed my mind. From now on, I will choose what you'll wear. Ok, let's see, two days a bio-suit and the third day something else, is that doable without you having to change your regeneration and maintenance cycle?"

"Yes, Mistress. I believe so."

"Alright then."

"Mistress?"

Torres had turned to look at the replicator, but turned back to Seven when the blond spoke up. "Yes?"

"I remembered that I never answered your question last night." Seven said while she took the decorations off Torres' uniform before replicating a new one. "I believe that two weeks without regenerating and maintenance is feasible if I wear a bio-suit each day and each night, and get the amount of sleep I had last night."

"Sleeping did you well then?" Torres asked, remembering that it had been the first night the blonde had slept since being six years old.

"Yes Mistress. I feel that it regenerated my energy to a certain degree. Not enough that I would not have to regenerate anymore, but I think sleeping would make the occasional prolonged time of up to two or three weeks without regenerating, possible."

"That's good to know," the Intendant stated. "On occasion, I'll have to be away from this ship or my home for a couple of days. It's good to know that I don't have to worry about you not being able to regenerate."

After her last word, Torres quickly turned away again and looked at the replicator. Or more precisely, at what Seven was doing. While doing so her mind almost screamed, 'Worry? Did you just say worry? She's a damn slave, Torres. You don't worry about slaves. Get a grip already.'

After Seven had replicated the uniform, Torres decided on what the blonde should wear. As she quickly scanned the options a flash of blue caught her interest. "Hmm."

She had never cared for Romulan clothing herself, but since Klingon clothing was not really an option for the blonde, Torres had been looking at what else was available. She hadn't expected to find anything of interest in the Romulan section of the patterns in the replicator's memory, but she was pleased to be proven wrong.

She looked at the light blue catsuit for a moment, trying to picture the blonde in it. A satisfied smirk danced quickly over her lips. The catsuit was not designed as a showoff piece; which made it all the sexier. It was actually a piece of very stretchy and body hugging clothing that was meant to be worn by a certain type of Romulan engineer that was trained to make repairs while machines were running. In situations like that you most definitely didn't want clothing that could catch on moving parts.

She nodded to herself and then addressed the computer. "Computer, scan the body measurements of the Human standing beside me. Add her measurements to the replicators in my quarters under..." she smirked "...resident number seven."

"Scanning," the computer informed. And a moment later it beeped before adding, "Quarters information file 'resident seven' has been created, body measurements of resident seven have been added to the information file."

"Good," Torres approved. Then she looked at the created file. "Computer, consider the number seven in that file a name and from now on capitalize the name."

The computer merely beeped this time, but on the screens the 'seven's' had been changed to 'Seven's'.

"Computer replicate the selected clothing program to fit Seven," Torres tried. When the computer merely beeped once more, Torres grinned, quite pleased with herself. It was so nice to see that the computer now recognized the name; should be a lot easier when addressing the computer to give it orders in regards to the blonde.

Torres started to hum as she took her uniform and started to dress. Though she did stop for a moment and watch the slave as she dressed... alright, somewhat struggled... into the catsuit. It was not easy for the blonde to get into the stretchy material, but as soon as she had managed, Torres decided that in this regard the slave was just shit out of luck. The blonde looked way too delicious to not have her wear similar clothing again.

"You think you can manage to get used to dressing in stuff like that, dress easier and faster I mean?" Torres asked.

Seven took a moment to move, expecting to meet resistance in her movements and surprised that there was none. The only thing she noticed was that if she stretched a lot, the fabric would move over her skin in a way not used to her, but also not unpleasant. "Yes Mistress. I believe that it is one of those cases of where I do not know how to do it. In comparison, it took me nineteen minutes to put my first bio-suit on because I had to train and make sure that the technology in the suit would touch me in all the right places. I believe that with some training I will be able to put garments like this on faster than you can put on your uniform."

"Is that a challenge?" Torres asked amused. Not giving the slave time to answer, she asked. "I was thinking of having one of those alcoves installed in my office, since it's the room most rarely used, and one at my home. Is that possible?"

Seven tugged at a sleeve of the catsuit to straighten out a fold and looked down at her body to see how it looked on her. It was a snug, body hugging, but also not too tight a fit, clinging to her curves in a very seductive way. It was certainly a lot more revealing than her bio-suit's had ever been. Without the technology adding to the thickness and stiffness in certain places, the catsuit showed off all of her form. It even crept up a bit on the underside of her breasts to even show some of that curve.

But since it actually covered most of her body, it was a lot more covering than the bathing suits she had seen the crew of Voyager wear on shore leave or on the holodeck parties she had been ordered to attend. It was just that the design of it made it look a lot more daring, certainly not like an innocent bathing suit. She decided that... she liked it. She looked to the Intendant and saw her looking back with a very approving look in her eyes.

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said, answering the question that had been asked. "Aside from their bulky form, the alcoves are relatively easy to dismantle and assemble, if one knows what they are doing. Since Borg technology is not known to your engineers, I would suggest letting some of the Voyager crew do this job."

"I was thinking of doing that," Torres said while she straightened out her uniform. In regards to clothing, the other Intendants had it a lot better than the Klingon Intendant. They could wear whatever they desired. But from the Klingon Intendant it was expected that she walk around in a battle uniform every day. Impression was everything. The Klingon Intendant always had to look as if she was itching for a fight. 'At least it makes my choice of clothing easy,' Torres thought for the thousandth time. "Who of your crew would be best suited for doing that?"

"B'Elanna Torres, Harry Kim, and I are the only ones that have in-depth knowledge of Borg technology."

Torres finished with her uniform and took a step back to be able to take in the blonde fully. She definitely liked what she saw. Then she tilted her head a little, wondering if the image could be improved upon. From seeing the slave put the garment on, Torres knew that there was a zipper at the front to allow someone to actually put it on. But now that the suit was closed, the nano-zipper was invisible to the naked eye. "Open the zipper all the way."

Confused, Seven did as she was told and then could see how the Intendant's eyes actually lit up in approval.

Torres definitely liked what she saw. Now there was a low v-shaped d�collet� that stopped only a fraction above the blonde's belly button. It showed off the valley between the blonde's breasts, including quite a bit of the sides of those breasts. The fabric only started about two fingers width from the blonde's nipples, covering those and the rest of the ample chest.

"Move, bend, I want to see if those assets of yours stay covered," Torres ordered.

Again, Seven did as she was told, and it seemed that there too the stretch of the material actually helped. Since the breasts were covered over their roundness, the fabric didn't slip off.

"You leave that open," Torres ordered. "But if you have trouble with your boobs wanting to free themselves, you can close the zipper to the point where there's no longer a problem."

"Yes Mistress," Seven said as she looked into the mirror. She took a moment to truly look at herself. She was amazed by the transformation she saw in herself. Now she looked like a... Ironically she realized that the way she looked now, how her looks were interpreted was actually decided by her company. On Voyager people would have said she looked like an open invitation for sex. But, Seven realized, when walking beside the Klingon Intendant, she would look like a prized possession. Like a decoration that people would admire, and would admire Torres for because she owned it. She looked like...

It was actually Torres that said it out loud. "You look like a Body Slave that an Intendant would own. You look sexy as hell."

Torres had come closer again and was standing right behind the blonde, also appreciating her image. Seven looked at her via the mirror. "It is you that makes me look this way. Your presence makes me look like a beauty that people should bow to, instead of merely take with the excuse that I brought it on myself because of how I look."

Torres chuckled. "Are we back to that raping stuff?"

"No, Mistress," Seven assured. "This time it was merely a comparison. One I used because it does show the difference your presence makes to the way I look."

"Mmmh, and talking about look," Torres said as she took a step away to make some room between them. "Turn around."

The slave did as she was told and Torres took in how the blonde looked from behind. "Walk to the living room, slowly."

The blonde once again did as she was told and as Torres had suspected, the catsuit showed off even more of the erotic sway of those hips, and the movement of that delicious backside.

"Kahless help me, I think I'll have to start walking behind you from now on instead of the other way around," Torres said before following the slave into the other room.

'Shapely, exquisite, erotic, delicious?' Torres thought while entering the other room. 'Well, she is all of that. And I don't want to use her? What in all damnation is wrong with me?'

Torres sat down at the table before addressing the blonde again. "Get me breakfast, program nineteen and come sit beside me at the table. After we're done eating, we'll go over some of the information in that computer unit and I'll tell you whether or not you should tell me about it in the future."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said while walking to the replicator.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

For four hours after breakfast, Seven had sat beside the Intendant going over boring information. Basically it all came down to the fact that Torres only wanted to know if something changed more than a certain margin; the only exception being the security reports. Torres would read all of those, but only when she felt like it. So there Seven was to inform the Intendant when there was something of which Seven thought that the Intendant should know it immediately. And the only exception to that exception were the occasional report from Martok that was marked with ASAP. When those came in, Torres would at least glance at them right away, no matter what she was doing at that time.

Seven began to notice that as more time went by, the more the Intendant seemed to be distracted by something. Then at one point she moved the computer unit slightly to show something to the Intendant and noticed that now she could see a reflection of the Intendant's face in the computer's screen. As they went over more things, Seven used the opportunity to study the Intendants face and saw that if Seven wasn't actually looking at her, Torres' eyes drifted all over Seven.

Seven noticed that her eyes always drifted from one 'interesting place', as Seven herself would call it, to another. And with a certain degree of satisfaction, Seven noticed that her face was actually one of those places that were look at quite frequently. But it certainly wasn't the only place. Finally Seven understood that the Intendant was indeed distracted by something. She was distracted by Seven herself.

Seven looked to the side some more and took a closer look at the Intendant. Now that she was looking for it, she could see the clear signs that the Intendant was aroused. Seven was not sure what to do. She knew that it was now her task to see to the Intendant's every need. She had committed herself to that to save Voyager and its crew. But the Intendant had not told her to do anything else but read the information in front of her.

"What?" Torres asked when she saw that the slave was looking at her intensively.

Seven knew that now was the time to make her choice. The Intendant would either be upset because Seven had done something without being told, or the Intendant would be very happy. Going over the choice again, Seven realized that it really wasn't a choice; she was thinking about two outcomes. Which meant that she really already had made her choice. Seven moved out of her chair and knelt down beside Torres. "Mistress, may I serve you?"

It took Torres a few seconds to understand what her slave was talking about. She moved her chair back and turned until she was facing the blonde. Seven came a little closer and without really realizing it, Torres opened her legs to let her slave sit between them. "You don't have to offer that. A Body Slave is only required to service her master if the master initiates the contact."

Seven tilted her head a little while she looked up at the Klingon. "I am your Body Slave, am I not?"

"I thought we had that already covered?" Torres answered, while mentally thinking about just how damn sexy the blonde could make the tilt of a head look.

Seven made quick work of opening the Intendant's uniform vest. She was encouraged by the fact that the Intendant had not actually told her to stop. "Is it not one of the Body Slave's tasks to please her master? Do you not want me to please you?"

"That's not the point," Torres persisted. "The point is that I didn't initiate anything, and therefore you don't have to do this."

Seven moved her hands under the thin undershirt that covered Torres' body and started slow stroking caresses of the Intendant's stomach before slowly moving up.

"I do not have to do this," she agreed. "But, Mistress, what if I want to do this?"

"Um," Torres felt how warm hands started to move softly over her breasts and suddenly taking the slave up on her offer didn't sound that bad at all.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

It was a little more than two hours later before Torres and Seven left the Intendant's quarters. After Seven had seen to the Intendant's needs, they had taken a quick bath and dressed again. Though the bath was really only for Torres since, just as the time before, it had only been about the Intendant. Seven had pleasured the Intendant without receiving anything in return. Well, that wasn't quite true, this time the Intendant had thanked her afterwards. It had only been a little 'thank you', but Seven had seen it as a reward.

'Thank you?' Torres thought while she slowly moved through the corridors with the slave by her side. 'You thanked her for her services? You should get your head examined.'

Torres looked to her side and took in her slave, finally curiosity won out. "Why did you do that?"

"Mistress?" Seven asked, not expecting the question.

"I asked why you did that?" Torres repeated as she came to a stop. "Body Slaves are used for sexual satisfaction, I repeat, used. They don't run around pleasing their Masters out of their own free will, unless they can gain something from it."

"Believe me, Mistress. I did not do that to gain anything from it, save knowing that I pleased you."

"Then why did you?" Torres repeated as she once again started to walk slowly down the corridor.

"I must admit that I am not absolutely certain. Maybe it is because I did it, as you said, of my own free will. I made the choice, you did not order me to do so. And also, I was mistaken."

"Mistaken about what?" Torres asked.

"When you informed me the day before yesterday that one of my tasks was to please you, I said that I would do it, but that you could not make me enjoy it."

They moved into the turbolift and Torres ordered the lift to the 'servants deck' before addressing the slave again. "Are you telling me that you like that you have to serve me?"

"For the time being, I accept you as my Mistress, and f,"

"For the time being?" Torres interrupted.

"Yes, Mistress, depending on how you handle the Voyager crew, I might still be forced to kill you."

"I... see," Torres said before starting to grin at the answer. "Go on, you were explaining yourself."

"As I said, for the time being, I accept you as my Mistress. I know how slaves are most commonly treated and therefore I know that your behavior towards me is nothing I can complain about. Since I am a slave here, I can even say that you treat me extraordinarily well. I do not hate or resent you and you are a very attractive woman. For now, I have no problem with servicing you, as I found it to actually be a very enjoyable task."

"You, my dear Pet, are absolutely nuts."

The turbolift stopped and they got out. They started moving through another long corridor, a statement to the true colossal size of the Intendant's ship.

Seven lifted an eyebrow before letting her eyes drift over the Intendant's body. "Does that mean that from now on I am not allowed to please you unless you initiated it?"

Torres laughed. "Well, I wouldn't go that far."

A couple of turns later, they entered a short corridor that had no doors on the sides, but a little bit further down there were two force fields that were guarded by six Klingons. Seven recognized the area as the one the Doctor had described and now that she was about to meet the rest of the Voyager crew, she suddenly didn't feel all that secure anymore about the catsuit she was wearing.

As if sensing her slave's insecurity, Torres spoke up. "You're about to meet some Klingon guards. Remember that you're my Body Slave, so act like it. You know what that means don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress. You own me, but I could command them, if I wanted."

"Well, yes, that too," Torres said amused. "But what I meant is that I can command you to do anything and they can command you to do nothing."

"I remember, Mistress," Seven assured. "And you did already test me on that by sending General Martok to get me yesterday."

"That I did, but that was Martok, somebody who will accept almost anything from me. But these are nothing more than guards, soldiers, sometimes they need to be convinced."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven noticed that the Intendant had almost stopped walking; it was clear that she didn't want the guards to overhear them and therefore was staying out of their earshot.

"What's wrong?" Torres asked. She could sense that something was troubling her slave.

"It is irrelevant, Mistress."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"It is just that... to them I will be somebody else now. I will no longer be the person I was while I was working with them."

"And you're not. But what's the problem with that?" By now, Torres had stopped completely and she could see the guards looking in her direction. But one look from her made them all realize that it would be better for them to keep their eyes on the prisoners on the other side of the force field.

"Mistress, I do not want them to think less of me."

'I can't believe I'm doing this,' Torres thought while she was thinking of a way to deal with her slave. "Do you feel less?"

"No, Mistress. But some of those people are my friends, I would like to think. How they think of me is important to me."

"Well, it seems to me that you have two choices," Torres said, cutting to the chase. "Either you go in there as the poor slave that is so viciously abused, and has to suffer soooo much. Or you go in there as what you are."

"Mistress?"

"You, my dear Pet, are right now the most powerful Human inside Coalition space. Yes, you're still a slave, but no Human, or anyone from the other six slave species outranks you. I'm sure that the slaves that were put in with your crew heard your Doctor tell about you now being my Body Slave. And I'm just as sure that they told your crew what that means. They don't know the true extent of the power I gave you, and I now order you not to tell them either. But as soon as you walk in there, those people, all hundred and forty of them, will know that you're their only hope. You, my Pet, have their fate in your hands, and they know it. So you go in there and act like what you are. You are my Body Slave, nothing more, and nothing less. Be proud of what you are, for in this universe, it is more than any other Human is."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"What are you thanking me for now?" Torres asked while she started to walk down the corridor again.

"For what you just s,"

"You should really stop thanking me if I haven't done anything for you," Torres interrupted.

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said a lot more secure. The Intendant's little speech had worked wonders for Seven. 'I am the Intendant's Body Slave, nothing more, nothing less. What others think is irrelevant.'

Torres stepped up to the guards and gave the first one a backhanded slap across the face when she saw that he was looking over her shoulder at the slave. "You better listen very carefully and spread the news once I'm gone so that others don't make the mistake you just made."

Without turning around, Torres ordered a short, "Come here."

Knowing that the command was meant for her, Seven made the few steps to the Intendant's side.

Torres pointed to her shield on the slave's catsuit. "See this? She is my Body Slave, treat her as such or answer to me. I must say that I really like my little vixen here, so I am very protective of her. You got me?"

"Yes, Intendant," the Klingons all said almost simultaneously.

"Good, I expect that I don't have to give this little speech ever again. But if I do have to, one of you will die for each time I have to repeat it. Got me?"

"Yes, Intendant," the commander of the guards spoke this time alone, but still for all his men.

"Alright, I'm going in." Torres hadn't even finished speaking when the guards suddenly started to scramble to retrieve all kinds of weapons. By the time she stepped up to the first force field, four heavily armed guards were ready to accompany her, disruptor rifles ready to fire. Two were standing at Torres' left side, and two were standing at her slave's right side, including the blonde in the armed square.

"Good," she said with approval. Even though her soldiers never had to deal with a body slave before, they still knew how to treat one.

Seven wanted to ask why she was protected too, but knew that she could not question the Intendant while the guards were present. And when the first force field was deactivated, Seven realized the answer. A Body Slave could be a very tempting target for an attack. A target for people that didn't dare to attack the Intendant herself, but wanted to send a message that they could get close to the Intendant if they wanted to.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"We got company," Ensign Jenkins said, coming into the room where the senior staff were holding what had become their daily meeting. "It's Seven and B'Elanna."

"B'Elanna?" Janeway asked slightly confused, turning around to the blonde woman that normally worked in anthropology.

"Well, their B'Elanna."

"The Intendant, you mean," Janeway clarified as she and the senior staff were already leaving the room.

By the time the second force field was deactivated and Seven and the Intendant had come closer, the broad corridor had filled with at least fifty people. More looked out from almost every door in the corridor, making sure to stay clear of the Klingon guards accompanying the two women. There wasn't a pair of eyes amongst them that didn't drift to Seven and take in her new wardrobe. One of the slaves that was not part of the Voyager crew, and really should have known better, let out a soft whistle. A split second later, one of the guards slammed the butt of his disruptor rifle into the man's face, knocking out all of the man's front teeth.

"Idiot," one of the other slaves mumbled, looking at the slave that was now sitting on the floor clamping a hand in front of his mouth.

Torres stepped closer to the slave that had just spoken. "Is he good at his job?"

The slave knew the Intendant was talking about the man beside him, who was slowly trying to get to his feet again. Making sure to keep his eyes lowered, he softly answered, "Good enough to be called an Engineering slave, Intendant."

"That's all?"

"Yes, Intendant."

"Alright," Torres turned to one of the guards. "Give me your rifle."

Seven suspected what the Intendant was about to do and was about to say something when the Intendant's words stopped her.

"Don't, even, think, about, it, slave."

Torres took the rifle from the guard and stepped up to the man who was by now standing, but still bleeding heavily from his mouth. She pointed the rifle at the man's chest and looked him straight in the eyes, seeing the building terror in them.

"No, please Intendant," the man pleaded only half-understandable because of his missing teeth, while shaking his head and holding his hands in front of him. "Please, Intendant, please, I beg of you, please!"

Keeping her eyes locked on his, Torres slowly pulled the trigger, twice. With the power of a disrupter rifle being fired at the man twice from such short distance, a pungent smell of scourged Human flesh soon started to fill the corridor from the collapsed corpse.

Torres fired the rifle at the dead man a third time just for good measure and handed the rifle back to the guard, before walking down the corridor as if nothing had happened. She noticed that her slave was not at her side and she assumed that the blonde was still looking at the dead man. "Come."

Seven did as she was told and took her place at the Intendant's side.

"Save it for later," Torres said so soft that the guards wouldn't hear her. "Act like what you are, always. No matter if I do something you despise, you are mine. Don't make me have to punish you in public."

Seven looked to the guard and could see that they were looking at her differently from only a few seconds before. As if they were not sure if she truly was worthy of being the Intendant's Body Slave, a slave that was supposed to be totally broken and as close as a slave could be to being totally devoted to her master. She knew that in their eyes she hadn't acted like it. Knowing that at this point what the Klingon guards thought of her was more important than what the Voyager crew thought, Seven sank to her knees in the corridor full of Voyager crew, not more than two body lengths away from the senior staff.

Seeing what her slave was doing, Torres turned towards the blonde, being more than a little surprised.

Seven lowered her eyes and spoke in a clear voice that all around her could hear. "I am sorry, Mistress. I am awaiting your punishment."

Torres stepped closer and patted the blonde softly on her head. "It was an understandable reaction for somebody who's only been a slave for three days," Torres said mostly to remind her guards of that fact. "I'll forgive you, this time. Don't let it happen again."

Seven took the Intendant's hand and placed a kiss on it. "Thank you, Mistress. It will not happen again. Thank you for forgiving me."

Torres took hold of the slave's hand that was holding hers, and helped the slave to stand, sending another clear message to her guards. "Come, my Pet."

They turned around to see the entire Voyager senior staff, save the sick Klingon, standing in the middle of the corridor watching them and the scene with open contempt. But Torres simply didn't care, and Seven cared more about the fact that the Klingon guards were once again clearly also protecting her together with the Intendant.

"Move." Fortunately, the senior staff was smart enough to follow the one word command and move aside.

"Bring him," Torres said more as in an afterthought while pointing at the Doctor.

Torres, knowing where the sickbay was in the cellblock, strolled in that direction. She liked the way the crowd of slaves parted for her, showing her that the Voyager slaves were at least smart enough to have a healthy sense of self preservation.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"What's going on out there?" The voice of Voyager's B'Elanna Torres was weak but clearly heard once they entered the sickbay.

The Doctor quickly moved to B'Elanna's bed to prevent her from trying to get out of it. "Nothing that needs to concern you," the Doctor said while restraining B'Elanna by putting his hand against her upper body.

Seven saw that nobody else was in the room. That meant that the others had healed enough to leave sickbay; at least she hoped that they had healed. She looked to the Intendant and saw the little nod. It was all the permission she needed. She moved to the side of B'Elanna's bed and helped the Doctor to calm the Klingon down. "Please, stay calm, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna stopped struggling and looked at Seven, only to take a second, longer look at her. "What the... Seven, I'm glad you're ok. The Doctor told me some of what happened in the last few days. But he thinks that I don't know that he is keeping half to himself. How are you? The Doctor only told me that you were kept somewhere else."

"You asked about me?" Seven asked with a small smile.

"Of course not," B'Elanna said with a fake scowl, looking away slightly. Because of this, she saw that there were other people in the room and that one of them was herself. "The Doctor told me that I was saved by this universe's B'Elanna, but actually seeing you is so weird... Thank you."

"For what?" Torres asked while she came closer and stood besides Seven.

"For saving me," B'Elanna clarified.

Torres lifted her hand and softly caressed the side of Seven's breast. "You shouldn't thank me; I only donated some cells and gave permission for you to be operated on in the main sickbay. You should thank my Body Slave here. She worked reeeeally hard and as a reward to her I did what I did."

It took B'Elanna's drugged mind a moment to put all the pieces together. The Doctor saying that Seven was kept somewhere else, the clothing Seven was wearing now, the way her counterpart was touching Seven, the words 'Body Slave', and 'worked really hard'. Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach, more than she already had been, and managed only just in time to lean over the bed before losing the little bit of food the Doctor had forced her to eat.

The Intendant laughed at the reaction and walked out of the room. "Doctor, come, we need to talk about clothing for my Pet."

The Doctor wanted to make sure that B'Elanna was alright, but he knew that he had to do what the Intendant had told him. The Intendant, the Doctor, and two of the guards left, leaving two guards in the room with Seven and B'Elanna.

Seven looked around the room and saw that there was no replicator in it. Probably to prevent patients from replicating something they were not allowed to have. She did however see a small table with a pitcher of water and a few glasses. She filled a glass with water and took it back to B'Elanna's bed, also taking along one of the small towels on the table.

Seven used a towel to clean B'Elanna's face before handing her the glass. "Drink."

"Seven, I..." B'Elanna stopped talking when Seven lifted her hand slightly. In a way, B'Elanna was glad that Seven had stopped her since she didn't really know what she could say. Soon that feeling made room for surprise when she saw Seven turn to the Klingon guards.

"Leave."

"What?!" One of the guards asked. "We can't leave you alone here. The Intendant would kill us."

"Did the Intendant give you an order to stay in here?"

"No but it is common practice to,"

"The Intendant might not have given you an order, but I have; leave, now."

After another moment of hesitation and looking at each other, the guards turned around and left the room.

Seven went back to B'Elanna's bed and saw that the Klingon didn't look her in the eyes anymore. "You are ashamed of me," Seven stated while she took the glass out of the Klingon's hands.

That made B'Elanna look at Seven. "What? No, no Seven, don't think that. I am not ashamed of you, I am ashamed of me. Of what you have to suffer through because of me, by somebody that is basically me."

"Who said that I am suffering?" Seven asked.

"What do you mean? I know what she was insinuating. You had to have sex with her to save me."

Seven leaned a little closer to B'Elanna. "That is correct, but that does not mean that I am suffering. I found it to be a task I enjoy performing. I pleased the Intendant not long ago, but it was a contact that I myself initiated."

"What?" was all that the Klingon could say.

"I accepted the temporary situation for what it is, B'Elanna," Seven explained. "It is much easier to work from that position than it is if one only stays in a state of denial. The Intendant is a very attractive woman that treats me very well, considering that I am a slave. Pleasing her certainly is no hardship."

B'Elanna shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. Seven, she's using you, and it's my fault!"

"I have been used my entire life, that is nothing new to me," Seven pointed out. "And it is not your fault. Yes, the Intendant saved your life as a reward to me because she liked my services. But, B'Elanna, even if you would have stayed healthy, she would have still picked me to be her Body Slave, I would still have had to please her."

"But she,"

"We do not have unlimited time," Seven interrupted. "I am now going to tell you something and you are going to believe me. Can we do it like that for one time, without fighting or discussing it?"

"Alright," B'Elanna said reluctantly.

Seven looked the Klingon straight in the eyes. "I am comfortable with this situation, I am not misused in my view, and I am well taken care of. Can you believe this?"

"I still don't understand it," B'Elanna admitted. "But I know you wouldn't lie to me like this, yes, I believe you."

"I am glad to hear it," Seven said with a small smile. "Besides, being the Intendant's Body Slave does have certain advantages."

She wondered what she could tell B'Elanna, remembering that the Intendant had ordered her not to reveal what kind of power she truly had. "Did you just see me order the guards to leave?"

"Of course."

"In this universe, Humans have been slaves for the last one and a half centuries," Seven reminded. "How many slaves do you believe there are, that can give orders to Klingons?"

B'Elanna formed her mouth as if saying 'oh' and nodded her head slightly in understanding.

"There are several slaves here that are not part of the Voyager crew, ask one of them to tell you more about the Body Slave and its standings."

"I will," B'Elanna promised.

"I have to go now, before the Intendant becomes impatient."

B'Elanna grabbed Seven's arm and held her close. "I do believe what you just told me about you being ok. But despite that, I still owe you an honor debt from now on."

"B'Elanna..."

"I insist."

"Very well," Seven agreed with a sigh before realizing how she could make B'Elanna feel better about the situation. "I accept you honor debt. And I demand that you fulfill it now."

"Name it, anything."

Seven took the hand that was holding her arm and placed it between her own two hands. "First promise me, on your honor, that the conversation I am having with you in this room will never leave it. You will not tell anyone about it. Not even if the Captain orders you to. Promising me this is part of the payment of your honor debt."

"I promise, on my life."

"B'Elanna, a Master Slave is appointed to oversee the repairs of Voyager, repairs that will be done by the crew."

"The Doctor told me that somebody had said that some 'Master Slave' would more than likely soon be placed with us to oversee us," B'Elanna said, to show that she knew what Seven was talking about.

"Indeed. B'Elanna, the name of the Master Slave that has been appointed is Annika Hansen."

"Annika Hansen? Surely you don't mean..."

"Yes, it is my counterpart in this universe. I ask of you, take care of her. Be a friend to her, if possible, if not, then just take care of her. But, B'Elanna, if it is possible for you to be her friend, do not waste time before admitting it like we did. If you truly want to even your honor debt with me, this is the price I am asking."

"I promise. On my life and on my honor," B'Elanna said solemnly before repeating, "Annika Hansen. The chances of meeting my counterpart here were already phenomenal. But the chances of your counterpart also being assigned to Voyager are... impossible."

"Unless she was assigned by somebody who actually knows who Annika Hansen is," Seven said, knowing that B'Elanna would soon figure out what she meant. "I have to go now, be well B'Elanna."

"The same to you." Seven was almost at the door when B'Elanna spoke again. "And Seven?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for being my friend."

"Thank you for being mine," Seven said softly with a broad smile before turning around again.

"Oh, and Seven?"

Seven turned around once more. "Yes?"

"I can't let you walk out of here without saying it."

"What?"

"Damn, you look hot."

Now Seven actually laughed. "Thank you. I must say that I like this better than my bio-suits. But do not tell the Captain this. I do not think she approves. Be well."

B'Elanna watched Seven leave the room, and her mind drifted back to the news that Annika Hansen would join the Voyager crew. She wondered about what Seven had said. That Annika Hansen could only be appointed to join the crew if somebody had known who she was.

But who could have appointed the woman? Only somebody from Voyager itself would know what Annika Hansen would mean to the crew. To anybody else she would be nothing more than... a Master Slave. But everybody from the Voyager crew was locked up in the cellblock.

So who could possibly have access to a place where one could appoint Master Slaves. It had to be somebody outside the cellblock. But that was impossible. The only one from the Voyager crew outside of the cellblock was...

"I'll be damned!"

The only one from the Voyager crew outside the cellblock was a certain blonde that could order Klingon guards around.

"Un-fucking-believable."

But then B'Elanna remembered something else. She had promised Seven on her honor, that she would tell nobody what had happened in the room. Not even if the Captain would order it. Knowing that she had to keep Seven's secret, B'Elanna wondered why Seven wanted it to be a secret. But whatever the reason was, she would honor her promise to Seven.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 8

Intendant Torres crossed her arms and decided to get down to business. "Alright, Doctor. I told you to have five bio-suit designs ready. You have them?"

The Doctor went to the desk and picked up a PADD. "The replicator patterns for them are right here," he said with a voice that bordered on hostility.

"Mind your manners, Doctor," Torres warned. "I've been very patient with you since you're not a Human. But that doesn't mean that you can't suffer the same fate as that moron out there. I'm sure that it wouldn't take long to find out what can kill a hologram."

Before the Doctor could reply, the door to the other room opened and the two guards came out.

"What are you doing here?" Torres asked with a growl.

"She ordered us out."

"What?" Torres asked, not quite believing what she heard.

"Intendant, your Body Slave, she ordered us out," one of the guards said irritated. "She said that it was an order. And since you had not given us the specific order to stay inside,"

Torres waved a hand, basically cutting his speech off with the gesture. "Alright, alright already. Well, don't just stand there like fools, guard the door."

Torres started walking back and forth in the little office, thinking of what to do about the situation. 'Well, I should have realized that she would have liked to be alone. I should have foreseen that. And since I indeed didn't order them to stay, any order she gives on that subject does not contradict an order from me. So that means that she was allowed to order them out.'

Accepting her own conclusion, Torres turned back to the Doctor as if nothing had happened. "My Pet and I will leave on a journey tonight that will last several weeks. She thinks that she can go without regenerating and maintenance for up to three weeks if she wears clothing with bio-suit technology each day and sleeps a period of about eight hours each night. Do you agree with her on this?"

"Well, yes, I think so," the Doctor said hesitantly while thinking about the matter. "But just in case, I would suggest that Seven takes along a set of tools needed for the maintenance of her implants. She knows how to do a lot of it herself, so if something were to happen, there would be a chance that she would know how to help herself. The only problem I see is with her sleeping. We don't know for sure if she actually can sleep."

"She can. She did so last night." Torres leaned against the desk and looked down at the Doctor who had sat down in his chair. "Now, let's forget the pretense of it taking a lot of time to incorporate those bio-suit designs into the clothing. How long will it truly take you to make the changes in the other clothing? I know that you were only stalling for time so that you could see my Pet more often and make sure I'm treating her well. But as I said, I'm leaving on a trip tonight with my Pet, and all of you will not accompany us. I'll have a computer unit delivered so that my Pet can contact you every once in a while. So now that communication with my Pet is taken care of, when can I expect the rest of the designs?"

"You're leaving tonight? Give me four hours," the Doctor relented. If Seven was to leave on a trip, he wanted her to have the bio-suits to make it possible.

"Four hours it is," Torres agreed with a small nod. "I'll send someone to get the PADD, since obviously for security reasons, it won't be possible to up or download data with the computer unit you'll receive. It can only be used for communication, if somebody contacts you."

Torres looked to the door to the other room and suddenly asked, "She seemed to be doing a lot better. Is she healing properly?"

"Her Klingon physiology is supporting her Human immune system extraordinarily well," the Doctor said, knowing that the Intendant was talking about B'Elanna. "She's still very weak, but I think that I can let her out of the bed by tomorrow. Though I don't know how your stunt in there affected her. How c,"

"Doctor, let me give you a little tip," Torres interrupted. "If that B'Elanna Torres is anything like me, don't keep any information from her. Not knowing stuff will make her wonder and worry. But if she knows things, she will react to that. And if she knows things she doesn't like, she will heal faster so that she can do something about it."

"Intendant, may I ask you a personal question?"

Torres hesitated for a moment before nodding. "You may ask, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I will answer."

"If all Humans are slaves here, than how can a Human/Klingon hybrid become Intendant?"

Torres straightened up at the question. She hadn't expected it, and she also didn't like to be reminded of the fact that her DNA wasn't completely Klingon. "Because I am seen, considered, and am fully Klingon. They don't hold it against me that my mother was a fool. One injection is needed every year to stop the female cycle and make it impossible to become pregnant. One single injection. And just in case one is busy and forgets it for a few weeks, the injection actually lasts for two years. But my mother was still stupid enough to get pregnant from a slave. I have proven not to be as stupid as her."

"May I assume from that that you hate your mother?" the Doctor asked, always wanting to know what made people do the things they did.

"I despise her, but since she is dead I don't have to deal with her."

"She died at your birth?" the Doctor wondered.

Torres shook her head. "She was killed by the rest of the family as soon as I was born. They threw her in the same nameless grave with the slave that conceived me."

"I thought Klingons were burned?" the Doctor asked surprised. "In our universe, Klingons think that when buried, the spirit won't be able to leave the body."

Torres chuckled. "That's the whole point. Who would want to deal with her foolish spirit in the afterlife?"

Torres looked to the door when it opened and her slave came out. "Alright, Doctor, assemble your senior staff, including the engineering representative in the small gathering room."

Torres saw the look in her slave's eyes and she knew that she shouldn't care about it. But something inside her still made her tell the guards to wait outside.

"Come here."

Seven did as she was told.

"Look me in the eyes, slave." Torres saw those azure blue eyes focusing on her own and could see something in them that she hadn't seen before. If she had to name it, she would have called it... disappointment. "You're upset about what I did out there, and also in that room. I don't have to explain myself to you, slave."

"I know, Mistress."

"As long as that is clear... listen. I had very good reasons for what I did. You might find what I did harsh; I call it straight to the point, because the end result would still be the same. I'll tell you later why I did what I did. But for now, simply believe that I know what I'm doing."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Listen, my Pet, in the future, even if you don't agree with what I do, even if what I do sickens you, even if what I do makes you despise me. Never... never show it. Always act as if you would be glad to do it for me if I gave you the opportunity. Perception is everything. Those guards followed your orders today, if you want them to keep doing that they must think that you are absolutely no threat to me. If you show one too many times that you don't agree with what I do, they might 'accidentally' kill you because you could be a risk to me, especially in these times, where only a few days ago an Intendant has been killed."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven was looking forward to hearing the Intendant's reasoning for her actions later on. She suspected that she would not agree with those reasons. But the fact that the Intendant had reasons and hadn't done what she did only to be cruel, did help Seven lighten up considerately. "It will not h,"

Torres stopped the blonde by placing a hand against her lips. "No, my Pet. Stop saying that things will not happen again if you're not sure that it indeed will not happen again. You've already lost forty points for things happening after you'd already said that it wouldn't happen again."

"Forty points?" Seven was surprised, and worried about the amount.

"Don't worry. In that same time you also made sixty points for other reasons. So you're twenty points in the right direction. Now come, I'm about to torment your senior crew."

"Mistress?"

Torres rolled her eyes. "Lighten up, my Pet. If you have to do something anyway, you might as well enjoy it."

"Yes, Mistress."

As soon as they left sickbay, the guards once again formed their armed square for the short distance to the small gathering room.

"Alright, listen up, slaves," Torres said while she strolled into the room. "Who of you was the highest ranking officer before you all became slaves?"

Janeway took a step forward, "I am Captain Kathryn Janeway c,"

"Shut... up." Torres stepped so close to Janeway that a hand couldn't have passed between them. "You are nothing. You might have been captain before you became a slave, but now you are nothing but a simple slave. You might have 'been' something but now you 'are' nothing. You understand me? Better answer really quick with, 'Yes, Intendant'."

"Yes, Intendant," Janeway repeated through tight lips.

Torres poked Janeway's chest with a finger, making sure to put enough force behind it that the woman had to step back just to keep her balance."You really don't know how lucky you are, do you? Normally if I capture a group of slaves, I always kill the one that used to lead their group to show that I don't hesitate to kill people, to prove that I don't make empty threats. But since I already had to kill that slave in the hall, I don't think I have to make my point again, do I?"

"No, Intendant," Janeway said, fighting both her tempter and the reflex to rub the spot where the finger had poked her. She was sure that she could feel it bruising already.

"Good." Torres started walking up and down in front of the group again like she had done several days before. "Here is what's going to happen. My new ship, the one that used to belong to you, will dock at a space station. There the former crew of the ship, you, will repair the ship."

She shook a finger and grinned. "Oooh, I know that you smell your chance for escape now, but forget about it. During the entire time, the weapons of the space station will be locked on the ship. So that is about... eh, ten, fifteen, Mark-10 disruptor canons. As soon as the ship moves, it will be destroyed, and all of you will be killed whether you are onboard or not."

Torres stopped in front of the man with the tattoo on his face and studied him for a moment before continuing. "A dampening field will be created around the ship, making the use of your transporters impossible. But should you still be foolish enough to try using them, you will all be killed."

She moved on to the next person in line. A good looking blonde man with blue eyes. Torres realized that if she had been into liking men as sexual partners, she might have been willing to share a bed with him, if he had not been a slave that is. Since she now had a body slave, there was only one slave she would, or could, sleep with.

She looked him in the eyes while continuing, "Each morning you will be brought to the ship and each night you will be brought to a cellblock similar to this one. I know that you have weapons on that ship, and I also know that even if we would remove them, you would just replicate new ones. Making it impossible for you to have, or make, weapons would destroy too many of the systems on my new ship. So we are going to do things differently. Every night when you return to your cellblock, each and every one of you will be searched and scanned. If even one weapon is found, even a weapon as simple as a knife; you will all be killed. If, at the end of the day, one of you ends up missing; you will all be killed. And just as an added precaution, all dilithium crystals will be removed from the ship. Who represents Engineering for now?"

"I do, Intendant."

Torres stopped in front of the man who had spoken and asked, "What does the removal of the dilithium crystals mean?"

"Dilithium regulates the flow of antimatter. Without it, warp speeds are not possible," Cary answered.

"Good." Torres started walking again. "But the irregular flow of antimatter is still enough to power the ship and do dry test runs of the engines. So don't even think of trying to be smart and say that you need dilithium for your repairs. Any person who asks for dilithium will be killed."

Torres stopped in front of Janeway and gave her a once over, "One final thing. You all are slaves now. I don't care who has more to say than whom in this group. But, a Master Slave is appointed to this little project and she will more than likely arrive today. You all are slaves, she is a Master Slave. That means that she outranks you all, including you, miss Captain. If I find out that her orders are not followed to the letter, you will all be killed. If she is hurt in any way whatsoever, you will all be killed. If you doubt my sincerity in this than remember what is lying in the corridor. You got me?"

"Yes, Intendant."

"I hope for you that you truly do." Torres smirked before adding, "Of course, I wouldn't mind it too much if you didn't believe me. Feel free to test me, miss Captain. Please, by all means, do test me one more time, just one more time. No? Pity."

Torres saw the younger man at the end of the line looking at her blonde slave and she moved to stand in front of him. "Are you eyeing up my Pet, Human?"

"N... no, Intendant. I am merely seeing if a friend of mine is alright."

"Mistress?"

Torres turned around to her slave to see why the blonde had spoken up. "Speak."

"Mistress, that is Harry Kim, one of the people I told you about who is familiar with Borg technology."

Torres turned back to Harry after hearing that. "Are you now? You are lucky, Human. You just gained added worth. I have a special project for you and my counterpart when she is healed enough. When the time comes, the Master Slave will order you to your job. For this you will have to go into my house on the planet surface. If you do anything but the job that you are supposed to do, everybody in this cellblock will be killed. You got me?"

"Yes, Intendant."

"Good." Torres moved to the door a little before turning around once again, "Well, slaves, I hope you enjoy your stay."

With that, Torres left with Seven at her side, surrounded by the four guards.

The senior staff looked at each other for a moment and Janeway was just about to say something when they heard the voice of the Intendant in the corridor. "Clean that up."

They could only assume that the Intendant had ordered the dead body removed.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Get something to drink," Torres said when they entered the quarters. "First, we will talk. That will give the guards enough time to spread the news of your status. And after that, we'll make a tour of my ship, this ship. It might be that I send you somewhere on this ship at some point to do an errand for me, it would be convenient if you actually know where what is."

By the time the Intendant finished talking, Seven had already replicated the drinks for them both.

Torres sat down on one of the couches and pointed to the other couch. "Sit."

Seven handed the Intendant her drink and did as she was told.

"Now, do you have any idea why I am sitting here, explaining myself to a slave?"

"No, Mistress."

"Good, at least I'm not alone in this madness."

"Mistress?"

"Never mind. You had a problem down there with me killing that slave and with me telling my counterpart why you're staying here."

Seven hesitated. There were hundreds of questions in her mind, but finally she settled for the one thing she knew was the ultimate truth. "Mistress, you do not owe me an explanation. I am only your slave."

Suddenly Torres stood up and threw her glass against the wall. "Don't you think I fucking know that?!"

She looked at the dark red stain on the wall and lifted her arms in an irritated gesture. "Great! You clean that up when we're done!"

Seven was about to get up to get the Intendant another drink but was stopped by the Intendant's words.

"No. You don't move. You just sit there and let me think. Give me your drink."

Seven handed over her glass to the Intendant who started to stalk through the room.

"You talk back to me, I let it pass. You argue with me, I let it pass. You don't answer me, I let it pass."

Torres drained the glass and threw that one against the wall also. "You snoop around and read sensitive information, I let you read even more. You give an order in my name, and I act as if it's nothing. Forget the fucking game, you should have been dead ten times over! Can you tell me why in the name of Kahless you are still alive?"

"Yes, Mistress. I think I can."

"What?" Torres asked while stopping her track through the room and fully facing the slave. She had not expected an answer to her rhetorical question.

"I think I can tell you why I am still alive," Seven repeated. "Each time something happened I was glad that it ended with the Voyager crew not being harmed. But now, looking back over the things you just mentioned, you are right Mistress. I should have been dead. I believe that even the first night when you ordered me to please you, if I had refused, then you would not have done much about it. I think that you might have only explained the rules of the game you are playing, then after that, you would have punished me by subtracting points."

Torres sat down, not really believing her ears, "What? You really think that I won't force you to have sex if I need it? You are deluded, slave."

Seven moved off the couch to her spot between the Intendant's legs and took hold of the Klingon's hands. "No, I think you would not. But please Mistress, do not prove me wrong only because I voiced my beliefs. Mistress, I enjoy pleasing you. I am more than willing to do that whenever, wherever, you want. You just have to tell me and I will do it. And even if you do not tell me, I will offer because pleasuring you, is also my pleasure. Please, Mistress. I beg of you, can we leave it at that? Can we leave it at me pleasing you whenever you want because it is also what I want, instead of forcing me merely to prove my statement wrong?"

The slave's plea had calmed Torres down considerately. There had been a tone in the blonde's voice that Torres had not heard before from the slave. Torres knew that if she would give into the slave's plea, she would be accepting a boundary that the slave would have established. She, the most powerful of the Intendants, would be accepting a rule set forth by a slave. There was no way that she could justify this to herself. But no matter how sure she was that she could never accept this, she still heard herself say a soft, "Alright."

Torres could clearly see relief in the blonde's face and she knew that she had made the right choice. "You like pleasuring me that much then, my Pet?"

"Is the fact that I would like to pleasure you right now, despite the conversation we are having, an indication, Mistress?"

Torres laughed. "I guess you could call it that. But my Pet, we do have a conversation to finish."

"Yes, Mistress."

"So, you said that you knew why you're still alive. Why don't you let me in on your little secret?"

"Yes, Mistress," Seven agreed, but she didn't move from her spot. "From what I can see, the life of an Intendant is actually quite boring. All that you command is ruled by others for you, you just control what the others are doing and make the decisions that others do not dare to make. Most of your time is spent with moving from place to place, mostly inside the Klingon territory, to make surprise inspections. But the journeys from one place to the other are very boring."

"True," Torres had to agree. "But how does this explain why you're still alive?"

"Because even though I may do things that annoy you, and may also do things that are really unforgivable for a slave, over all I have made life for you interesting in the last days. If you would kill me, your life would be just as boring as it was a few days ago."

"But," Torres countered, "now that I've found how entertaining a slave can be, I could simply take another one in your place. Risa is well known for the extraordinary love slaves they train there."

Seven closed her eyes and hoped that she was right. What she was going to ask now was the decisive question. It would force the Intendant to make a decision for herself. "Mistress, do you really want a slave that will do exactly what you tell her to do? That has no will of her own? That has never been encouraged to think in her entire life? That would never dare to talk with you the way I am now?"

Torres was quiet for several minutes, thinking hard about the questions her slave had asked. "I guess not," she finally admitted and she could swear that she felt a slight tremor of relief go through her slave at her words.

"Guess I just have to take the shipload of bad that you give me, with the shipload of good. Despite everything else, you do indeed make my life interesting. But, my Pet, don't think that you are immortal now."

"No, Mistress. I know that if I push too hard, that you will kill the Voyager crew and me. I am only your humble Body Slave."

"Humble, yeah, right," Torres said amused. "Now, let's change the subject before I start thinking about what we just talked about and realize that I must have lost my mind."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven agreed.

"Alright, my Pet. Listen, I have a very simple conviction that makes me truly enjoy being Intendant. There are things that I have to do, that I have to decide about, that are not easy for most people. To deal with that I adopted the following principal, 'if you have to do something, you might as well enjoy doing it'. I've killed more people than you would like to know, and I've learned to enjoy doing it."

"Mistress?"

"Yes, my Pet, it's time to tell you about the side of me that you've only seen a fraction of. I can be cruel and enjoy it. I can hurt people mentally and physically and enjoy it. And I can truly enjoy killing or torturing somebody. I enjoyed killing that slave down there. But, as much as that is true, I also don't kill only for the joy of it, if that makes sense to you."

"I think it does, Mistress. You do not kill somebody only because you enjoy doing so. If you kill, there is a good reason for it, in your mind. But if you have to kill, you enjoy doing so. The joy is not the reason for the killing, but the killing will result in joy."

"You just had to put the 'in your mind' in there didn't you?" Torres asked amused. "But you're right, that's what it comes down to."

She looked down to her slave, wondering. She decided that with everything else that had happened, she could simply ask, it was not as if she would ruin her tough image at that point. "Are you comfortable like that?"

"Mistress?"

"Sitting like that, kneeling on the hard floor. Isn't that uncomfortable?"

Seven tilted her head a little. "Until now I have always stood. I was either regenerating or working. Both are done standing upright. Sitting is sitting, position is irrelevant."

"Oh, my dear, positioning can be very relevant," Torres said, clearly talking about something else entirely. "Stand up."

Once the blonde was standing, Torres took one of the decorative cushions off the couch and put it on the floor. "Sit."

The blonde was kneeling about a hand width higher now and Torres decided that she liked the little bit of added height. "There, that must be more comfortable. Since you seem to have a tendency to end up between my legs all the time, from now on use one of the cushions to sit on. We wouldn't want you to wear out those knees of yours. I like you in that position."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven agreed, understanding the double meaning of the words only too well.

"Now, back to what we were talking about. Because of what I just said, I liked telling my counterpart what you are to me. I enjoyed seeing the reaction. But think about it, do you think her reaction would have been any different if she had found out from somebody else? Do you think she wouldn't have taken it so hard if, say, the Doctor had told her? No, the reaction would still have been the same, just that now I saw it and could enjoy it. My Pet, she was bound to find out. As soon as she leaves that room she's in now, she'll hear the others talk about you. I..."

"Mistress?" Seven looked up when the Intendant suddenly stopped talking.

"In with one foot, in with the rest of the body," Torres mumbled to herself before continuing. "Now I know for sure that I should kill you. Because believe it or not, I actually also did that for you, my Pet."

"For me? How could that have served me?" Seven knew that the Intendant actually meant what she had said; otherwise Seven would have thought that the Intendant had been joking.

Torres caressed Seven's cheek and then moved lower to gently cup the blonde's chin, forcing the head up a little more. "Did you and my counterpart talk about it? If she's anything like me, she would think that she owes you."

"Yes, we talked about it. I think I made her understand that she should not feel guilty about this." Seven hesitated before admitting, "And I also think that the conversation deepened the friendship between her and me."

"So because you both were there, and I told her about it, you two were forced to talk about it and come to a conclusion of the matter. Am I right?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Torres tapped Seven's nose playfully with an index finger. "But, what would have happened if you had not been forced to deal with it? If she had found out from someone else? Would you still have talked about it, or would you two have ended up staying away from each other? You would have blamed yourself, and she would have blamed herself, while the both of you would also have thought that the other blamed her. My counterpart would never have come close to you again, thinking that you would, or at least should, hate her. And she would have blamed herself for the rest of her life. Don't you think that it's worth a little puking that this didn't happen?"

"Mistress, if I may say so, you have a strange sense of logic. But I also think that you have a valid point. Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just forget about it already, ok?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Torres looked down at the blonde. She really did like the feel of the blonde kneeling between her legs. Or more to the point sitting, since yes, the blonde did first always kneel. But when she was there for more than just a moment she would then settle back and sit on her own legs. Still technically kneeling, just more comfortable. Torres decided to not point this out to the blonde just to prove that even though the slave didn't realize it, her body actually did think that there was a difference between sitting and sitting.

She pursed her lips in thought. Sitting like the blonde was, it was a clear picture of submissiveness. Torres liked it. Yet, there was some room for improvement. "Give me your hands."

Seven did so, surprised by the sudden command.

Torres lifted the hands until Seven's arms were fully stretched upwards. Then she lowered the hands in a wide circle to the side, still keeping the blonde's arms stretched. Until finally the arms were lowered again, but this time they were on the outside of Torres' legs. "There. I really do like to see you between my legs, but it's such a waste to have those arms just hanging down. Feel free to put them over my legs like that, give me some contact."

"Yes Mistress," Seven said with a smile. But then she moved her arms, moved her hands over the outside of Torres' legs until the hands had reached the Klingon's hips and rested there with the arms now lying more on the legs. "Would this be acceptable as well?"

Torres smirked. "Very. The point really is, feel free to move them. You can put your arms down to rest them if you want. Just don't sit there like you're afraid that you might touch my leg. If I allow you between my legs, it's a pretty safe bet that I don't mind it if you come into contact with me."

"I will remember," Seven assured. She moved her hands a little further still until her fingertips were touching the roundness of Torres' behind. Her eyes firmly locked on those of the Intendant, she assured, "This is comfortable. With my arms resting on your legs, this is actually relaxing."

Torres' lips quirked before turning into a smirk. "No, that's pretty much an open invitation to a Klingon."

"I see," Seven said, not removing her hands.

Torres lifted an eyebrow and Seven merely reminded. "I did say whenever and wherever you wanted. This is relaxing to me. If you want me to do more you need only say it."

Torres shook her head to clear it. "Tempting, but I was explaining something to you."

"I am listening," Seven assured.

"Alright, let's see," Torres thought for a moment about what she had been about to say before the blonde had distracted her. "Ah, right. Why I killed that slave. You remember what happened to him before I killed him? One of the guards hit him with a rifle before I did anything, which by the way, reaffirms my point that the guards might 'accidentally' kill you if they think that you're a threat to me. Anyway, the guard hit him without me having said anything. The reason for that is that he, as a slave, was coveting something that's mine. You may not like it, my Pet, but you're only a slave. You are only a thing, only property. But you're 'my' property. One does not covert so openly something that belongs to an Intendant. It's even a risky thing to do if one isn't a slave."

"And if he had indeed not been a slave but a free person?" Seven wondered.

Torres shrugged. "Depends on his position as a free person. There are a lot of free people that are still nothing more than just low class workers that live from month to month. But had he been more than that, had he been... say, a business person I was dealing with... then he would have been allowed to make me a bid, to see if I would be interested in selling you. But a slave like he was? That alone demanded that he would die. You hear me? Demanded. If I had let the slave live after what he did, I would have lost the respect of my troops. That's something I can't afford, my Pet."

Torres sighed softly. "That's also one of the downsides of being the Klingon Intendant. True, I am the most powerful of the Intendants. But I have to make sure that I have the respect of the troops. Kira Nerys, the Bajoran Intendant that was killed, was hated and despised by all. Ten percent of the entire Bajoran treasury disappeared into her pockets each year. She thought only of herself and did whatever suited her. If I were to act like she had... I would be dead in five minutes."

Seven looked up in surprise.

"Well, not literally five minutes," Torres explained. "You see, Kira was able to stay alive so long because nobody dared to try and kill her. But I'm the Klingon Intendant. Thanks to Klingon honor, Klingons would be standing in line to kill me, and even say why they are there. They wouldn't want to kill me to get my job. They would try to kill me to stop my reign. And if they were to die in the process of removing me, they would do so gladly."

"Mistress, would it be a danger to you if it was found out how you are treating me, what kind of power and trust you have given me?"

"Who says that I trust you?" Torres asked, her voice dangerously low.

"Mistress, I... I could try to explain what makes me think that you trust me to a certain degree, but the simple answer is; I know."

Torres threw up her hands with a growl of frustration. "Alright, you win. I give up."

"Mistress?" Seven asked, confused and not knowing what Torres was talking about.

"Go sit on the couch and look me in the eyes, Seven."

Hearing the Intendant address her as 'Seven', the blonde did as she was told and wondered what was going to change now, that she knew with certainty, something was going to change.

Torres leaned forward and a little closer to Seven. "New rules. What we've covered up 'til now, is from now on the base, the things you should think of when you do anything. But we're going to simplify things quite a bit. I am your Master and you are my slave, my property. Can we agree to that?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"No, forget about the Mistress part for now. That sounds as if you're only answering this way because you think you must. I'm asking you this: I am the Master, and you are my property, can you agree to that? If you can't fully find yourself in that, then you'll be placed with your friends and share their fate. Forget the game for a moment. You would still be a slave; you can't be anything else in this universe. But the fate of your friends and you would not be what it would be if you lost the game. I can't tell you yet what it would be. I would have to think about that. But you would not be killed outright."

Seven lifted her head a little in a sign of defiance. "In that case, no. I cannot accept the statement that I am your property."

Torres let herself drop back and rubbed her hands over her face. The blonde sure didn't make it easy. Any other slave would have jumped at the proposal, knowing that having the master/slave relationship brought back to one basic and main rule was an unparalleled freedom.

But that was just the point, wasn't it? The blonde was not just another slave. That was why Torres was sitting in her quarters making deals with a slave. Despite it all, she had enjoyed every minute she had spent with the blonde, and she wanted to make sure that she would continue to enjoy her time with the slave. The only way to truly make that possible was to talk to the slave instead of only order her around.

"But," Seven continued, "my objection is with the word 'property'. I am not, and will never be, anyone's property, save my own. I will not object to you calling me such if somebody else is present, and if asked by somebody else, I will even lie and say that I am your property. I will not endanger your position as my Mistress in such a way. It is enough for me that we both know that in reality I am not your property. Having said that, if you would ask if me if I am yours, then my answer would be yes, completely. If you would ask if I truly see you as my Mistress, than my answer would be yes, completely."

"And if I were to ask you to choose between me and your friends?"

"Then I would tell you that at this moment the asking party would lose," Seven replied immediately.

"Meaning?" Torres asked.

"Meaning that if you would make me choose between you and my friends, then I would choose my friends. But if my captain,"

"Former captain," Torres interrupted. She didn't like the woman that apparently thought that she was an equal to an Intendant. 'Hell, Seven here is more equal to me than that woman.'

"If Captain Janeway," Seven answered diplomatically, "were to order me to misuse my position, then I would not honor that command."

"Alright," Torres said, knowing that she was about to make a compromise with a slave, but also knowing that she didn't care in the least. "Can you then agree to the fact that I am your Mistress and you are mine, that's it? You are mine to do with whatever I please?"

"Yes, B'Elanna, I can."

"What did you just call me?" Torres asked, leaning forward again.

"Mistress, you only call me Seven if you want to make clear just how serious you are, that you are talking to me as person, and not just as your slave. Is it than so wrong for me to say, 'Yes, B'Elanna', when I want to indicate that I am not merely giving the expected slave answer?"

Torres thought about that one, it seemed only fair. "I should not accept this, and even you know that. But by now I've accepted so much that I shouldn't have. Alright, now, I know you know this, but I'm still going to say it, only call me that when we are alone."

"Of course, Mistress."

"So, tell me Seven, if you're mine to do with whatever I please, would you lick my boots in front of your friends if I would tell you to?"

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said without a doubt before asking her own question. "Would you ask?"

"No, I wouldn't," Torres was forced to admit. Suddenly, the Intendant started to grin wickedly. "Would you also have sex with a man if I told you to?"

"Yes, Mistress, I would," Seven said immediately and was glad to see the grin disappear at her answer, "and after the man and I were finished, I would kill you for giving me such order. That, Mistress, I promise you."

To Seven's surprise, the Intendant started to laugh so hard that she had to hold her sides and let herself fall to the side.

"Thank you, I needed that," Torres said several minutes later.

"I was being sincere, Mistress. I would kill you if you gave me such order," Seven replied, thinking that the Intendant believed that she had been joking.

"I know, Seven," Torres assured. "I can't, and won't, promise you that I won't have to kill you at some point for whatever reason. But I can, and will, promise you that I will never tell or even ask you to do something like that. Nobody but me will ever touch you. I just wanted to see what your answer would be."

'I only hope that at some time you actually will touch me,' Seven thought when hearing what Torres had said.

"Anyway, back to your question," Torres said, changing the subject back to where it was before they got sidetracked. "No, it won't be a danger to me if it was found out how I'm treating you. As far as powers are concerned, you really don't have anything different than other Body Slaves have. Only that your influence is extremely multiplied by the factor of me being Intendant. But I'm not allowing you things that other Body Slaves are not allowed to do. Weeeell, I am allowing you a lot of things that other body slaves would never be allowed to do. Hell, just having this conversation is such a thing. That's why you should behave differently in public than you're doing here. Just like I'll behave differently in public. There I will punish you if I need to. Do only one tenth of what you have done in here and I will be forced to kill you."

"I know, Mistress."

"Good. But it will soon be common knowledge that the highest levels of the Klingon security department monitors whatever you do in my name. Everyone who bothers to find out just what you're allowed to do, will also find out that the Commander of the Security Department himself is monitoring the situation. They will be more than satisfied with that knowledge, and rightfully so."

Finding that she was getting a dry throat from talking, Torres stood and walked to the replicator. She replicated two drinks and handed one to the blonde. Seeing the total disbelief in those eyes while the slave took her drink hesitantly, Torres sighed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, I know. I replicated a drink myself, and I even replicated you one. Don't get used to it. You'll still be doing this almost every other time. But as you can see, this is not my normal drink. Sometimes telling you to get something and also what to get, takes a lot longer than just getting the damn thing myself. I've been replicating my own drinks since I was two years old. I know how to do it, you know."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you." Seven lifted her glass slightly, indicating why she was saying 'thank you' this time.

"Right, well." Torres sat down and sipped some of the sweet drink known as 'Bajoran Nectar'. A drink that was absolutely delicious, if drank every once in a while. Otherwise, the body would build up resistance against the working ingredients of the drink.

She waited for a moment to see how the blonde would react to the taste of the drink and couldn't help but grin when she saw the blue eyes getting wider in surprise. "Good hu?"

"Very," Seven agreed as she eagerly lifted her glass for another drink.

Torres placed a hand over the glass. "No, don't drink; sip. The bad part is that you can only drink this every once in a while or else you become immune to it, and the taste. One glass per week is the absolute limit. I for one don't want to risk becoming immune and actually only drink a glass every ten days."

Seven nodded and then took a very small sip, making sure to let it roll around her mouth fully to get as much out of it as possible.

Torres also took another sip before continuing. "As far as people finding out that I trust you, to a certain extent. That's actually expected. You don't make a slave your Body Slave and let her do things if you don't trust that slave, as far as you can trust a slave."

"I see."

"Now, I'm curious, my Pet. Why did you ask that question? Why should you care if what I do is dangerous to me?"

"The well being of the Voyager crew is obviously very important to me, and your well being is obviously important in that," Seven reminded. "If something were to happen to you, it is almost certain that the Voyager crew would be split up and divided throughout the Coalition. That is the obvious reason, but it is not the only one. As I said before, I do not hate or despise you. Future behavior from you might change this, but for now I actually like you, Mistress. And since I do, your well being is also important to me for that reason."

"I'm glad to hear it," Torres said before continuing with a little grin. "So that means that I don't have to worry about you killing me in my sleep?"

Seven saw the grin and knew that the Intendant was joking. Apparently the Intendant had the tendency to joke a little from time to time in a conversation. Probably to make sure that the conversation didn't become too grim and gloomy. "Killing a Klingon in her sleep is not honorable. Besides, it is not necessary, I can easily kill you while you are awake."

"Hmm, someday soon you will have to demonstrate to me just how strong you truly are."

"Someday soon I will, Mistress," Seven agreed.

She had a feeling that the Intendant had covered all she wanted to cover in the conversation, a conversation that had been on an equal level. Seven suspected that conversations like the one she just had with the Intendant did sometimes occur between Masters and Body Slaves, the position as Body Slave made almost certain that in a certain percentage the slave would become more to the Master than just property.

She also suspected that conversations like this were also one of the coalition's best kept secrets. Things not talked about with others, things one would never admit to somebody else. Seven started to wonder why this conversation had happened. She also suspected that a conversation like the one she just had would be few and far between, so she decided to simply ask her question while she could.

"Mistress, may I ask what brought on this conversation?"

Torres was silent for a moment while she slowly swirled the drink in the glass, making the liquid just touch the rim, but not go over. Finally she admitted, "You asking if it was a danger to me if people found out that I trusted you, and me then kinda denying that I trust you. Frankly I'm sick and tired of having to make threats, or pretend something you're saying isn't true, or both. So I simplified it by bringing it down to the essence. I'm the Master, you're the slave... We established that, right?"

"Yes, Mistress, I am yours, completely."

"Right, so from now on I don't have to threaten you or deny stuff. Admitting something you say is correct will not make you less mine, will it?"

"No, Mistress."

"Well then, my Pet, there you have your answer."

Torres played with her glass again for a moment before asking, "Alright, now that we're having a conversation that a Master and slave really shouldn't have, let me ask you something. What do you think of me calling you 'my Pet' all the time?"

"I like it."

Torres looked up sharply. "That easy?"

Seven gave a small nod. "That easy. My name changed often enough for me to get easily accustomed to a new name. My original name was Annika Hansen. In the Borg my name changed about twice every year depending on where I was stationed and what my task was. My last name with the Borg was Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One. After that, on Voyager, I was called Seven of Nine. And after that I was normally only called Seven, unless my name was used for official protocol reasons. I am yours, so the 'my' part is correct. And the Pet part... I cannot really explain that. I know that I should find it demeaning, but I do not. I simply like the way 'my Pet' sounds when you say it."

Torres grinned. "That's convenient then, because I like saying it. So, now that I'm apparently temporarily insane, you got any questions you want to ask me?"

"I think you covered all that could be an issue, so no... yes."

"Well, which is it? No or yes?"

"Mistress, I have been wondering why you have not mentioned Voyager anywhere? Why are you keeping her secret?"

"Ah, that." Torres shrugged. "At first because I was figuring out what I wanted to do with the ship. If it would be worth saving. And after that I kept it secret because of the speed it can achieve. What did you say it was? Normal cruise warp 8. Maximum cruise 9.985. And top speed 9.992. We have nothing like that in the Coalition, not even in secret test programs. You're actually now on the fastest Coalition ship. My ship is also a test-bed for the newest engines. They figured that with all the traveling that I do, my ship would be the perfect place for a long duration test."

She shrugged. "And I certainly didn't object. But even so, this ship's normal cruise is warp 7.5. Maximum cruise is 8.625. And the top speed is 9.132. As you can see, that ship you used to live on is capable of outrunning everything in the Coalition with close to an entire warp factor or more. You can understand that I'd like to have that little advantage in my corner."

Torres wondered if there was something else she wanted to cover but couldn't think of anything. "Alright, now you clean the mess you made and then we make a tour of the ship."

"The mess 'I' made?" Seven asked, knowing that the Intendant was talking about the broken glasses and the spilled drink.

"Of course, common practice, my dear, always blame the slave," Torres replied with a grin.

She watched the slave get up and walk to the replicator. "Wait. I never use any of the replicators in my private quarters to replicate something to clean. I know that it's ridiculous, but I swear that my food tastes like soap afterwards. I have some cleaning supplies in the cabinet under the counter of the kitchen unit."

Torres waited until the blonde had found the cleaning supplies and had started cleaning up the mess before asking casually, "What would your answer have been to that statement if we hadn't just had our conversation?"

"My answer would have been: of course, Mistress. Forgive me for making such a mess." Seven stopped cleaning for a moment and looked up to the Intendant. "And if somebody else had been present I would have kneeled down and said 'please forgive me' instead of 'forgive me'."

"Very good. Very good indeed," Torres approved.

While the blonde finished the cleaning, Torres stood and started moving slowly to the door. She waited until her slave was standing beside her and took in the blonde's appearance, taking the time to enjoy the view. But that view soon reminded her of one final thing.

Torres reached up and softly caressed the blonde's cheek, "One more thing. In your universe, Klingons are known to enjoy their sex rough, this is the same here. Since you're my body slave, there are bound to eventually be insinuations to sex and your services to me. As long as this is done with enough respect to me and what is mine, you, I will actually go along with that. That means that you'll have to go along with it too. If it comes down to that subject, I like it rough, hard and fast, alright?"

"Yes, Mistress. I will simply tell them the opposite of the truth."

Torres laughed at the blonde's statement. "Yes, that will work."

That was another advantage of having a body slave. No pretense and acting. Simply enjoying what she liked the way she liked it, definitely not the way that was normally associated with Klingons. More the way that was normally associated with weak species. Having sex in a long, teasing, and slow way.

Maybe the next time she would tell the blonde how much more she could tease. Thinking that, she wondered when the next time would be that the slave offered to serve her. She hoped it would be soon. Because despite what the blonde had said, Torres still couldn't bring herself to actually order her slave to please her.

"Alright, you ready to be my humble slave again?" Torres asked, deciding that a distraction was in order.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Let's move then," Torres said and took a step closer to the door.

"Mistress?" Seven asked as she took one of the Klingon's hands to stop her and then kneeled.

"Yes?" Torres asked confused as she turned fully towards the blonde.

"Would it not be better if we give the guards some more time to spread the word that you now have a Body Slave?"

"Oh?" Torres asked, still confused. "And, um, what would you do with that extra time?"

"Be that Body Slave of course," Seven said as if she was pointing out the obvious. "Mistress, I displeased you before. I hesitated in following an order in front of your men. I want to make up for that, I want to apologize with more than just words."

"Seven, I told,"

"Mistress," Seven interrupted, "I want you."

Torres felt the lust filled tone in the blonde's voice travel straight from her ears to her groin. She didn't answer with words. Instead she walked back to the couch and sat down and pointed to the spot where Seven sat when she was kneeling between the Intendant's legs.

Seven came closer and sank to her knees slowly, her eyes locked with those of the Intendant. After a moment she smiled broadly and once again moved her hands up the Intendant's legs until they were placed on the hips with the fingertips resting more on the roundness of her behind.

"So this is considered an invitation?" Seven asked, trying to make her voice as sensual as she could. She was quite proud of herself when the Intendant only nodded before having to swallow. "Good, I will definitely remember that."

Torres saw the slave lean closer and realized that her hearts were beating overtime. For a moment she didn't get it. The slave had pleased her two nights ago and once earlier that day. Nerves had not been involved then. Just feeling extreme skill bring her wonderful pleasure. In fact, Torres couldn't remember ever having been nervous before sex. She was a Klingon, they didn't do nervous; they simply had the sex and moved on.

So why was her heartbeat so fast now? Why was her breath coming out shaky and insecure? And then she saw those eyes again and knew. The first time the blonde had pleased her there hadn't been much eye contact involved. The second time, mere hours ago really, there had been eye contact and Torres had seen what Seven had basically told her not long after; the blonde had been doing a task that she actually liked doing.

But now, now there was a hunger in those eyes. An eagerness that made Torres believe that there was nothing in the Universe that the blonde wanted to do right now other than please Torres. Torres didn't know if the look was real or if the blonde merely remembered what they had talked about before. About a slave pretending to be eager to want to please the Master so that the life of the slave would be good in return.

And then the blonde sat up on her knees until she could reach Torres neck and leaned in to start nibbling and kissing teasingly. After that, the universe could have ended and Torres wouldn't have cared. All she cared about was that this wonderful teasing feeling had been the beginning of something she could only describe with one word later on.

Wow.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 9

"B'Elanna," the Doctor sighed. He had been arguing with the Klingon for the last ten minutes and he was rapidly getting nowhere.

"Listen, Doc," B'Elanna said while she moved off the bed, being smart enough to hold on to it to steady herself. "I'm driving myself crazy in here, I'm about to go out of my mind from all that lying around. As you could see, I can sit, and as you can see now, I can stand. So why don't you let me go out there and be amongst people?"

"Because you're still weak," the Doctor stated... again. "Yes, you have enough energy to stand, but if I let you run around already, you'll use up all your energy and it will take much longer for you to heal."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "I'm not about to start running a marathon. All I will do is go out there and be amongst my friends."

"I know you, B'Elanna. You would only get into trouble again."

"Doc, we're in a prison. I couldn't get into trouble if I wanted to. Look, I promise all I'll do is sit around some."

"Alright, let's compromise," the Doctor relented. "You wait here one second, I will be right back." He was out of the room before B'Elanna had a chance to react.

"You got to be kidding me," B'Elanna said when the Doctor reappeared a minute later pushing a hover chair.

"You want out of here, fine you can, but only if you stay in this chair. You said that you would only sit anyway. That is my condition B'Elanna, take it or leave it."

B'Elanna threw up her hands. "Alright, if that's the only way, fine."

"Oh, no," the Doctor said, knowing that B'Elanna was giving in too fast. "I know you, you'll get out of here and jump out of this thing as soon as you leave sickbay. So to make sure that you stay in it, I will personally drag you back here and put you in bed if I see you out of it only once."

"Yeah, yeah." B'Elanna moved the few steps to the chair. She had to admit that walking was harder than she had expected, but not as impossible as the Doctor was pretending it was.

"Don't think I won't do it," the Doctor threatened.

B'Elanna got into the chair and rolled her eyes again. "Gee, Doc. Am I at least allowed to get out of this thing to relieve myself, or should I just pee while sitting in it?"

"I could always give you a catheter if you think that using the bathroom would be a problem," the Doctor replied smugly.

"Not a chance," B'Elanna said while she looked over the hover chair controls.

"Right, the way this works is,"

"Doc, I am the chief engineer of a spaceship," B'Elanna interrupted. "I think I can figure out how a damn hover chair works, don't you think?"

"Fine, get out of here and break your neck for all I care," the Doctor said, giving up.

"Fine."

B'Elanna was halfway through the door when the Doctor spoke up again. "Be careful."

"Thanks, Doc. I will," B'Elanna replied softly, looking over her shoulder at him for a moment before continuing on.

She knew that the Doctor could really be annoying, and his bedside manners left much to be desired, and he could be way too overbearing with his patience, and he... But underneath it all, there was a good man who truly cared for the well-being of the Voyager crew.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

B'Elanna took a moment to look around after leaving sickbay. Seeing a broad corridor going in two directions was definitely not what she expected from a prison. She thought that it looked more like the dorm she had stayed in during her time at the Academy. A little further down one side of the corridor she saw two force fields, one behind the other, and figured that this was the way out.

'Ok, so that's something I don't know from the Academy. That does indeed remind me of a prison.' To the other side, she saw several corridors branching off and some, what looked like gathering places. She headed to the first of the gathering places and, to her luck, she found Tom, Chakotay, and a man that didn't belong to the Voyager crew talking at a table. The three men were so deep in discussion that they didn't notice B'Elanna until she spoke up.

"Hi, you guys are just the people I'm looking for."

As soon as the slave saw B'Elanna, he jumped up to stand at attention, only to realize a moment later that he wasn't in the presence of the Intendant. "My god, it is true. I see it, but I can't believe it."

"Ah, yes," B'Elanna said. "I'm not the bad bitch. That's the one who was here earlier. So just relax will ya?"

"Hey, what are you doing out of bed?" Tom asked. "When I was there earlier the Doctor told me it could be several days before you could leave sickbay."

"Yeah well, let's just say that the Intendant's visit gave me a good incentive to heal quicker and the Doctor was his own overcautious self. Now," B'Elanna started, changing subject since she hated talking about her health, "since you three are sitting here talking anyway, why don't we move this party? You can show me where my room is and then we can talk there. I want to know everything that's going on."

B'Elanna pointed at the slave. "And you can tell me all there is to know about the difference between a slave, a Master Slave, and a Body Slave."

"Um, maybe this can wait till tomorrow," Tom suggested in an almost diplomatic tone, "give you some time to rest a little before having lengthy discussions."

"Listen, Tom, I had all the rest I can take. I know that everyone is trying to keep information from me for some bizarre reason, I just don't know why. Are you afraid of me finding out that I'm only alive because Seven gave the Intendant a good lay? Then I can assure you that I know more about the subject than the lot of you, since Seven and I actually talked about that. Enough fooling around. I want answers and I want them now. So you better start talking or I swear I will kill somebody and then... What?" B'Elanna asked when she saw the three men cringe at the same time.

"Maybe we do need to fill you in on some things," Chakotay said, the image of someone that looked just like B'Elanna, killing a Human in cold blood, was still dancing in front of his eyes. "Come on guys."

All of them followed Chakotay as he moved into the corridor and in the direction of the force fields.

"This... cellblock is big enough for us all, if we put two people in a room," Chakotay started to explain; he knew that the Klingon would have a fit when she found out with who she had to share a room.

"So?" B'Elanna asked.

"Well, we suspect that they also put people other than slaves and prisoners in here from time to time. Judging from the interior, and judging from the fact that the rooms in the beginning of the cellblock are the biggest. So with that in mind the senior staff got those rooms, still sharing a room of course."

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like what you're leading up to?" B'Elanna asked before realization set in. Seven was not there, so that meant that there was only one woman left in the senior staff. "Oh, you got to be kidding me, please don't tell me that I'm sharing a room with the captain."

"Sorry, B'Elanna," Chakotay said sincerely. He knew that the engineer liked the captain, but not enough to look forward to sharing a room with her. "She did have a valid point when I suggested that she take a room for herself. She said that if she did that, then you, being the only woman left on the senior staff, would also need a single room,"

"Oh, I'm more than willing to share with somebody of the lower ranks," B'Elanna interrupted. She saw Ensign Jenkins coming out of one of the rooms and pointed at the blonde. "Her, for instance."

"Which would leave her present roommate, with the rank of crewman, to share the room with the captain," Chakotay countered nicely.

"What about Tom here?" B'Elanna asked, getting more desperate. "We used to date and I'm sure he wouldn't have a problem sharing a room with me."

"Oh, so now I'm suddenly good enough again?" Tom asked with a smile, taking the sting out of the words.

"Tom, for this you would even be allowed to sleep in the same bed as me," B'Elanna shot back. Despite it all she was glad that she could once again have these little word duels with him.

"Um, Chakotay, you know... maybe it isn't such a bad idea if B'Elanna and I shared a room," Tom was quick to say, drawing a snort from the engineer and a chuckle from Chakotay.

"Nice try, Tom," Chakotay said while he stopped to let B'Elanna into the room first.

"And nice try, B'Elanna. Just live with it, okay?" he asked, not wanting to spend too much time on the subject. They had other things to talk about.

B'Elanna took a look around the room, seeing that it was indeed not too bad. The room was about five by five meters with a bed on the left and right side of the door. On each side behind the bed stood a little desk with a chair and behind that was a small closet.

On the far wall were two doors and in the middle between the two doors was a replicator. The two doors were milky white, translucent enough to see if somebody was on the other side of the door, but not translucent enough to see more than an outline from that person. A quick inspection of the two doors confirmed her suspicion that there was a sonic-shower behind one door and a toilet behind the other.

The door to the corridor was also made of the translucent milky white material. When closed it would give privacy, but a guard on the outside would still see if somebody was standing close to the door. B'Elanna had certainly slept in a lot worse places.

"Where is the captain anyway?" B'Elanna asked.

Tom answered that one. "During the day, she's usually in the main gathering room. I have a feeling that she doesn't want to be too close to those Klingons out there the entire day."

"Why? They're far enough away." B'Elanna had guessed the distance to the guards on the other side of the force fields to be around fifteen meters.

Tom was about to sit down on the bed that wasn't made, knowing that the Captain must have made the other bed which had the telltale painfully straight Starfleet fold. But then he remembered that the bed he was about to sit on had to be made so B'Elanna could sleep. Tom had clearly seen that the engineer still needed rest, despite the way she was acting. Knowing that B'Elanna would rather suffer a heart attack while making the bed herself than ask for help, he took the pile of sheets and blankets and started making the bed for her.

"Hey, I'd think you would be glad with her only being here at night. You know, don't look a gift horse in the mouth and such."

"You know, Tom, I have absolutely no idea what that's supposed to mean. Are you trying to insult the captain?" B'Elanna really didn't have an idea what the saying meant, but the general meaning of it sure wasn't that hard to understand. But sometimes the pilot was just so easy to tease.

Hearing the remark, Tom stopped what he was doing and quickly turned around. "What? No! No, I... Alright, to use words you can actually understand with that one track mind of yours, if somebody gives you a spaceship for free, you don't go complaining about the flaking paint job. You just say 'thank you'."

"Alright, thank you." Though it seemed part of the conversation, her eyes had drifted to the almost finished bed, indicating why she was really saying the words.

Tom's only reply was to smile at her for a second and turn around to finish what he had started.

"Right," B'Elanna said pointing at the slave. "Before we go on, what's your name anyway?"

"Patrick."

"Patrick... what?" B'Elanna asked. "What's your last name?"

"Just Patrick, slaves don't have last names."

"Surely you must have had a family name at some point?" B'Elanna persisted, wondering if in this universe the family name had some special importance. Like it being the only thing that a slave could say was truly theirs.

"What's the use of a family name, if you don't have any family?" the slave asked softly.

None of them had expected that answer.

Seeing how the others looked at him, Patrick started to explain, "I'm sorry, my name is Patrick Stewards. But normally our last names are never mentioned out loud. If you're overheard referring to your last name, you can be severely punished for it. Only free people and Master Slaves are allowed to also use their last name. Which shows that slaves not being allowed to have one, is really nothing more than a reminder to the slaves. After all, you aren't supposed to know your last name, but as soon as you become Master Slave you suddenly have to know it."

"What's so bad about having a last name?" Chakotay asked surprised.

Patrick shrugged. "That's Humans own fault. You told me that you've heard of our history. So you know that Humans used to rule everything that is now ruled by the Coalition. We had slaves back then. Klingons, Cardassians, and Romulans were the most favored to do the hard labor. Bajorans were mostly used as servants; the Betazoids as sex slaves, since they could feel what their master wanted. The Trill as sex slaves if they were not joined, and if they were, then they usually served as archivists. The Humans found it convenient that they only had to train the joined Trill once at a job and they could perform that job for generations, until the symbiont died."

"And the point is?" B'Elanna asked.

"The point is that after the Coalition defeated the Sol Empire, they punished the Humans and the species loyal to the Humans by turning them all into slaves and using the same system as we Humans used to do. For some reason the Human species had, at some point, decided that slaves shouldn't have a last name because that would make them too much of an individual; slaves should be nothing more than numbers. Well, 'thanks' to our ancestors we are now nothing more than numbers. The only exception being the Master Slaves. Once somebody becomes a Master Slave, they're allowed the official use of their last name. This is officially done to indicate that they're more than just slaves, though we think that this is only to remind the rest of us that we are nothing and have nothing, not even a last name."

"Are they also using the same system of using a certain species slave for a certain type of job?" Chakotay asked.

"Some, but not as much. Some species have certain traits that make them very suited for certain jobs. Take the poor Gorn. Those poor bastards. Because they're so strong and don't get hurt easy, they're the ones that get shipped to work on planets where we would die simply if we step outside. It's ironic. Droids were invented to do the dangerous mining work. But because slaves are cheaper, the Gorn are shipped in first to make sure that everything is safe for the droids to 'survive' there. Slaves die while building the shelter workshops where droids will be repaired so that they don't break down beyond use."

He shook his head a little. "Anyway, but other than those places where the situation almost demands a certain slave species, they don't really care. A slave is a slave. Mainly they just assign available slaves to whatever place needs them. They don't care that we Humans die quicker in mines than, say, the Vulcans. If we die, we're just replaced."

"And the having no families part?" Chakotay prompted.

"Because of breeding," Patrick explained. "They use the planets the slave species come from, like our Sol, as breeding grounds to make sure a steady supply of slaves continues to be born. They leave several hundred million on the planets and make it clear to them that they will let them live as long as they produce at least one child every two years. And as soon as that child reaches the age of twelve, it's taken away from its parents, never to see them again. Except of course a few stay to replace the slaves that have died on the planet. As you can probably guess, since parents know up front that their children won't be with them a day beyond twelve, no real family ties are formed. Why get attached to children only to then see them go off into slavery."

"It's still twelve years they could have," Chakotay pointed out.

Patrick shook his head. "Yes, but no. Yes, they could have twelve years with a child, if it were the only child. Remember, the breeders are only left alone if they produce at least one child every two years. Some even produce one child every year because for extra children you get... bonuses, I guess you could call them. Better food, a nicer place to live. Stuff like that. So every couple of breeders always has six to twelve children running around. And that means that once every year, once every two years, you see a child leave. Do you think you could see that? Every year, if you loved the child?"

He waited for a moment to let that sink in. "No, the children become products. Parents feed you, the good thing is they never hit you because they want a flawless skin in the product. The bad thing is that they don't really care for you. At best they care for you like free people might care for a pet. They like you, but when you're gone they're only sad for a few days. As a child you get the good times you think back to later from friends. Because that can stick. If you become friends with someone your own age you can have a close tie for years before the day comes."

"And the breeders, as you call them," Chakotay asked. "Those are..."

"Those are the stable ones, there they find the relationships they need," Patrick finished for him. "Breeders stay together, so it's not like a woman getting pregnant to just anyone. A man and a woman stay together because the Masters often want to know the... bloodline... of a slave. So the breeders can actually live their whole life as a couple."

"And when they become too old to have children?" Tom asked.

Patrick gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Well, that all depends on how good a breeders they were, doesn't it? If they only produced the minimum, and the bloodline is not that impressive, they're killed. But if they've been good little breeders their entire life, well then the Masters normally reward them by letting them live and feeding them. Giving them some other job that needs doing, like keeping track of the bloodlines of young breeders. That way they get a work force they need, and on top of that it's a good incentive for other breeders to produce more children."

"You," B'Elanna started hesitantly, "You said that a man and a woman often stay together for life."

"Normally they do," Patrick agreed. "Once they've found someone they like enough not to mind sleeping with them that often... remember not every shot results in a pregnancy... they normally don't give that up merely in the hope of finding something better."

"Right," B'Elanna said in understanding. "But what I want to know, what about same sex relationships?"

Patrick frowned. "They don't really care who you have in your bed at night. Two women living together is fine... as long as they produce the demanded offspring. Two men is fine to... as long as they can point at two women and the DNA coding proves that the offspring of those women was fathered by them. Producing, that's the important part, and they don't care one bit just who snuggles up to who at night."

They were all quiet for a minute after that. Tom and Chakotay already knew that Earth was now considered a breeding ground because the Intendant had clearly enjoyed telling them this. But still, to hear the details so directly, to know that now all that mattered on Earth was that children were... produced... like they were goods for sale; which sadly enough they were. It hurt.

"It must be more than millions," B'Elanna finally spoke up. "On Earth, you said that millions of people lived there only to produce children. It must be more than that. I would say a billion at least. A few million would never be able to have so many children that it sustains a market on Coalition scale. And on top of that, if it were only millions they wouldn't need to worry about finding good places to live because there would be more than enough room for them on the best places on Earth. At worst they would have to worry about having a good roof over their heads at that place."

Patrick shrugged. "I don't know how many there are; it's not like they'd tell us. We just know that there are a lot of people there so we always say millions. As for those nice places to live... You do have to remember that only a relatively small area of Earth is used for the breeding program. On the rest there are no Humans because those places are used for the mining and the hunting."

"Hunting?" Chakotay repeated.

"Wildlife," Patrick clarified. "That's why such a big area is used for it. They only open certain parts at a time, and which parts that are opened shifts every year so that animals get a chance to grow big and strong. It really started with the Masters that lived on Earth for their job in the slave industry going out and hunting. Over time their family would also go hunt when they were visiting. Then friends of family, then friends of friends. Now it's actually considered a pretty decent place to hunt and a lot of the male breeders are actually working in," he snorted at the irony, "also breeding other animals. Since the men don't get pregnant and are only needed really for five minutes every nine months at most, if you know what I mean, they are given other tasks to do as well. The good thing is that the wildlife on Earth is richer than it has been for half a millennia or so."

"And the bad thing?" B'Elanna asked.

"The bad thing?" Patrick repeated. "Oh, that's the fact that if a breeder ever decides to escape into those other parts that are not kept safe by sonic fences... well, let's just say that the Masters don't bother looking for that breeder; but they will organize a hunt to find the animal that ate the breeder. After all, having the hide of an animal that killed is a lot more fun than having the hide of a killer animal, if you get the difference. The wildlife on Earth is very dangerous right now since the hunts focus on killing dangerous animals, not the next cow. And therefore those are bred in huge numbers. Bears, predatory cats of all kinds, you name it."

Finally Tom asked, "But that's Earth, right? Well, Earth and the other slave planets." He had faltered a bit over 'slave planets'. "But the breeding stuff is different once off the planet right? It's not like they will come and divide us into good and bad breeding stock?"

"Oh, absolutely," Patrick affirmed. "Once a slave is sold into slavery, sterilization is normally the first step a Master does. Both men and women. They don't want a slave to get pregnant because she and another slave were fooling around. Or they don't want a sex slave to get pregnant because her servicing the Master resulted in a pregnancy... or even worse for the Masters, a Mistress getting pregnant because she had some fun with her male sex slave."

"If that's so, then how come Intendant Torres is around?" B'Elanna asked. "Because seeing the fact that she is me, I can assure you that at least one Human wasn't sterilized before sex."

Patrick shrugged. "As I said, it's the task of the Master to make sure the slave is sterilized. But that doesn't mean that accidents don't happen. There have been enough cases where a Master buys a slave and wants to... sample the merchandise... right after buying the slave. Figuring that the sterilizing can be done at home. And well, one shot can hit its target too, if you know what I mean. Or others actually make the choice deliberately. It's not something talked about often, but rumor has it that the Betazoid Intendant is actually also a mix. Betazoid and Human. Rumor has it that there the choice was made deliberately because the mother of the Intendant wanted certain Human traits in her daughter."

"There are ways to get rid of an accidental pregnancy," B'Elanna pointed out hesitantly.

Patrick laughed humorlessly at the question. "Ah, irony again. You see, a Master can kill a slave, no problem. A slave is only property. But it is agreed by all of the Coalition that slaves are sentient beings. You know, have to make some difference between animals."

"And that means?" B'Elanna asked, wondering why he was suddenly mentioning that.

"That means that the slaves are covered by a universal Coalition law. With birth prevention what it is nowadays, where no woman can become pregnant unless she plans it or is too stupid to keep a yearly appointment with a doctor, it was decided about thirty years ago that unborn children needed more protection. It was decided that if a child was conceived, whether by planning or by accident, then clearly the universe had plans for that child and it needed to live. So, a law was created that terminating a pregnancy is considered first degree murder, with the exception of a few very strict cases of course."

"Medical reasons," B'Elanna guessed.

"That's one of them," Patrick agreed. "But even there the case will be investigated as a murder case. Telepaths will be brought in to search the mind of mother and doctor. But the interesting thing is that even though you can simply kill a slave, as long as it belongs to you, killing a pregnant slave is murder. Not of the slave, but of an unborn sentient being, as the law dictates. So as you can see, people don't want their slaves to get pregnant, but accidents do happen."

"Why not let the slaves get pregnant?" Chakotay asked, still not getting that part. "That fits nicely with that breeding idea. Breed your own slaves."

Patrick shook his head no. "And have your slave be out of commission for weeks, maybe months? But even worse, to have a baby slave that you have to feed until its twelve years old before you can finally put the kid to work? No, you don't want pregnant slaves."

"Alright," B'Elanna finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen. "let's change subject a little. Fill me in on what happened, starting from the moment I got hurt."

And so the others did.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

It was much later when B'Elanna was lying on her bed, going over everything that the others had told her. She looked up when somebody entered the room and was discontented to see that it was Janeway. B'Elanna knew that she could look forward to at least an hour of the captain asking her stuff and also giving her view on things. "Captain."

Janeway crouched down beside B'Elanna and smiled at the Klingon. "B'Elanna, I'm glad to see that you're doing well enough to leave sickbay."

"I'm just glad to be out of there, Captain," B'Elanna said, sitting up and resigning herself to her fate of having a lengthy conversation with Janeway. She remembered back to a time where she actually liked to have those conversations. How things had changed in the last couple of years.

"So, did Seven have anything interesting to tell you when she visited you this afternoon?" Janeway asked. By asking this direct question so quickly, she gave B'Elanna the nasty impression that the inquiry to her health had been nothing more than a habit of old manners instead of honest curiosity.

"We mainly just talked about how she and I are doing."

"I didn't have a chance to talk to her," Janeway pointed out. "Was she able to tell you something we can use? Something about the ship or something about the people onboard?"

"No, nothing. She's just kept in the Intendant's chambers and only walked through some corridors to get here," B'Elanna straight out lied. She couldn't believe that Janeway didn't even have the decency to ask how Seven was doing before starting to ask other questions.

"Damn, I had hoped that," Janeway was interrupted by the words 'somebody is coming' drifting in from the corridor. She stood and moved into the corridor, followed by a much slower B'Elanna.

This time there were no guards accompanying the person, just a deactivation of the force fields, one only deactivating when the second was activated and secure, making sure that nobody could use the opportunity to try and overpower the guards.

The person had a gray jumpsuit on, just like the other slaves, except for the sleeves, which were black. But what had everybody's jaw hanging open was that they all recognized the person. The blonde hair was only a little longer than what was commonly known as a 'crew cut', and there wasn't an implant to be seen, but the woman was clearly Seven of Nine.

"I'm Annika Hansen, Master Slave. From now on, I'm your commander," the blonde said to nobody in particular, before walking into the first room she came across. Seeing that one of the beds looked like somebody had just slept on it she moved to the other bed and threw the bag she was carrying on it, making it clear that she was commandeering the bed for herself.

"Excuse me, but that's my bed."

Annika turned around and looked at the woman standing in front of her. From the whole demeanor of the woman, Annika suspected that she had been the leader of the slaves until now. "Not anymore it isn't. Standard procedure, the Master Slave always takes the first room in the cellblock. You're a slave, you should know that."

"We are prisoners, not slaves. We come from a place where slavery was abolished centuries ago. I am Captain Kathryn Janeway, commander of this crew. And that 'is' my bed."

"I don't care what you were. Now you are slaves, and seeing that I'm a Master Slave, this is 'my' bed," Annika shot back. "Are we clear on this?"

"Very," Janeway said while pointing at Tuvok, who had joined them by now. "Tuvok, please remove this trespasser from my room."

B'Elanna moved forward a little from her place behind Chakotay who had also pressed himself into the room to see what was going on. "Um, Captain, that might not be such a good idea."

B'Elanna knew that Janeway was about to make a big mistake in her efforts to continue to be the undisputed leader. So the Klingon decided to tell a little lie, figuring that it was ok since it might stop Janeway from doing something that could get them all killed.

"Seven did tell me that the Intendant had already given the order to have us all killed, but that Seven had begged and pleaded and... done other things, to convince the Intendant to retract her order and let us live for now. I don't think throwing the Master Slave, appointed by the Intendant, out of a room will make a good impression on the Intendant. You can have my bed, Captain, I will move."

Annika looked at the woman that had just spoken and straightened up. "Intendant."

"Close, but no cigar," B'Elanna said with a grin as she came further into the room and sat down on her bed. "I just look like her."

"How..."

"For now, let's just say that I'm the nice version."

"Thanks for offering your bed, B'Elanna, but it won't be necessary. We will find another place for Miss Hansen to stay." Janeway didn't like the idea, at all, of somebody just taking over from her. "I'm sure Miss Hansen doesn't want to make any problems with the people she has to work with, especially not over something as simple as a place to sleep."

Annika took a step closer to Janeway, having enough of her attitude. "Listen, woman. This conversation is over. Either you walk out of this room right now, or I do."

Seeing that the woman was about to speak, Annika added, "But when I walk out of here, it is to inform those guards out there that you are a hostile slave. Do you really want to die that badly?"

Annika waited a heartbeat before mimicking Janeway's words. "I'm sure you don't want to make any problems with the Master Slave you have to work with, especially not over something as simple as a place to sleep."

Janeway just stood there with her hands on her hips looking at Annika without saying anything. She knew that she had played too high, there was no way that she could back down now without it looking like she was retreating.

Annika tilted her head slightly and smiled sweetly, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Well, are you going to get out of my room?"

"The only way I'm leaving this room is dead," Janeway said, sure that the blonde wouldn't actually do what she threatened to do.

Annika dipped her head slightly as if accepting Janeway's statement. "Fine, that can be arranged, excuse me."

Annika moved out of the room and, for a moment, Janeway thought that she had won. But that was only until she saw that the blonde moved in the direction of the force fields.

"Masters."

Janeway heard the blonde speaking and moved to the door to see what was going on. To her absolute disbelief and horror, the blonde had really addressed the Klingon guards. And what was worse was that they had dropped the first force field so that she could come closer to them.

"What?" one of the guards asked roughly.

Annika looked back and her eyes found those of Janeway, giving the woman one last chance.

Janeway saw the look in those blue eyes and knew that she had lost this round. Without saying a word, she walked out of the room and headed down the corridor.

Seeing the woman leave, Annika turned back to the guards. "Please forgive me for disturbing you; there always has to be one."

"Hmm," the guard agreed, also looking at the retreating form of Janeway. "That one is a trouble maker. After what I saw earlier today, I have a feeling that she is also on the Intendant's short list."

The guard looked back to the Master Slave. He was smart enough to understand that if the person in the prison that looked like the Intendant came from the other universe, then this Master Slave had to be this universe's version of the Intendant's Body Slave.

He also understood that she could only be here if she was specifically appointed by the Intendant. So he figured that it was better to be a little polite to the Master Slave. "The Intendant gave us strict orders to make sure that you were not harmed in any way by them. So if there is any problem at all, you just let me know. I'm the commander of the guards."

"Thank you, but I am sure that I can handle them. It's just that, as always, I had to prove that I can truly step up to the Masters and be the first to speak."

Annika took a step back, indicating that she was about to leave. "Once again, please forgive me for interrupting you."

"Good luck, Master Slave. With that bunch, you're going to need it."

Annika looked over her shoulder to some of the people that were watching her. "I know. Damn they look so... weak. As if they haven't seen a true day's work in their life."

She lowered her head slightly before taking another step back. "Once again, please forgive the intrusion." With that, she turned around and walked back into the room.

B'Elanna moved aside to let Annika enter and closed the door after them both before she went to sit on her bed again. She took a moment to look at the woman that looked so much like Seven, but acted totally differently.

"Gods, I hate having to do that," Annika said, dumping the contents of the bag onto the bed.

B'Elanna saw that most of the contents was made up of two other uniforms like the one Annika was already wearing. Which made sense since the replicators would only give out totally gray jumpsuits. So the Master Slave with her different uniform needed some uniforms that she could simply put through the recycle program in the replicator.

"You hate having to do what?" B'Elanna asked. "Taking over, or crawling for the guards?"

"Both," Annika replied, without stopping what she was doing. She put one of the uniforms in the replicator, recycled it, and then pushed the button that stored the pattern in the first free memory slot; making sure that a clean and whole uniform would be in the memory of the replicator.

"Why can't people just accept that I'm the one in charge? But nooooo, there always has to be one that wants to show that they are tougher than me. Can't you people understand that even if that was true, you still would have to do what I say or else we would all get killed for not accomplishing what we're ordered to do?"

"So, do you want me to leave the room too?" B'Elanna asked.

Annika turned around and studied the Klingon for a moment. She was amazed by the resemblance. It truly was as if the Intendant was sitting in the room. Yet... some things were different. The hair for one. Annika had seen the Intendant on screen often enough when proclamations were being sent throughout Klingon space. As Master Slave she was one of the few slaves that actually got told the rules that the slaves had to live by. The Intendant had beautiful and obviously well kept hair; unlike the hair of most Klingons Annika had seen. But still, it still had the waves in it that was so normal for Klingon hair. And since the Intendant clearly took care of herself, the hair added to the beauty that Annika had privately admitted to herself that the Klingon had.

But the Klingon sitting across from her had no waves at all in her hair. It hung straight down, only curling inward at the bottom in one big curl that resulted in framing the face. It also looked good, but it somehow made this Klingon look... softer. But Annika had to admit that she liked it.

The look on the face, not of the face but on the face, was different too. The Intendant always had a look as if she was impatient; wanted things to be over already. But this woman had a curious look. There was no impatience. There was only... exploration. Suddenly Annika realized that this Klingon was studying her as much as she had been studying the Klingon.

Remembering the question, Annika said, "You, leave? That depends, are you also going to give me a hard time?"

"Nope, not planning to at least," B'Elanna assured with a small grin.

"In that case, no. I don't mind sharing my room. I just mind people not being able to follow the most basic of rules."

"Um," B'Elanna hesitated. "What the captain said is true. We're not from around here, so we don't know the slave rules."

Annika put the two uniforms in the little closet on her side of the room before sitting down on her bed. "I told your 'captain' that it was common practice for the Master Slave to have the first room, so she knew the rule then. And the fact that this is the only room with closets in it should also have been an indication. But she still wanted to play the tough bitch."

"You outshined her though on the tough bitch department," B'Elanna said with a grin.

"Yeah, well, I've seen a lot worse than her."

B'Elanna pointed to a box that had also been in the bag, it was about the length and width of a Human forearm. "What's in there, if I may ask?"

Annika opened the box and very carefully took out two long, but thin blades. "I always have to take these out when I'm moved to a different project."

While speaking, Annika had opened the jumpsuit and stripped her upper body bare so that she could better reach the mechanisms strapped to her arms.

"Kahless, woman. Cover yourself!" B'Elanna said while she averted her eyes from Annika's naked upper body.

Annika took a moment to look down at her own body before placing the first of the blades into the mechanism on her left forearm. "Why? I don't think I have anything to be ashamed of. You should consider yourself lucky. People normally do pretty much anything to see me naked. A blonde slave, nice proportions; people always want to see."

B'Elanna figured that she had been courteous enough and she was certainly not going to stare at the floor all the time, so she looked back up and took in the beautiful body in front of her.

Where Seven had curves and enough muscle tone to give her a body everybody wanted to... touch, Annika was all muscle. Not the bulky muscles people often had who were in the gym training for hours every day. No, Annika had lean but well defined muscles; the kind one got from physically working hard each day. The kind of muscles not seen that often anymore on starships.

Engineers, like B'Elanna herself, really formed the only exception to that. They still had to do hard manual work on occasion, and with people who did this a lot, like B'Elanna, it still showed. Because of the lack of body-fat, Annika's breast size had to be about a size smaller than Seven's, but she still had a very ample chest.

"Wow," B'Elanna heard herself say before she realized that she had spoken.

Annika looked up from her task and straightened up a little, giving the Klingon an even better view. "You like what you see?"

"I would have to be dead not to," B'Elanna honestly admitted.

"Well, you can look, but not touch. I wear these things everywhere. While I sleep, in the shower, everywhere." Annika made a little movement with her arm and suddenly the blade that she had just fastened into the mechanism on her arm came shooting out, doubling in length when it fully extended. It extended her reach with a very sharp and deadly sixty centimeters.

"I would never..." B'Elanna said, slightly hurt by the insinuation that she would touch somebody against her will.

"Just making a point," Annika said. She had heard the tone in which the Klingon had spoken, and found that she wanted to believe the woman. She made another small, unnatural, movement with her arm and the blade disappeared into the mechanism again.

"Hollow blades, huh?" B'Elanna asked in an effort to get the conversation going again.

Annika picked up the second blade and showed it to B'Elanna. "Yes, it's a Cardassian design. There are actually four parts. It can be double the size you just saw, but I find that too long to be able to use it properly in close quarters, and having it set to only extend two levels gives it extra strength, making it strong enough to cut through everything weaker than reinforced steel. And unless I truly use it for steel, it also stays razor sharp like it is now."

"Don't you feel uncomfortable, sitting exposed like that?" B'Elanna finally asked.

"I learned long ago to not be ashamed of anything. And as I said before...," Annika waved a hand to indicate her own body, "...I don't think I have anything to be ashamed of."

She locked the second blade into place and looked at B'Elanna with a grin. "Besides, I thought you liked the view."

"So how come you have knives?" B'Elanna asked, wisely enough changing the subject, but also smart enough to indeed enjoy the view. "I've heard that the Intendant has said that we would all be killed if one of us was found with a weapon of any kind. And yet they let you walk in here with... that."

Annika moved her other arm slightly to check if the mechanism strapped to that arm also worked, it did. "Because as Master Slave it's all nice and dandy that I can go crying for help to the guards. But the threat 'do that or else I'm going to tell the guards' gets old pretty quick."

Annika suddenly moved off the bed and before B'Elanna knew it she felt the cold metal of a knife at her throat. "But when I do this and then say, 'do that, or else...' Works every time."

"Hey!" B'Elanna shouted while pulling away from the blade in pure reflex.

"Sorry, just making a point," Annika said, moving back to her own bed. "And the guards are not always there to look out for me, and if they are, they might just not care if the other slaves kill me. So for the reasons I just told you, and for self-protection, slaves get a set of these when they become Master Slaves."

B'Elanna saw Annika once again make the arm movement that made the blade disappear into its holder. The Klingon suspected that the inside of the blades was filled with a mechanism that reacted to just the right movement of the arm, which would make it close to impossible for the knives to extend by accident. That's at least how B'Elanna would have designed them. "But can't other slaves take them from you and use them to attack the guards?"

Annika looked from the blade to B'Elanna and her body moved a little as if she had just snorted, but there had been no sound. "First of all I would like to see them try, and second, you'll see when we get out of here tomorrow that I'll be the first in line. I will have to show these before the force fields are dropped. Since they can't be replicated by these replicators, the guards will know that nobody else has one of them."

"So did you have to use them yet?"

Annika sighed. "Yes, more than once. Normally just a deep scratch is enough to let people know that I know how to use them. Only on a few occasions it wasn't enough and more was needed."

"Hey, I thought that we would be moved today," B'Elanna suddenly remembered, making the connection with what Annika had just said about 'tomorrow'.

"That's what they told me too, but just before I got here they told me that this was postponed and that we're leaving tomorrow morning." Satisfied with the working of her knives, Annika took off her shoes before standing up and letting her uniform drop to the floor. She stepped out of the uniform and bent down to pick it up and put it in the replicator.

After activating the replication cycle, she looked over her shoulder to B'Elanna and started laughing when she saw how the Klingon was looking at her. "I've been three days without a shower, and I definitely need one."

Annika walked into the shower and once again treated B'Elanna to a very interesting view by not closing the door while she took her sonic shower. "So, are you going to tell me why you look so much like the Intendant?"

"Ub bu, um. That depends," B'Elanna replied after finding her tongue. "Are you about done playing with me?"

"What? You got a problem with me being naked? I thought from your reaction that you liked looking at a naked woman."

"A woman that has knives strapped to her arms while taking a sonic shower is never totally naked," B'Elanna shot back, not denying the statement. Especially not since she was indeed still taking in the blonde's form.

The lower part of Annika's body was just as well formed as the upper part, making the Klingon groan softly. The long legs had lean but well-defined muscles that just like with the upper body, were still of such proportions where they didn't bloat the body but only enhanced it. Since Annika's body didn't have too much fat to spare, her behind was small, but well rounded and pretty much radiated the word 'firm'. And then that incredibly sexy V shaped back...

The groan changed into a soft whimper.

Annika heard the soft groan and then whimper, and decided to have mercy on the poor woman. "Alright, as soon as I have my uniform back on, I'll be done tormenting you," she said while she shut the sonic shower off and walked to the replicator to take out the uniform she had recycled a few minutes before. She put it on and sat down on her bed before taking a long look at the Klingon, seeing that B'Elanna had her eyes closed now and was definitely breathing a little heavier. "You can open your eyes now. I'm done tormenting you."

B'Elanna opened her eyes and looked at the blonde, only to see those blue eyes looking back and a small smile on her lips. "Did you enjoy torturing me? Maybe I should find another room." She knew that it would be of no use to pretend that the blonde had not affected her.

Annika stopped smiling when she heard the Klingon's words. Despite the fact that she only knew the woman for about half an hour, she didn't want her to go. "Please stay. I'm sorry. It's just that... Never before in my life has somebody looked at me like you were doing just now, without trying to jump me the next minute. It felt good teasing you; it was more fun than I had in years. I won't do it again."

B'Elanna had heard the trace of sadness in Annika's voice, and it struck a note to realize that a little bit of teasing had been the most fun the blonde had had in years. "Yeah, well, there's no need for that. Certain Klingons actually like being teased, and I'm one of them. I just wasn't expecting it."

"So are you telling me that you don't mind me leaving the door open when I take a shower?"

B'Elanna hesitated before finally admitting, "No, I don't. As long as you don't mind hearing a groan or two every once in a while."

"Nope, I sure won't mind hearing that." Annika grinned evilly before asking her next question. "So you also wouldn't mind me lying down on this bed and relieving some pent up energy?"

"Relieving some p..." B'Elanna repeated before she fully realized what the blonde was saying. She covered her face with her hands, not believing this was happening to her. It sounded just like one of Tom's adult holoprograms. "Kahless, woman! You want to drive me insane? Let's change the subject already, okay?"

"Okay, okay. I'll have mercy on you, for now." Annika needed a minute to stop laughing before saying seriously, "Alright, change of subject..."

But Annika stopped talking when she realized that she felt more comfortable with the woman sitting across from her than she had ever felt with someone else before. There was just a certain... openness about the Klingon. As if, even though they just met, they had known each other for years. She realized that she trusted her, which was really strange because Annika normally didn't trust until people had earned that trust. And yet there was something. Something that had made Annika do something that she had never done before. She was indeed used to people looking at her naked body, but never before had she actually purposely showed her body to someone else.

Normally people only got to see her naked because there just was no room for privacy. Literally no room. Not all, or actually almost none, living spaces of slaves were as comfortable as the one she was in now. In the short time she now knew the Klingon, Annika had found out that she liked playing with her, but she wasn't sure just how far she could go. She didn't want to lose her chance to play and have fun even before she truly found it.

And, she realized, she definitely wanted to have fun with this stranger. Not just by showing off her body and being complimented by groans and whimpers. But also in different ways, like maybe being able to laugh about something as silly as a misspoken statement. It was extremely rare for her to find someone that she connected with this fast, and she wanted to make sure that the connection had a chance to evolve.

"But, um... Before we change the subject," Annika said hesitantly, "I have to ask; you will tell me when I go too far? Despite the fact that I enjoy teasing you, this is new for me. I don't want to go too far."

B'Elanna could clearly hear the insecurity in Annika's voice and somehow it made her want to put the blonde at ease. And if the woman liked playing with her, well... it certainly was a nice way of being played with. "Woman, I'm a Klingon. You would have to go very far before it would truly be too far for me, now that I'm prepared that is."

Annika gave her a brilliant smile. "Good, now let's change the subject."

"Good plan," B'Elanna agreed. "There are several things you'll need to know, including the reason why without a doubt everybody will gape at you the first couple of times they see you."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 10

Torres and her slave had beamed down to the planet shortly before dusk set in. Wanting to use the opportunity to show her face in the city where her house was, Torres had opted to beam down to the local beaming station instead of straight into her home. She also had to admit that she also wanted to see the slave's reaction upon seeing the house, which was located just outside the city.

The city wasn't that big; only a little over two thousand people lived there. But Torres had still managed to spend two hours there, going to different places to speak to various people. And while she was there she took the opportunity to show her slave some of the more interesting sites. Not, of course, that this was the main reason; far be it for the Intendant to spend time showing a slave the scenery. But if she happened to be there anyway, well no harm in pointing out a few things to the blonde. Right?

But eventually they did make their way along the road that led up the hill where Torres' home could be found.

"This isn't the only town on the planet of course," Torres finished up her description of her planet. "There are hundreds of cities, most are bigger than this one. I always found it stupid to not let people live on the planet just because I happen to own it. Of course I have some heavy limitations in place. A city may never have more than ten thousand inhabitants. At the most the total number of people on the planet may be a hundred million, at the moment it's just a little bit less than half of that, I think. The people that run the place make sure that not too many people settle here so that there's enough room for children of children to settle as well if they want. And of course, my biggest demand is that they practice low impact living. When I get home and take a deep breath I want to be smelling nature and not smog; I already get more than enough of that on Qo'noS when I have to be there."

"A Klingon that is interested in preserving nature?" Seven asked surprised.

Torres grinned. "Believe it or not I can appreciate things that look beautiful; I made you my Body Slave didn't I?"

"A valid point," Seven agreed amused. "It is just that in the universe where I come from Klingons are known for, shall we say, consuming the planet instead of trying to live in coexistence."

Torres nodded. "I wish I could say that things are different in this universe, but they aren't. Environment is never really important. At the moment the best you can hope for is necessary preservation. Kinda like on Qo'noS. At some point the planet is driven to a point where cascading destruction would set in if not prevented. If the planet is important enough it's prevented, but that's all; just enough is done that the ecosystem doesn't collapse entirely. And if the planet is not important enough it's consumed, as you put it, and then sold on the cheap to somebody who's more interested in being able to say that they own a planet, than in just how much of the planet is still livable."

"In other words, the Klingons believe in taking what they want and then having somebody else nourish the planet back into health," Seven clarified. "After all, as long as there are still some plants around, enough to create oxygen, and also some animals... eventually nature will nurse itself back into health, if allowed to."

"If you're willing to wait a hundred years or so," Torres agreed. "Of course on the other hand such planets are a great source for investment. You can buy a rundown planet on the cheap today and then you just ignore it for a century or two and then your children or children's children can sell the recuperated planet at a five hundred or even thousand percent profit margin."

Further conversation on the subject was dropped when Seven stopped and looked at the building that was the nerve center of the Klingon clan known as 'The House of Torres'. To say that it was big was an understatement. It was huge; existing out of a center section as well as a left and a right wing.

"Impressive?" Torres asked.

"It is... big," Seven answered neutrally.

Torres laughed at the answer. "It is pompous. It's six floors high and has more than three hundred rooms. But I didn't build it; I inherited it. An uncle of mine went slightly insane when his wife and five daughters left him for a Bajoran woman."

"Wife and five daughters?" Seven asked. "You mean that his wife went to live with another woman and she took her children with her?"

"Um, no. That wouldn't drive a Klingon crazy. No, the children were of legal age and... well, let's just say they shared the Bajoran woman equally."

Seven merely raised her eyebrow.

Torres grinned. "I know. That must have been some woman; keeping up with six Klingon partners."

She started walking through the front gardens towards the house. "Anyway, the Bajoran happened to be very wealthy and also happened to have a very big house. For some reason that I still don't understand, my uncle thought that his family had left him because the Bajoran had such a big house. So in an effort to get his family back, he decided to build the biggest private house ever heard of at that time. He was sure that once his big house was finished his family would come back to him. Well, twenty years went by, during which he built this house, tore it half down again because it wasn't exactly how he envisioned it should be, and then rebuilt it again. He spent his entire fortune to build this thing. Apparently, his family liked it on Bajor, for they never came back. I later found out that they didn't even know he was doing this."

"Why did he leave it to you?" Seven asked as she followed Torres up the broad walkway.

"Because I was the only one who ever told him that I thought he was nuts, ever since I saw the damn thing being built from the age of four. The rest of his extended family just waited for him to die to collect his credits. Once my uncle knew that he was dying, he finally realized that he would never get his family back. So he decided to leave this monster of a house to the only person who had said 'I told you so' from the beginning: me."

"What do you do with all the space?"

Torres looked at the monstrous building as if she was only now contemplating just what it was used for. "Well, I use about twenty-five percent of the third-floor of the main building for myself, the rest of the first three floors of the main building I use as the 'official' Intendant House, meaning that this is where guests stay and gatherings are held. The top three floors of the main building are the main offices of the Torres' holdings. And the two side wings I let the servants use to live in."

"You have that many servants? I did not see any while on the ship," Seven asked surprised. In the days that she had been on the Intendant's ship, she had never seen a servant tending to the Intendant's needs, so she was surprised to find that here there were so many that they needed the two big wings of the house to live in.

Torres started to walk up the steps that led to the main entrance. "A space ship is by definition a relatively clean place to live. And as you could see, apart from leaving my uniform wherever I happen to strip, I don't make much of a mess. I have a few servants that see to my needs on the ship, but they don't have much to do. They just come and clean the quarters once every week. You just haven't been there long enough to see them."

Torres stopped once she reached the top of the stairs and turned around, indicating that Seven should do the same. "Despite him being nuts, he sure picked a great spot for the house."

Seven took in the view and found that she had to agree. While a part of the city could be seen to the right, which had an appeal of its own, the main part of the view was of the lands that belonged to the house. A big valley with a forest and in the center of it, there was a modest lake of which Seven guessed that it would take about one hour to walk around casually.

"But here," Torres continued, "here two thirds of the servants are needed just to maintain the house and the lands. That combined with the fact that as Intendant, and as head of the Torres Holdings, certain things are simply expected. If I didn't have as many servants as I have now, people would start to wonder why and come up with the most bizarre reasons. It's a lot easier for me to just have the damn servants and forget about them."

Torres turned around and entered the building. She was already halfway across the huge entrance hall when she slowed down and her whole demeanor changed, clearly becoming very alert.

"Something is wrong," she said when she saw that the blonde was about to say something. "A servant is always in this hall to welcome guests, accept verified 'deliver by hand' PADDs, and such."

"Maybe the servant had to use the restroom for a moment," Seven offered, knowing that this was the reason lesser important posts on Voyager were more than once abandoned for a few minutes.

"No, there," but before she could say more, the blonde put a hand on Torres' shoulder and interrupted her.

"There are several people waiting behind that door." Seven indicated the door they were heading for.

She put the setting of her enhanced hearing on maximum for a few seconds before returning it to its normal setting. But the few seconds had been more than enough. "And there are several people waiting behind the doors to the left and right of this entrance hall."

Seven looked at the Intendant and remembered something. "Forgive me for interrupting you, Mistress."

"For this, you are most certainly forgiven." Torres knew that she was caught in a trap, and she also knew that thanks to the warning of her slave, she could still escape out of the building. But running away as a frightened slave child had never been her thing, no matter what the odds.

So she moved to the middle of the entrance hall and lifted her voice. "Alright, you cowards, come out here and face me! If you want to attack me in my own home, at least have the courage to do so in the open!"

The three doors opened and a group of twenty-one Klingons came out, all armed with bat'leths. Torres only recognized one of them.

"K'Trelan Erzian," she said the name with a voice loaded with contempt. "I thought I told you to never set foot on this planet again."

"But dear cousin, is that any way to greet your family?"

"Considering what you did in an effort to get what our uncle left me, I think I'm being courteous."

By now, the Klingons had formed a circle around Torres and Seven, and K'Trelan figured it was safe enough to come a little closer, but he still stayed outside of the circle.

"Then I only wanted what should have been mine anyway. I spent twenty years kissing our uncle's ass, and when he finally croaks, he leaves everything to the person who just visits once every couple of months. But now, my dear cousin, I will take everything from you, including your life."

"Right, and you need twenty men to do it," Torres said with a snort. "Very honorable."

"Ah, but when this is over you'll be dead from several bat'leth wounds, while I'll still be alive, and my story is that I killed you in a honorable and fair fight. Nobody will be able to contradict me and stop me from claiming the Torres holdings as mine."

"You are deluded, K'Trelan. I will spit on your corpse. Now, give me a bat'leth so that we can get this over with."

K'Trelan laughed and shook his head. "You really think I'm that stupid? A bat'leth can still be put in your dead hands, making it clear to everybody that you used it during your pathetic attempt to defend yourself against my superior bat'leth skills."

Torres snorted. "Superior bat'leth skills, yeah right. You couldn't kill a targ with a disrupter, let alone beat me in a bat'leth fight."

K'Trelan gave her a sneer. "Oh, I know that you're way better than me, but since there are no witnesses my story will be the only one, and therefore it will be the truth."

He pointed at Seven before continuing. "And you will step away now, I'll have further use for you later."

"No."

"No?" K'Trelan repeated before addressing Torres again. "A slave that doesn't follow orders? See how weak you have become?"

"It's alright, my Pet. Go." Torres didn't care about what K'Trelan was saying, but she saw a chance for the blonde to survive and despite the fact that she shouldn't care about the slave, she still wanted the blonde to stay alive. Torres knew that no matter how good she was, even she couldn't win a fight against twenty Klingons with bat'leths, being barehanded herself.

"No."

"Go on, Seven, move," Torres said. Her slave sure picked her time to straight out disobey her.

"I will not."

"Seven, I just gave you an order," Torres growled.

"Then I guess that you will have to punish me later for disobeying your order, Mistress."

"I've had enough of this," K'Trelan said irritated. The slave was ruining his perfect revenge on Torres. He pointed to the Klingon that was standing the closest to the slave. "You, kill the slave."

Then several things happened at one.

"No!" Torres moved to protect the blonde, but was stopped by a surprisingly strong hand being placed against her chest.

K'Trelan started to laugh again.

And the Klingon K'Trelan had pointed to brought his bat'leth down in a swing that was sure to split the slave's head.

And then everything went quiet for a moment as they all looked at the scene that none of them could believe. The slave had simply held up her mesh-covered hand and caught the bat'leth in mid air, stopping its descent dead in its tracks.

Seven was the first to move again. She used the hand that was holding the Intendant back to pull the bat'leth out of the shocked hands of the Klingon and then hit him against his head with her mesh-covered hand.

For the first time since being severed from the collective, Seven didn't hold back. She put all the power of her enhanced body behind the punch.

The sickening crunch of a thick Klingon skull being close to pulverized filled the entrance hall, followed a second later by the sound of a lifeless body dropping to the floor... several meters from where it had stood.

Seven flipped the bat'leth around and offered the side with the grips to the Intendant. "Mistress, you asked for a bat'leth."

"Wha... what about you?" Torres asked, while she took the weapon.

"I think that I will soon have another one," Seven replied as she took a defensive stand at Torres' back.

And then, all hell broke loose when the other Klingons attacked, after having lost precious seconds trying to wrap their brains around the fact that a normally weak Human had just killed a Klingon as if it was nothing.

During the entire fight, Torres had a feral grin on her face. Moments before she had been sure that she was going to die. But then her slave had turned things around and now she fully enjoyed the battle with her slave fighting at her back. The others had already lost the fight; they just didn't know it yet.

But Torres also knew that the battle would be over really soon. Where she was actually enjoying the fight, the slave was dispatching one enemy after another in a frightening fast pace.

At one point, Torres saw two enemies coming at the slave in a way that it would never be possible for the blonde to kill the first and have her bat'leth ready to defend herself against the second attacker. Torres knew that she couldn't move fast enough to help the blonde, but a fraction of a second later she saw that her help wouldn't be needed.

Seven saw two of them coming at her in a way that they were sure that she couldn't fight them both at once. And they would have been right, if she had she not possessed her Borg enhanced strength. Taking a hold on one of the end grips of the bat'leth, she swung it at waist level as if it was a club, putting all her strength behind it. It was crude but effective. She sliced the first Klingon's body into two parts, and then buried her bat'leth deep in the second Klingon's abdomen. She followed that with a quick hit to his throat with her fist, crushing his windpipe.

"Seven," Torres said when she saw that there were only five opponents left, one of them being K'Trelan. "The rest are mine. But make sure that K'Trelan doesn't run like the coward he is."

Seven took a quick glance around her to assess the situation. Deciding that the odds were now at what an honorable Klingon would see as relatively fair, Seven lowered her bat'leth and gave up her protective position at her Mistress' back. "Yes, Mistress."

Seven moved away from the battle and in the direction of the main door. But she stayed close enough to be able to help the Intendant if it was necessary.

The other Klingons were only too glad to let the slave leave and formed a small ring around Torres. But with there only being five of them this time, Torres looked forward to the rest of the fight. When the first of them attacked, it still was over too quick for Torres' taste.

She gave the first one a vicious stab into his gut, hard enough to slice through the cheap armor. She pulled the bat'leth back out in time to block the swing of another opponent. She moved with the blow, using the downward motion to hit the first Klingon, who had sunk to his knees and was trying to prevent his guts from spilling out, in the neck with the backside of the bat'leth with enough force to break his neck.

She figured that since she was low to the ground now she might as well make use of that. She swiped the bat'leth around to catch one of the opponents in the back of his knees, severing one leg and coming damn close to severing the other one as well. After that she ignored him, knowing that with the arteries in both legs severed, he would bleed to death before she was finished with the fight.

She straightened up and laughed from the joy of it. Only three more left, well two really, because she was saving K'Trelan for last. She looked at the other two Klingons and asked with a grin, "Tell me, do you think that today is a good day to die?"

They never had the chance to answer. She started an intricate weaving pattern with her bat'leth. The kind which, if you were to see it during a practice session, you would just assume that the person was showing off. Nobody would use patterns like that in a real fight. Nobody but the people that had studied those moves in practice sessions where everybody thought they were just showing off, that is.

The bat'leth had been passed behind Torres' back twice during the weaving pattern. Once it had resulted in the tip of the bat'leth reaching out after that to cut the throat of the third opponent. The second time it had resulted in the other tip of the bat'leth being buried so deep in the eye socket of the fourth opponent, that the tip of it was sticking out the back of his head.

Both of them stood still for a moment and then Torres pulled her bat'leth back out with a grin. She looked on as the Klingon crumpled to the floor once the facts of life, that is he no longer had it, caught up with him.

Now the only enemy left was K'Trelan, who was quickly forced to his knees since he was such a lousy fighter. The only reason why he was the last to be alive was because he had kept himself at a slight distance the whole time.

Seeing Torres raise her bat'leth in the air for the final strike, K'Trelan threw his own bat'leth away and pleaded, "No! Have mercy! Surely an honorable person like you wouldn't kill an unarmed man!"

"I have run out of mercy for you, burn in Gre'thor, you coward," Torres said before severing his head from his body in a final blow.

Seeing that all the enemies were dead, Seven came closer to the Intendant again. "Mistress, are you alright?"

Torres' answer was to grab the blonde and pull her closer for a rough kiss. But soon the roughness ebbed away and sensuality was left, lots of it.

Seven liked the rough kiss, it felt pleasant, but despite that, her brain wondered what was so special about kissing. Sure, it was nice but definitely not the experience she had expected from all the stories she had come across in her research.

But then she felt the kiss change, felt the Intendant's tongue softly probing her lips begging for entrance. And once Seven allowed that entrance, her brain shut down and the sensation of a mind-blowing kiss was the only thing left in her life for a long minute.

Torres suddenly had to stop kissing the blonde when the woman dropped away. "Seven, are you hurt?"

There was no answer and for a moment Torres thought that the blonde had been hurt in the fight. That was until she took in the slave sitting on her knees with eyes closed and an expression of true wonder on her face.

Torres kneeled down in front of the blonde and took her face between her hands. "Hey, beautiful, are you alright?"

Seven blinked her eyes several times before she was able to focus them on those of the Intendant. "Yes, I am fine. I am wonderful. Why do you ask?"

"Because you're sitting here on the floor acting as if you left your brain on the ship."

"I am sitting on the floor?" Seven looked down and saw that she was indeed doing just that. "It appears that my knees were not able to hold me upright."

"Because of the fight?" Torres asked, still a little worried about the blonde.

Seven looked back up to the Intendant before softly shaking her head no. "Because of the kiss. Can we do that again?"

Only too happy to oblige, Torres leaned in and kissed the blonde. Now that the excitement of the battle had ebbed away some, and especially now that the blonde was kissing her back in such a slow sensual way, Torres understood what the blonde meant. For a moment, she too forgot everything around her.

"Bu... now I know why you're sitting on your knees," Torres said when they finally broke apart. "If you had kissed me back like that the first time, I think I would have been sitting on my knees before you."

"Mistress, will you kiss me more often now?" Seven hoped that it hadn't been a onetime thing. She liked what the Intendant's kisses did to her.

Torres leaned in for another kiss, but only a little one this time. "Definitely, my dear. But only if we are alone."

"Of course," Seven said while she got up. She felt slightly hurt and firmly reminded that she was only a thing to the Intendant. "It would not do to have the Intendant kiss a slave in public."

Torres got up, too. She was still a bit dazed and therefore the reaction of the blonde didn't quite register fully with her, which was a good thing because if it had, her answer would most probably have been a defensive one. But now, she answered with the first thing that came to her mind, the truth.

"That has nothing to do with it, my dear. I would love to kiss you in public, but it wouldn't do to have the Klingon Intendant stand rooted to the spot for a few minutes after kissing her slave."

Seven digested that answer and started smiling.

Torres saw the smile. "Stop smiling like that," she said with a fake glare before taking in the carnage around them. "Come on, let's see if we can find where they kept the servants. Knowing K'Trelan, he wouldn't have killed them, hoping to make some money off of them by selling their contracts to the highest bidder."

As she stepped over the legs of the dead Klingon who now existed out of two parts, Torres looked over to the blonde. "At least now I know how strong you are. Damn."

"As Voyager's B'Elanna would say; they pissed me off, trying to take what is mine."

'What is yours?' Torres thought while she turned around and walked the last few steps backwards to the door that she had been heading to when she walked into the building, once again taking in the dead bodies. Her eyes fell on the Klingon with the crushed skull and then once again on the one who now existed out of two parts. "Hey, Seven?"

Seven was the first through the door and hearing the Intendant speak, she turned around to her. "Yes, Mistress?"

"You know something?" Torres turned around and also walked through the door.

"Yes?"

"I'm sure glad I didn't piss you off."

"Who says that you have not?" Seven asked, walking on.

"Wha...," Torres asked, before catching up with the blonde and seeing the faint smile. "Oh, very funny."

Seven moved through another door and then turned in the direction Torres indicated. "Mistress, I am sorry I had to disregard your order, but I was not going to let you fight such an unfair battle alone."

Torres took hold of Seven's arm and stopped walking. "That's right you did. I have to punish you for that. Despite why you did it, I can't let you get away with ignoring my order. So, because you did that, you'll lose all points that you had built up 'til now. You're now back to zero points. Lose one more point and all your friends die. You got that?"

"Yes, Mistress," Seven sighed, knowing that she had put the Voyager crew in danger again. But despite that, she also knew that she had done the right thing.

"Alright then," Torres continued, "but for helping me, you also deserve a very big reward. And my reward to you is 140 points. Congratulations, my dear. The game is over and you win. For now, your friends will continue to repair the space ship, and once that is done, I will see where I can place them, as a group."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"No, thank you, Seven."

"Mistress?"

"Yes?" Torres asked while she slowly started to walk again.

"May I ask you for a favor?"

"You may ask, but that is all I agree to right now."

Seven was quiet for a moment while Torres opened a room to see if somebody was inside; there wasn't. "Mistress, would it be possible that I can speak with B'Elanna today? Voyager's B'Elanna?"

"Why?" Torres asked while she checked another room.

"I need to talk with someone about what I just did."

Another room was checked and this time they found somebody, an unconscious male Trill.

"One of my housekeepers," Torres explained while she bent down and checked the man's pulse. She found it strong and steady. "As I suspected, they just sedated them, one advantage of me only hiring people on long term contracts. Those are the kind of contracts that can be sold under the right circumstances. Let's move on."

Torres moved back into the corridor and checked room after room, finding more and more sedated people. All the while, she continued her conversation with the blonde. "You mean the fighting, or the killing?"

"The killing, Mistress."

Torres shot her a look. "And you can't talk about this with me?"

"I am afraid not. You would tell me that it was the right thing to do, and that I should be proud of the number of enemies I killed."

"That I would," Torres had to agree.

"On Voyager, I have come to value B'Elanna's view on such things. Mistress, I really need to hear what she thinks of what I did, please."

"Alright, we'll take a look around here, and when we have a working staff again, I'll contact the ship to tell them that we're leaving tomorrow instead of tonight. And when it's time to retire for the night, I'll have her beamed down here so that you two can talk. I think I will have the Master Slave come down too; I need to have a little talk with her. I can do that while you're talking to my counterpart. Sound good? You can wait a couple of hours?"

"Yes, Mistress, thank you."

"Don't mention it, and I mean that," Torres replied with a grin. "Let's go find us some staff first then."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

B'Elanna awoke from somebody knocking on the door to their room. She looked over to Annika and saw her standing beside the bed.

The blonde gestured for B'Elanna to get up too. "A guard. Get up, and stand by your bed."

"They knock?" B'Elanna asked surprised before deciding, "I'll sit. I think they'll accept that, being that I'm just out of sickbay today."

Before Annika could say anything, the guard entered and pointed to them both. "The Intendant wants to see you, come."

Even though B'Elanna thought that she could walk to wherever they were going, she decided to play it safe and went to sit in the hover chair. "It must be in the middle of the night. She sure knows how to pick her time."

The guard backed away a little to give B'Elanna some room. "It is thirty minutes to midnight in standard time. It's later on the planet and I suspect that the Intendant doesn't want to wait a long time to see you, so get moving."

The guard pointed to Annika and told her to show him her knives.

"Do you need to take possession of them?" Annika asked while she pulled her sleeves up her arms enough to show the knives.

"No need, I just had to see that you still had them. Now come."

They followed the guard out of the room and saw only a few other people, looking at what was going on, before they headed in the direction of the force fields. Once they were through the force fields, B'Elanna looked to her side and actually saw Annika nervously rub her hands. "What's the matter?"

Annika looked down to the sitting woman for a moment before answering. "One is not normally brought to the Intendant at this time. People who are, are normally never seen again."

"Really?" B'Elanna asked.

It was the guard who answered, not wanting to let an opportunity to frighten some slaves go by. "Definitely. I have heard that the last slave that was brought to the Intendant's quarters around this time, left those quarters in four pieces. And you are even being brought to the planet. I sure wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Less than twenty minutes later they materialized, hover chair and all, inside a room on the planet. B'Elanna looked around the sparse room and saw Seven and the Intendant standing by a door. The room only held some chairs that were standing against the walls and B'Elanna suspected that the sole purpose of the room was for it to be used as a known and fixed beaming point for people that were beamed straight into the Intendant's home.

B'Elanna took in how Seven looked and saw some stains on the blue catsuit that were clearly dried blood.

"What have you done to her?!" B'Elanna asked before she realized that the blood stains were of a pinkish color; Klingon blood.

The Intendant didn't answer that question, but instead she gave Seven a little push. "Go on, my Pet. While you two talk, I will have a little word with the Master Slave."

Seven took a few steps forward and then stopped. Her eyes found those of Annika Hansen and for a moment, their eyes locked. Seven wanted to say something, but didn't know what. It felt too strange even for her. Knowing that the person she was looking at was herself, down to the smallest part of her DNA. But yet... their lives had been totally different. The Borg never assimilated this Annika Hansen. She didn't have to live with the memories of what the Borg had done to billions of lives in those eighteen years.

But on the other hand, Annika had lived those years as a conscious person; knowing each day that she was only a slave, only a possession, a thing. Seven wondered who of them had lived the better life. The one who had lived those years as a conscious slave or the one who had lived those years as an emotionless drone, but now remembered all that she did in those years. Seven couldn't say who of them had been the lucky one.

Torres came closer and put a hand on Seven's back. "Come on, we don't have all day. We have to start our journey to Bajor tomorrow, I can't postpone that another day."

Seven nodded her head and walked to a different door than the one that she and the Intendant had just entered through. "B'Elanna, please follow me."

With a quick look to Annika, B'Elanna did as Seven had asked and followed her into the other room, leaving the Intendant and Annika alone.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Sit."

The command was short, but Annika reacted immediately by sitting down on the floor.

"Not on the floor," Torres said annoyed. "There are twenty damn chairs in this room, use one."

Annika hesitated for a moment but then got up and moved to one of the chairs. She looked to Torres before sitting down though, wondering if it was truly alright to do so. Normally slaves never sat in the presence of a Master, and certainly not in the presence of somebody like the Intendant.

Torres watched the slave sit down insecurely and kept looking at her for a few minutes after she had done so. Finally, she got up and moved a little closer to the slave.

Annika saw the Intendant get up and immediately stood up herself.

"Did I tell you to get up? Sit your ass down!" Torres growled.

Annika once again did as she was told.

"Now, get up."

Annika did so and followed every command that the Intendant gave her after that, in quick succession.

"Sit, stand up, sit, get down on the floor, get up and sit in the chair again."

Torres looked at the once again seated slave with a little shake of her head and started slowly walking around the room. "I think that my little vixen was right."

Suddenly Torres turned to Annika again. "Strip, get on your hands and knees and prepare to service me."

Annika's eyes went wide at the command. Until now, she had always been able to get by without having to do the kind of services the Intendant clearly wanted.

Blonde slaves were sought after and wanted throughout the Coalition. The only way Annika had made sure that her fate would not become that what her DNA had made the most likely, was to simply be so good at her job that she was worth more as an Engineering Slave and later, Master Slave, than as a potential sex slave. She had even managed to get away from masters or guards having some... fun... with her by combining her brilliant mind with the ability to order people to do jobs and keep times and shifts of masters in mind. All so that she was never around when those people in who's eyes she had seen 'that' certain look were on duty.

But Annika knew that this was one Klingon she could not try to outsmart. Knowing that she had no other option, she started to open her uniform, only to be stopped once again.

"Stop that," Torres ordered before sitting down in a chair again. "Don't you know that your counterpart in there is my Body Slave?"

"I do, Intendant."

"Then you, as Master Slave, should also know that I'm not allowed to have sex with any other slave during the time that she's my Body Slave."

"I know, Intendant."

"Then why did you start to strip?"

Annika didn't understand that question. "Intendant? I... You... I followed your command."

"Are you talking back to me?" Torres growled.

"N..." Annika only barely stopped herself from saying 'no'. One did not disagree with the Intendant. So instead she answered the always right answer. "Please forgive me."

"You are nothing like her," Torres said before getting up again and pointing at Annika. "You, stay seated."

Torres started moving through the room again and started to address Annika without looking at her. "You look like her, you sound like her, you even smell almost just like her. Though I never smelled the fear on her that I'm smelling on you now."

She turned to Annika again. "But you know what? You would bore me after only a couple of hours. You would never be able to see me as anything other than the Intendant whose every word you have to obey. You would never dare to look me in the eyes. Hell, you wouldn't even dare to look me in the eyes when you would be pleasuring me and had me laying, begging, beneath you."

Annika's eyes shot up to look at the Intendant at that last statement.

"Well, at least that got your attention," Torres said while sitting down. "Your counterpart in there was right. I don't want to lose her. I don't want a puppet on a string."

Annika wondered what the Intendant's monologue was all about. She knew the old saying about the puppet, and what it meant, but she couldn't understand why the Intendant was telling her all of this. Apparently, the Intendant realized that at the same moment.

"Forget about it. And that's an order. Nothing of what I just said is ever going to leave this room, or else."

"Yes, Intendant."

"Alright then, listen up, a change of subject. How well are you getting along with the slaves you've been put with?"

Annika was surprised by that question. It was not something normally asked. Normally she was placed with a group and just had to deal with it. "Well, I, um, I don't see any problems. There is the normal tension of their leaders having to suddenly listen to me, but I don't think that this will take long."

Torres chuckled, but Annika certainly couldn't call it amused. "Ah, yes, the redhead woman who keeps calling herself 'captain,' am I right?"

"Yes, Intendant."

"Well, I must say that she's also testing my patience. Unfortunately, she is part of that group and therefore also part of the game. You see, my little Pet in there and I played a game. The stakes were the lives of the crew she arrived with. If she lost, I would kill them all, and if she won, I would give them a relatively easy life. Since my Pet won, I can't kill the redhead without a good reason. So for now you just have to live with her."

"Yes, Intendant."

Torres pointed a finger at the blonde and warned, "But don't let her push you around. You're in command, not her. If she makes too much trouble, there's nothing that says that you can't introduce her to those things strapped to your arms. Just don't kill her or wound her too bad."

"I'm sure that she and I will come to an understanding, one way or the other," Annika assured, knowing only too well that it was really the only answer she could give an Intendant. In the back of her mind she was also thinking of something else.

She was so used to wearing her knives that they were almost a part of her. She never consciously thought about having them, but at those times that she needed them she had been able to use them without even thinking about them. But now the Intendant's words had reminded her of the fact that there she was, an armed slave sitting only a short distance away from one of the most powerful people in the Coalition. Somebody who on top of that, actually knew about her knives.

And yet apparently the Intendant didn't seem to be worried about that fact at all. Annika wondered if this was because the Intendant, being a Klingon, was so used to bladed weapons all around her. Or if it was because she was so certain that she could take on anyone foolish enough to come at her with such a weapon.

As Annika was thinking this, Torres continued, "Alright. Now, I promised my Pet that I would keep the others together as a group. So, Master Slave, this is your last command position. You are appointed to them indefinitely, so it will be to your advantage if you can actually get along with the rest of them."

"Yes, Intendant."

"At some point, I will have to deal with them; send them somewhere. I intend to keep my promise to my Pet, so wherever they're going they will have an easy life of it... for slaves that is. You will stay with them no matter what. That's an order that can only be retracted by me personally face to face. No message, no view screen, no order from somebody else, not even a general that shows you a written and recorded message from me. None of it. Only from me, and only face to face. Clear?"

"Yes, Intendant."

Torres hummed. Having covered what she wanted, she let her mind wander a bit about what to bring up next. If this had been anyone else, she would just have sent the slave away now. But Torres wanted to talk to this woman, wanted to feel what a conversation felt like with someone that was as close to being like her Pet as possible. And with every word they spoke, Torres realized that her Pet had truly been a unique find, and that she could apparently never be replaced by anyone like her; since even someone that was her wasn't like her. There truly was none like her.

"Well now, since my Pet is still talking, I saw your eyes when I ordered you to please me. Clearly you have not yet had to do that. I wonder how you, being a blonde slave, managed that."

"It... has... been tried... several times," Annika hesitantly admitted. It felt strange to be having a conversation with the Intendant. "But luckily, a Body Slave once gave me a good tip that prevented me from being violated. Almost all Klingons who force themselves on slaves, that are not Body or sex slaves, want those slaves to fight them. They want the slaves to cry, beg and plead, to resist being used. They love that. So the best way to prevent them from going all the way is by simply doing whatever they tell you to do."

"Like you were doing a moment ago," Torres noted.

"Yes, Intendant." Annika admitted. "Most Klingons lose the mood if I react that way. As they say, they want a live one, not a bag of bones."

"What is the most that has ever been done to you?"

"Against my will?"

"Of course," Torres snapped. "I'm not interested in how you like to be fucked when you want to be fucked."

"Normally, normally I take off my clothing when ordered, making sure to act as indifferent about it as I would if I were to take them off for a shower. It is a first step that's needed. The Masters like that because they enjoy seeing my body. Then they want to do more than just look at me. That's where the second step comes in. When they start to fondle me I don't react to it at all. No pleas, no cries, I try to not let any emotion at all cross my face. Until now it worked. A few times someone placed a hand between my legs. After not even getting a reaction to that, they always stopped."

Torres nodded. "Listen, since I promised my Pet that those slaves would be treated fairly, if something like that ever happens to one of them, no matter who, you will tell me who did it."

Torres reached into one of her uniform pockets and threw a little metal ornament to Annika, who caught it automatically. "If you ever need to contact me for whatever reason, show that to the guards. When they see that, they won't dare not to give you the opportunity to do so. If those slaves are assaulted or mistreated in a way that places them in sickbay for more than one day, I want to hear about it, clear?"

"Yes, Intendant."

"Good, if someone ever tries to say that that thing I just gave you is a fake, tell them to scan in for micro text; they will piss their pants after doing that, I assure you. Also..."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 11

About half an hour later, Seven and B'Elanna came back into the room. The Intendant could clearly see the blonde's red eyes, there was no doubt that her slave had cried. But despite that, she still looked better than before so Torres decided not to kill her counterpart, "You ok?" Torres asked softly, knowing that she really shouldn't be caring.

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you."

B'Elanna sure didn't like her equal; she had not heard a single good word about her. In fact, Seven was the only one who didn't speak negatively about the Intendant. Seven had even gone as far as to defend the woman, asking B'Elanna if she really thought that the Intendant could act in any other way in front of all of those Klingons and still be alive at the end of the day. But hearing the Intendant ask Seven if she was ok, in a voice that B'Elanna knew from herself that meant that she actually cared, showed B'Elanna that maybe the Intendant was a little bit like her after all.

Torres looked at Annika and B'Elanna for a moment before turning around and saying a cold, "Come," before heading out of the door, clearly expecting the rest to follow.

'And then again, maybe not,' B'Elanna thought as they all followed the Intendant.

They went through several corridors and rooms until they reached a huge, but not pompous bedroom. Torres walked to one of the walls where there were two doors. She opened one and they went into the smaller room on the other side before she turned to B'Elanna.

"Alright, I want you and... what's his name again?" Torres now looked at Seven.

"Harry Kim?" Seven guessed, figuring that the Intendant might mean him because shortly before B'Elanna and Annika had been beamed down, the Intendant had muttered something to herself about the fact that if B'Elanna was there, the Intendant might as well talk to her about a project she had mentioned to them before.

"Right, him. I want you two to set up one of those alcoves my Pet needs to regenerate. I want you to put it in here,"

"You want to put her in a closet?" B'Elanna asked disbelievingly. "This place isn't fit for a targ."

Torres pinched the bridge of her nose while counting to ten. She really didn't feel like punching someone who was sitting in a hover chair. Especially not someone who looked just like herself.

"Please... don't interrupt me again. I really don't feel like killing someone right now, I did enough of that already today. But I will if you push me too far. This... closet, as you call it, is bigger than the room you used as a bedroom onboard of that ship. I've seen it, so don't even think about saying it's not true. The only reason you know that this is originally designed as a walk-closet is because of those shelves on the wall. Now, had you let me finish talking, you would have heard me also ordering you to get rid of those and put some new carpeting and stuff in here and also fix and decorate the walls a little, in a way you think my Pet might like it. Now, don't you agree with me that this closet would be, already, a lot better than the Cargo Bay you people kept her in?"

B'Elanna didn't answer that one.

"Well? I asked a question! Answer me, right now! Isn't this closet, when redone, a whole damn lot better than that Kahless be damned Cargo Bay?"

"Yes, it is," B'Elanna reluctantly agreed.

"Good," Torres growled. "And furthermore, I'm having that thing put in here so that my Pet can have some privacy if she prefers. A room of her own that she can retire to if she wants and I don't object. Not a huge room but still. I, the Klingon Intendant, am giving a slave a room where she can have privacy, do you hear me?! A slave privacy!"

Those last words were shouted even louder than what the Intendant had been shouting before and they reverberated loudly against the empty walls. "So don't you fuck with me and shut up before I really lose my temper."

B'Elanna lifted her hands in an 'okay already' manner.

"Thank you, Mistress," Seven said, thanking Torres for the room, and thereby wisely coming between the two stubborn Klingons.

Torres turned to Seven when she spoke up. "You actually liked doing that on a regular basis?"

"Fighting?" Seven wondered.

"No, fucking. Of course I'm talking about the fighting."

"It can be quite entertaining, Mistress."

Torres snorted. "I couldn't imagine how."

"It is a good release of tension."

"So is killing someone, or fucking someone."

"Mistress, we only had a limited crew on Voyager," Seven reminded. "If we had killed someone each time one of us had to relieve tension, there would have been no crew left within a month."

"That leaves one more alternative," Torres said, wondering how the blonde would react to that, now that nobody save her friend and her counterpart could hear her.

"Mistress, if B'Elanna and I had copulated every time we had a disagreement we would have spent most of our time in the brig for indecent behavior. There was... a lot of... tension."

"Good thing we don't have to worry about that right, my Pet?"

"Mistress, I distinctively remember you also enjoying a relief of tension."

"True," Torres laughed, "but since I'm the Intendant, there's nobody who would, or could, arrest me for indecent behavior."

"Save the Chancellor," Seven couldn't help but point out.

Torres laughed even harder at that. "Nooo, he would just sit back and enjoy the show. Not that I'm inclined to give him one."

Torres came closer and caressed Seven's cheek. "Well done, my Pet. You passed."

"Passed what?" B'Elanna asked.

Seven looked around the room, true, there were no windows, but most rooms on a spaceship also had no windows either, so why would she object to this room only because it happened to be located in a building on a planet? Seven knew that she would spend most of her time with the Intendant, including at night, so she really didn't need a living room or a bathroom. The Intendant had been right, the room she was in would be a lot better than having to regenerate in the cargo bay. More so since she would only use the room if they were actually on the planet. Somehow she doubted that the Intendant spent much time on her home planet.

Her eyes reached the spot where B'Elanna was standing and Seven decided to answer the question since Torres had apparently ignored it. "The Intendant wanted to see how I would react to her talking about my services."

"Why?"

Seven looked at the Intendant before answering; she got a little nod that told her that she could proceed. "Because if I can talk in front of you about my services without being embarrassed, then I certainly will not be embarrassed if the Intendant has to insinuate or plain out boast about my... abilities in front of others. There will most probably arise a situation where she will have to do so; she is the Klingon Intendant after all."

"Well done, good deduction," Torres approved.

"Embarrassed, you? About sex? Not very likely," B'Elanna snorted.

B'Elanna knew that there had been several times when Seven had been embarrassed, and therefore she also knew what would embarrass the blonde. She had learned to stay away from those things. If Seven didn't know how to do something, B'Elanna had always just thrown up her hands as if giving up and then she had stalked away, giving the blonde time to do her research on whatever it was. By the time B'Elanna would come back, supposedly cooled down enough to work on, Seven would suddenly know how the job was done.

It had been B'Elanna's little contribution to keeping their fights from turning vicious. "Somehow I don't think the woman who offered to copulate with poor Harry would be embarrassed about sex."

To her surprise, B'Elanna saw Seven's eyes getting slightly larger at her words, and the Klingon realized too late that she must have said something wrong.

"What?! I will kill him!" The Intendant shouted outraged before turning to Seven. "You lied to me!"

"Leave," Seven said shortly and B'Elanna and Annika knew that Seven meant them.

"Seven, I,"

"B'Elanna, just wait outside, please!"

Reluctantly, B'Elanna did as Seven had asked and the blonde closed the door behind her, closing herself in with a very volatile Intendant.

"Mistress, please, you have to believe me. I did not lie to you. It was a harmless incident, please let me explain."

When Torres didn't answer, Seven decided that it was time to take a chance. She moved until she was standing in front of the Intendant and took hold of her hands. "Please, B'Elanna, let me explain. It is not what you think."

Seven saw the storm clouds in the Intendant's eyes lighten up slightly, and she was glad that her decision to take this above the level of master and slave had been the correct one.

"Speak."

It was only one word, but it was enough for Seven. "I told you about how I came to be onboard Voyager. At the time of me telling you this I did not want to bring too much attention to my implants, so I only told you that 80 percent of my implants have been removed by the Doctor. But if you think a little further than that, if I have only 20 percent left now, and still have several implants you can see, there must have been more than that. There were. In the first couple of days I did not look at all like I do now. A Borg drone is normally covered in body armor, most of it directly attached to, and into, the body. What you see now before you is the result of the Doctor removing everything that he could remove and then healing the skin. The implants I still have are not removable without jeopardizing my existence or seriously compromising my ability to function. For instance, removing my artificial hand would mean that I would be left with only one hand. I will have to live for the rest of my life with the implants I still have. I have accepted that, and since people we meet now have not seen me as I was before, they often actually think that the implants that can be seen when I have my clothing on are really nothing more than decoration; body art."

"What has that to do with... that man?" Torres asked impatiently.

"Everything," Seven assured. "Because the Voyager crew had seen me as a fully armored Borg drone, and later as a... creature with metal protruding from her body; an optical implant instead of an eye, protruding this far..."

Seven took a moment to indicate how far the Borg implant had stuck out, instead of the artificial eye she had now. She wanted the Intendant to understand just how different she had looked back then. "Metal plates were covering part of the back and side of my head."

Once again Seven indicated where the implants had been. "I had a gray/green skin color, and not to forget that the crew of Voyager did know the Borg, and feared them. All of that accumulated to the fact that the crew of Voyager saw me as a monster in the beginning; all with the exception of one person. Even at the time when the Captain was still wondering if I could be saved or if I should be abandoned someplace where the Borg would find me. Even at that point, Harry Kim treated me as a person. He talked to me; he tried to joke with me. He accepted me for what I was from the first moment he saw me."

"You do a lot of talking without getting to the point." Despite her words, Torres still found what the blonde was saying very interesting.

Seven lifted the hands she was still holding and placed a kiss on the knuckles of both hands. "I wanted you to know why he is special to me, he always accepted me for what I was. He did not try to change me; he saw a person in me from the first moment we met. And once he saw me after the Doctor was finished removing my implants and healing me, Harry Kim became infatuated with me. B'Elanna, you initially picked me to be your body slave for the way I look, apparently you liked what you saw. Can you truly blame him for also liking what he saw?"

"That's not why you are my body slave, as you yourself have so nicely pointed out to me not so long ago," Torres objected. "And while I do have to admit that you are very, very pretty, beautiful even, in fact, gorgeous is also a word that fits you... I hope you will not take it as an insult, but appreciate the honestly of the statement, but you my dear are not the most beautiful person I have ever seen. You're way up there, so high that it's in the top three, but you're surpassed by at least two others."

Seven smiled at the comment. "If that is an honest statement then I am flattered that I am actually in the top hundred. After all, you are the Intendant. I would be amazed if people did not 'freshen up' places you visit by having the most beautiful slaves they have doing the serving, or even offer them to you directly for... to keep you warm at night."

"Oh, they do," Torres readily agreed. "But my point is, none of those amazingly beautiful slaves ever saw me naked... well, that's not true, some did bath me, but you know what I mean. So I really didn't pick you for your looks, beautiful one."

Seven smiled at the endearment. "I am glad to hear it, but that is nevertheless what first got you interested in me. Harry Kim was already interested in me before I looked like this. One day he started saying several things that made it clear that he wanted to pursue a sexual relationship with me. Since I was not interested in him in such a way, I decided to give him 'too much to handle', as Voyager's B'Elanna likes to call it. I told him that I was interested in finding out how Humans copulate, started opening the clothing I was wearing then, and told him to strip so that we could indeed copulate. He fled, as I knew he would."

Now that Torres knew the story, she had calmed down totally, and could also understand why her counterpart had found it quite funny. "Why were you so certain that he would not take you up on your offer?"

"Harry Kim is a good man, a man with whom I would probably have pursued a relationship, had I been interested in men," Seven said honestly, knowing that the Intendant would probably not like it, but that she would also appreciate the honesty. "He does not fall in the same category of men as Tom Paris does. While I do consider Tom Paris a friend of mine, I would never have made him the same offer, knowing that he would have taken me up on it. But I knew that even if Harry Kim had actually had the nerve to take me up on it, he would still not have done it since he would have thought that he would be taking advantage of me. He is not the kind of person to take advantage of anyone."

"What has taking you up on that offer to do with 'having the nerve' to do it?" Torres wondered.

"B'Elanna, we were in the main conference room of the ship when I offered, not more than ten meters, and a closed but unlocked door, away from the Captain and First Officer, who were on the bridge at that time."

Now Torres started laughing loudly. "You're kidding me."

"I am not. It was an effective maneuver that deterred him from ever again trying to enter into a romantic relationship with me."

"I bet."

"B'Elanna, please believe me, I have never been with anyone before I became yours. You are the first person I kissed. And since you are talking about people seeing you naked before, you are the first person I kissed, you are the only person who ever saw me naked except for the Doctor, but just as the people that bathed you I do not think that he counts. The closest I came to any kind of sexual contact was researching the mating behaviors of the crew. I looked at twenty-seven hours of sexual educational programs on the holodeck, but I did not participate in them, even though that was an option of the programs. Besides that, I read all the information I could find, but that is all I did. I am yours; I have never been anyone else's. Even when I was part of the Borg, they controlled me; I did not do what I did then willingly."

"And you still don't." Torres sat down on the floor, her back against one of the walls since there was no other option to sit in the empty room. "You do what I tell you, so you're not doing things willingly now either."

Seven opted to kneel in front of the Intendant, bringing their eyes to the same level. "B'Elanna, you are confusing two things. Doing something on my own initiative, and doing something willingly. These two things have nothing to do with each other. I can carry out the orders you give me and be doing it willingly. I want to please you. If I am doing something for you that pleases you, then I am fulfilling that task willingly, even though you ordered me to do it. Getting you a drink, for instance, is no hardship for me; it is something I do willingly. But on the other hand, I could be doing something on my own initiative and not be doing it willingly. I killed today. I did not do that willingly, and I regret that it had to happen. But I would do it again right now if I had to. It was my initiative to get involved in the fight, you actually ordered me away; I refused. I killed those people because they were trying to kill you. That was something I could not allow. But I still did not kill them willingly. If that had been the case, I would not have needed to talk to the other B'Elanna."

"How did that go, by the way?" Torres wondered.

"It helped. She was able to make me see that it was the right thing to do and that there really was no other option."

"You could have let me die," Torres disagreed.

Seven shook her head. "That... was not an option. And even if I could have let you be killed, K'Trelan and maybe the others as well, would more than likely have tried to rape me, not an option either. Then there is also the concern of Voyager and the crew. You are their only hope. But besides that, I simply could not let you get killed."

Torres closed her eyes and sighed. "You know we really have a big problem here."

"What?" Seven wondered.

"I am supposed to be your Mistress."

"And you are."

"I sure don't feel like it. Seven, we can't go on like this."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Torres repeated in disbelief. "Because, Seven, because."

"B'Elanna, what is the problem? That I can have discussions with you in private? No one will ever know. I just sent the person I could consider my closest friend out. Not even she knows that I can talk to you as an equal if I want. As far as she knows I am in here begging and pleading with you and promising to do who knows what, just to calm you down. Or is it the fact that I can disagree with you and know that you will not kill, or even hurt me? I can promise you, I will try to make sure that you will never have to punish me in public. And even if I do something that requires that, I will take my punishment without thinking any less of you."

B'Elanna growled in frustration. "Seven, don't you understand that to me you're no longer the slave I can order around?"

"Why not? Do you not like it?" Seven pressed on. From the way Torres was acting, Seven knew that the Intendant was at a point of decision. In the time she now knew the Intendant, Seven had noticed that Torres had a tendency to make a decision on something and then stick to it stubbornly.

This was a trait that suited her well as Intendant; an Intendant should not be easily persuaded. Seven knew that Torres' first reaction was to simply get rid of the problem. If she saw a problem in the way she was treating Seven, Torres was likely to get rid of Seven. That was something Seven had to prevent.

She knew, if she would let Torres come to her own conclusion on how to treat her, the Intendant would make her choice on how to go on with their relationship, if there would even be a relationship, on the simple basis of 'getting rid of the problem'. Seven didn't fear for her life, she knew that Torres wouldn't kill her to get rid of her, but she would still be taken away from Torres. She knew that she had to make the Intendant see reason now or else it would be too late. Once the Intendant had made her choice, Seven would be taken away from the Intendant before she would have the chance to persuade her otherwise.

"It's not a matter of me not liking it," Torres said. "Being served at every beck and call, who wouldn't like that? Especially by someone like you. But it's not right for you. I should not be making decisions for you."

"Why not?"

"Seven..."

"No, hear me out, please. I fear that you are about to make a mistake." Seven took a hold of the Intendant's hands once again and squeezed them slightly. "At one point you asked me why I thought that my relationship with Voyager's B'Elanna would not become more than just friends. I told you that I wanted more than she would ever be able to give me. What I want is for someone to control me. I actually like being told what to do. But Voyager's B'Elanna would never do so. She and the rest of the crew are brought up to believe that freedom and individuality is one's most prized possession. She would never be able to keep controlling me during a relationship. She would want me as an equal at all times, and that is something I do not want."

"What?" Torres could not believe her ears. "How could anyone actually like, and want, to be controlled all the time?"

"Not all the time" Seven disagreed. "I would need opportunities to talk to my partner on an equal level, but except for those conversations, yes. I want someone to have control over me. This is difficult to explain, I tried explaining this once to Captain Janeway, but she could not understand me."

"Try me, Seven. Because I really do need an explanation."

"Very well. I like... Once I... I." Seven still couldn't find the right words, and decided to use a different approach. "You told me that you enjoy killing. Tell me, B'Elanna, did you wake up one day and decided that from then on you would enjoy killing?"

Torres shook her head immediately. "No, of course not. I had nightmares for months after killing for the first time; this was probably amplified by the fact that I was just a kid then. But over time it became something that I knew had to be done, and finally something I could, and did, enjoy."

"You like hurting people?" Seven asked, pressing on.

Torres' answer wasn't as fast this time. She thought about it for a moment before admitting, "Well, it isn't like I go out and hurt someone simply because I like the reaction; but when I'm in the right mindset, then yes. When I'm in the interrogation chamber and the subject pushes me too far by not answering and thinking that they will be able to withstand my... treatment. Then something clicks, and I enjoy hurting them, badly. I have been known to go on sometimes even after the person has told me all that they could think of, and more. One Klingon man actually once told me that he liked to play with dolls as a kid. Can you imagine what it must take for a Klingon man to say that? I mean, they keep talking about nonsense because there's really nothing more to tell, and yet I go on."

Seven closed her eyes at hearing that.

"I'm sorry, my Pet, but as you might know, torture has been part of every war or totalitarian government for as long as wars and such governments exist. People like to think otherwise, but under the right conditions, even the holiest of priests are capable of committing monstrosities. I'm no different than others. I have power, and I like to use it sometimes. All in all, I think I'm actually doing quite well. I don't have a reign of terror, people know that as long as they stick to the rules they don't have to worry about disappearing in the middle of the night to never be seen again. And torture is something I truly only use as a last resort."

"I know," Seven agreed, and decided that it was time to bring the conversation back to the subject at hand. "What one likes or dislikes has a lot to do with the life they lead. Up to now there has not been a single day in my life where I was my own master. I told you about my life. First my parents told me what I was, and was not, allowed to do. Then the Borg controlled me and told me what to do. Then Captain Janeway controlled me, telling me what I was, and was not, allowed to do. And now, you control me, tell me what I am allowed to do and what not."

"And I think it's better if that stops," Torres reminded.

"But I do not want it to stop," Seven countered in a pleading tone that sounded almost desperate. "Being told what to do, not having to make decisions on one's own, it can be a very liberating feeling, if you accept it. In such a situation you only have the option of accepting this, or fighting it. I learned long ago that resistance is futile. So I got used to, and learned to like it, when I am told what to do. The first night, when I was so reluctant to please you, when that suddenly changed..."

Torres nodded her head to indicate that she knew what Seven was talking about.

"...That is the moment I gave myself to you. I want you to own me; I want you to tell me what to do. I want you to command me. I want to... please you. Be it in a sexual way, or be it by bringing you your food. Knowing I did something right, that you are pleased with me, just knowing that, is a reward for me."

Seven decided that now that she was explaining this to Torres, and also partially to herself, she needed to explain it all. "But, onboard Voyager, I did have a certain amount of individuality, and I decided that I also like that. The Captain told me that I could not have it both ways, but you proved that I can. You gave me a certain amount of individuality; you made me into the most powerful slave that exists, actually more powerful than most people that are not slaves,"

"You figured that one out then?" Torres interrupted.

"I did," Seven agreed before continuing. "I am an individual. I have more freedom and power than I ever had in my life. Yet you also command me, control me, own me. To speak with Voyager's B'Elanna's words, I now have the best of both worlds. As I said before, I am my own possession... but I gave myself to you. I like to be yours; I love being called your Pet. It is a name I carry proudly. Please, please, I beg of you. Do not take that away from me. You like telling me what to do; I like you to tell me what to do. We can both have what we want. You just have to accept that I am very comfortable with calling you Mistress, that I want you to be my Mistress, that I need you to be my Mistress. I need you, I need my Mistress just as much as the air I breathe."

Torres was quiet for a couple of minutes before softly nodding her head. "Alright. So we go on like we have been. If you want to talk to me on another level than master and slave, you call me B'Elanna, but... only when we are alone. And I insist on something from my side, my Pet,"

"Anything."

"Anything? Alright, tell me all about your implants." Torres could clearly see the surprise on the blonde's face. "Hehe, didn't expect that, now did you, my Pet? But don't you agree it's about time you told me?"

"Yes, I believe you are right," Seven agreed. "I did promise to tell you when the game, as you like to call it, was over. But can it wait a day until we are underway? It is already late and it would take some time to explain it all."

"How long can it take to explain the workings of some implants?" Torres wondered.

As an answer Seven showed the Intendant her assimilation tubes.

"Point taken," Torres said while looking at the wormlike tubes dancing back and forth in front of her face. "Ok, later it is. But as I was saying, I want you to promise me something. If something bothers you, I want to hear about it at the first possible opportunity. As soon as we're alone and you can tell me on the level that we are talking now, I want to know about whatever it is. No holding back just because I'm your Mistress."

"Acceptable."

Torres nodded before suddenly asking, "Well?"

"Well, what?" Seven asked.

"Well, talk to me. I know that something was bothering you the last time you... served me. For a moment I thought that you didn't like doing it, but you keep telling me that you do, so what's the problem?"

"Well, I... B'Elanna, I know I am your slave, and I know that it should only be about the Mistress; about you. That you are pleased is the only important thing."

"But?"

"I was wondering, and a 'no' is acceptable," Seven started, sounding surprisingly shy. "I was wondering if you would eventually also touch me, or at least allow me to relieve the tension that builds up in my body from pleasing you."

Once again Torres closed her eyes for a moment, but this time she also groaned. "I'm sorry, my Pet. You can see that I'm new to this too. Believe me, I wanted and still want, to touch you. Boy do I ever want to touch you. The reason why I didn't is because I thought that you were pleasing me because you thought you had to. Having to please someone is one thing, but having that someone do things to you too, is something else entirely. I thought that you didn't want that since you showed no indication. So, I didn't."

Seven gave her a small smile. "I did not show any indication because you are my Mistress, if you do not want to touch me, but only want to be touched, then this is something I have to accept."

"Well, you just wait, next time you won't get off that easy."

"I hope not, Mistress."

Torres leaned forwards a little and captured the blonde's lips for a soft, but long kiss.

"You're sure about that though?" Torres suddenly asked, breaking the kiss. "Because that's solely your choice to make."

Seven shook her head in disagreement. "No, Mistress, it is not. Please try to understand this. I am yours; I want you to take from me whatever you want, whenever you want. Pleasing you is what is important to me, more important than achieving release. If touching me gives you pleasure, than it will please me even more. But if denying me this gives you pleasure, then it will still please me more that I could please you that way."

Torres shook her head decisively. "No, my Pet. That is something I can, and will, guarantee you. I may tease you and let you wait some, but I swear to you, that I will not truly leave you unsatisfied... from now on that is. But now that we're on the subject, I want to make a little amendment to the rule of when you can call me B'Elanna. When we m..."

Torres faltered for a moment and changed the words she was about to say. Despite all that had been talked about, she still could not bring herself to use the word 'love,' not even in the term 'making love'. She was B'Elanna Torres, Klingon Intendant. She did not do love. "...When we are enjoying some sex, you are also allowed to call me B'Elanna."

"I... thank you, Mistress, but why?"

"Well, my dear, I have to admit that when you call me Mistress in bed it somehow sounds totally different than when you do it otherwise. But if we are going to... expand the sex to where we both give and take, I think that under certain conditions 'Mistress' can sound a little strange. I mean, if you're pleasing me; hearing you say 'may I enter you, Mistress,' sounds kinda cool. But don't you think it might sound a bit strange if I were touching you and you had to say 'more, Mistress'?"

Seven thought about that for a moment. "I do not know, Mistress, it sounds like something we have to test." Then she smiled and added, "Because I have to tell you, the mental image your example creates does sound quite enjoyable to me. In fact, I truly think that begging and pleading to my Mistress could sound very erotic."

"Oh, we will most definitely test that," Torres grinned. "Just so that you know that it's ok to use my name then too."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Yeah, yeah." Torres stood and offered a hand to Seven to help her up. "Now, we wasted enough time, we should be on our way to Bajor by now. Let's deal with those two out there and get moving."

Seven stood and took the opportunity to kiss Torres again. "Yes, Mistress."

"Mmhmm, nice." Torres turned around, opened the door and they moved back into the bedroom where Annika and B'Elanna were waiting. Torres could see the tension on B'Elanna's face.

"What? You think I'd killed her? She's much too good to waste in such a way. I prefer punishing her by putting her over my knee and slapping that fine ass of hers."

Torres saw the expression that formed on B'Elanna's face and started to laugh. "Oooh, you are just sooo easy. Just stop worrying about her, ok? She's safer with me than the rest of you huddled together in that prison are."

"I am," Seven added. She liked the fact that B'Elanna worried about her, but she didn't want her to worry too much. There was no reason to.

"Now," Torres said while pointing at the room she just left. "As I was saying, I want you and that Kim guy to put one of those alcoves in there. Once my Pet and I are back from our trip to Bajor, you will also put one of those alcoves on my ship, in my office. And please, don't start complaining about the size of the office alright?"

B'Elanna nodded her head as an answer.

"While you're in my office, don't use the opportunity to snoop around. I have very strict rules about some of my stuff being touched without my permission; the penalty for doing so, is death. Besides, you wouldn't be able to find out anything my Pet here doesn't already know. She's allowed access to information you would be killed for if you saw it. So just don't do it."

"Please, B'Elanna," Seven added to indicate that the Intendant's words were true.

"Ok," B'Elanna simply said, it was enough of an answer for all of them.

"While you are all renovating that Voyager," Torres continued, "I want you to also put one of those alcoves in one of the bigger quarters..."

Torres started grinning when an idea struck her. "Actually, from what I remember my Pet telling me while we made the rounds, the Captain's quarters are the biggest quarters on the ship. I want you to put the alcove in there. In fact, redecorate everything in there as well. Put the alcove in the bedroom, along with a big ass bed that has more than enough room to fully enjoy some evening entertainment, if you know what I mean. But as I said redecorate everything; every room. Use your own discretion, just think of what you believe a Klingon Intendant would like."

B'Elanna frowned before admitting, "I have no idea what you would like. At best I can throw some Klingon decorations on the walls."

The Intendant waved her off, still grinning. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure that the Master Slave here might have something of an idea. Just put some real and honest effort into it. If I don't like it I'll just have it renovated later on. The important part, and this is an order that I will kill you for if you don't follow it, is that you have... that woman help in doing the renovation. I want her to not just see, but even have to help, in tearing that place apart and then also having to redecorate it in a style I'm pretty damn sure she will absolutely hate."

"Captain Janeway?" B'Elanna asked.

"Yes, that slave. And while you're working on that ship anyway, I want each room cleaned out, and furniture and carpeting replaced with new stuff. I want that ship to look brand-new, use your own judgment on what materials and furniture to use. My Pet told me that you were the Chief Engineer on that ship, right?"

"Yes," B'Elanna agreed.

"Alright," Torres now looked at Annika. "Master Slave, meet your assistant. She knows more about that ship than you do so I'm assigning her as your helper, or second in command, or how ever you slaves call it. But you are the only Master Slave, so you're also the only one in control of it all. But I do think that having one of the crew as a buffer between you and them will make it easier on all of you."

Then to B'Elanna again. "I trust that your priority will be fixing the ship, and not trying to outsmart me or the Master Slave. I'll go over everything with my Pet at my side once I'm back. Do you really want to put her in a position where she has to tell me that the work you did is not as it should be?"

"No I don't." B'Elanna knew that the Intendant would more than likely be smart enough to understand if something was done right or wrong, especially since she had Seven show her everything already. So if B'Elanna did something in a way that was not as it should be, she would put Seven in a position where she would either have to lie to the Intendant, or tell on B'Elanna. Neither was a thing B'Elanna wanted to put Seven through. She had a feeling that the Intendant would know if Seven was lying, she herself normally knew.

"But what about people's private possessions?" she asked hesitantly.

"Huh, slaves don't have private possessions. It's about time you all learned that. Best thing to do is just throw it all in the incinerators." Torres saw the way her Pet was looking at her and sighed before adding, "But, for now, have them put their stuff in boxes and put it in the cargo bay you kept my Pet in."

"Mistress, there is a chance that Captain Janeway might initiate the self-destruct the next time she is on Voyager." Seven saw how B'Elanna was looking at her, and she knew that her words would sound like treason to the Klingon, but she had her reasons. "One of the sub rules of the prime directive is to make sure that no Federation technology falls into the wrong hands. The captain might decide to destroy Voyager to make sure that the technology of the ship cannot be used by you."

"Hmm, that would be a shame," Torres said thoughtfully. "Can this be prevented?"

"Yes, Mistress. I can use my assimilation tubes to access the computer core and turn Voyager's command codes over to you. The security of the command codes is written into the programming of the main computer core. It cannot be broken into without destroying the main computer memory. I could also use some Borg codes to secure all access to the computer. However, since repairs need to be done on the ship, I would suggest leaving B'Elanna's access to the computer intact. With the clearance she has, she will be able to do all the repairs, but not be able to change the main command functions of the ship."

By now, Torres' eyebrows had lifted as high as they could go. "We definitely need to talk about these implants of yours. Well, it seems that we need to make a little trip to my new ship first then. Alright, time to get moving. Let's get back to the ship and while that crew is transported to the star base, at which Voyager is hopefully docked by now, we'll make a trip to the ship itself."

Torres paused a moment and grinned. "So, do you need a minute to tell your little plan to my counterpart here, or does she have to find out all by her lonesome? I'm sure that it won't take her too long to figure out that you wouldn't betray them like this."

"What are you talking about?" B'Elanna asked.

Torres looked at her, making sure that she had a look of total surprise on her face. "What? You really think that I wouldn't notice that my Pet is planning something?"

Seven knew that the Intendant would know the reason why she had made sure the ship would not be destroyed, so there really was no reason for trying to keep it secret. "The Intendant is talking about the reason why I made sure that Captain Janeway would not destroy Voyager. B'Elanna, the crew will need Voyager to either get back to our universe, or if that is not possible, as a place to live on in this universe. Ask Annika later, in this universe the crew will have no place to go to. The only life they can lead is on the ship, or as slaves."

"Or as slaves on the ship," Torres added with a grin.

"You know she's planning something?" B'Elanna asked disbelievingly, but indeed understanding why Seven had told the Intendant about the self-destruct. It was truly something Janeway might try if she thought that they had lost the ship for good.

Torres shrugged. "Well, I know that she's planning something, and I really don't think she's planning on becoming the next Klingon Intendant, so it's a pretty safe bet that it has to do with you slaves. But the fun of it is, that I would like to see her try. She knows that I'll kill you all if you are captured while trying to escape. So I'm really curious on how she will try to pull it off."

"I am... working on that part," Seven admitted.

Torres gave her a pat on the behind. "I know you are, my dear. And you know that I will prevent that from happening."

"If that is so," Annika asked, daring to speak up finally, "then why let them on the ship?"

"Because I do need that ship fixed," Torres explained. "And I want the specs of it to stay secret. They have maintained that ship for seven years now; they know how to repair it like nobody else in this universe. That's why I appointed my counterpart here to be your assistant. But also, if I would prevent her from being able to plan something, then I would also prevent her from being able to work for me. She needs certain accesses to do work for me. Besides, what fun is a game of chess if you already win with the first move? This is much more fun, knowing that she's planning something, and yet doesn't want to break any of the rules I set forth for her. Now, let's get out of here."

Torres moved out of the room, followed by the others. Seven stayed behind a little so that she could whisper something in B'Elanna's ear. "B'Elanna, I will set the codes up in such a way that your engineering clearance will be changed to full command clearance if you repeat your access code five times in a row within one minute. This will then also deactivate all Borg codes on the ship. But promise me that you will not tell the captain this. I fear that she might do something... unwise. Only use it when you will escape. You will need Voyager, trust me."

"Seven why,"

"Ask Annika, ask her why so few slaves even try to escape."

"My Pet," Torres spoke up, "when you're quite done whispering back there, I want you here by my side; we might actually come across some people."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven lengthened her strides for a moment until she was at Torres' side. "I have finished the... whispering, Mistress."

"Was that the part that I wasn't allowed to hear?" Torres asked amused.

"Yes, Mistress."

Torres laughed. She knew that she was making it way too easy for the blonde, but she really didn't care one way or the other about what happened to the other slaves. And if they truly did succeed in escaping, at least she wouldn't have to wrack her brain about finding a place to keep such a large group of slaves and give them a relatively easy life.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Torres felt a couple drops of sweat drip onto her forehead, but she didn't mind in the least. In fact, she was proud to be the cause of that sweat. She brought her arms up and closed them. Getting the hint, Seven let her elbows unlock and dropped onto the equally sweating Klingon.

By the time they had finished on Voyager and beamed back down to the planet it had been so late that it was actually a decent late morning. They had gone to bed, they had truly intended to go to sleep.

But, a hand placed on a hip had started to move, a breast had been cupped, a kiss had been shared, and then... ah, who needed sleep anyway?

Torres had wanted to make good on her promise of touching Seven, but the blonde had refused. She had reminded Torres of who the Mistress was, and that it was Seven's task, and pleasure, to take care of the Mistress' need first. So Torres had been treated to a lovemaking session that had literally been the best of her life, including the times she had been with Seven. And then finally Seven had spoken those three words that Torres had been longing to hear.

"Please touch me."

And then Torres had discovered that something that was already the best she had ever experienced, could actually become even better.

Torres had always been a decent and fair lover. Just like she felt that you needed to reward a slave for a job done extra good if you also punished them for a job done bad, she also felt that if a lover made you feel good, you should return the favor. She had pleased lovers. She had touched them. She had people begging and pleading. She had heard soft whimpers that somehow sounded like the loudest proclamation of pleasure.

She truly was an excellent lover.

But she had not been prepared to actually living up to the word, make love instead of having sex. The actions were the same, you still touched there, you still licked here. You still... and yet.

That night... well, morning and afternoon, she had discovered so much. She had learned that, yes, you could actually come for someone on the spot, if she looked at you with mesmerizing blue eyes and said in a whisper so soft that it was more air than words, 'come for me'.

And interestingly enough, that long time of making love had brought her closer to understanding Seven than any explanation of the blonde ever could. For Torres had discovered that, yes, sometimes pleasing someone else could actually be your own greatest pleasure.

Torres liked to reach her peak, but if ever she had to choose between reaching her own peak or loving Seven and making the blonde come... it would be an easy choice.

Well, maybe not, since now she understood another thing that Seven had told her. For Torres now too had the best of both worlds. She would probably choose to get pleased instead of pleasing. Because convenience over selfishness, Seven would still get pleased, from knowing that she was pleasing. And well, Torres could then repay the favor the next time they would make love. For both of them knew for sure that there would be a lot of next times; they both craved there to be a lot of next times.

Torres held the panting blonde in the hug until her breathing returned to the more normal rhythm. "So, did I make up yet for not touching you until now?"

Seven wanted to shake her head, but found that she actually didn't have the energy to lift it and do so. "No, I need more."

Then she sighed and let the air 'accidentally' out over a caramel colored nipple that was still hyper sensitive from recent activities. "But, I know that the universe continues on, and you are needed in it, even though I feel I need you more."

Torres pulled her up a little and kissed the blonde, tasting the unique taste on those lips that was... them; created by giving and taking back and forth so much that even despite their best efforts they had lost count of how often they had soared high and crashed deep and wonderful.

"Tell you what. I need to do things, we really need to get to Bajor now. I really have to get out of these quarters, my little blonde vixen. So, we'll take a quick bath. Then we go and do what needs doing. Then we eat some and get some much needed nourishment. And once we're underway to Bajor..."

Seven somehow managed to find the energy to lift her head. "Yes?"

"Then we come back here, seal those damn doors and don't leave these quarters again until we reach Bajor."

Seven couldn't stop the smile from forming. "That is,"

"Days," Torres interrupted. "I think we will find some fun stuff to do. You, my dear, corrupted me and I need those days to train."

"Train?" Seven asked, honestly confused.

Torres nodded her head. "Yes. I am the Klingon Intendant, I need to be able to restrain myself a little. So, I need to learn once more how to take a bath... without jumping you. And how to kiss you on the lips without wanting to kiss lower as well."

"Depending on the lips, I might actually want you to kiss a little higher," Seven pointed out.

Torres chuckled before sighing and sitting up, after moving Seven softly to the side. "Alright, now for real. Let's go take care of what needs taking care off. So that we can come back here and have fun and do all kinds of fun stuff, from loving all the way to talking, so that we get it out of our system and can act like normal people once we get to Bajor. That crap on Bajor is too serious. I need to be able to think there without my mind shifting to what I would much rather do with those fingers that are holding a PADD."

Seven smiled and gave the command to her cranial implant to tap her energy reserves. Sometimes it was very convenient to be a former Borg drone. She got out of bed and extended a hand to Torres, thereby showing the Klingon that she remembered one of the new rules they had agreed on. Torres may be the Mistress, and Seven the slave, but never again would Seven need to ask if she could touch the Klingon. Unless she wanted to ask of course. Sometimes asking and receiving permission was fun too.

Truth be told, the twelve hours they had spend getting to know each other had also included small breaks to give their hearts time to calm down, and even one quick food break, and three quick baths. And they did talk a little, and play a little. But it definitely still qualified as one long love session.

"You are correct," Seven agreed. "We need to get our much needed dose of needing each other taken care of before then. I need to be able to touch you like this without my other hand literally itching to touch you in places that I know make you moan."

"Bath, now," Torres managed to growl instead of jumping the blonde again.

As they walked to the bathroom, Seven stated, "Mistress, I told you that on Voyager I researched the mating behaviors of several species. Because of that I had certain expectations of what I could expect of copulating."

"And?" Torres asked. "Did it live up to your expectations?"

"No," Seven said honestly.

"No?" Torres repeated as she stepped into the water.

"No," Seven assured, waiting until Torres had sat down before slowly stepping into the bath as well and sensually coming closer. "I can state with absolute and total honestly that you did not live up to my expectations."

Before Torres could ask another question, Seven added, "I am fully sincere when I say that what you did to me... it exceeded my wildest expectations... that I ever had... which was actually in a dream... in what is called a wet dream."

Seven let herself drop to her knees in the water, pressing her breasts to the knees of the sitting Klingon. "You make me use a word that I despise using as an explanation, but it is the only word that I can think of that comes close to conveying what I feel."

"And that is?" a now smugly grinning Torres asked.

"Wow."

"Wow?"

"Wow." Seven placed her hands on Torres' knees and pushed them apart a little. "And now you have to make a choice. You can keep these legs closed, which means that we will follow your plan of taking a quick bath and then start doing things."

"Or?" Torres asked, once more reduced to a one worded question.

"Or you can open these legs. I am not yet done thanking you properly. I, need, to, touch, you. I burn for you. I want you. I..." Seven stopped talking and instead moved forward with an eager smile as willing legs opened further.

Well, Bajor could wait a little longer.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 12

Three days later.

"Laren, I'm sorry I took so long," Jetur Adami said when she walked into Ro Laren's office, "but I got a visit from the Organians' representative. He, or should I say it, paid me a visit to tell me that they would stay neutral, like they've always been, but he did tell me that they wouldn't mind a new female Bajoran Intendant visiting their planet to build good relationships. Of course, it being an Organian representative, it took him four hours to tell me this."

Ro closed the computer unit in front of her, deciding that she had done more than enough reading for the day. "Hmm, well, considering the fact that the Organians are always neutral, even when the Sol Empire reigned, I wouldn't call that much of a surprise. But no bad news is good news I suppose."

"Oh, on the contrary," Jetur disagreed, "this is very good news."

"It is?" Ro asked surprised. She wondered how someone saying 'I don't get involved' could be good news.

Jetur sat down and smiled tolerantly at Ro. "Sure. As far as I know there's only one female at this point that has any chance of becoming the new Intendant. Of course, not an officially big chance, but still. If the news is 'leaked' that they invited you to visit their planet, an invitation Kira had never gotten I might add, it will be a tremendous boost to you officially entering the 'election' for the new Intendant."

"It is?" Ro asked again.

"Laren, the Organians are a very highly advanced race. So advanced that they normally only exist in forms of pure energy. They only take a solid shape when they have to communicate with 'lesser' beings than them. They're also very powerful. We know of nothing that can stop them and the only reason why they don't rule over us, is because neutrality is their thing."

Ro rubbed the back of her neck in an effort to keep her annoyance at bay. Surprisingly, it seemed to be working. "Adami, I know about them. I also know that the Sol Empire once attacked them, and they simply flung the ships back into space and erected a force field around the planet that the Sols were never able to break. The Organians only took down the field once the Sol Empire was gone. I do know about them, I just don't see how this helps me so tremendously."

Jetur gave her a tolerant smile. "Oh, sorry, Laren, I forgot that you're still learning about politics."

Ro sighed. "Adami, stop playing, ok?"

"Aww, but I like playing with you." Jetur leaned back in the chair and folded her hands in her lap. "Alright, next political lesson. Here is how it goes. Say race X is debating with itself on which one they will bet their credits: On Delik, who was the first adviser of the former Intendant, or some unknown woman who they never heard of before. Easy decision for them, right?"

Ro nodded since she did understand that this is what most would do. Support Delik since he was the one they knew by name.

Jetur made a show of putting a look of total surprise on her face. "Right, but then... gasp, what's that? The mighty, powerful, and not to forget, very wise, Organians are inviting this unknown woman to their planet. They're extending a courtesy like that to this unknown woman. A courtesy they've never shown any former Bajoran Intendant. Then those people I just talked about start wondering... Hmm, if the Organians are polite to this woman, then maybe it would be better to support her instead of this Delik, whose only good credentials are his smooth words. You see, Laren, this is great news indeed."

"Ah, I do see. Well that's indeed very good news," Ro agreed. Then she snapped her fingers as if thinking of something. "Oh, and talking about news, I'm sorry to say that I won't need your services anymore."

"Oh?" Jetur leaned forward and lifted her exquisitely shaped eyebrows slightly.

"Yes, Delik came to me this morning. He told me that he could see that I had won. And since he knew when to stop fighting and cut his losses, he said that he would pull his bid for new Intendant and fully support me. The only thing he would like in return was for me to make him my first adviser once I'm Intendant. You can understand that I would prefer him over you, can't you Adami?"

"Well, I can't beat that. Shall I go and clean out my desk now then?"

"Please do."

They looked at each other for a moment and then both started grinning.

"Aww, is the poor boy getting nervous?" Jetur asked.

"So it seems."

Adami frowned before admitting, "I'm surprised he would try something so obvious. I would expect some hints and suggestions. Maybe even some conversations with you first, in which he would then realize that, gee, he can't beat you."

"I'm willing to bet that was his plan," Ro agreed. "As a matter of fact, that's how the conversation started out. But then I 'accidentally' mentioned that I had been told that the Klingon Intendant is due to arrive tomorrow, and suddenly he started stumbling over his own words. I guess he was trying to convince me before we meet the Intendant and it might become clear that you and I are considered one of the factions with a candidate for the post of Intendant."

"So, what did you tell him?"

"Oh, I first showed the expected suspicion, then I let him persuade me, and then I told him that I could see his potential. I told him that I had to think about it. He then suggested that while I think about it, he and I would meet the Intendant together tomorrow. Just to show that there are no hard feelings between him and me. I once again told him I would think about it and apparently that was enough for him and he started to make his exit."

"Are you planning on doing that?" Adami asked as she tilted her head a little and looked at the dark-haired Bajoran. She had to smile when the woman that normally always moved with the smooth grace of one of the predatory jungle cats, pulled up her nose in a clear and very plain sign of disgust.

"Don't be ridiculous. I can't stand that guy, and I'm sure not condemning myself to having to be polite to him every time a Klingon is present. But, would it have been a good idea?"

"No." Jetur shook her head slightly to give the word more meaning. "Forgetting the fact that it would have shown the Klingons that even after all the time you had to prepare, you still didn't know who your true adversary is, it would also have shown that you don't trust me."

"True," Ro agreed, "but my not trusting you would not have been much of a problem. We are talking about the Klingons here; they practically invented using people they can't trust to do their work."

"But this is not just another Klingon," Jetur reminded. "This is the Intendant. Even though the normal Klingon doesn't like politics, not even the Chancellor, the Klingon Intendant does have to understand the workings of politics to be able to be the Intendant. She does sometimes have to wheel and deal like a politician. So she'll understand that you shoved the politics in someone else's direction, me, and she will even think that you're smart for doing that. But if you are to stand any chance at becoming Intendant, you'll have to prove to her that you can, and do, fully trust the person who takes care of the politics. If you show her that you don't trust me, then you'll make it clear that even if you become Intendant, the political scene of Bajor is still not secure. That's something she will never accept."

Ro nodded thoughtfully. "I see your point. But I also see that this will put you in the limelight as well. Are you trying to make sure that I can't do without you once, and if, I do get appointed Intendant?"

Jetur gave her a dazzling smile. "Well, you really couldn't blame me if that is what I was doing, can you? But no, I'm honestly just trying to give you the best advantage I can manage. I trust you enough to know that if you win, you'll show your gratitude to me later on, instead of letting me disappear."

She hesitated for a moment before adding, "In the beginning when I approached you, I thought that all that was needed was to give you a few tips while standing in the background. But the more this is unfolding, the more I realize that just a few tips won't cut it. We need to work together, we need to be seen as one. And then when all is said and done, I fully expect you to be very thankful to me and give me a nice cushy job for the rest of my life that will make sure that I never have to worry again about financial trouble. As we agreed; first adviser."

Ro nodded her head to indicate that she had to agree with what Jetur was saying, and she couldn't help but being mesmerized by that amazing smile. After a moment of just staring at the vision of beauty that was Jetur, Ro felt that she had to say something and decided to go with what was on her mind. "You have a truly incredible smile."

If possible, the smile got even brighter. Then Jetur hesitated before figuring that since she had decided to side with Ro, she could tell her one of her little secrets. "Thanks. When I was younger and my body started to change into... well, when I saw all those turning heads. I was flattered and decided to work on it to get only better. I couldn't change my body other than keeping in shape, or visit doctors of course. But I figured if nature gifted me like this, it would be unkind to try and better it by having doctors change my looks. So I decided to focus on other things. Learn what to wear, how to do little things like flick my hair over my shoulder at just the right time. And I practiced in front of the mirror for months on how to smile and laugh. It's now so much a part of me that it truly is my smile, and not something fake."

To Jetur's surprise, and delight, Ro nodded and showed full understanding. "One of the most important lessons given to us in the Special Forces was to work with what you got."

"A lot of people frown down on me for using so openly what nature gave me," Jetur admitted.

She knew that she was a beautiful woman, who on top of that had a body that would have made people want her, even if her facial features had not been as striking as they were. Until now Ro had never commented, never said or done anything at all other than the occasional drifting of eyes.

Jetur had wondered when 'the' conversation would come. When Ro would show her disapproval of the way that Jetur had worked, and slept, herself to the position she had. About how Jetur even now used her assets in some way several times every day. From giving a delivery boy a seductive smile because she knew for sure that future deliveries would always be delivered even faster than 'as soon as possible'. To openly flirting with an ambassador of one of the planets that was part of the Bajoran sector.

But instead she found a woman that apparently understood her perfectly. A woman that understood as nobody else, that you did what needed to be done. And if this happened to be done with the body, then so be it. It was a nice feeling to be understood instead of judged. Jetur couldn't help but smile, and then was quite pleased with herself when she noticed that her smile triggered an involuntary smile from the brunette that hardly ever smiled.

Ro spent another moment to take in the very appealing image of Jetur and saw a brilliant smile on those well-formed lips, and she couldn't help but return it. Then she shook her head and decided that they had more important things to talk about. "So, are you trying to get into a position where I can't function without you as Intendant?"

Jetur shook her head as well. "No. I meant what I said. Like it or not, Laren, you'll need me at your side every time you meet the Intendant. You have to prove that we're inseparable. Imagine this, you two are having a conversation and she asked you: 'Who's the Bajoran Governor on Bajor twelve?' What would your answer be?"

Ro knew that she would have no good answer, since she didn't know. "Um, I have no idea?"

Jetur smiled again, this time because she was about to make her point. "Then she would reply: 'You don't even know the names of the Bajoran Governors and you want to become the Bajoran Intendant? I think not.' But if I'm there, I can immediately say to her; 'Intendant, Intendant Kira considered the number twelve unlucky, so that number was skipped when Kira changed the names of colonies. But if you want, I can tell you the names of the Governor of Bajor eleven or thirteen. Bajor thirteen is what used to be Bajor twelve, so the Governor of Bajor thirteen might be the person you mean'?"

She spread her arms a little. "You see, Ro, there won't be any problem with you honestly telling her that you don't know something, as long as I'm sitting beside you and can tell her everything she wants to know and more. The point is that you have the information at your fingertips, so to speak. You don't have to look for it, you just have to look at me and I can tell you what you need to know. Names, places, numbers. I know all of it, and as long as there's no doubt whatsoever that all that information is not more that an 'um, Adami?' away, there's no problem."

"Ah, so that's Delik's plan," Ro said, finally fully understanding what the man was up to. "That's also why he fumbled his words out this morning. He knew that it didn't really matter if I fully believed him. All he needed was that I would be seen by the Intendant without you at my side several times."

"Right," Jetur agreed, "and maybe even make it worse by asking you some questions in the Intendant's presence, to which he would know you didn't have the answer. Even if you would say at that point that you had me for those things, the damage would already have been done. The Intendant would ask you that if I was so important to your being able to function at a level acceptable for being an Intendant, then why hadn't I been at your side with every step you took."

Jetur paused for a moment before admitting, "It's not a bad plan, you have to give him that. Especially if you consider that the other fools who are helping him don't see that by doing so they have already given up every chance they might have had of becoming Intendant themselves. If Delik is able to get rid of you, he'll simply turn around and say to the Klingon Intendant, 'See, they supported me, they want me to be Intendant'."

"True," Ro agreed. "I would have thought that they would have been a little smarter than that. Despite what I think of them, they have shown that they have brains."

Jetur shrugged her shoulders. "I think they just underestimate the Klingons. They think that the Klingons will come in here and pick the one who has the best babble. They seem to have forgotten that the Klingons checked every candidate out down to their ancestors when Kira was appointed."

"I still wonder how she did that," Ro thought out loud. "Someone like her normally would never have been appointed Intendant."

"Power can change people, Laren," Jetur reminded. "Kira had a perfect background. The right family, having shown the right loyalties, and having shown that she could be scrupulous enough for the job. But the problem was that once she was Intendant, there was nobody left who could say, 'Are you nuts?' The counter weight was gone and she could scheme and connive at will. Soon she developed a taste for playing with people and the Kira we all knew was born."

"Ah, I didn't know that," Ro had to admit.

Jetur crossed her arms under her ample chest, pushing the mounds of flesh up a little by doing so, apparently without even noticing it. It was a move that made even the highly trained Ro flick her eyes at the tempting vision before moving her eyes back to the place that she... almost... always looked at when talking to Jetur; her eyes.

Jetur saw how fast the eyes came back to hers and was truly amazed. She was deeply impressed, and actually extremely flattered, by Ro always returning to look at her eyes so quickly. It was so new to her to have someone look her in the eyes for a full conversation, not counting the occasional flick away that was Jetur's own fault. After all, she was so used to looking good and not hiding it, that she made those small moves that made people look, without even noticing it herself anymore, like crossing her arms under her breasts when she had a shirt on with a low neckline.

"Not many people do," Jetur continued the conversation, the shifting looks having passed in mere seconds without causing a pause in the talking. "Kira was good at removing all traces of her real past and making up her own past. In fact, the only place where her history is still written down as it really happened, is in the archives of the priests. And the only reason why they still have it is because Kira never knew that the priests also keep records of what's happening on Bajor."

Ro could not believe that Kira had made such a mistake. "That's quite some oversight."

Jetur shrugged. "That's what she got for killing the person who was doing this for her before he was totally finished. He had made the mistake of saying that he was almost finished and Kira then killed him immediately, to make sure that nobody was left who knew the truth."

"Then how come you know it?" Ro wondered.

Jetur laughed. "Because I happen to have an older brother who's an archivist in the spiritual archives. Where do you think I got all my knowledge from? The priests don't change history. They record it as it happened without making a judgment about who is right and who is wrong. I spent many hours reading in their archives. That's where I also found out how to treat the different races in coalition space. While working here, I refined my methods a little but most of my knowledge comes from there. Here, I just keep up-to-date with the daily things."

Ro nodded her head before deciding to change subject. "Well, as interesting is this is, we have other things to talk about. Now it's time for me to train you, Adami."

"Excuse me?"

"Tomorrow we will meet the Klingons, and frankly, you have to change your approach when we talk to them. While the Intendant is not like most Klingons, and your political knowledge and therefore your value to me might be clear to her, you'll also meet other Klingons. General Martok, Commander of the Klingon Security Department, will also be there and he's nothing like the Intendant as far as I've heard. He does have the highest respect for the Intendant, but he is not like her."

Jetur frowned. "What would I have to do differently then?"

Ro pointed a finger at the redhead. "First of all, your answers are too long. Now, don't get me wrong, while we're alone I prefer them that way. I want the extra information. But if you talk to the Klingons the way you normally talk, they'll get bored. Sift out the important information and only tell that."

"But the small stuff is just as important," Jetur disagreed.

"No, what's important is that you know it. But you don't mention it until it becomes a bigger issue. That's how the Klingons work. They don't care about details. They don't want to hear that something can bite them in the ass two years from now. If it becomes a problem, then they'll deal with it at that time."

Jetur opened her mouth and then closed it again when suddenly something else dawned on her. "Oh, that explains why they still sell their weapons to the smugglers, while the smugglers are using those weapons against them in raids."

"Exactly," Ro agreed.

"I never understood that," Jetur had to admit. "Why not get rid of those smugglers?"

Now Ro grinned. "Because they give the Klingons a small challenge in this time where there's nothing that can really challenge them. It gives Klingons a chance to prove themselves in battle. Why do you think the Klingons never really went after those smugglers in force? The Klingons could obliterate them within a day, if they wanted. But the smugglers are nothing more than a small nuisance... right now. So the Klingons enjoy playing a little cat and mouse with them. Hell, it's even common knowledge that a lot of young Klingons actually join the smugglers for a year or two."

"I didn't know that," Jetur noted. "Why would they do that?"

"Well, let me rephrase that. It is common knowledge with the Klingons," Ro corrected. "The reason they do it is because it gives the young ones a chance for adventure they don't get nowadays by being part of the Klingon society. The Klingons call it 'the wild years' and as long as you behave, according to Klingon rules, then when you come back nobody cares."

Jetur stood up and walked over to the replicator. On her way she half turned to look over her shoulder, ready to ask Ro if she also wanted something. But before she could ask, Ro lifted her glass to show that it was still more than half full.

As the redhead continued on to the replicator, Ro once again let her eyes drift over the woman's back. A v-shaped back that flowed into rounded hips and one damn fine butt, which was clear to see because Jetur was wearing a pair of pants made of body hugging stretchy fabric. One of the few women Ro had ever seen that could actually pull off wearing pants like that and look good in it. Even the legs were shaped just right; once again clear to see thanks to the snug pants.

"So, why didn't you go into modeling?" Ro finally decided to ask.

Jetur smiled, winning the bet she had with herself about whether Ro would check her out from behind. She replicated a drink before moving back to the chair she had been sitting in. "Believe it or not, but I actually have a lousy body for the real modeling of clothes. A few years ago, before I decided to try and get a job in the Palace, I approached a modeling agency. They explained to me, very sympathetically of course, why I should just give up on the idea of modeling. Unless I wanted to do the adult modeling that's needed in holodeck programs, if you know what I mean. I decided that while I don't mind using my body to get what I need, I don't want to do it on a daily basis. So... here I am instead."

"What's wrong with your body?" Ro asked, honestly confused.

Jetur smiled. "They want sexy women that look good in the clothing the designers make. My chest limits them, if nothing else. They want breasts to fill a bikini or dress; they don't want to show the lines of their wonderful dress being broken by having to cover a pair of DD cup boobs. Same with my lower back. A v-shaped back, round hips, and on top of that also a round bum... it's murder to fit fabric around and not get creases."

"Ah," Ro said in understanding. "That also explains your preferred way of dressing. A shirt that's knotted closed, or only held together with a few buttons, and pants so tight that the fabric has no option but to behave since there's no fabric left to form creases of fabric."

Jetur shrugged. "Yeah, getting clothes is a pain sometimes, but I wouldn't trade my body for more common sizes. The fact that I don't have standard sizes is what sets me apart. It's just that I'm lucky and all the non-standard sizes look damn hot together."

She hesitated before admitting with a smile, "But since we're on the subject, allow me to point out that you also look very... appealing."

"The dark mysterious brooding look, Kira used to call it," Ro stated bluntly.

"I would have gone for tall, dark, and handsome," Jetur said thoughtfully. "But yes, mysteriously dark fits you as well. More like..."

She waved a hand to indicate her own body, then indicated Ro. "It's more like day and night, fire and ice. I, with me you see what you get. I am looks and people want me because of that. What I'm like in bed comes second to that, funny enough. I am the day, the fire, the light. But you, you are the mystery. You're like the dark; you know something is hiding and you want to find it. You're like ice; cold, but if you break through that layer you reach the water and can swim in joy. Me, they want, you they want to tame."

Ro grinned at the comparison. "Ah, but ice is also deadly. You can break through it and only find death in the freezing water."

"Yeah, but everyone is sure that they're the one that can melt that ice and turn you into a puddle," Jetur countered. Then she sighed. "But, we were talking about Klingons."

Ro actually shook her head a little in confusion before remembering the subject they had been talking about. "Right, back to the subject. Let me warn you so that you don't get offended, I don't know if it's necessary or not with the Klingon Intendant around, but there's a chance that I'll act dismissive of you, or make fun of you. That's how the Klingons normally treat the ones lower than them. So don't get offended, and let the words just roll over you. As long as I don't outright insult you in front of them or send you away without being ordered to, you have nothing to worry about. But be advised, you might think differently about what is insulting than the Klingons do. Watch their reaction first before you think I insulted you."

"Ok, I think I can do that," Jetur said, having heard some of how some Klingons could be. As much as she knew about politics, she knew little about Klingon behavior. That was one species the others had never pushed in her direction. She had read about them of course, but not dealt with them. "Anything else?"

"Yes, as we just talked about, you're a very attractive woman, Adami."

"Y... Thank you, yes. So?" Jetur asked, not knowing where Ro's comment was coming from.

"Mmhmm," Ro agreed before coming to the point. "The Klingons will certainly say the same. Where it didn't matter to Kira if it was a man or a woman who shared her bed, I know from a very reliable source that the Klingon Intendant is solely interested in women. I warn you right now, Adami. Don't fuck with her."

"Why, you want to do it yourself?" Jetur asked.

Ro covered her eyes for a moment when she realized that Jetur had interpreted her words totally wrong. "I don't mean that kind of fuck. I meant don't mess with her. Don't try to play with her, Adami. The Klingons are very to the point with most things, including sex. If she shows any interest in you, and you don't mind, you better be prepared to go all the way. There's no middle ground. If you aren't interested, you show it from the beginning. Don't lead her on or else she might just decide to take what you've been teasing her with. If you show no interest then all will be fine, I know the Intendant is honorable enough and I don't think that she'll pursue a woman that has shown no interest whatsoever. But, if you did show interest, then you've entered the world of Klingon sex and its rules. If you suddenly don't show any interest anymore, after first doing so, then this will only be part of the game to them and it will excite them even more. Adami, Klingons do sex quite rough."

"I... see," Jetur said, not liking the concept. She didn't mind using her body, but she did want to be the one deciding if she used it. "I will remember that."

"You do that. Trust me, I've been there. You don't want to have sex with a Klingon unless you actually enjoy playing rough," Ro warned.

"So you like playing it rough?" Jetur asked.

Ro pursed her lips. "I didn't say that. The result justified the means so I did what I had to."

"So you didn't like it?" Jetur now asked.

Ro chuckled. "I didn't say that either. Let's just say that it was an experience and leave it at that."

"Who was it?" Jetur asked, not wanting to let the matter drop just yet. She knew it was to her own advantage to know as much as possible about Ro. "Was it Gowron? Is that the reason why he apparently likes you so much?"

"No, I turned him down. As I said, if you do that in the beginning, there's no problem." Ro decided not to add that for a moment she had feared that she would have had to kill him. Ro wondered if she should tell Jetur about this part of her history, but then decided that it really didn't matter, and maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to give Jetur some information. "One of the instructors at the Special Forces training was a Klingon. She was there to instruct us in the Klingon martial arts."

"But I thought that you told me that you joined the Special Forces when you were twelve!" Jetur said, realizing what this meant.

Ro nodded. "Let's just say that Rac'E liked them young. And once she took me to bed and realized that she was my first, she was thrilled by the idea and made me her little plaything for as long as her class lasted. I was in her class for three months and she taught me all she knew; which is far more than she taught the other ones. So she did give me something in return for having her way with me at least three times a week. It really wasn't all bad; I actually learned to like it. But the first couple of times until my body had adapted... Come to think of it, I think that, for her doing, she was actually quite gentle. It hurt and I think I bruised some bones back then, but she never made me bleed, except the occasional bite that was a little too hard. But I don't think a Klingon would hold back like that with a grown woman like you. It would be rough. I really don't wish that on you Adami."

"I'll remember that," Jetur said, taking the warning very seriously. "Now, do we have any plans for tomorrow?"

Ro shook her head and stood up. "No, I was planning on improvising. I have a feeling that it wouldn't be that good to plan everything in advance. If the Klingons do something differently, one suddenly doesn't know how to react. Come, let's mingle. Actually, let's give Delik a show. Let's go out there and you act as if you're really pissed at me."

"Hmm, I have to think of a reason to be able to look at you with hate in my eyes," Jetur said with a smile.

Knowing that Jetur's little joke was actually very true, Ro came closer and leaned over the still sitting woman. "You want a reason? I'll give you one. If you mess this up, the worst thing that happens to me is that I don't become Intendant. But you, Adami, you will curse the day that you heard of me. I've seen you with your little brother, having fun, playing with him. If you mess this up, I will cut all his fingers off with a dull knife, one by one, and force-feed them to him. And then I'll rip his tongue out and shove that up his ass. And if he still lives after that, I'll bring him to Zharydein prison and throw him in the sexual offender's wing as their new plaything. So you better be very convincing, Adami. Remember my background, I'm not bluffing."

Jetur's nostrils flared and she lifted her hand to hit Ro for daring to threaten her brother, only to have her hand caught in a vice like grip.

Ro bent Jetur's arm so far over the armrest that it was close to the breaking point and Jetur was shouting out her pain. "This isn't a game, Jetur. You act as if this is all fun and, all in all, I don't mind that. It's actually quite entertaining and I normally like that. But you better remember that this is real. You're no longer running with the herd, you're now amongst the predators and only one of the predators will survive. You better hope and try your hardest to make sure that I'm the last one standing. You hear me? At this point, I'm your only hope. And at this point, I will do whatever it takes. As long as I have a chance. What... ever... it... takes."

Ro suddenly let go of Jetur and took a few steps back and leaned casually against the desk.

Jetur looked at Ro with pure hatred in her eyes, only to see Ro starting to smile.

"Good, that's more like it. Just remember this when you have to find a reason to be convincing."

"You better believe I will remember this." Jetur now saw Ro in a new light. She still knew that she had chosen the right person to back, now even more than before. But having seen the raw energy the normally so calm Ro could radiate, it changed her whole view of the quiet woman. Jetur realized that Delik had no idea of what he had gotten himself into. "It was you who killed Kira, wasn't it?"

"Does it matter?" Ro asked, not answering the question. "She's gone, and Bajor will be better for it."

"It matters to me."

Ro sighed. "Adami, I can't answer that question to your satisfaction. You'll make your own judgment and whatever I say won't change your perception of things. If I say I didn't do it, you won't believe me, and if I say I did do it, you won't believe it either because you think I would act differently than I do now."

"Fair enough, you're right," Jetur acknowledged while she got up. "Well, after that nice motivation, let's get going, okay?"

Ro made the few steps that would bring her to Jetur's side and put her hand on the woman's shoulder, feeling the other woman flinch slightly at her touch. "Adami, I'm sorry that I had to do that, but it really was necessary."

Jetur sighed and slowly turned around. "I'm sorry too that you had to do that. But you're right, it was necessary. But please don't do it again."

"As long as you remember, I won't have to."

"As I said, I'll certainly remember." Jetur treated Ro to one of her many smiles, and Ro was glad to see that it was a genuine smile. Or more to the point, now that Ro knew that Jetur had trained her smiles, she was glad to see that Jetur was using a smile that she used very often and very easy every day. "Now, let's get out there and give them a show."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"You ready, my Pet?"

"One moment, Mistress, if you please."

"What's up?" Torres asked while she walked to where Seven was sitting and looked over the blonde's shoulder at the computer unit on the table.

"Mistress, I wanted to read up on Bajoran customs, and the personal reports General Martok sent over last night."

"Then why didn't you do it last night?" Torres asked, knowing the reason only too well.

Seven looked up over her shoulder into the Intendant's eyes. "Because I was otherwise occupied last night, Mistress. Taking care of my Mistress is of paramount importance to me."

Torres could not resist and took a moment to kiss those delicious lips that were so invitingly close. "Mmmhmmm, and you do it sooo well. I'm just glad that I can return the favor now? when you let me."

"Mistress, are you still upset about yesterday morning?"

Torres hesitated before admitting, "No, not really upset, just a little disappointed I have to admit. Now that I've discovered that pleasing you can be just as much fun as being pleased by you."

"Please, Mistress, do not distress. I have found that I enjoy pleasing you at any moment of the day, but that I do not enjoy being pleased myself within the first two hours after waking up. I enjoy pleasing you then, just not being pleased myself."

"But I still feel kinda bad about taking from you while not giving back."

"Mistress, I believe that you are forgetting that I am your Body Slave. I am supposed to only give to you without getting anything in return."

"Hush." Torres kissed the blonde again.

She loved the interaction that had formed over the three days of their journey. And the best thing was that as soon as they stepped out of the door, the blonde acted like the perfect Body Slave. There had been no reason whatsoever to punish her, or even raise her voice to the blonde. "You're supposed to do whatever I tell you. I just tell you to like it when I please you. So you do."

"Mistress, if I may say, that is a very weak explanation."

Torres laughed and sat down on the blonde's lap. "But the good thing about being Intendant is that every weak explanation is still a good enough reason. Now, read up, it's about time we got out of here. The Bajorans are preparing for my arrival as we speak and I don't do being fashionably late."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven moved away some of the brown hair that was obscuring her view of the computer unit and started going over the information.

Torres also looked at the screen and saw screen after screen of information being loaded and disappearing. "Okay, that's it. I'm getting me some of those implants too," Torres joked. "You really read all of that?"

"Of course, Mistress."

"So, found anything interesting?" Torres asked when the blonde started to close the computer unit down.

"Yes, Mistress. I found several interesting things about the Bajoran customs, but with your permission I will inform you of those if it becomes necessary. Otherwise I fear I may bore you and you would not get the full impact of the information. I believe that it would be much better to give you the information when you need it. As far as persons are concerned..."

Seven opened the computer unit again and brought up two pictures onto the screen, "...It appears that these two people are the ones that you might be interested in. Delik Jetir and Ro Laren. The Klingon spies informed General Martok that these two are the ones having the most chance of being regarded for the post of Intendant."

"Only two?" Torres asked surprised while she looked at the photos. "That will simplify my job quite some."

"Yes, Mistress. Apparently a power struggle has ensued between these two. Both of them were advisers to Intendant Kira Nerys before she was killed, two of twenty advisers in total."

Torres frowned. It didn't make sense to her. If there were twenty advisers, then why were only two interesting enough to be mentioned? "So what are the power bases, and why are the other advisers not also potential candidates for the job?"

Seven brought the picture of the man a little more to the front. "Delik has succeeded in getting the other advisers to back him in his fight against Ro; which also explains why the other advisers are no longer a potential choice. Delik has put them out of the race, and they do not even know it."

"Impressive," Torres had to admit.

"It is," Seven agreed, "but that is basically the extent of his power base. That, and the fact that some obvious species have officially backed him, for example, the Ferengi and the Bolians."

"But given the fact that neither of those species has their Homeworld in the Bajoran sector, that support really doesn't mean much," Torres pointed out.

"Indeed," Seven agreed. "I believe it is safe to say that this is more a case of shouting out who they want in the position of Intendant and hoping that somebody is impressed by the shouting."

Torres chuckled. "Good analogy. But I for one am not impressed by that support. Especially not by the support of the Ferengi. Given the fact that Ro is a woman, the Ferengi would back the guy even if he was in the habit of crapping on the table at state dinners. And talking about the woman, what about her?"

"The most obvious power base for Ro is that she has the faith of the Special Forces; she once was a captain of the Special Forces," Seven informed.

"Really now? Tell me more." Torres got up and walked to the replicator and got something to drink for the both of them. "That's no small feat. Having the Special Forces in her corner will give her an advantage in controlling people who might object to her being Intendant."

"Probably. However, as far as... Thank you Mistress," Seven interrupted herself when Torres put a drink down in front of her. "But as far as the spies were able to find out, Ro has no political footage whatsoever,"

Torres hummed. "Well, there go her chances for becoming Intendant. Pity, I wouldn't have minded appointing another female as Intendant for Bajor."

"But, she also has the Organians inviting her to their planet, if she were to become Intendant," Seven finished her statement that had been interrupted by Torres.

Torres spent a moment to contemplate that. "Well, that certainly is something I would call a political footing. What's the deal?"

"The spy reports say that Ro has no political knowledge whatsoever, but one of the helpers of the other advisers has chosen her side. She appears to be very knowledgeable in the field of politics."

"Really? Show me a photo and tell me more."

Seven did as she was told and soon Torres could see the photo of a very beautiful redhead filling the screen.

"She was known as a quiet person who would never object," Seven stated. "Because of that, people pushed almost all the work in her direction, assuming that she would always continue to quietly do their work. It seems that she took the opportunity and formed an alliance with Ro Laren."

"Not a bad choice, for both of them," Torres approved. "So I first have to test their resolve to each other. As long as they stay true to each other, they'll have a chance. But if I see one crack forming between them, they can forget about it."

Seven was about to close the computer unit, but Torres stopped her to have a last look at the photo. "She sure has the looks."

"Not just the looks," Seven informed as she brought up some information. "She finished top of her class in school, was even allowed to skip a year on two separate occasions. Tests have shown that while she does not have a photographic memory, she does have a highly advanced mind with an almost genius level ability to remember things and put that information into context with already known information."

"Really now?" Torres asked surprised. "And yet despite that she's only an aid to an adviser?"

"I do not know why that is," Seven had to admit. "The only thing I can point out is that intelligent does not necessarily translate to smart. Maybe she made some wrong choices in life. Or maybe she was more reluctant than others in making certain choices that would have improved her career. The general idea I get from this information is that she is what could be considered a nice person. Maybe she does not have the unscrupulous mentality that is needed for a fast advancement. Or she merely took a few years after school to do other things then build her career. She is not that old. If she spent two or three years doing something else, and then started work, then working in the Palace for someone that works directly for the Intendant is actually not a bad achievement."

"Good point." Torres closed the computer unit before adding, "I can see how people could underestimate her. Hire her as a piece of candy and not find out that she has an independent brain until it's way too late."

Seven frowned. "I do not understand what her esthetics have to do with her intelligence. One does not influence the other."

"Well, for some reason a lot of people do think so," Torres pointed out. "Often when someone is very good looking, people tend to think that that person only got the job because of the way they look, maybe even gave some ass to get the job."

"Give some ass?" Seven repeated.

"Old expression," Torres explained. "It means that someone had sex with someone to get the job."

"I see. So people assume this, but it is not true?"

Torres shook her head. "Um, no. More often than not, it's true."

"But..."

"Easy, Seven," Torres interrupted, not wanting to get, once again, into a discussion about the right and wrongs of daily life in the Coalition. "That's also one of the things I'm slowly trying to change. But there's only so much I can do by myself. For now it's actually quite common to use sex to get ahead in life."

"Why?" Seven asked, having learned the last couple of days that the Intendant always stated how things were, not necessarily that the Intendant also agreed with the state of things.

"Mostly it's a question of you do it too, or you lose out," Torres said while she sat back down on the blonde's inviting lap. "If you've seen people, nowhere near as good as you, getting all the good jobs simply because they said yes while you said no, eventually you decide that maybe you can sleep with someone just once to get the job. And when you did it once, it's soon also okay to do it to get a better job, and soon it's an accepted way of doing business. The thing is, I can't really do much about it. It's not like people are going to tell me that they got their great job by sleeping their way to that position."

"Thank you for explaining, Mistress."

"Mmhmm, thank me later," Torres said with a smile.

"I will," Seven said with an equal smile.

It was something that had formed quickly in the last couple days. Seven, eager to please her Mistress, was thanking Torres all the time for almost everything. Soon the 'thank me later' had formed as a reaction. It was an easy way for Torres to accept the thanks, and also, it was something that could be said in front of the other Klingons.

"The redhead did look like she could be fun in bed though," Torres said, bringing the subject back to the matter at hand. "I think I'll see just what she's willing to do and what she wants in return."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said, suddenly no longer smiling. "May I get up now?"

Torres moved off the blonde's lap and let her get up. She wondered why her Pet was suddenly acting different from just a minute before. Torres went over the conversation in her head and then realized what the problem had to be. She couldn't hide her grin while she watched the blonde put away the computer unit. 'Time to have some fun.' She waited until Seven came back and then told the blonde to sit down and sat down opposite of her.

"So what do you think, what would have more of an effect? Approaching the redhead in front of Ro, or should I do it behind her back?"

"If you were to do it in front of Ro, it would be clear that it is a test, and she would not accept your advances," Seven said, feeling it her duty to inform the Intendant of this fact.

"You're right, of course. And another advantage of approaching her separately, is that I can have her immediately if she agrees. No need to let such an opportunity go by if it presents itself. Right?"

"If you say so, Mistress," Seven answered neutrally while folding her arms over her chest and looking down.

Torres wanted to go on some more, but seeing the blonde sitting in a way she had never done before, told Torres that the joke had gone far enough. "You know something, my Pet? You're very cute when you're jealous."

"Mistress?" Seven asked looking up.

"You. You really look very cute when you're jealous. Especially if you're pouting like you're doing now."

"I am glad that you are entertained, Mistress."

Torres got up and went to sit beside Seven, following the line of the blonde's ear with a finger. "Come on, my Pet. I thought you told me that this wonderful hearing had picked up the conversation I had with Martok about you. You should really know that even if I wanted to, which I most definitely don't, but even if I wanted to have sex with someone else, I'm not allowed to. I may be Intendant, but even I prefer to stick to the rules when I can."

"No, Mistress, I know that you are not allowed to have sex with another slave while I am your Body Slave," Seven corrected. "But Jetur Adami is not a slave. You are allowed to have sex with her."

"Oh, I forgot about that. Sorry, my Pet." Torres softly kissed the neck of her slave. "If I had remembered that, I wouldn't have played with you."

Torres put her arms on Seven's shoulders and turned her around to face her. "Listen, Seven. It doesn't matter."

She moved her hands until she was holding Seven's face in her hands. "Listen to me. I'm thirty years old. I've been sexually active for seventeen of those years. In all of that time I have never had sex with a person twice. And while a very few made it to my bed and we had sex there, I never ever let someone truly sleep in my bed, ever. That is, until now. Do you really think I would give that up for nothing? Whatever that woman could give me, I can have from you."

"But she is not me, she would not be me in bed, she would act different than I."

"Don't be so insecure, my Pet. You act different too. It's not the same all the time. Since you became mine a week ago, we've had sex so often that even you've lost count. It's a wonderful mix. Me finding someone that fits me and making up for years of bad or at best adequate sex. You actually discovering sex. Both of us not being able to get enough until less than a damn day ago."

Torres caressed Seven's face softly. "My Pet, you drove me so damn wild that even when I truly had to leave to do things, I almost ran through the corridors to get it done, so that I could get back and we could jump each other again. It's only now that I'm able to go more than just a few hours without needing you again."

Seven knew that Torres was exaggerating a little. As time went on the times between the lovemaking had stretched. They had done other things. Torres was Intendant and some things simply could not wait. And then there were baths and eating, and sleeping, and cuddling, and talking. But still, since Torres had also started to touch Seven, they truly had made love so often that Seven had really lost count.

"I know," Seven admitted. "But,"

"But," Torres interrupted, "No but. Each and every time it was different. I wasn't kidding when I told you that you were the best I ever had. That's the best in seventeen years. You really think I would give that up for a little romp with a woman I have no further interest in? Why would I take some mindless sex when I can have you?"

"But you would still have me if you would do this," Seven pointed out. "I am your Body Slave after all. I would still be that if you prefer someone else in your bed."

"Seven, I would not do that to you. Have a little faith in me, ok? You were the one who wanted to stay my Body Slave, and I must admit I like that. But that doesn't mean that you mean nothing to me. I simply would not do such a thing to you. As far as such things are concerned, I don't see you as my slave, but as more. Trust me. And even if, even if I would still see you as just my slave then, I would still not be so stupid as to sleep with somebody else."

"But," Seven began, only to be interrupted.

"But nothing. Seven, you now initiate sex more often than I do. You don't just service me because you have to. We have sex because you want to. You smile, you laugh, you can't get enough of me. Even if we're resting your hands always touch me. Do you really think that I would be so stupid that I would sleep with somebody else to get some mediocre orgasm, if I'm lucky? While knowing full well that by doing so I would hurt you and you'll go back to only servicing me when I tell you to, and only then just long enough for me to reach my peak?"

"That still does not take away that you are my Mistress," Seven began, only to be interrupted once more.

"Alright, fine. See me as nothing more than your Mistress for a moment and pretend that I don't have any feelings at all for you. Just remember for a moment what I always say about punishment and reward. Right now the sex we have feels like the best reward I ever got in my entire life. Do you really think I would be so stupid to do something that would make you 'punish me' by withholding that stellar sex you're giving me every single time we're having fun?"

That logic finally made it through to the blonde. No, Torres would not. In fact, with that deduction, Seven knew that she would never have to worry about something like that because Torres would never want to suffer the 'punishment' of Seven losing interest in the sex between them.

She sighed before relenting. "I am sorry, Mistress. Being... jealous is a new feeling for me. I told myself that I could accept you having someone else, since I am your slave. But I cannot. You are mine, Mistress. And I do not share."

"And you won't have to, my Pet," Torres assured, glad that she had gotten through to the blonde. "But tell me right now, can you accept me having fun with your jealousy, or not?"

"I trust you completely, Mistress. Seeing how quickly I became jealous now, I think that I will become jealous more often. But I trust that you will not hurt me by actually having sex with someone else."

"So I'm allowed to flirt with the redhead?" Torres asked with a grin.

"Yes, Mistress. But if she does touch you in any way I find inappropriate, I will break her neck."

Torres laughed at hearing the statement, "My, aren't we possessive. Come on, let's get going."

"Yes, Mistress. I am sorry, Mistress."

"I'm not. I think I like you jealous. But I'm not about to make you jealous just for the fun of it. Besides, I think we needed that little moment there. Talking about... stuff... is not easy for me, but you really needed to know how important what we have is to me. You do realize that now, right?"

"Yes, I do," Seven assured.

"Alright then," Torres said. She quickly leaned in and stole a kiss. "Now let's get going."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said while standing up. "Do you want me to change before leaving our quarters?"

Torres took a step back and let her eyes roam over the blonde's body. Taking in the shiny black, and formfitting, bio-suit. It had become the bio-suit Torres loved to see her blonde in the most. Torres walked around Seven to take it all in, her eyes coming to rest on the blonde's backside. Torres had to close her eyes for a moment to compose herself. The shiny black material showed off every sensual curve of that great body. The deep black color and shiny quality of the material gave the perfect impression of a 'bad girl'. Not someone that was easy, but someone that would rock your world if she were to ever allow you to take her to bed. And it was all hers.

She walked further until she was standing once more in front of the blonde. Torres saw the smile on the blonde's lips. Her little vixen sure knew what kind of effect she had on her. Torres repaid the smile with one of her own.

"Kahless, woman the things you do to me. And you really think I could have eyes for another woman? Get real."

Seven moved her hands over the slick black material, following the curve the material made where it stretched over her chest and then folded her hands behind her back. "You approve?"

"Do I ever. I'm seriously contemplating being fashionably late. I'm this close to jumping you right now."

Seven looked at how Torres was holding her thumb and index finger only a fraction apart to indicate what she meant with 'this close'. "I assume I do not have to change then?"

"Nooooo, you stay just like that, baby. I feel like torturing the poor people that can only wish they could touch you."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven was proud of the fact that the Intendant liked her body and services so much. Seven remembered when she was doing research about mating behaviors on Voyager. B'Elanna had told Seven that there had to be more to a relationship then sex and desire.

But Seven was glad with what she had. The Intendant liked her services and her body. Being the fact that she was only a slave, Seven figured that this had to be enough. Especially when she considered that she had more now than when she was on Voyager.

No, like Janeway had told Seven once on another subject; you cannot have it all. And Seven had more than she ever had before. The only thing she really missed from Voyager was the contact with her friends, B'Elanna, Tom, Harry, and Naomi.

"Come on," Torres said while she walked past Seven to the door, using the opportunity to pat Seven on her rear.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 13

Ro was standing on the edge of the shuttle square. The shuttle square was a part of a large park in the middle of the palace grounds. It was in the center of the park, making it possible for even the big Klingon Ambassador shuttles to land with ease, without having to worry about the buildings, the first of which was a five minute walk from the square.

All the advisers and adviser's assistants were standing in a line on the side of the square that was known as the 'welcoming location', knowing that their future would step off the shuttle soon. Standing closest to the shuttle were the Klingons, like Gowron, who would fall in behind the Intendant when she left the shuttle.

Ro was flanked on one side by Jetur and on the other side by Delik, something Ro and Jetur had come up with. It was designed to make Delik think until the last second that Ro had bought his deception and that she was about to double-cross Jetur.

The main door of the giant shuttle lowered and hit the ground with a loud bang that made more than one person jump. Wave after wave of Klingon commandos came marching out of the shuttle until three hundred Klingons, disruptor rifles at the ready, had formed an armed perimeter around the shuttle.

It was very clear to anyone there, that for the moment, the Klingons were in complete control of the entire complex. Including the Klingons Gowron had brought in since Kira's death, there were more than five thousand armed Klingons on the palace grounds; and that, when Bajoran access was heavily restricted, and no weapons whatsoever were allowed for them.

All eyes went back to the ramp when once again the sound of Klingon boots on metal could be heard. They saw four Klingon guards coming down the ramp, forming a defensive square, while inside the square there was a Klingon that everyone recognized as the Intendant. But everyone was surprised to see a second person in the armed square, clearly a Human slave. After them followed other Klingons that were outside the armed square, the ones with positions high enough to be included in the Intendant's entourage.

Ro wondered what the slave was doing in such a prominent position, never having been in a situation where she had to deal with a Body Slave. But Jetur knew what this had to mean. She leaned a little closer to Ro and spoke so softly that Delik, on the other side of Ro, didn't even hear that she was talking, which was what Jetur was hoping for.

"Laren, listen, this is very important. Be polite to the blonde slave. Treat her as an equal, if not as your superior."

"What?" Ro asked looking at Jetur, not believing her ears.

"Trust me; this can be the thing that makes us win. Treat her as if she is more important than the Klingon Martok."

"Are you nuts?!" Ro asked louder this time, seeing Delik turn in her direction.

"Trust me," Jetur mouthed, wanting to make sure that Delik would not know what they were talking about.

Torres stepped off the ramp and moved closer to the Bajorans until she was standing in front of the middle of the line.

She let her eyes drift over the line of people for a long moment, a sneer on her mouth as if looking at something that was somehow offensive.

"This is the best they have to offer?" she finally asked nobody in particular. "Better just put a Klingon in charge and have it over with. Martok?"

"Yeeees?"

"Give me one good reason why we should bother with appointing a Bajoran as Intendant?"

"Because we wouldn't wish it on our worst enemy to have to deal with Bajorans on a daily basis?" Martok replied, making it sound like it truly was the only reason he could think of.

Torres nodded in agreement. "Hmm, that's true. Well, let's get this over with. Where is Kira's body? I do hope you preserved the body?"

"Of course, Intendant," Delik said smoothly while taking a step closer. He focused on the Intendant, ignoring the others. "Please, allow me to escort you."

Torres waved him off. "In a moment. Why don't we first give your competitor a chance to introduce herself to me?"

"Intendant?" Delik asked before he saw that the Intendant was looking at Ro, "Oh, you must be misinformed. Ro is not a competitor."

Ro also took a step closer; Jetur right at her side. "Delik was Kira's first adviser, while I was the last. He thinks that because of that, and the fact that he could fool the others into backing him, that I'm no competition for him."

Remembering Jetur's warning, Ro thought it was time for a proper introduction. But not really knowing how to address the slave, Ro decided to stick with the neutral 'madam', a title well used in the entire Coalition for women whose true title one didn't know.

"But please, Intendant..." Ro then looked very pointedly at Seven and continued, "...and madam, allow me to introduce myself and my assistant to you. I am Ro Laren, and as I just stated, I was one of Intendant Kira's advisers."

She indicated Jetur and added, "And this is my assistant and confidant, Jetur Adami."

Torres started laughing when she heard the introduction. Despite the fact that she knew that Ro was trying to play her, she still liked that she had at least mentioned and looked at her Pet, where as Delik had totally ignored the blonde. As a matter of fact, Delik had not even introduced himself.

"At least now I know what your assistant was whispering to you while I was on the ramp. She thought it was a good idea to also acknowledge my Pet in your greeting?"

"She did," Ro agreed. "I was initially planning on recognizing her presence with a nod," Ro then added.

It was the truth, and seeing the Intendant's reaction, Ro thought it might be a good idea to add the fact that she was going to acknowledge the blonde woman regardless, but that only the way of acknowledging her had changed.

"Your assistant gave you a very good piece of information," Torres said as she started walking. She ignored Delik, and continued to speak to Ro, making it clear that she wanted the Bajoran to accompany her.

"And I'm glad to hear that you at least were going to acknowledge her. You made points with that. She's been my Body Slave for only a week now, the news has to get around yet."

Delik recognized that Ro had double-crossed him, and now the Intendant was talking to her and not to him. Trying to take back the initiative, he spoke up, "Intendant, would you like to see Kira now?"

Torres waved him off again. "I'm sure that Ro knows the way as well. I prefer talking with people who actually introduce themselves to me. Learn your manners, Delik, if you want to impress me. Right now, you're still in the race, don't blow it."

"My apologies, Intendant. I had assumed that you would already know who the valued advisers of Kira were."

"Assuming can get you killed, Delik. Don't assume; know. And even if I knew, which I indeed do, introducing yourself is a show of respect I appreciate. And now I want to see a body. Preferably Kira's, but at the moment I'm not picky. A body of an adviser that pisses me off would do as well in a pinch. Remember that, the both of you; don't piss me off."

One of the other advisers tried to come closer so that he could also introduce himself to the Intendant, only to find his way blocked by one of the Klingon guards. A strong hand was put on his shoulder from behind and he was turned around. The adviser had to swallow when he realized that he was face to face with the intimidating Klingon General Martok.

"Don't even bother. You let yourself be put out of the picture by blindly backing Delik. You've backed him until now. Don't be surprised that this is seen as you supporting him in his bid to be Intendant."

"But I,"

"But you... missed your chance. Your best option now is to keep backing Delik and hope that he remembers you 'if' he becomes Intendant. Now, get out of the way."

"I also want to see all of Kira's records, right after I make sure Kira is dead," Torres said, ignoring the chattering going on behind her.

"That might be a problem." Delik spoke up, "Kira encrypted all the information of her private files. The official records won't be a problem, but we've been trying to break the encryption on her personal files from the day she died, without success. We think that all the interesting information can be found there."

"Think you can get through that?" Torres asked over her shoulder.

"I will try, Mistress," Seven replied.

"Good enough."

They reached the buildings and a few minutes later they entered the palace hospital. Delik preceded the Intendant into a private room where the former Intendant Kira had been temporarily put to rest in a stasis chamber.

Torres took a few minutes to look at the lifeless body before finally speaking, "Even in death you just have to cause me problems, don't you?"

Then she asked the others while still looking at Kira, "Who's the main suspect?"

Delik was quick to speak up, "All evidence points at Ro."

Torres turned around to face Delik, "Now, why am I not surprised to hear such an accusation coming from you?"

"Believe me, Intendant, once you have a look at the evidence you'll come to the same conclusion."

Torres snorted. "I have no intention of looking at evidence. Martok gets that pleasure. Now, what are you planning to do with Kira's body?"

"It's custom to bury our dead," Ro explained.

"That's it?" Torres asked, making it clear that she wanted to hear more.

Delik was fast to take the opportunity that Ro had so clearly bungled. "Intendant, as soon as you release her body for burial, I was planning on organizing a state funeral."

"Actually," Jetur spoke up, "What Laren meant with saying that we bury our dead, is that we've already planned the state funeral for the day after tomorrow, unless you object to that date, of course. And the statue that will go over her grave should be ready by then too. Of course, the temple that will be erected at her funeral site will take a few months to be erected, but the plans are already in place."

Seven saw that the Intendant was about to say something and she could guess what the question was about. "Mistress, Bajoran memorial temples have to be built by the priests by hand in the traditional way."

"Ah, I see." Torres turned to Ro. "Your adviser just saved your ass. Kira might have been a bitch, but she was still an Intendant. She deserves, requires, all the ceremony of a dead Intendant."

Then she looked at Jetur, "But you also made a mistake. You told me preparations were already underway. That means that you have to show me this, I want to see it in... let's say, three hours. That should give you some time to scramble."

Jetur walked to the standard computer unit in the room and entered some commands. "The preparations are ready for your inspection, Intendant."

Torres raised an eyebrow at this and then turned to Seven. "Take a look."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven walked to the computer unit and quickly went over the information. "The first orders were given ten hours after the recorded death of Kira Nerys. Jetur Adami was actually rather modest in her description. Kira Nerys could be buried at this moment if the order was given. And from what I can see it would be a very impressive ceremony."

Ro looked at Jetur when she heard the time when the first order was given and saw the redhead rocking back and forth slightly on the heels of her feet with a very little smug smile on her face. Jetur must have given the orders only minutes after she had aligned herself with Ro. Learning how Jetur had taken care of this also made Ro wonder what else Jetur had done without Ro knowing it.

"Very impressive," Torres said while she turned back to the corpse of Kira. "Martok, scan her for all evidence you need, and then you can oversee the Bajorans in getting rid of her."

Then to nobody in particular, "Now, show me my quarters."

"Allow me," Delik said while he moved to the door. "I took the liberty to ready the Ambassador's quarters for you."

"Alright. Ro, you come along, I want to have a little talk with you."

Once again the group moved through the palace until they entered the Ambassador's quarters. Quarters that were only reserved for the most important of guests.

Torres took a look around the ostentatious decoration and for a moment she thought of telling them to give her something a little more modest. But then she decided that it just wasn't worth the hassle.

"Delik, I want you to bring me the computer unit that has Kira's private records. But I want you to bring me that in one hour. At that point, you and I will have a little talk. Martok, post the guards at your discretion. Ro, you stay. The rest, get out."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Delik walked down the corridor to Kira's office to get the computer unit. For a moment he thought about letting Kira's computer unit 'disappear', wondering, and also slightly fearing, just what information there might be in it. But he realized that this might be a stupid move. If there was something about him in the unit, it might actually work in his favor. But if he let the unit disappear, the Intendant might start to wonder what he had to hide. No, he would have his chance in one hour.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Torres turned around from checking the quarters to see Ro and Jetur still standing at the door. But before she addressed them she spoke to Seven. "Take a look at the replicator. See if you can find something in there that I'd like to drink."

"Yes, Mistress."

"You," Torres said, pointing at Jetur. "I told Ro that I wanted to see her, not you."

"Intendant," Ro spoke up, "Adami has a very good brain. She takes care of all the details I don't want to bother with. But to do so in an efficient manner, she does have to be at my side when I talk about certain things."

"Are you telling me that you can't remember things yourself?" Torres challenged.

"Certainly not. What I'm saying is that she's good at doing this, so why would I do it myself if I can let her do it? Remembering all the details will only give me unnecessary headaches."

"You got a point there," Torres relented, but the only reason why she really did relent was because she was testing how well Jetur and Ro would stick together. And right now didn't seem like a good moment to push and separate them; it would be too obvious. "Sit, both of you."

Seven came back from the replicator and handed Torres one of her favorite drinks. Torres saw that Seven had taken nothing for herself and was about to ask why not, but then realized that the blonde was being the good Body Slave; not taking something to drink for herself because they were not alone.

"You want something to drink?" Torres asked Ro and Jetur.

"Yes, we would," Ro said speaking for the both of them because she assumed that Jetur would not know that declining a drink offered by a Klingon would more than likely be seen as an insult.

"Get them some Bajoran wine, my Pet, and get something of your choosing for yourself too."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven got the two woman their drinks before getting her own and kneeling down beside Torres' legs, facing the other women.

Torres put a hand on Seven's shoulder and pulled her back slightly until Seven was sitting with her back against the couch Torres was sitting on. She slowly started to move her fingers through Seven's hair in an almost absent way. "Now, I have no intention of being here for a minute longer than necessary. Let's get down to business, why the hell would we make you Intendant?"

"Because I'm the best choice, at least if you want things to change," Ro answered.

Torres lifted her hand a little to make a circular motion, making the liquid in her glass come dangerously close to spilling. "But why would we want to change anything? The only thing I find interesting is trying to get you Bajorans out of my hair. As long as it doesn't bother us Klingons, I don't care how things are here."

"But surely you're also interested in a quiet Bajor," Ro guessed. "Kira was making enemies at every step. The Kai has been under house arrest for the last three years. The prime minister doesn't dare to come to the government meetings anymore because Kira told him he would be killed if he ever spoke against her again. The advisers, who were appointed by Kira, are the ones who have all the power on Bajor. The people of Bajor are only a fraction from starting an uprising. The only thing that's stopping them, is that they know that if they do, they'll be killed."

"As I said, no problem for me," Torres persisted. "I don't care why they stay quiet, just that they do. So it can be said that Kira's way was working."

"There's a difference between working, and working reliably," Ro said softly before adding with a bit more intensity to her voice. "I want to make sure that things work reliably. My focus would be on stabilizing Bajor. I have no interest in letting ten percent of the treasury disappear into my pocket; the Intendant allowance would be more than enough to give me a very comfortable life. My interests are not solely mine, I truly do care about Bajor and I want to make life better for the Bajoran people."

Torres laughed. "How noble, I'm so touched. And just how would you plan on doing that?"

It was Jetur who answered that question. "The ten percent that normally went to Kira is a very good start. Besides that, we were also planning on confiscating Kira's finances and putting those billions... couple of trillions actually... of credits in a special fund for all kinds of projects that have been decaying in the last number of years. Of course all of that would be done in the name of the former and very generous Intendant Kira Nerys. And furthermore, we're planning on reshaping the official payment system."

"Mistress, if I may?" Seven spoke up.

"Go on, my Pet," Torres permitted, also wanting to see how the two women would react to a slave speaking to them.

"Reshaping in what way?" Seven asked.

"Kira made sure that she could trust... relatively trust," Jetur began, "the government to make as many credits as possible by not paying them a set salary, but by giving them a certain percentage of the Bajoran national revenue. Of course, where Kira took ten percent, they only got a fraction of a percent. But by paying them on a standard system, with difference for different positions of course, we think that we can save about eighty-five billion each year."

"Which will bring you many enemies," Seven objected. "You would be killed before the month is through."

"No, not really," Jetur disagreed, "Oh, they'll be upset, but it would still leave the government jobs as the best paid jobs on Bajor. The trick is to not tell them until it's too late. We were planning on not telling anyone, until Laren would make an official address which would be carried all over Bajoran territory, including the colonies. Then it would be too late for anyone to do anything about it. We would make it clear that this new system is here to stay, and that it would still stay in place even if a new Intendant was appointed."

"Now, how would you do that?" Torres asked, wondering how they would make a rule that new Intendants could not break.

"By having the new rule endorsed by the Klingon Chancellor, and having the rule added to the official Coalition rules for Bajor," Ro explained.

Torres chuckled. "Ambitious. But there's a little problem with that. The Chancellor doesn't want to be bothered by this little Bajoran thing. Why do you think I'm here instead of him?"

"Oh, I think that he won't mind the five minutes it will take to endorse this," Ro said confidently. "You see, I, having been a member of the Special Forces, don't share the view of former Intendants that we should keep the knowledge of the Special Forces only to Bajor. I've spoken to the senior commanders of the Special Forces, and if I were to become Intendant, they would be honored to train a small group of Klingon commandos in all they know."

Torres stopped playing with Seven's hair when she heard Ro's offer. "How small a group?"

"Well, they told me that they could possibly add a few classes with a total of about one hundred Klingons," Ro said, glad that she had apparently awoken the Intendant's interest.

"You do realize that the Chancellor has a guard contingent of five hundred?" Torres challenged.

"Five hundred?" Ro repeated as if not believing what she heard. "The Special Forces are very selective. They don't just train everyone. That's why they insisted that the ones they would train would be Klingon commandos to begin with. Two hundred would be an absolute maximum."

"Well, considering that you're using this as a bribe, I'm sure you could muster an a little more interesting number, let's say four hundred," Torres objected with a grin.

"But the point of a bribe is that the thing that you're bribing with stays of value," Ro pointed out. "Three hundred is really as far as I can go, otherwise their training will suffer, and that would counteract the purpose."

"Three hundred," Torres agreed, "But you keep that number up. If one of those three hundred dies or retires, a new Klingon is trained to take its place."

"Of course, that only seems fair."

"I'll tell the Chancellor about your friendly offer to enhance the good ties between the Bajoran and Klingon people," Torres said as she slowly started to play with Seven's hair again.

"I'm glad to hear that," Ro said with a smile. She knew that she had just enhanced her chances quite a bit.

The Klingons had asked several times before if the Bajorans would be interested in training a small number of Klingons. Even though there was an element of Klingon training in the knowledge of the Special Forces, it was only a small part compared with the total picture. And the Klingons were interested in the rest of the picture, not the part they already knew.

"Of course," Jetur continued the conversation, "These measures are only a small part of the reforms we're thinking of. We think that simply by re-shifting and overseeing spending, we can free up close to 350 billion credits each year, without touching the economy of Bajor. And there is of course the little fact that the ten percent Kira always took will once again stay in the treasury."

Remembering what Ro had told her, Jetur added, "But I don't want to bother you with unnecessary details."

"Good idea," Torres agreed. "But I want you to send me a copy of your plans in detail as soon as possible, but still at your convenience."

Torres patted Seven softly on the head, more stroking her head than actually patting it, "My Pet here loves numbers, so you better make the numbers stick. If your plan is not sound, you're out of the running for the job."

Torres focused on Ro before asking, "You Bajorans guarded the knowledge of the Special Forces for as long as the Special Forces existed, and you couldn't become a Captain of the Special Forces if you were not fiercely loyal to them. So why are you now selling that knowledge? You could have used something else as payment, and I don't think that you're too stupid to know that. So, why?"

"Times change," Ro stated simply before explaining, "The Special Forces were, and continue to be, of great value to Bajor. But let's be realistic. In a time where all Coalition members have weapons that can destroy entire planets, the only interesting role left for the Special Forces is guard duty, low-level infiltration, and repatriation. Your Klingon commandos are very capable of also doing this, only that you would need about twice as many forces. We really won't lose much by teaching some of your commandos our knowledge, but we gain the chance of bettering the life of countless Bajorans. I and the Special Forces commanders find this a fair trade."

Then she gave a small smile. "And now is actually the best time to make this offer. Anything else I could offer, Delik could offer you as well. But he cannot offer you this. The Special Forces will only train your commandoes if I, as Intendant, order them to do so."

Torres nodded in understanding. Oh, she knew that if the Klingons were to put enough pressure on an Intendant Delik, that he would put pressure on the Special Forces until they gave in. But Torres understood only too well that training that is given because you're forcing the trainer, will never be as good as training that's given because the trainer truly wants to teach you things. Figuring that there was no need to discuss that part of the dealings any further, Torres shifted tracks a little.

"I must say that your commitment to the Bajoran people is so very touching, I'm almost crying," she said sarcastically, "Why are you so fixated on pleasing the people, and don't tell me that you do that because you care about them. If you try to tell me that, I swear I'll kill you right here."

"There are several ways of controlling the people and securing stability," Ro explained. "Kira did it one way, scaring everyone into keeping their mouth shut and cowering in corners. I intend to do it in another way. By bettering the life of the average Bajoran I'll get a control over the people that Kira never had. I'll have them in a position where they'll do things for me willingly. They'll love to obey their benevolent Intendant Ro Laren."

Torres nodded thoughtfully. "I see. How novel, being an Intendant that's liked by the people. It might actually work with you Bajorans and all that faith crap you all believe in. Alright, that was it for now. Goodbye."

Being so obviously dismissed, Ro and Jetur stood and left the room.

Once the door was closed, Torres looked down at Seven, "Well that was interesting. What do you think, my Pet?"

"Mistress, before I answer that, may I ask a question?" Seven asked as she turned around to face the Intendant.

"Sure."

"Mistress, why is there so little interest into who killed Intendant Kira Nerys? Is it not considered important to find the murderer?"

"Yes and no, my Pet. Martok is the one who will fully investigate Kira's death, finding the one who killed her is certainly of very high importance, if for nothing else than the fact that we have to prove that we 'will' get the person that is foolish enough to try and kill an Intendant. Having said that, finding a person suitable to be Intendant is even more important. One of the criteria, so to speak, for being an Intendant is that you can, and will, kill people if it serves your need. As Intendant, you must be able to back up all your threats. Everyone in the coalition knows, if I threaten someone, I'll do whatever I threatened if it serves my needs. So if I find a good person for the job of Intendant, I won't let my decision be based on whether or not that person got rid of Kira. To me that would only confirm that the person would be the right person for the job; someone who will walk over bodies if it's needed."

"But would it not be hard to appoint the potential killer of Kira as Intendant and at the same time prove that you found Kira's killer?" Seven wondered. "I do not think that being made Intendant will be seen as a proper punishment."

Torres chuckled. "Depends, sometimes I do really think that being Intendant is a punishment. Just kidding. As for still showing people that we got our person? Come on, my Pet, it's not that hard. We can simply take some prisoner and say this person did it and kill him instead. And the best part is, often that's even better."

Seven frowned. "Better how?"

Torres shrugged. "Well, normally you find the right person, but of course they'll exclaim that it wasn't them. They're innocent, they're framed, they have no idea what's going on. All of that fun stuff. All the babbling can ruin a perfectly good execution. Of course, you can prevent them from talking, but that's no fun either. But if you pick a condemned prisoner that knows their life is over, well they might be willing to put on the show you want for the right incentive. A son that is sent to the best school with all expenses taken care of, a wife that suddenly receives a governmental pension for the rest of her life. Stuff like that. And suddenly you have someone that does all that you want. That screams defiantly that they did it and are proud of it, or that openly accuses a few people that you also want to get rid of but couldn't before because they're too public. Stuff like that. Now enough about the convenience of willing scapegoats, tell me what do you think of our hopeful duo?"

"Thank you for explaining that Mistress." Seven hesitated for a moment as she shifted thought from one conversation topic to the next. "I think that their strongest side is also their weakest side. I think they make a very good team; one taking care of the bureaucratic side, and the other taking care of the... harder side that an Intendant sometimes needs. As a whole, I assume they would be very suitable for the job. But the problem is that they are two people. What if they do not agree on something? Or if they start disliking each other? From what I read in their files, I am almost certain that Ro Laren would do whatever is required, she would bring whatever force is needed."

"But Jetur is the soft one?" Torres asked.

"While reading her files I found several possibilities to influence her," Seven agreed, deciding to say the 'yes' by giving an example. "She has very close ties to her family."

"Kidnap one of them and put a disrupter against the head of that person," Torres concluded Seven's line of thought, "And she might do anything to save her family. You're right, that's the feeling I got from her too. She's nowhere near tough enough for the job of Intendant. Ro is, but she would be lost without Jetur at her side to help her. Ro is too much like a Klingon as far as that is concerned."

"So you will not appoint Ro Laren as Intendant?" Seven asked.

"I didn't say that," Torres disagreed. "What I will do is put a lot of pressure on their alliance. And if I see even one crack... they're gone."

She tapped her communicator to activate it. "Torres to Martok."

"Yes?"

Torres assumed that Martok was alone, going on his informal answer. But better to be sure, "Are you alone?"

"Yeees."

"Alright, I want you to see what you can find that someone could use to influence Jetur Adami."

"Do you want me to look, or should I take?" Martok asked, indicating that he wanted to know how far he should go. If he should only look for whatever it was that he had to look for, or if he should take possession of whatever it was.

"For now, just look. But make sure that you know where these things are."

"Alright, I'll take care of it. Martok out."

Almost at the same moment there was a chime to indicate that someone was at the door.

"Wanna bet that that's Delik Jetir?" Torres asked amused.

"No, Mistress, I believe that I would lose that bet," Seven said while she got up and sat down on the couch beside Torres.

"Want to make a statement?" Torres asked with a grin. Her rule that Seven had to get up and stand against a wall if someone came to visit had long since disappeared in some way.

A lot of those first behavior rules actually had. Even though Torres had never set a lot of rules for the blonde, figuring that the less rules there were, the less rules she had to remember, there had been 'rules' where Seven knew what to do simply because Torres had told her 'do this that way' without actually saying that it was a rule.

But as their interaction had changed, so had those 'not rules that are kinda rules' things. For instance, even though Torres had spent most of her time on the trip to Bajor with Seven alone in the private quarters, some business had to be done. And Torres had discovered that she actually really liked to have the blonde sitting at her feet, so that Torres could absentmindedly play with those golden strands of hair while she was thinking. So much more fun than seeing the slave go stand against a wall like nothing more than living furniture.

"I do not like him, Mistress," Seven admitted. "He ignored me before, I want to see if he is smart enough to understand what it means that I am allowed to sit beside you, when a normal slave would have to melt away and become a piece of living decoration."

"I don't think he will, my Pet. He's the kind that sees slaves as things that one only uses when needed. But, while his behavior towards you will add to my decision, I certainly won't base my decision solely on that."

"Of course not, Mistress. I am merely an unimportant slave."

Torres caressed Seven's cheek softly, "Right, and I'm just an unimportant Klingon. Being modest is really cute, when you do it my dear. Now, let's get this over with and get him in here."

"Yes, Mistress. Do you have any special orders for me?"

"No, not really. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Come," Torres said, knowing that Delik could not hear her, but that the computer would hear the single worded command and interpret it as a command to open the door.

Delik came into the room, carrying a computer unit under his arm. "Intendant, this is the computer unit you asked for."

"Put it on the table there and sit down. You want something to drink?"

"Sure," Delik said while he put the computer on the table.

"Get him some Bajoran wine, my Pet."

"Yes, Mistress."

Delik had barely sat down before Seven was standing in front of him, holding out a drink to him. He took a moment to take in the blonde slave in her black clothing before taking the drink and basically dismissing her. "Intendant, may I say that it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Oh, yes. I'm sure that you're truly honored to meet me," Torres said sarcastically, patting Seven on the leg after the blonde had sat down. "I'm still waiting for the day that someone will say to me, 'Intendant, I truly wished I would not be meeting you'. Now, you answer me this question, why the hell should we Klingons make you Intendant?"

"Because I would be very thankful to the Klingons for it. There are several multi-billion credit deals between the Bajoran and Klingons to expire this month alone. I would make sure that those deals and all that will still end this year would be extended into long term contracts against a very nice price."

"Mistress, the Bajoran year ends in only four more months," Seven said softly.

Torres grinned. She appreciated the reminder, but this time it hadn't been needed. She had sat in enough meetings where people thought that they could hide conditions in how they spoke their words. Delik had said 'this year' so casually that most people would have missed it, and the fact that this would mean that in only a few months there would be no more agreement.

"Thank you for the reminder, my Pet," Torres said, "But I don't think that Delik's so stupid that he tries to outsmart a person that has the habit of killing people that piss her off. I'm sure that he merely said 'this year' because he has to use it in deals so often. I'm sure that he actually meant to say, 'those deals and all that will end in the time period between now and the end of next year'. Am I right Delik?"

"Of course," Delik said smoothly. "A mere slip of the tongue. As you said, I meant next year." Then he put on his best charming smile and added, "And, if you look at it, you'll see that I'm really the only valid option. All the other advisers were put out of the running by me, simply by having them back me up."

"Ro isn't backing you up," Torres objected.

"Ro is no real option either," Delik said confidently. "That's the reason why I used her as my 'enemy' to get the other advisers to back me up. Ro wouldn't even be able to close the simplest deal with a Ferengi. The job of Intendant is more than just ordering troops around, as you know of course. Ro doesn't know most of the work an Intendant has to do. But I do. I've been doing all of that for Kira for years."

Torres nodded her head in agreement, "I must admit that you do have an advantage in the experience department. But, I must also admit that I was not that thrilled about some of the things Kira was doing sometimes. If you were to become Intendant, those things would still continue in the same way."

"Not necessarily," Delik disagreed, keeping on his most charming smile. "I still had to do things in such a way that Kira would agree to them, but if I'm Intendant then I can do things my way. If you were to tell me what the things were that you have a problem with, then I can approach those things in a different way. Maybe we could discuss them over dinner tonight."

Torres answered the smile that Delik was giving her with a smile of her own, "Unfortunately I have other plans tonight, I have a really busy schedule during my stay on Bajor."

"Maybe another day," Delik said, keeping his smile on his face. "I think that a dinner might be very enjoyable."

Torres patted Seven on the leg while saying with the same smile she had a moment before, "Delik, you should know that for enjoyment I have my Pet here. If you want to impress me, it sure won't be with your five-minute stamina in bed. If you want the job, you show me just what a great Intendant you would be and don't bother with trying to get me into bed. Frankly, you wouldn't be able to handle me even if you did."

Delik managed to keep his smile on his face, but it wasn't easy. "Well, you sure can't blame me for trying to get some extra benefits into the deal while I'm dealing with such an attractive woman as yourself."

"Oh, I'm so moved Delik, I'm almost starting to blush," Torres said sarcasticly, but with a grin. "Well, I think we pretty much talked about the interesting things. Now, you get out of here and tell everyone that I don't want to be bothered for the rest of the day."

"Certainly," Delik said while getting up. He moved to the door a little. "If I can be of any service with anything, don't hesitate to contact me."

"Goodbye, Delik."

Once Delik was gone, Seven got up and put the empty glasses from Delik, Ro, and Jetur back in the replicator, and went to stand in front of Torres, "May I sit, Mistress?"

"Certainly," Torres said as she started to open her legs to give the blonde room. But she was slightly surprised when her slave put her hands on the Intendant's knees to prevent her from opening them. Seven came a little closer and straddled the Intendant's legs, "Mistress, may I ask for your help? I have an urge that needs to be addressed."

"What is it, my Pet?" Torres asked, putting her hands on the blonde's hips.

"Mistress, I have gone for six hours and twenty-one minutes without kissing you. I am in great distress."

"You are?" Torres asked, leaning back instead of closer to the blonde.

"I am, Mistress. I am very close to going into withdrawal. This situation needs to be addressed now, unless you want to get your entertainment today by torturing me."

"Hmm, no I don't have the time for that today... you... sure you enjoyed yesterday?" Torres asked, the blonde's words reminding her of the day before.

Seven leaned closer until she was practically lying on top of the Intendant, "Very much so," she whispered, her lips only a hair away from the Intendant's. "I was wet the entire day for a reason, Mistress. I do not think that this would have happened if I had not enjoyed yesterday."

Torres could not resist and claimed the blonde's lips, slipping her tongue into her slave's hot mouth and putting a hand behind the blonde's head to pull her even closer. Once they finally broke apart, she admitted, "Mmhmm, bu, but I must admit that I do feel kinda sorry for having you wear me out like that, several times throughout the day, while I didn't even allow you to touch yourself."

"Initially," Seven added the word to Torres's statement. "Mistress, abstinence is an aphrodisiac all by itself."

"How poetic," Torres breathed after another long kiss.

"Mistress, I told you several times already, pleasuring you is my pleasure. Being able to concentrate fully on you is extremely erotic to me. And besides, I do remember that as a reward for my obedience you wore me out so much last night that I could no longer move, literally. I also remember falling asleep on the couch naked, and waking up in bed in my night-time bio-suit. Are you sure you did not strain your back while moving me?"

Seven decided not to say what a warm feeling it had given her when she woke up and noticed that the Intendant had taken the time and effort to put her in the bio-suit that she had to wear while sleeping during the trip. Seven understood how much work it must have been for the Intendant to put the suit on while Seven herself was sound asleep.

"It appears that your memory truly was out for the count last night, you did that yourself, you just forgot," Torres objected gruffly.

"Of course," Seven agreed before she once again took the time to share a kiss. She knew that the Intendant still had trouble talking about all the small kind things she did for Seven. Not talking about it was the easiest way to not having to think about what she was doing for a mere slave.

"Forgive me for forgetting, Mistress. Apparently, Mistress, you fucked my brains out last night."

The blonde's remark was so totally unexpected that Torres started to laugh so hard that Seven had to move off the Intendant to give her room to breathe. "Ooh, my Pet. You are just too much. I think I'll keep you."

"I am glad that I am able to be entertaining, Mistress." Seven got all the way up and extended a hand to the Intendant. "Do you want me to inspect the computer unit of Kira Nerys now, or do you want me to do that tomorrow?"

"Time to get down to business, my Pet?" Torres asked with a smile, accepting the blonde's hand.

"Yes, Mistress. The sooner this is taken care of, the sooner I can concentrate on you, Mistress."

"Oh?" Torres said while she moved to the table, "You've got plans for me, dear?"

"No, Mistress."

"No?"

"No, I am your humble slave, Mistress. What I want to do is whatever you tell me to do."

"Ah, I see. Well than, let's take a look at Kira's files and get that over with."

"Yes, Mistress."

Torres didn't let go of the blonde's hand and for a moment she wondered if she was ready to take the next step. But she knew that she had been ready the day before, it was just that things had turned out a little different than planned. No, she knew that it was time to go a step further.

"And you know what I'm really in the mood for later, my Pet?"

"Whatever it is, I will gladly do it, Mistress."

"What I want tonight is for you to make love to me. I think that I'm ready to try making love to you on an equal basis tonight. You think you can do that as well, Seven?"

Seven stopped breathing for a few seconds while her heartbeat pretty much doubled. The Intendant had never used the words 'make love' before. And despite the way Seven felt for the Intendant, she knew that the Klingon did not think the same about her. But hearing the invitation gave Seven hope that maybe, just maybe, she meant more to the Intendant than Seven had thought. "I... I would like that."

Torres smiled. "Good. But let's do this right. Tonight when we go to bed, I'm B'Elanna, and not your Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress. I think I will enjoy using your name tonight. But, Mistress, please do not forget that I do enjoy being your slave."

"Don't worry, my dear. I like you being my Pet. I like what we have. But I think that I would like making love to you on an equal level every once in a while, just like I'll enjoy denying you for hours on end every once in a while."

"I will look forward to it all, Mistress," Seven sat down at the table and opened the computer unit. "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you not ask me what I think of Delik Jetir?" Seven asked, changing the subject.

"Because he's a simple case, my dear. If he were to become Intendant he would be one out of a mold used more than once before. Using his power to his own gain, get rid of anyone who might get some power that might rival his, let billions of the treasury disappear into his own pocket. No, I know exactly what I would get if I put him in place as Intendant."

Torres spent a moment and tried to envision the man as Intendant. "Hmm, all in all I think that he would not be a bad choice. He would certainly not make any problems for me. Just telling him that I'm thinking of paying him a visit would make him piss his pants. It's just that I want to see what Ro and Jetur have to offer. When I have to appoint the new Bajoran Intendant, I want to make sure it's someone that, while thinking of themselves, doesn't 'only' think of themselves."

"I do believe that Intendant Kira Nerys was quite paranoid," Seven said as she went to work at the computer unit, effectively changing the subject away from Delik now that she had her answer.

"There are eight different security programs active in this unit. Under normal circumstances one would need six different entry-codes, the shortest twelve characters, the longest thirty-one characters. And besides that a scan of Kira Nerys' thumb and retina are needed. And all of this has to be done within five minutes or else all information in the unit will be deleted."

She hesitated for a moment as she checked a few more things. "I believe that a lot of people tried to access this unit. The log shows 34 different access attempts, but apparently nobody dared to open the files since that would start the security measures. All access attempts were apparently made to see what the security measures were, just like I am now."

"Damn, now I'm even more curious as to what's in there. You can get in there, right?"

"Of course, Mistress," Seven said, plunging her assimilation tubes into the unit, bypassing all securities in a mere moment. It was clear that security advancements did not have a big priority in the Coalition. Given some time there wasn't a single person on Voyager who would not be able to break the entry-codes eventually. This was more than likely why Kira had put the five minute time limit in the unit.

"So, are your friends ready to escape?" Torres asked casually, and was immediately amused by the blonde's reaction.

Seven had just removed her assimilation tubes and stopped all her movements with her hands hovering just above the now accessible computer unit. "Mistress?"

"You heard me, my Pet. I asked you if your friends are about ready to escape. Even though I give you privacy when you talk to the Doctor, it really isn't hard to guess what you talk about."

"Voyager... is... severely damaged, Mistress," Seven said, choosing her words precisely. "It will take some time to restore the ship."

"In other words, it's being worked on," Torres grinned.

"Will you stop them, Mistress?" Seven finally asked.

Torres set down in a chair across from the blonde and thought about it for a moment. "Depends."

"On what, Mistress?"

"On how they do it. If they do it in a way that I won't be seen as actually clearly having let them go, I might contemplate letting them go. It would take care of my promise to you that they would stay together and not disappear into some mine somewhere, you agree?"

"Yes, Mistress. It would."

"But, if they boggle it, then I'll have them all killed. I'm sorry, Seven. That's the risk that you take by helping them escape. If they don't escape I'll keep my word to you, but if they try and don't succeed, I have to punish them like normal slaves would be punished by me for something like that. I simply can't let almost one hundred and fifty slaves escape if they mess it up."

"I understand, Mistress."

"Ok, now tell me what's in that thing."

"Yes, Mistress."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 14

"But there's one problem with that," Annika said.

Janeway looked up to Annika who was leaning casually against the wall while the senior staff sat around a table they always used for their daily meetings. Even though Janeway had accepted that Annika was the one calling the shots for now, she still figured herself the Captain of the Voyager crew. Things had gone a little smoother now that the Intendant had appointed B'Elanna the assistant of Annika, and the Klingon was playing the role of go-between for Annika and the senior staff.

"Excuse me?"

"I said there's a problem with your plan," Annika repeated.

"What plan?" Janeway persisted.

"Oh, come now, you surely don't expect me not to have picked up on the plan that you're trying to make, that you were just talking about? Every slave has some sort of plan to escape. Normally they're never used, but planning ones escape is the only hobby a slave can have. You really think I wouldn't notice what you're planning?"

"Annika, why don't you sit down and tell us what the problem is," B'Elanna offered.

"Lieutenant..." Janeway said warningly.

"Captain, if we truly want to get away from here, we'll need her help. We can't even walk up to those guards without being killed. Annika can. And Annika can request certain things we might need. We really need her input, Captain."

"And what makes you think we can trust her?" Chakotay asked. He had wanted to ask Annika to join them himself, but he still had to bring up in front of the senior staff, the subject of being able to trust her.

Annika herself answered that as she set down between B'Elanna and Tom in the chair Harry had vacated for her. "You really don't have any other choice. You'll never escape without me."

"But," Janeway said softly, "telling you our plans would only put you in a position where you could sell us out to the guards, with our actions proving you right."

Annika shook her head at hearing Janeway's reasoning, "You really still don't get it, do you?"

"Then why don't you enlighten us about what I don't get?"

"I don't need any proof. This isn't the nice orderly Federation you all love so much. This isn't a place of 'innocent until proven guilty'. I could go out to those guards right now, tell them that you're planning some kind of escape or uprising, and every single one of you that I would point my finger at would be killed. As a matter of fact, I could kill you myself and nothing would be done about it. They would simply think that I, as Master Slave, would have had some reason for it. Here evidence is as important as a day off used to be to you. It's nice if you have it, but if you don't have it then the universe certainly isn't going to end."

"Ok," Janeway agreed since she could see Annika's point. "So the next question is: why would we think that you would actually help us, you've been working against us from day one."

Annika pointed a finger at the captain. "I'm not working against you all as a group; I'm working against you, Janeway. You are the one trying to undermine my authority, you are the one giving them orders; orders I then have to counteract because you didn't talk it through with me and it's basically a stupid thing to do."

"Why would we think you want to help us?" Janeway repeated to keep the pressure on that question.

Annika looked at her in slight disbelief. "Do you really think I enjoy being a slave? Do you think I like living a life where my most valued possession is the fact that I'm allowed to use my last name? Where only one person in about ten thousand can state publicly that they have a last name and not get killed? Where the fact that I, as Master Slave, have that... right... sets me apart from about ten thousand other people? Where I am considered... more... than all of you simply because I'm good at making orders become a fact? Do you really think I like that?"

"Then why didn't you ever do something about it?" Tom now asked.

Annika focused on him and asked in a reasonable tone, mostly meant to make him think instead of challenge, "Like what? Kill a Klingon and then be tortured to death? Try to escape and be killed? Or actually succeed in trying to escape, only to then have to live a life even worse than that of a slave? Until now there's been nothing I could do, save dying."

"Which brings us back to the question, why now?" Janeway asked.

Annika spread her hands and looked up a bit to indicate her surroundings, and the starbase in general. "Because now, I would have a place to live; Voyager. If I manage to get out of this place, here there's a chance for a better life for me."

"But you do realize that on Voyager I would be Captain?"

"And you think I would have a problem with that?" Annika countered, "You really don't understand me at all, do you? Don't you get it? All the things I'm doing here, all the decisions of yours I counteract, all of that is to keep you all alive. You're not in your universe anymore. There are other rules here. Try to finally understand this. We slaves are worth nothing here. We're nothing more than work animals; no we're actually less than work animals."

Annika's voice shifted a little as she continued, getting a sad edge to it. "Let me tell you something about my last position before I was appointed here. We were mining on some ice planet of which I don't even know its name. One day the heating broke down in the stables of the pack animals. You know what they did? They put the slaves in those stables, and the animals where we used to be. It took them forty-five days to get a team in to replace the heating units. For forty-five days more than two hundred slaves froze to death each night. I lost many a friend in those days."

She let her eyes drift over the group before asking, "And you know what I heard one of the Masters say when we were put back in our quarters? They were complaining that six animals had hurt themselves in the cramped slave quarters. Oh, and how now they had to go to the trouble of ordering an extra load of slaves. That's how much we're worth here. Those animals are slow breeders that only breed on that planet; we slaves can be ordered from the next slaver. I want a life where I'm worth more than that. If we get away from here I'll be more than happy to listen to you. Hell, I'll even call you Captain then if you prefer that. But finally try to understand that right here, right now, I'm in charge. And I'm making sure that you all don't get killed. Because unlike you, I do know what can get you killed here."

It was quiet for a few moments before Janeway, having made a decision, spoke up again, "Why do you think the plan won't work?"

Annika recognized a ceasefire when she heard one and accepted the offer. "As I'm sure you all know by now, the Humans once used to rule over all of Coalition space. Their downfall was that they relied too much on their slaves. The Coalition has not made the same mistake. Oh, they still use slaves, as you've found out. But they have an abundance of safeguards in place."

She lifted a hand and made a general gesture to the airlock where Voyager was docked. "For instance, take a space ship. Not Voyager of course, but one of the Coalition ones. If slaves are on a coalition ship, they're only there as servants and so that the Masters don't have to do the work. But the point is that the Masters can do the work if needed. They know how to do everything on their ships, down to scrubbing the plasma conduits. They're all trained in certain jobs just like you all are. There are engineers, scientists, doctors, whatever. There are always enough Masters on a ship to run it by themselves. It would be only a little more than a skeleton crew in numbers, but that still would be enough to run the ship."

"So you're saying that they would see that we're trying to trick them?" B'Elanna clarified.

"Exactly. They have Masters with engineering knowledge on this base. They would see that the repairs are further than we would tell them they are. There is a slight advantage we would have from the fact that they don't know the technology of your ship. But we can only fool them to a certain degree. If you tell them something is broken and needs to be replaced, they'll probably believe it. But if you were to tell them that the particle flux is still unstable, they're capable of taking the scanner out of your hands and having a look. Even though they won't know exactly what the readings must be, they can still see if the scan produced an irregular scanning line which you would get if the particle flux is unstable, or if there's a stable line and therefore you're lying to the Master. Believe me, if they find you lying, you'll be killed on the spot."

Janeway could see that under those circumstances their idea of fooling the Klingons would not work. In the Delta Quadrant they had come across several species that used slaves, and it was always the same. In time the species that had the slaves forgot how to do the work the slaves were doing. "That's not what we're used to from our contact with slave holding races in the Delta Quadrant. What do you suggest instead?"

"Make things up. Things they can check if they want to. Like... Well, for instance, come up with the idea that all wiring from the bridge to engineering has to be replaced."

"That's a massive job, and it would mean that we first would have to pull all the wiring out, and that would truly leave Voyager in a state that we can't use her," B'Elanna objected.

Annika shook her head in disagreement. "Not if you do it right. The Klingons don't know how you normally repair things. Simply leave the old cables attached in engineering and switch the machines off. Then start with the new cables on the bridge. If the Klingons than ask you why you don't first get the old cables out all the way to engineering, you simply tell them that this is always done on your ship like that because some places are hard to get at. And this way you only have to get to those places once to get the old cables out and immediately put the new cables in. Tell them it's more efficient and quicker this way. I've seen enough of such places on the ship to make that a believable reason."

"And then," B'Elanna continued, seeing what Annika meant, "it will look like there's still a lot of work to be done. After all, half of the ship lies open with cables hanging out, clear for everybody to see. But if we want to get away, we still can. Connecting the old cables to the new ones at whatever place we happen to be with replacing, and switching on the machines in Engineering, all of that can be done in our normal workday. And then just before we would normally leave Voyager again to come back here, before the Klingons would check our work, we suddenly get out of there."

Janeway nodded her head in agreement. "Alright, that sounds like a plan. That then only leaves us with getting our hands on some dilithium, ideas anyone?"

As answer there was a heavy silence around the table.

"I really don't know how to answer that one," Annika said, "But I can tell you that it won't be easy. As a matter of fact it will be pretty hard: the one problem that can mess it all up."

B'Elanna grinned and nudged Annika with her elbow, "Ok, we're all in suspense now, what's the big problem?"

"I had a look at your engines and I don't think that they can handle the dilithium the Klingons use without refining it first."

"We can do that without a problem, but it will take a couple of days," B'Elanna said so that the others saw what the problem was.

Janeway certainly understood, "We don't have that time. Once we get our hands on the dilithium we have to get out right away."

B'Elanna could only agree, "Right. But it would be nice if we could get some of the Klingon dilithium. I could work on it once we're away. Given the place where we are, I think that some extra dilithium would be very nice."

"True," Chakotay agreed. "But to get away we need Voyager's dilithium. I sure hope that they didn't use it for something else."

Annika shook her head no. "I don't think they would. They'll have the same problem that we have. They can't use it without refining it for their own use. But since they have more than enough dilithium themselves they won't bother with refining Voyager's. But they might simply have gotten rid of it since they can't use it."

"I have a feeling that we might have a little advantage as far as that's concerned," Janeway said thoughtfully. "Given how interested the Intendant was in Voyager, I think that she would have given the order to have the dilithium kept somewhere. If the Intendant was smart enough to know that taking it away from us would leave us dead in the water, but still able to do all the tests, then she's smart enough to understand that in the beginning, the ship will need the dilithium we came with."

"Right, so we only need to find out where they keep it," Tom said slightly sarcastic. Indicating that he thought that alone would be a huge problem.

"Right," Janeway agreed with a grin, "should be easy."

"We have another problem," B'Elanna said, before clarifying, "Seven. The Intendant has her at her side all the time. We have to get her away from the Intendant at the time we want to go, that won't be easy."

"True," Janeway agreed. "So we can't just prepare everything to leave one day and just go. We need to pick a day at least far enough in advance that we can tell Seven when she visits us. We also can't just go to her to rescue her, so she'll have to find a way to join us at the ship at the moment we're ready to leave. And I think that we also have to rely on Seven for something else. We won't be anywhere near a position where we could disable the guns of this space station. Even with dilithium we would be destroyed before we can get away if we can't disable those weapons first. But if Seven, as the Intendant's slave, is seen walking around the base they'll probably ignore her."

"I'll talk to her," B'Elanna said. "The Intendant seems to not mind it if Seven talks to me in private."

Janeway nodded her agreement. "Alright, it seems like we have a working plan. B'Elanna, you..." Janeway stopped giving the order she was about to give and looked at Annika. "Since you're the Master Slave here, I assume that you'll plan the work in such a way that the Klingons will think there's still a lot of work to be done?"

"I will," Annika agreed. "B'Elanna and I will concentrate on replacing the cables. This will make the Klingons think even more that this is a very important job; otherwise the Master Slave would never do it herself. While for the time being the rest of you all keep doing the repairs that you were making. And if you run out of stuff to repair, start enhancing things. Right now we're at a starbase. That means that there's a virtual unlimited supply of parts. Once we leave we'll never get such a chance again. Whatever you think that can be enhanced, do it. The Klingons will think that this was part of the order since it's only the normal thing for them to do. But there's one 'rule'. Whatever you do, make sure that it doesn't influence the speed of the ship in a negative way. Right now Voyager is capable of outrunning everything in the Coalition I know of. We can't afford to lose that advantage."

She snapped her fingers when thinking of something else. "Oh, and now that we have to remove three of the four alcoves in the cargo bay, by order of the Intendant, remove the fourth as well and put that in another large set of quarters. If the Intendant asks about it, I'll tell her I had it done so that the other quarters could be used if the first were not to the Intendant's liking."

"We can use one of the VIP quarters for that," Chakotay suggested, "Though they don't look like it with the current layout of walls, they're actually bigger than the Captain's Quarters if we remove the wall of the second bedroom and add that space to the master bedroom. And the best thing is that even then the layout is nothing like that of the Captain's quarters. That difference in look of the quarters will help make your explanation easier to sell. But my question is; why should we do that?"

"That way Seven will have two functioning alcoves onboard Voyager when we leave and those things are no longer taking up room in the cargo bay," Annika explained. Then she added with a grin, "That in its turn means that we'll have the perfect place to put an industrial replicator in the cargo bay. Something that will enable us to replicate all the things we might need. It's quite common for the Master Slave to upload replicator patterns into the replicators on the projects the Master Slave is working on. So it won't be a problem to fill the entire memory of the replicator with patterns."

"Where we come from industrial replicators have quite a big memory, all the parts from Voyager could fit into the memory with room to spare. What the hell do you want to put in there?" B'Elanna asked.

Annika shrugged. "As much as possible. I think it's better to have so much stuff in there that you only ever use ten percent, than discovering too late that that one part you desperately need is not in the memory. Besides, things that are normally never put in an industrial replicator can still be put there now. Just because it's normally not done, doesn't mean that you can't also replicate a hand spanner with an industrial replicator."

"Of course," B'Elanna said, slightly flustered that she hadn't thought of something so obvious.

"And once I've done that I'll also fill the memory of the main computer core with as much as I can put my hands on," Annika continued. "From holodeck programs to the latest research results in medical and scientific fields. Since it's clear to the guards that the Intendant wants Voyager for herself, they'll find it only normal that all the information normally accessible on a Klingon ship is also in the computer core of Voyager. So, with all the extra stuff I'll be putting in it, you might want to think about expanding the memory capabilities of the main computer core. Try to double it at least, but best would be if you can triple or even quadruple it. Same line of thought as before; now that we have the chance to expand it, we should use it. Who knows how many years it will take us before we're in a place that's actually friendly to Humans. From the moment we're on our way we should be totally self sustainable."

"We'll have to do that job ourselves as well," B'Elanna said, meaning her and Annika. "I'm the only one with a clearance to work on the computer. I think that as long as I'm only adding memory and not changing data, my clearance should be enough."

Annika nodded her head in agreement.

"We were self sustainable in the Delta Quadrant," Harry objected, but more for the sake of argument than to truly disagree. "Why all the extra stuff? It will only take up more time, make us have to work on Voyager more, make the risk of being assigned somewhere else before we can escape only bigger."

"No," Annika disagreed. "B'Elanna told me some of your adventures in the Delta Quadrant. True, on a normal daily basis you were self-sustained. But just how often did you have to go on replicator rations to preserve energy? Or how often did you have to visit some neutral star base for repairs that you could not make on the run? But here there are no neutral star bases. Could you have repaired the damage Voyager now has and had, on the run?"

"No," Harry was forced to admit.

"Well, from now on we'll have to be able to do that. From now on you'll truly have to be able to go years without making any contact."

"If we stay in Coalition space," Janeway added. "But even if we don't, and even if we find a way back to the Delta Quadrant, our Delta Quadrant, it would be nice to have all of that. As Annika just rightfully said, better too much than too little."

"Right," Annika agreed, "And I think that as long as the ship is not finished, or at least doesn't look finished, the Intendant won't appoint us somewhere else. She wants her toy functional. I'll make a schedule for the work that needs to be done. Those not appointed any special tasks are expected to go to the place they normally work and make repairs there. If they have no work left, they can come to me and I'll appoint them somewhere to make sure that they look busy. If someone is finished with the repairs and they want to make enhancements, they first have to get an OK for it from B'Elanna."

"And let's not forget," B'Elanna said, "that the Intendant also ordered us to redecorate all the living quarters and anything else that can be redecorated. Since we have to do that, we should do that right as well; use the opportunity. After having looked at my carpets for so many years, I wouldn't mind a different color. So I would suggest that if people run out of things they can do because they're not trained to do deep level engineering, they start doing redecorating."

"Alright," Janeway agreed, "You all know what to do; dismissed."

Janeway had assumed that Annika would stay seated, and she was right.

Annika waited until the others were gone before asking Janeway a straight forward question. "So, we finally have an agreement, or are you still going to be a nuisance?"

Janeway grinned when she heard the question. "B'Elanna was right, we do need you if we ever want to get out of here. And from what I just heard we'll leave this place with way more than we would have if we didn't have your help. In the situation we're in now, we can't be prepared enough. So for now I'm willing to do things your way. But, once we're out of here..."

"Once we're out of here I'll be more than happy to be nothing more than a member of your crew," Annika added.

Janeway dipped her head slightly, "I think you would be a great asset to my crew."

"As long as we understand each other."

"We do," Janeway assured. "Well, if you excuse me, I have to make the rounds and tell people what's expected of them."

Once Janeway was gone, B'Elanna once again sat down beside Annika. "Well, can I say 'I told you so' now?"

Annika turned towards her. "What are you talking about?"

"About me telling you that she really isn't that bad once you get to know her."

Annika shook her head a little. "It has nothing to do with getting to know her; it has all to do with her not trying to undermine me. I never had any problem with working with her. I also don't have a problem with you all seeing her as Captain. All I wanted was that she and you all understood that I'm not your enemy, that I'm doing things since I know how to stay alive."

"Alright. Well boss, shall we get to work then?" B'Elanna grinned.

"Let's."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Good morning, Intendant."

"Delik, there's absolutely nothing good about getting up at five thirty. So, to what do I owe the displeasure of finding you at my door?"

Delik checked his timepiece. "Intendant, it's eleven o'clock."

"So? I still had to get up at five thirty because I had to check things for this whole Intendant crap. And I'm still pissed. So if you want to talk to me without being killed, you might want to come back later."

"I can see that I caught you at a bad moment," Delik replied smoothly, and smartly. "Maybe you could lend me some of your time this afternoon?"

"Maybe, if you're lucky. Now scram."

Torres waited a moment until Delik was gone. Then she closed the door and turned around with a satisfied grin on her face.

"You did not get up at five thirty," the blonde who came nearer said.

"No, but I didn't want to deal with him and it felt good to get rid of him." Torres stepped away from the door until she was standing in front of the blonde. "Now, how would you feel about you, and me, getting naked again, and checking out that sonic bathtub."

"Sonic bathtub?" Seven asked, never having heard of anything like it.

Torres put her hands around the blonde's middle and pulled her against her. "You don't know what that is? Then we definitely have to check it out. The sonic waves feel reeeeally gooood."

Seven repeated the move on Torres and put her own arms around the middle of the Klingon. "But what use does a bathtub have if there is no water to be contained in the tub?"

Torres brought her lips to those of the blonde for a slow and long kiss. "The use, my dear, is that you don't have to stand upright like in a shower. You can sit and lie... and enjoy. And there's one very big advantage."

"Which is?"

"No water. Which means that you can't drown. However, you can do whatever you want to do."

"In that case, Mistress, allow me to treat you to a very enjoyable bath."

"So, it's back to Mistress?" Torres asked.

"Yes, Mistress. It is time to get back to normal. You do agree that our Master/slave existence is the normal state of affairs? If not we have to talk about it and come to an agreement."

"No," Torres sighed. "As good as the last twelve hours were, it's not something for every day. But, thank you for the time. It was something we definitely have to do again, every once in a while."

"Definitely," Seven agreed.

"Alright then, let's go have some fun, my Pet. And later today, when I'm good and ready, I'll torment the Bajorans."

But Torres' plans were temporarily interrupted by the chime of her communicator. "Martok to Torres."

Torres indicated that Seven should go on into the bathroom while she slowly followed and answered the hail. "Martok, I'm just about to go have a very enjoyable bath with my Pet. This better be important, and short."

"Really now? I would have thought that you would have had enough of that in the last week. I'm surprised that you can still walk straight," Martok drawled, clearly getting his joy out of keeping Torres on the communicator. "I would also have thought that you would be more interested in the matter of finding a new Bajoran Intendant, than playing with your new toy."

Torres could clearly hear Martok's grin in his voice, "And I would have thought that you as nobody else, would know the pleasure a good slave can give you. How many pleasure slaves do you have again?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that; I lost count," Martok admitted.

Personally Torres seriously doubted that he really had. Martok was married and loved his wife Sirella more than life itself. But Martok always traveled with Torres, whereas Sirella preferred to live on Qo'noS and run their estate. Martok had joked more than once about the fact that his marriage was so good because he and his wife rarely had the opportunity to spend time together. Torres also knew that this was a stretch. Because Martok and Sirella might live apart most of the time, but Torres knew that they tried to spend some time every night together over viewscreen. Sometimes mere minutes, sometimes hours.

But both of them were Klingons with Klingon urges. Urges that were way too powerful to only take care of on those rare occasions where they met in person. So both of them had pleasure slaves to take care of the body when they were apart, while the mind was taken care of in their time together over viewscreen. The interesting part about this arrangement was that they had bought the pleasure slaves for each other. They liked to surprise each other with 'something new' on special occasions.

"Well anyway," Martok finally relented. "How about getting down to business so that you can go and play?"

Torres walked to the bathing room where she found a very naked blonde slave waiting for her, "Right, let's have it."

"I've found quite a few things that could be used to influence Jetur Adami. Torres, that woman is a walking invitation to be pressured. She has good and close ties with her family, she doesn't like pain, actually has a very low pain barrier. I think that you could break her in about one minute if she was sitting in your interrogation chair."

Torres looked at how her slave came closer and kneeled in front of her. A moment later the blonde started moving her hands slowly up the Intendant's legs. "So I'll have to test her, see if she gives in."

Torres felt her trousers being opened and slowly lowered down her legs, together with her underpants.

"I'm afraid so," Martok agreed. "Pity, from what I can see she's a good person. Would be a nice change after Kira."

Torres saw the blonde coming a little closer and soon she felt soft kisses on her inner legs, moving further and further up. "Ok, find the thing what might influence her the most and tell me when I see you later today."

"Alright, I can do that. When can I expect you?"

Torres felt soft and tender kisses being placed on her most private parts. "Um, don't expect me any time soon. Torres out."

She put her hands on the blonde's head and let them rest while she closed her eyes and enjoyed what her slave's tongue was doing to her. "You are truly evil, my little vixen. Did you want Martok to hear me moan?"

Seven pulled her head back for a moment to answer the question. "No, Mistress. I merely want you."

Torres softly moved the blonde's head back to where she wanted it. "You have me, my dear. Do you ever have me. Now, take me."

And Seven did.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"So, what's in that thing?" Torres asked as she sat down beside Seven.

"Individuals and finance." Seven turned the computer unit a little to the side so the Intendant could also have a clear view of the screen.

"Two files? All that security for only two files?"

"Two main files," Seven corrected. "But in the file 'finance' there are thousands of files keeping track of all the credits that got into her possession. From the first day that she was Intendant until the day she was killed. It is all in there, to the last credit, all explaining where it went or where it can be found. And in the folder 'individuals' there are also thousands of files. I assume everyone who she came in contact with is mentioned in here."

She opened the file that was called 'Intendant Torres' before continuing, "As you can see, there is first the official file from the Bajoran Intelligence Academy, and then Kira's own comments."

Torres read what Kira had written about her and quickly started to chuckle. "My, she really loved me. Look at all the beautiful things she wrote about me."

"Forgive me, Mistress. But somehow I do not think that terms as 'cock-sucking Klingon bitch whore' are meant as an endearment."

Torres laughed, "And it's the wrong gender too. I'd rather be caught dead than suck on that."

"Really?" Seven asked with a smile. "Then why did you..."

"Hush, that's different. That was you, a toy, and me cleaning off a taste that I like."

"Ah, I see." Seven closed the file and went back to the financial part of the information. "If Ro is appointed Intendant, this information will help her a great deal in restructuring the Bajoran financial system. Apparently Kira was very focused on gaining as many credits as possible."

"Hmm," Torres said thoughtfully. "Talking about Ro, let's see what Kira has in here on Ro, Jetur and Delik."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

It was an hour later before Seven closed the computer unit down, "Was that information helpful, Mistress?"

"Yes and no, my Pet. It was interesting, but it really didn't tell us anything we didn't already know. If Delik is appointed Intendant then he'll only care about himself, but we'll have no problem keeping him in line. Though it was very interesting to read more about his way of working."

"No wonder that he thought that he could get you to sleep with him. There has not been a woman yet that turned him down."

"True," Torres agreed, "But where it speaks in his advantage that he was smart enough to never try something with Kira, it speaks in his disadvantage that he never figured out that the reason no woman ever said no to him, is because they were also using him as much as he was using them."

"However, the information on Ro and Jetur reaffirms what you already knew about them," Seven said to indicate that she understood why the Intendant had said that the information was not really helpful. "They only have a chance if they act like one person."

"Right. Jetur is way too weak to do the hard stuff. My goodness, caring for the poor little innocent animals at her family's farm?" Torres shook her head in a way that said more than many a word could.

"Mistress, in my universe, such behavior would have gotten her respect; not disdain. Protecting the weak is considered an honorable thing to do. And considering the fact that she succeeded in preventing the slaughter of the young animals for the summer festival, even the Klingons would admire her courage to stand up to her entire family."

"Interesting as that may be," Torres said with a grin, "here it's considered weak. Here we would say that she simply didn't have the stomach to watch the slaughter."

"And under those circumstances Ro is to be considered extremely strong," Seven said, knowing that Torres would not agree with that oversimplified statement, but wanting to hear the reason for the 'no', where a 'yes' would seem obvious to most people.

"If things were only so easy, my Pet." Torres stood up and walked to the balcony. "Come, join me."

Seven did as she was told and joined the Intendant.

"You see, my Pet, the problem with Ro is that she thinks too militaristically. Take a look at this palace. What do you think Ro would do if someone were to take the palace and take everyone hostage, try a coup?"

Seven let her eyes drift over the palace park and the buildings surrounding it. "Knowing her background I would assume that she would send in the Special Forces to take care of the problem."

"Sounds about right," Torres agreed. "But can you imagine the political fallout of that?"

"Mistress?" Seven asked, wondering what Torres meant.

"It would not be a problem if she sent in any other troops," Torres clarified. "The army, police, or security groups. But if she were to use the Special Forces, she could ruin Bajor. That, or she would have to get rid of the Special Forces. You see, the Bajoran Special Forces have done a lot of things, cleaned up a lot of messes. But they've never been used against any high level political target. If Ro were to use them against the most known political image of Bajor, the Intendant's palace, it would make all the other factions nervous."

"And the result of such nervousness would be?" Seven asked.

"A 'what if' thinking," Torres explained. "If Ro dares to use the Special Forces to get rid of her political adversaries in her own sector in such a public way, what is there to stop her from sending some of those forces to... say, Qo'noS? If she were to use the Special Forces to take the palace, the Bajoran sector would certainly have to suffer under an embargo from all the other sectors, demanding the Special Forces be dissolved. Or maybe we Klingons or the Cardassians would even open a preemptive strike against Bajor. Ro would never think about those results. She would only care about getting rid of the problem. And that's what prevents her from being considered extremely strong. Someone who makes stupid mistakes is not considered strong."

"In that case it seems that you have two things you have to test before you could possibly appoint Ro, Mistress."

"Really?" Torres asked, wondering what she might have missed.

"Yes, Mistress. You not only have to see if they are loyal to each other, but also if Jetur can influence Ro. If Jetur can object to a decision Ro makes and that Ro actually listens to Jetur's explanation."

"If Jetur can stand up to Ro," Torres clarified. "Hmm, true. I hadn't thought of that."

She turned around and leaned against the railing. "I don't know, my Pet. Ro has so much against her, why do I actually still consider her for the job? Is it that I'm staring myself blind on the fact that I want a woman to be Intendant?"

"Why is it that you want a woman to be Intendant, Mistress?" Seven asked, not having enough information to give Torres a more direct answer to the question. "I know that you do not prefer men in a sexual manner, but I also know that you do not hate them or think any less of them than you do of women."

"True," Torres had to agree. "Normally what's important to me is the person, not the gender. I think that the main reason, is that I want to make it easy on myself. Normally it's easier to make deals with female Intendants than with a male Intendant. Normally if I want to get something done for which I need the help or approval of the other Intendants, the women think about how they can use that, what kind of deal they can make with me. The men first always have to see if their ego allows them to make the deal. Even with Kira I could make deals. While I did like and enjoy getting in her face and showing her that she was nowhere in my league regarding power and honor, in the end we resolved our... issues, normally by making deals and reaching agreements."

"Thank you for explaining that, Mistress. And to answer your question, I think that you are still considering Ro for Intendant because Bajor and the Bajoran sector will be better off with her as Intendant. I think she truly does care about the people, and that she will not only think of herself. And despite the fact that you will disagree with me, you are a person who cares about the welfare of others."

Torres pushed off the railing annoyed and started to walk back into the room. "Don't be ridiculous. I couldn't care less about these Bajoran fools."

Seven placed a hand on Torres' arm, stopping the Intendant in a way that allowed her to walk on if she truly wanted to. Torres turned to the blonde, but didn't move past her.

"Mistress, I know what you are capable of if needed. I read the security files about you, I read what Kira wrote about you, and I know that there have to be some things that have never reached any archived form because those things are too classified to be mentioned anywhere. But I also know that unless it interferes with other priorities, you make the decisions that go to the welfare of the people. It is one of the things I admire about you."

"Yeah? If I care so much about others, then tell me how I got all of those billions of credits in my name. I only care about myself, my Pet."

"Mistress, I thought we were past the point where you have to pretend in front of me if we are alone. There are two reasons why you are so rich. The first is that you have very good financial experts managing your finances, and that you trust them enough to let them do their job. And the second reason is that when the advisers come to you with a decision they do not dare take, you often make the more risky choice because you are not afraid that things could go wrong and you would lose credits. And normally those gambles paid off very well for you."

Torres sighed before starting to grin. "You know that you're the first to ever figure that out. I always figured that I really can't spend all the credits I have anyway. So what if I lose some? I could lose half of it and still have more than most people ever will."

"Maybe it is because I am not from here, Mistress. The people here would think that you think like them, or that you could never care because a caring person could never become Intendant. I see you as a person who will do whatever it takes and does think of her own wellbeing first. But if it does not matter one way or the other, you make the decisions that better the life of other people."

"And you like that, huh?"

"Very much so, Mistress."

"Even if this means that I take care of myself first and sometimes have to do certain things you do not approve of?"

"Mistress, to be in a position to be able to take care of others, you do first have to take care of yourself. You cannot help others if you lose the power you have. And furthermore, eighty-four percent of all the species I know of believe that having power prevents you from having to use that power. Everyone in Coalition space knows that you will not hesitate to kill them or even everyone on their planet."

"Hmm, the Vachzer massacre," Torres said, knowing that the blonde was referring to the time she had ordered everyone killed on a planet that was found to be harboring escaped slaves for over five decades; welcoming slaves for all those years until there were almost four hundred thousand escaped slaves on the planet.

It had been only a small planet with a population of 'merely' sixteen million. Over time a whole system had evolved around the escaped slaves, where the slaves would help the people on the farms in exchange for food, shelter, and clothing. Torres had not seen any real difference between their system and the normal slave system, except that the escaped slaves could go and work on another farm if they wanted to, or go live somewhere in the woods by themselves if they preferred that.

But nevertheless, everyone on the planet had known that escaped slaves were on the planet and everyone had some dealings with them every now and then. So to send a message throughout the Coalition, she had them all killed, with the exception of children under the age of twelve who were placed with foster parents all through the Coalition. She had made sure that they were all located far enough apart so that the chance of them ever meeting anyone from their former home was slim to none, making sure that the entire society on the planet was destroyed. And as a final act she had sold the slaves back into slavery.

Nobody had ever known that this last was Torres' form of benevolence. The Vachzerans, all sixteen million of them, had been killed for breaking the law on such a large scale. But Torres had known that the slaves had merely fled from cruel Masters. Torres herself had sold the slaves to Masters of her choosing, knowing that the slaves would have a relatively good life with those new Masters. A relatively good life for slaves that is.

"Yes, Mistress, the Vachzer massacre," Seven agreed. "And because people know you have that power, and will not hesitate to use it, they do not dare to do something that would make you use that power. Therefore you never again had to use that power to such an extent, or give any order that came anywhere near that. I may not approve of certain things you do, or have to do, Mistress, but I understand that you have to do them to remain in power. I try to not let it interfere with how I like to see you."

"And how is it that you like to see me, my Pet?"

"You, Mistress, I see as a person I am proud to call my Master."

Torres stepped closer and shared a long, sensual kiss with the blonde, "Kahless, Seven, I don't know what I did that earned me the reward of having you in my life. But I'm glad I did whatever it was."

Seven shared another kiss with the Klingon before answering, "What you did, B'Elanna, is capture a ship and walk into my life. That was all that was needed."

"I still don't know how you could accept me so easily as your Mistress," Torres admitted. "You're not a born slave; you're not a broken spirit. Normally it takes longer to break a slave child of twelve years than it took you to become mine. And then to think that you aren't broken, you do this willingly."

"Mistress, I already told you the reasons why I enjoy being yours."

"I know, but what I mean is that you already gave yourself to me before you truly knew what I would give you. All you truly had from me was my word that I would not hurt you as long as you did whatever I told you."

"Ah," Seven said in understanding. "You wonder how I could accept you as my Mistress so soon. You have Voyager's B'Elanna to thank for that."

"Ah, yes. You gave yourself to me to save her." Though she didn't show it, Torres was disappointed that it had been her own cruelty that had made the blonde hers.

"Not at all, Mistress," Seven disagreed gently. "You once again do not see the difference between something I do willingly and something I do out of my own free will. Out of my free will I made the choice that I would do whatever was needed to save B'Elanna. But the moment I had sexual contact with you for the first time, I gave myself to you willingly. In this situation I had the luck that what I did willingly and what I did out of my free will was one and the same thing."

"Then what about that comment that I have to thank my counterpart?" Torres wondered.

"What I meant with that, was that you had to thank B'Elanna because I used my knowledge of her to make decisions about you," Seven explained. "I told you that I did not want her to be my lover because I knew that she could never give me what I wanted. But that does not mean that I have never thought about how... right, she would be for me, 'if only'. And then suddenly I came across you, Mistress. And suddenly it was no longer, 'if only'. Suddenly there was a B'Elanna who was just the way I wanted her. It was easy to give myself to you, since you are what I wanted for more than a year now."

"Ah, I see." Torres said relieved, once again not showing it. "I really have to find a way to thank her for inspiring you."

"You can thank her by promising me something," Seven said, an idea forming.

"What?"

"When I ask you to, at a certain point, you give me thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes for what?" Torres asked doubtful, "I don't think I'm following."

"Thirty minutes in which you will not interfere in whatever I will do then."

"Ah, now I get it, thirty minutes in which you will play Intendant to help your friends escape."

"Yes, Mistress."

"You have no idea what you're asking of me, do you?"

"I do, Mistress. I am asking the impossible," Seven replied with a smile. She knew that the Intendant would never agree to her suggestion, which is why she made it; knowing that the Intendant would only laugh about it.

Torres laughed at the remark, "I'm glad to see that you do know what you're asking. I knew that there had to be a flaw in your plan of getting 140 slaves out at one time. Let's get inside."

Torres moved back into the room and sat down on the couch with Seven by her side. It was quiet for several minutes while Torres thought about what she was going to do. "I'll give you fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes where I'll be present to see what you're doing. And after those fifteen minutes I will immediately start undoing whatever you did. But there's a price. Me being thankful to my counterpart for raising an interest in you about what you want, is nowhere enough to cover this."

"What price?" Seven asked. She could not believe the Intendant was actually contemplating her suggestion. She had suggested it only as amusement for the Intendant. Seven liked hearing the Intendant's laugh. But she was not about to tell Torres that she had only been making a joke now that the Intendant was inclined to agree.

"The price I'm asking is another Voyager."

"Mistress?" Seven had no idea what the Intendant could mean.

"I'm not stupid, my Pet. I know they'll need the ship to escape, if nothing else they need it to be able to outrun slave hunters. I really want that ship as mine, but I do understand that if I let them escape to get rid of them, they'll take the ship too. So what I'm asking of you, is that you get the complete specs of Voyager out of that computer, including all the blueprints down to the last bolt. Download it all, and also the entire database of the ship. All information in it from replicator patterns down to... well, all information that has ever been put in the computer. And once your friends are gone you'll oversee the building of a new ship. And the new ship will be just as good as the one that the others used to escape; including, the speed; especially the speed."

"To accomplish that, I would have to rebuild the ship with Federation technology, which I first would have to build as well," Seven pointed out. "That would go against the Prime Directive since you would then have Federation technology at your disposal. What is there to stop the technology from being used in other ships?"

"Nothing, my Pet. And that's why I'm asking this as the price. I have that now, I have a Federation ship with all its technology, and I'm not about to give that up."

"But, that could change the powerbase in this universe. If Federation technology was combined with Klingon ships, it would greatly enhance your ships."

"And that would change the powerbase... how?" Torres asked amused. "We Klingons are already the most powerful race."

"You could use the technology to attack the other factions and take over their territories."

"My Pet, we pretty much rule them now as well," Torres pointed out. "Right now we have a territory that we can control, and all the other factions have to pay a tribute to us. In return we make sure that the other factions behave. That the Cardassians don't occupy Bajor or something like that. Or that the others don't gang up on the Cardassians. This has been so from the first day of the Coalition and it has served us well. But even if we were to start a war and take over all of Coalition space..."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing would change. We would have to appoint people to rule over planets, we would have to appoint people to rule over territories. You would still have Prime Ministers, Presidents and Intendants. We're actually better off now. At least now we only have to administer the Klingon territory. You know how we Klingons dislike bureaucracy. Do you really think we Klingons would want the bureaucracy of ruling the rest of the Coalition?"

"But you are still asking a lot, Mistress."

Torres rolled her eyes at the blonde. "Of course I am. I'm the one who will have to take responsibility afterwards for what you did in those fifteen minutes. I need something to cover my ass. If it's ever found out that I basically let 140 slaves go... even I as Klingon Intendant will need something to point to and say, 'this is why I did that, I think it's a fair trade'. I may be Intendant, but the Chancellor can still have me removed, if not killed. I can't afford to look weak. It must seem as if I made the better deal. Can't you understand that, my Pet?"

Seven sighed and made her decision, "I can, Mistress. And I see your point. Your price is acceptable."

"Good." Torres tapped Seven's nose with one finger. "But there are two things I would like to point out to you. First, my counterpart knows that I know that you're trying to help them escape. You'll never tell her more than that. Under no circumstances are you to tell her, or anybody else for that matter, how easy I am truly making it for you."

"Yes, Mistress."

"And the second thing is that I want you to point something out to them. Make it seem as if you thought of this, or heard me talk to Martok about it, whatever. Make this clear to them. I can 'forget' that they destroyed two Klingon ships and their crew, because it was in a fight and your friends fought that fight with honor. But I swear, if they kill anyone while trying to escape, I will find them and destroy them; even if I have to use the entire Klingon fleet to do it."

"Yes, Mistress, I will let them know," Seven promised.

"Alright then. Now, it's getting late, so let's get out of here and see how often those Bajorans can put their feet in their mouths while trying to say what they think I want to hear."

"Yes, Mistress." Seven hesitated before finally asking, "Mistress, if I may ask, yes, you are making it easy for me, but why exactly are you making it this easy for me?"

"You mean with regards to your friends?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well, quite simply because I have a small problem. I promised you that I would find a good place to put your friends. But the only place I can think of that fits what I promised you, is by giving them jobs as groundskeepers at my home. But I'm not about to condemn 140 of my servants to having to work in the mines because I need their places for someone else. That's not fair to the people who served me well 'til now, and I also don't think that you would appreciate me sending other people to the mines because you made me not send your friends to the mines. I also can't simply put your friends with my other slaves because I don't want my slaves exposed to the views and ideas of your friends. But, when your friends escape, I don't have to keep thinking of what I'm going to do with them."

"I understand. Thank you for explaining, Mistress."

"Alright, tell me." Torres asked, changing the subject, "Do you like plays?"

"Plays?" Seven repeated, not sure what the Intendant meant.

"Yes, you know; when some actors stomp around on a stage and act out some story." Torres grinned, showing that she was teasing the blonde.

"I do not know if I would like a play, Mistress," Seven admitted. "While on Voyager I was ordered to attend some recitals of some of the Voyager crew, but this was normally only one person showing their talent... or lack thereof. I have never been to a play of the kind you mean. I always thought that they were an inefficient waste of time."

"Let me guess, you preferred to work."

"That is correct."

"Well, my Pet, your all work and no play approach is about to change. I like taking some leisure time every once in a while, and from now on you'll take that leisure time with me."

"Yes, Mistress."

Torres laughed at the tone in the blonde's voice. "You make it sound as if I'm punishing you. Come on, my Pet. You can't read all the day and you're not on that spaceship where you had some kind of work all the time. There will always be times like now, where there's nothing more to do than wait for others to make their moves."

"And while others worry about how they can appease you, you go and amuse yourself with going to plays and other things," Seven stated.

"That's pretty much it," Torres agreed while walking to the door. "And while I find that the Bajorans can be quite annoying at times, I must admit that they make some of the best plays I've ever seen. And I happen to know that the Bajoran state theater is performing one of my favorite plays today. So let's go work on my image of being a person who doesn't care about someone else's problems."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you for explaining the true reason for going to the play."

Torres stopped walking and turned to the blonde, "No, my Pet. That's not the true reason. That's nothing more than an extra bonus, and something that's pretty much expected from me. I'm kinda expected to enjoy the culture from the different species; it would not do for the Intendant to show favoritism to a certain species by only enjoying that species' culture. But that really isn't the reason why I want you to come with me. I want you to come with me because I want to treat you to a play. Nothing more, nothing less. And if you truly hate going then tell me and we won't go again."

"Thank you, Mistress," Seven said softly, feeling a certain warm feeling spread through her at the thought that the Intendant was taking some time off to spend that time with her, taking her to a very public place. Torres was not going to hide her or ignore her, like was normally done with slaves. No Torres was taking her to a play. A place where slaves normally were not allowed to come. "I think I would enjoy visiting a play with you."

"Alright then. Let's go."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 15

Seven felt as if everyone was looking at her, and she was right. They had entered through the main entrance of the theater and were just starting to cross the huge lobby which was filled with at least two thousand people. It was interesting to see the sea of people parting before them and Seven could easily understand why the Intendant liked the phenomena so much. She could clearly see the outrage on some of the faces. A slave! A slave was going to see a play in the state theater. Eventually they reached a group of three people that didn't move out of the way. Instead they bowed slightly and welcomed the Intendant.

"Intendant, may I introduce myself?" the middle of the three said. "I am Erid Erdan, chief administrator of the state theater. And these are Adre Katen, chief choreographer, and Caze Adex, technical director. Would you please follow me? We have readied the Intendant's lounge for you."

Torres had folded her hands together and was slowly, almost absently, tapping her thumbs against each other. Something was wrong and everyone in the lobby could feel the tension growing.

"Tell me, Erid," Torres said softly, but still clearly heard throughout the now totally quiet lobby. "Do you enjoy being chief administrator of this theater?"

"Erg, of course, Intendant."

"Well then, if you don't start acknowledging the presence of my Body Slave real soon, I'll have this shithouse torn down to the last brick within one hour. Do you understand me?"

Seven could hear the gasp go through the crowd at the mention of her status and in reflex she lifted her chin slightly.

"Bu, ba, bo. Ehem, Body Slave, you said? Well, um, heehehe," Erid laughed nervously before finally looking at Seven directly. "Please forgive me, ma'am. I was so focused on the honor of having the Intendant visit this theater that I forgot some of my manners."

It was a weak excuse, but it was an excuse nevertheless. Seven dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment but didn't react further.

"Now," Torres spoke up, "You can show the both of us the way."

"You truly enjoy scaring people to death, do you not?" Seven asked when they were moving again.

"Of course," Torres grinned. "One of the perks of the job, my dear. And besides, it was needed. The guards on the ship spread the word amongst the soldiers, and, after this, word will spread through the populations as well. You're mine, and I'll not stand for anybody treating you as less."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Thank me later," Torres said with a smile.

"I most definitely will," Seven assured with a smile of her own.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"So, what did you think?" Torres asked when they were leaving the Intendant's lounge.

"It was interesting," Seven said after a moment of hesitation.

"Is that good or bad?" Torres asked amused.

"It was not the waste of time that I assumed it would be."

"Is that good or bad?" Torres repeated, still amused.

Seven sighed before finally saying, "I enjoyed the play, Mistress."

"And it pains you to admit it."

"Admitting that a waste of time is more enjoyable than working a mathematical problem is not something I enjoy doing," Seven did indeed admit.

"Look at it this way," Torres relented, "when we have to sit through a Bolian drama you can tell me afterwards in great detail how I succeeded in wasting your time quite successfully."

"I assume you do not like Bolian dramas, Mistress?"

They passed through the main entrance and started to move to the hovercar they came in. "You could say that. I always say that Bolian dramas are truly that; a drama."

Seven saw several people coming up to some of the men and women that were leaving the theater and from the clothing these people were wearing it was clear that they were either guards or bodyguards, depending on the social status of the people they were to protect.

"Mistress, if I may ask, why are there no guards accompanying us? Are you not at risk without them?"

"Not that much," Torres said while she got into the hovercar. "I like to think that I can take care of myself. And besides, I'm Klingon, we like to flirt with danger. But in all reality, the only true reason for someone to come close to me during a crime would be if they were trying to kidnap me. But the whole point of a kidnapping is to use that person as leverage to have someone else do something for you. But I'm the top. They can't ask someone to do something, 'or else'. So the only other thing would be that someone would want to kill me. But if someone truly did have the balls to try and take me out, they would most certainly do it with some kind of explosion. And then some guards are not going to save my ass."

Torres looked at her black clothed slave and grinned, "And besides, I have you, what more would I need?"

"Thank you, Mistress." Seven felt a sense of satisfaction spread through her at the realization that Torres trusted her with her safety. "But if you enjoy courting danger, why do you use guards on certain occasions?"

"Because I might like flirting with danger, which probably explains why I took you to be my Body Slave after you threatened to kill me. But I'm not stupid. I'm not about to walk into a prison with 140 potential hostile slaves without having guards with me. Or when I arrived here at Bajor, I really didn't need 300 guards. That was a statement. It said, 'I'm the bad bitch and I've arrived at Bajor to take over. Start pissing your pants'."

"I see."

"Do you truly?" Torres asked as she moved the hovercar onto the road where she almost collided with another hovercar. "Why can't these Bajorans use site-to-site transporters like everyone else in the coalition?"

"Because it is a rule established by the first Bajoran Intendant that transporters should only be used if one is traveling to another continent, or further, into space," Seven couldn't help but reply.

She winced slightly when Torres cut in front of another hovercar with only a little more than a hand-width of room to spare. "It... watch the hovercar, Mistress, it is believed that this rule was inspired from the fact that he owned the only two factories that made hovercars at that time. And yes, Mistress, I do understand that making a show of force is a very effective way of establishing superiority."

Torres pulled the hovercar to the right to bypass a vehicle that was standing still, totally ignoring that this brought her into oncoming traffic for a few seconds. "Alright, since it seems that I'm taking the day off today. How about we go enjoy a nice dinner somewhere and after that we can go visit the colonial ruins. You might find them interesting. They were the capital city of Bajor when Humans still ruled over Bajor. And tomorrow we go back to seeing what Ro and Delik can come up with in order to appease me."

"Yes, Mistress."

Torres sighed. "You know, my Pet, I would really like it if you would be a little more vocal about whether or not you think something sounds good. I'm your Mistress, so if I want to do something, I'll do it, but that doesn't mean that I won't listen to your input. And I would certainly like to hear it if I suggest something you like."

"Why? I am just your slave, Mistress. My... Watch the building, Mistress. My opinion does not matter."

"You are not 'just' my slave, and you damn well know it," Torres disagreed, a trace of annoyance entering her voice. "Just as it won't kill me to get you a drink once in a while, it also won't kill me to hear that you would not want to go to the colonial ruins."

"The curve, Mistress, please. And I think I would enjoy what you have planned for the rest of today."

"You know, my Pet. You are the worst backseat driver I ever heard of."

Seven looked over her shoulder to the back of the hovercar and then back to the Klingon. "I have not been in the backseat of this vehicle."

Torres grinned at her. "That can change. I've heard that the colonial ruins are normally quite deserted. Not many people want to take a look at old Human history."

"I do not see what the two things have to do with each other."

"I'm shocked, my Pet. You, as a Human, do not know what people do very often in the back of a vehicle?"

"No, I do not." Seven replied, but she was starting to get a good idea what the Intendant was talking about. "Mistress, please... the pedestrians."

Torres suddenly hit the brakes so hard that Seven had to brace herself to prevent from moving forward in her seat. "Alright, that's it. You get out of the hovercar."

Seven did as she was told and stood beside the vehicle, not really sure what was going on.

Torres got out herself and walked over to where Seven was standing.

"Mistress? I am sorry if I displeased you."

Torres put her hands on her hips and looked the blonde in the eyes for a moment before giving up and starting to grin. She walked past the blonde and patted her affectionately on her rear before simply stating, "You drive."

"Yes Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Did you enjoy your day yesterday, Intendant?"

"Why do you ask, Ro? Don't worry, my Pet had enough time this morning to go over the information Jetur sent over yesterday."

"Was the information to your liking, Intendant?" Jetur asked while helping herself to one of the Bajoran fruits on the table.

She, Ro, Delik, and Torres were sitting around a table sharing a late breakfast. The breakfast existed only of light food, like fruits and sweet pastries because it was almost certain that all of them had eaten before Torres ordered them to the breakfast. At least, Torres had and that was all that mattered.

Torres put another piece of fruit into the mouth of her blonde slave who was kneeling at her side, before answering. "My Pet noticed quite some inconsistencies and calculation errors. But she assured me that these were normal mistakes anyone could make who's not an all out expert at keeping a budget of that magnitude. In the end it came all together in an acceptable way. My Pet corrected the mistakes and inconsistencies. She has sent you the information back before coming here, so you'll find it waiting for you once you get back."

Thinking of something, she added, "By the way, just so that you all know and can stop trying to get into Kira's computer unit. My Pet managed to access it and all data has been secured. We copied all the files that Kira had on people to our own database. Though Kira was clearly paranoid, there's still some very usable intelligence information in there. But what's more interesting for you, is that Kira also had a full accounting of all her credits in there. We now know where it went, and where it's hiding. Once a choice is made between you, of who will become Intendant, we'll hand that information over to you but for now it's staying where it is."

She picked a pastry and broke off a bite size piece that she placed neatly in the mouth of her slave before focusing back on Ro and Jetur. "My Pet also added some suggestions to your proposal you might want to look at. It's up to you if you want to do that, of course, but it would free up some more credits and make your system more flexible."

When finished with speaking, Torres took a bite of the pastry, which only left enough of the sweet treat for a last bite, which she once again placed in the mouth of the woman sitting at her feet.

"I most certainly will." Jetur gave a little nod in the direction of the slave. "Thank you."

Jetur showed no indication that she thought herself above following suggestions a mere slave made and Torres mentally added that to Ro's favor in the score she was keeping in her head between Ro and Delik.

"What proposal is that?" Delik asked casually.

"Oh, come now, Delik. You really think I'm going to tell you that?" Torres asked amused. "I'm not going to tell Ro what you want to do if you become Intendant, and I'm certainly not going to tell you what she's going to do if she becomes Intendant."

Delik dipped his head in acknowledgment. He had the answer he was looking for, or at least he thought he did. Since they had been talking about credits, he was sure that Ro had offered the Intendant a very big and substantial bribe. On the inside, he was smiling. He knew that the Intendant was not like him, she had enough credits and wasn't that desperate for more. In his eyes, Ro had made a profound mistake.

He himself had offered interesting deals to Torres, but it was quite another thing to simply offer a heap of credits. Deals affected companies and people that knew people who knew other people. Even if you didn't care about making more credits yourself, you might still care about the deals simply to stop people from bugging you. But simply offering Torres a large sum, like Ro had clearly done... not smart.

"Not all I say is guided by ulterior motives," Ro stated softly. "I merely know that you were out the entire day yesterday and I was wondering if you enjoyed yourself."

"Ah, in that case, yes, I did. Very much so." Torres said before asking, "Tell me, how do you know I was out all day, you didn't happen to have me followed, did you?"

Ro was quiet for a few seconds, not really knowing how to answer that question. Finally she opted for the truth. "Actually, yes I did."

Torres could see the surprise flash over the face of Jetur, clearly Ro and Jetur didn't know fully what the other of them was doing. That, Torres decided, was a point against them and in favor of Delik.

Ro had not seen the reaction of Jetur and continued with her explanation. "Since I saw you going out without guards I took the liberty to have you followed in case you needed some assistance."

"And to make sure that you knew where I was," Torres added before turning to Delik and not giving Ro a chance to reply. "Tell me Delik, did you have me followed as well?"

"I would not dare to impeach on your liberties like that, Intendant," Delik replied smoothly, as if the mere thought was totally preposterous to him.

"Hmm," Torres decided not to tell either of them that she preferred Ro's approach of keeping an eye on her; it was what she would have done. The reason she didn't tell them this, was because Delik had a point by deciding not to follow a person with the extremely high position of Intendant, Klingon Intendant at that.

"Well, Ro, next time tell your friends in the Special Forces to make sure that they're not too conspicuous. We didn't notice them in the city, but once we reached the colonial ruins they stuck out by not being interested in the scenery while that would normally be the only reason for others to be there."

"I will tell them, Intendant."

"Also," Torres continued, "You might want to point out to them that they might want to add some women to a detail that's following someone. I could have bought a few couples deciding to go to the ruins so that they could have some quiet time away from others. But a group of six guys? They would rather go to a game of sport than some ruins, don't you think?"

"Thank you for the suggestion, I will make sure to remind them of that fact," Ro said politely, while in the back of her mind she noted that the Intendant had not actually forbidden her to have her followed again. She had even spoken about 'next time'. "I believe that they might have been a bit hampered by the fact that they had to react at a moment's notice. But that really shouldn't be an excuse for the Special Forces; they should know better."

"Good. And you two," Torres' pointing finger moved back and forth between Ro and Jetur, "need to work on your communication if you ever want to stand a chance. Ro was not informed of what you, Jetur, had done in regards to Kira's funeral. And Jetur was not informed that you, Ro, had me followed. That... is unacceptable. Don't let something like that happen again, I will not appoint a person Intendant if that person doesn't even know what her closest ally is doing."

Suddenly Torres turned to Delik, "And you, don't even think about planning something, or saying something, that would make it look as if Ro and Jetur are not communicating with each other."

"Of course not, Intendant. I wouldn't,"

"And don't even think about finishing that sentence," Torres interrupted. "You most definitely would dare to do that, and I damn well know it."

Before anyone could say anything else, Torres' communicator made itself known. "Martok to Torres."

Torres popped the piece of fruit she was holding into the mouth of her slave before tapping the communicator, "Yes?"

"Torres, the Bajorans have a problem."

"And you are contacting me for that because...?"

"Because this is something that I feel requires the intervention of an Intendant. And since the Bajorans just got rid of theirs, you're the next best thing."

"I'm the next best thing after a dead Bajoran?" Torres asked, a trace of indignation in her voice. "I'm flattered, Martok."

"You know what I mean, my friend."

Torres sighed. "Alright, what's the problem?"

"There is an uprising in the Kanzyd mines."

"You contact me for an uprising of some slaves?" Torres asked in disbelief. "Get your priorities straight, Martok. Have them all killed."

"That's the problem," Martok said calmly, "the slaves aren't doing the uprising. It's the long contracts."

"What?! What in all levels of damnation gives them the crazy idea of doing something stupid like this?"

"I have no idea," Martok admitted. "I figured you might want to take care of it, instead of me wasting my spies on this."

"I..." Torres felt a soft pressure on her leg and looked down to see her slave's hand on her thigh, and those blue eyes looking up. "Hold on a minute, Martok."

Torres thought for a moment and then decided to leave the channel open so that Martok could hear what the blonde had to say, "Yes, my Pet?"

"Mistress, this is not the first time there has been an uprising in those mines, or other places on Bajor for that matter. During Kira's reign, there have been 28 uprisings on Bajor or its nearby colonies from 'long contracts' as you call them. From Kira's finance reports, it is clear that this was an acceptable way of renegotiating contracts before the term was up, if a whole group felt that they could do better that is."

"Renegotiating made contracts? That's preposterous," Torres said, clearly not pleased at all by the mare suggestion.

"Apparently Kira was more interested in keeping the places that made her credits up and running than the fact that, according to Coalition law, contracts can only be renegotiated at the end of their term," Seven countered. "Normally Kira agreed to pay them more credits, but in return, they would have to make even more profit than before so that Kira would get the extra credits back. This was normally done by putting more slaves to work and/or working them harder."

"Thank you, my Pet. Martok, you heard?"

"I heard it, I just can't believe it."

Torres thought for a moment while her eyes drifted across the faces of her table guests. "Hmm. You know, I think it's time we went and had a little talk with those long contracts, don't you think, Martok? It will give me the perfect opportunity to see how these hopeful Intendant wannabes, that are sitting at this table here, would deal with the situation. Get the shuttle ready; take the three hundred guards I arrived with. You'll accompany us."

"I figured as much," Martok assured. "The shuttle is being prepared as we speak, the guards are almost onboard."

"Very good. We'll be at the shuttle square in a few minutes. Torres out."

Torres looked around the table before standing up. "Alright, you all come with me."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

The Kanzyd mines were located in the heart of the desert regions of Bajor. The burning heat of the desert days and the cold of the nights were only braved for the dilithium deposits that could be found there. The science of making synthetic dilithium had been mastered decades ago, but the Klingons had a monopoly on making synthetic dilithium and they didn't sell the crystals cheap. The Klingons had been smart enough to set a price for the synthetic crystals that was high enough to make a very good profit, but just low enough that it was just that little bit cheaper than buying natural crystals. More so since the synthetic crystals actually lasted twenty percent longer than natural ones.

But the fact that the synthetic crystals cost almost as much as real ones meant that for the few species that had natural deposits of dilithium on their planet or in their system, like the Bajorans, it was actually cheaper to mine for them. This was fine with the Klingons since natural dilithium was so rare that the species that had it, needed it for their own uses, which meant that the rest all came knocking at the door of the Klingons to buy the synthetic crystals.

Torres, being a Klingon, didn't mind the heat, but while they were walking from the shuttle to the mining complex, she softly asked, "You okay?"

"Yes Mistress. My bio-suit regulates my body temperature."

They reached the gates of the complex and one of the guards slammed the butt of his disrupter rifle loudly against the closed metal gate. Martok came up beside Torres, looking at the gate with undisguised contempt. "They have slaves in there and yet they don't even bother putting guards on the walls."

"True," Torres agreed. "I expect that the long contracts don't want to bake in the sun while they can't trust the slaves to do the job of guarding themselves, so they just don't do it at all. The guards are probably on the inside sitting beneath a nice open tent."

A hatch in the gate opened and, a moment later, a pair of eyes could be seen to get rounder with every second.

"I have a feeling that we were not expected," Martok said, before pointing his disruptor at the pair of eyes. "Open up, or die."

Less than two seconds later, the gates started to open and the group could walk on.

Torres walked into the complex square and looked around for a moment. She knew that most of the complex would be underground where the mining was, and where temperatures were steady day and night.

Since she didn't mind the heat, Torres decided that the rest just had to deal with it. "Gather everyone in the square, long contracts as well as slaves."

Torres saw the raised platform to the back of the square that was more than likely used by the masters to oversee the new slaves when they were assigned to a certain job, and when punishments were dealt out. "That'll do."

She moved to the platform and sat down in one of the three chairs that were placed on the fifteen by twenty foot platform. She offered the second chair to Martok and then gave the chair to her other side a push, making it skid about a meter away. This gave Seven room to kneel at her side, and then she offered the third chair to Gowron as a reward for the good job he had done in preparation for her arrival.

Ro, Jetur, and Delik were allowed to stand behind them while four guards placed themselves at the corners of the platform. Meanwhile most of the three hundred guards that had accompanied them took strategic positions throughout the complex while fifty of them started gathering everyone in the square.

"They indeed did not expect you to come here, Mistress," Seven said, seeing Martok and Gowron also look at her along with Torres.

"Yeah? If that's so, then why start an uprising when they must know that I'm on the planet?"

"They expected that the people wanting the job of Bajoran Intendant would hear about the uprising and abide to all wishes to keep the long contracts quiet during your visit," Seven explained.

"So they basically were using me," Torres clarified with a growl.

"How do you know this?" Gowron asked.

"Mistress?" Seven asked, not answering him.

"You can tell him, I would like to know as well, my Pet."

"Yes, Mistress. Do you see those two Bajorans in the back? Standing against the wall, talking?"

Torres looked and saw the two people that her slave was talking about. "Yes, what about them?"

"Apparently they were part of the planning; they are talking about it now."

"What are they saying?" Gowron asked.

"Mistress?" Seven once again asked before answering.

Torres nodded her head and Seven started to speak.

'I told you that it wouldn't work, now look what you did.'

'Well if we had waited 'til she was gone the new Intendant would never have agreed. Don't worry; we can still turn this around. We simply blame the slaves. It won't be the first time we got away with blaming them for stuff we did and it worked before. Tell the others, they have to make it seem as if the slaves overpowered us and that it really was them who did the uprising. They're only slaves; the Intendant is bound to believe us. Who will ever believe the claims of the slaves?'

'This better work or else I'll kill you myself.'

'Don't worry, it will work. Good thing that all of us were in on this, otherwise I'm sure that someone would have sold us out.'

Seven stopped talking when one of the two moved away.

"There is no way you could have heard that, my Pet."

"I did not," Seven agreed. "But they were looking this way, it is not hard to read lips if you know languages as well as I do, Mistress."

"You know something, Torres?" Martok spoke up.

"What?"

"I was wrong. She's worth a lot more than two-hundred-thousand credits."

The remark made Torres grin, despite being furious about being used. No matter in what way, Torres hated being used. "Told you. And that's nothing compared to her abilities in bed."

Torres put a hand on Seven's shoulder, squeezing it softly, trying to take away any sting hearing the boast might have caused the slave. "Gowron, get those two over here."

Gowron didn't say a word, but simply got up and moved into the crowd that had formed in the square.

"Alright, Delik, you tell me how you would handle this," Torres asked without turning around to him.

"Well," Delik started thoughtfully, "Kira had a point. The dilithium crystals are an important part of our space travel. I think the best thing to do would be to let them know that Kira's ways won't work anymore and send them back to work."

"Ro?" Torres asked, and for a moment she heard Ro and Jetur
whisper behind her. Once more Torres added points to her mental scorecard. She like the fact that Ro and Jetur first discussed 'their' opinion.

Then Ro spoke up with a clear voice as if the whispering moments before hadn't even happened. "I think that letting them off with just a warning would be wrong. It would give them the impression that they can get away with it. Soon they will do it again. Knowing that they got away with it once, they would think that the next time we would give into them."

"So you would..." Torres prompted.

"Set an example. Make it clear that Kira's days are over. Have the long contracts that did the uprising work as slaves in these mines. The Coalition rules are very clear, and every long contract worker knows that once they agree to the term, they're stuck until the end of the term. Only then can they renegotiate their contracts, or end them if they want."

Torres thought about the two answers for a moment. "Well, I as Klingon would normally prefer your way, Ro. But since this is Bajor, I can see Delik's point as well."

She looked at the two Bajorans that were brought up the platform. "But, unfortunately for them, they decided to use my presence as a pressure point. That... I cannot allow."

While Gowron sat back down again, Torres looked at the two men standing in front of her for a moment before looking past them to the about hundred Bajorans and a mass of people that Torres figured had to be at least five thousand slaves. All six slave races were there, but she noticed a rather large number of Gorn and Humans compared to the rest. It made sense, she guessed. The immensely strong Gorn were probably there to do the heavy work, and the Humans were mostly there to balance them out. Nobody really knew why, but for some reason Gorn were more compliant as slave groups when they were mixed about one on one with Humans, regardless of how big or small the other groups of slave species were.

"Alright," she addressed the two men. "I heard some strange story of there being some kind of uprising here. Surely that must be some mistake, long contracts don't do uprisings."

"Intendant, I'm glad you're here," one of the men said. "The slaves were actually the ones doing the uprising, not us."

"Oh? Really?" Torres asked, faking surprise. "Then can you tell me how it's possible that the Bajorans got a message from you long contracts that you would no longer work unless you got more credits for working here in the desert?"

"It's the slaves, Intendant. They overpowered us and forced us to send the message. They knew that we would get into trouble. Everyone knows that long contracts can't be renegotiated."

Torres lifted her eyebrows. "Are you trying to tell me that you armed Bajoran Masters were overpowered by these slaves?"

"Yes, Intendant. There were just so many of them."

Torres shook her head, for a moment she had thought about letting them live, but the man was quickly digging his own grave, literally.

"Well then, how many of the slaves were you able to kill before they finally managed to overpower you?" Torres made a show of looking around. "Seems like a lot of them still survived."

"Th, um, well, Intendant, there were just so many, and it happened so fast, they overpowered us before we could do anything."

"And how was it possible that it was a Bajoran that opened the gates for us?"

"Um, because we managed to take back the command of the complex."

Torres put the tips of her fingers against each other and looked at the man thoughtfully. "Let me get this straight. Some unarmed slaves were able to overpower you armed Bajorans. But once they overpowered you and took away your weapons, as even a moron would do, you were able to overpower them again. Did I miss something?"

"Well, um, at that point we were used to the situation and were able to think more clearly, think up a plan to overpower them."

"I see." Torres purred. "Well, what do you suggest that I do with the people who dare to start an uprising?"

"Um, that, well, isn't really for me to decide, Intendant. I'm sure that such a wise person as you will think of something appropriate."

"Well, in that case," Torres said, having enough of the stupid man. "Gowron, tell the guards to kill all the long contracts. Gut them and have their bodies hung from the walls as a reminder."

"What? You bitch," the second man said and jumped at Torres while the first man stood rooted to the spot.

Torres reacted immediately, just like everyone else on the platform. But before the man was able to come truly near Torres, a hand had closed around his throat and he was lifted off the ground.

Martok started to laugh while two of the guards took hold of the first man. "You sure you won't sell her, Torres?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be.

He looked at the man who was now desperately holding onto the arm that was holding him off the ground. "I'll give you five million credits for her."

Torres laughed as well, "Aren't you the one who said that a slave could never be worth more than two hundred thousand credits?"

"She changed my mind," Martok said amused while he looked at the man dangling from the slave's hand.

"Well, no can do, my friend. I won't even part with her for five billion." Torres got serious again and looked at Gowron. "Execute my order. Kill the Bajorans; leave the slaves in the square so that they can see it."

Hearing the order, the Bajorans in the square started to run around, trying to escape. But there was no escaping the three hundred Klingon commando guards that had every exit and every potential place to hide covered.

Torres got up and walked to the stairs of the platform, fully expecting everyone to follow her. "While Gowron rounds up the long contracts, I want to take a look around here. See if those contracts were trying to skim off some of the dilithium and sell it for themselves to make some extra credits."

"Um, Torres?" Martok said.

Torres turned around to him before asking, "Yes?"

As answer, Martok nodded to the slave.

"Oh," Torres said when she saw that her slave was still holding the, by now unconscious, man off the ground. "You can let go of him now, my Pet. Let the guards deal with him."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven stated while simply opening her hand.

Torres descended the stairs and indicated to the others to go on while she waited for her slave. She took hold of the blonde's arm when she reached the end of the stairs and waited for the last guards to pass with the unconscious man. Torres noticed that Martok hadn't moved on and for a moment she thought of telling him to go.

But then she decided that Martok was not just a friend; he was the head of the Security Department and he had a job to do. In situations like this, her safety was his top priority. She decided that his four meter distance had to be enough.

She focused on her slave and gave her a small grin. "You know, I'm more than capable of handling a Bajoran."

"I know Mistress."

"And even if I weren't, there were four guards, plus two other Klingons who had to be good enough to get the ranks they now have. And besides that, there was also a former Bajoran Special Forces Captain standing right behind me."

"I know Mistress."

"Then why did you do what you did?"

"Because it does not matter who else was present, Mistress. You are mine and I will not wait and see if others will protect you if I am in a position to do it."

Seven had seen how Martok had turned around to them when she had said that Torres was hers. For a moment, they looked at each other and then Martok turned around once more. Somehow Seven had a feeling that he might not agree with her claim, but he also didn't object to it, for the moment.

"Do we need to have a talk, Martok?" Torres suddenly asked. Clearly she had noticed the interaction between the two even though she was standing with her back to him.

"Noo, no need," he said in a slightly drawn out way in which Torres knew that whatever the interaction had been about, he didn't object.

"Alright," Torres focused on her slave again. "Listen, my Pet. What's going to follow now will not be pretty. I'll send you back to the shuttle with some guards,"

"Please Mistress. Let me stay," Seven interrupted.

"I'm going to have people killed because of information you gave me," Torres clarified.

"No, you are not," Seven disagreed. "You are going to have people killed for an uprising. My information only made sure that you are going to punish the right people. I do not see this as one hundred people being killed because of what I did; I see this as thousands of people being saved because I was able to point out the true culprits. I have no problem with that."

"Alright, but you'll still see what happens to them."

"I have seen much worse while I was a Borg drone. Mistress, how long do you think you can keep me from seeing the things you also have to do?"

Torres sighed; she knew her slave was right. "Alright, you stay."

"Thank you, Mistress."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Three hours later, Torres was once again sitting on the platform. This time she was overseeing a truly grotesque sight. The long contracts had been gutted by Torres' order and hung from the wall, their intestines spilling from their bodies onto the ground.

"Master Slave, front and center, including the five following in command," Torres shouted over the square.

A moment later, six people were standing in front of the other slaves. "Take a good look around you. I'm going to say something and it is going to happen. If not, the walls will be decorated even more, you got me?"

All six of them nodded.

"Fifty Bajoran Special Forces will be stationed here to guard you all. For the rest, it's up to you all from now on to make sure that these mines meet their target. As long as you do, you'll only be guarded. If you don't reach your target even once, new Masters will take over the mines."

The square was totally silent, all contemplating what the Intendant was saying. They would get no new masters?

"Master Slave," Torres said after a moment, "from now on you will report to the commander of the Special Forces that will be posted here."

"Intendant, do I understand this correctly?" Jetur asked. "You don't want to post new long contracts here?"

Torres looked back at the redhead. "You can be happy that you're a close ally of Ro, who is in the running for Intendant. Otherwise you would join these slaves, as a slave. You don't question an Intendant."

"Of course, forgive me," Jetur was quick to say.

"Now," Torres continued in a tone that sent cold shivers down Jetur's back, "you were the one so concerned with credits and their use..."

Torres tapped Seven on the shoulder. "My Pet, do you happen to know how many credits went in here as wages each year?"

"Kira considered the mines very important, Mistress. Each long contract got paid two million credits each year."

"So, Jetur, you're now saving two hundred million credits each year. Those slaves know that they'll be killed if they don't meet their target. No long contract stationed here would be able to give them more incentive than that. All that those long contracts would be doing here, is sitting on their asses and getting rich. Your Special Forces will get paid either way, and the fifty of them that will be stationed here will be more than enough to keep the slaves from getting strange ideas."

"You are right, of course," Jetur said, desperately hoping that she hadn't messed up big time.

"Of course I'm right, aren't I, my Pet?" Torres asked, tapping Seven on the shoulder again.

"Yes, Mistress. You are always right."

"See," Torres said with a grin. "Now, Ro, since you are so chummy-chummy with the Special Forces. Contact them and tell some of them to get their asses over here. I want to leave in one hour and those Special Forces better be here by then."

"I'll get to it right away."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"What a day," Torres said with a sigh before dropping down on the couch in a very un-Intendant like manner. "I tell you, my Pet, these Bajorans with their roundabout politics drive me nuts."

Once they had come back from the mines, they had gone over current issues concerning Bajor and its territory, as if the morning had never happened.

"Mistress, if I may ask, why did you decide to focus on politics after this morning?" Seven asked while she walked to the replicator. "Were you not planning on a politics session for the day after tomorrow?"

"I was," Torres agreed. "And having to deal with that stuff sure put me in a mood."

Torres took the drink that the blonde handed her, a drink she didn't ask for. "I... How do you always know what I want, my dear?"

"I am your Body Slave, Mistress. It is my job to know."

Torres put her drink on the small table standing beside the couch, probably for exactly such reasons, and opened her legs so that the blonde could kneel between them and grinned. "And you're so damn good at it. Now, before I answer your question, I first want to ask you something. Why were you not disturbed by what happened today? You needed to talk to my counterpart when K'Trelan attacked us. Yet, when you see living people being gutted you don't even flinch."

Seven took Torres' hands and placed a kiss on the knuckles of both of them.

In the back of her mind Torres realized that Seven actually placed kisses on her hands a lot. In fact, they were the second most often kissed place on Torres' body after her lips... when they were dressed at least. She wondered if the blonde even knew that she did this since it was such a small gesture. But she decided to not bring it up. Whether deliberately or not, Torres liked it when the blonde kissed her hands. To her it was as if the blonde was telling her with each kiss, 'I do not care what you do with these, I do not fear them'. Torres really liked that.

"It is not what I see, Mistress, but what I do," Seven explained. "I needed to talk to B'Elanna because 'I' killed. But I did not do that today. Today I saw things happen. As a Borg drone, I saw a lot happen, I did a lot as well, but I did not have any control over my actions then. But once I became an individual again, I could still remember everything, every minute of my Borg existence. Mistress, seeing one hundred people being killed for actions they did, does not compare to seeing millions of people being killed for the simple reason that they are not suitable for assimilation, but have the technology to be a threat to the Borg in the future."

"I see. So you don't think less of me now?"

"Mistress, I might not agree with your sentencing, which I indeed do not, but I know that you had to make that sentencing. You were being used. You could not allow them to get away with that."

"What sentencing did you agree to then?" Torres wondered.

"I agreed with Ro Laren's suggestion. But I know that she, as a Bajoran, could make that sentencing. But you, as Klingon Intendant, could not. You did not have a different option."

Torres caressed Seven's face softly. "I'm glad that you understand that, my Pet. Anyway, to get back to your question as to why I asked them those questions today. They saw how I dealt with the situation in those mines, Jetur messed up by questioning me, or so she thinks,"

"She did not?" Seven asked before adding, "I apologize for interrupting, Mistress."

"Well since we're alone, and since you're not arguing with me, you're forgiven, my Pet. And as to Jetur messing up, quite to the contrary. Remember that we wondered if she would dare to question Ro? Well, she dared to question me, I guess that answers that question. She dared to question me; the Klingon Intendant who is known for killing people that bug her too much. So she's sure to be able to question Ro, a person nowhere near so feared as me."

"I see, thank you for explaining Mistress."

Torres caressed Seven's cheek. "You're welcome. Anyway, as I was saying, they were bound to be affected by this morning, so I wanted to see what kind of views they would take after that. See if they would say anything to appease me after I showed them what I would do if I'm pushed the wrong way."

"And?" Seven merely asked.

"It's still the fucking same," Torres growled, but Seven knew that the growl was not directed at her. "After all those hours listening to them, it's all still totally the same. Delik gave all the answers he knew I wanted to hear, while Ro and Jetur gave their views as they saw them. Delik has the knowledge to know what I want to hear, while the women have views that I might not necessarily agree with, but of which I know that it will work well for a Bajoran Intendant."

"Then what is the problem, Mistress?"

"The problem is that I sooo want to appoint Ro, but, at this point, Delik is the better choice."

"Why is he the better choice?" Seven asked, not because she truly needed to know, but because she had discovered that her questions sometimes helped the Intendant think.

"Because, as I said before, with him I know what I get, I can be certain up front that he will not cause problems."

Seven followed the seam between some armor plates on Torres' uniform with an idle finger. "And why do you think that Ro will be a problem? And even more important, is it so bad if they do cause problems?"

"What do you mean?" Torres asked with a frown.

"What is the worst that could happen?" Seven persisted.

"The worst that can happen as far as it concerns me you mean? The worst thing could be that she fucks things up and I have to come here again and appoint a new Intendant all over again."

"Well, Mistress, the way I see it," the finger moved to another seam and started to follow that. "That means that if they would cause problems you would have to come here again and have more fun with the Bajorans, as you call it. How often can you treat the Bajorans as you are now and get away with it?"

"Always?"

Seven stopped following the seams and looked up. "What I mean, Mistress, is how often can you come to Bajor and not have to deal with an established Intendant. How often can you be here and do what you want without having to deal with an Intendant?"

"Ah, that's what you mean." Torres leaned forward and kissed the blonde. "What you basically mean is 'so what if you have to come back. If you have to come back, you simply have some more fun'."

"Yes Mistress," Seven agreed while pulling Torres closer for a second kiss.

"You got a point, my Pet. So I can let go of the problem of whether or not I'll have to come back here again. The main focus is then only on whether or not Jetur can be influenced. I don't think that the women would give me any problems as such. They would focus on the Bajoran territories."

"But if Jetur Adami can be influenced then she can be forced to do something that would cause you problems," Seven finished.

"So, it really comes down to this. If Jetur and Ro stick together and pass my test, I could make Ro Intendant. If they fail, Delik will be appointed."

"Mistress, they have one more problem, one of which I think not even they know."

"Oh? And what's that?" Torres asked surprised.

"Bajoran law."

"You know something, my Pet? You read too much. One of these days that pretty head of yours is going to explode."

Seven tilted said head and looked up in mild confusion. "Do you want me to no longer do any research, Mistress?"

"No, Seven. I was kidding. You keep researching all you want. I find it very convenient to have all that information at my disposal. I understand Ro more than she herself probably knows. I know what she gained by teaming up with Jetur."

"I am glad you approve, B'Elanna," Seven said, having heard that Torres had called her Seven.

"You really don't think I would take away your hobby, do you?"

"No. But I had to ask, B'Elanna."

Torres patted her affectionately. "Don't worry; I wouldn't do that to you, or to me."

"To you?" Seven asked.

"Oh, yes," Torres said before grinning slightly, showing Seven that she was going to make one of her jokes. "You have your way with me now all the time, I wouldn't survive if you had even more time to kill."

"Ah, I see." Seven said with a smile of her own. "You do not want to get fucked eight hours a day."

"Kahless, Seven, do you have any idea what you do to me by talking like that?"

Seven nodded. "I know, that is why I say it, normally I would not use words like that."

"No?" Torres asked. "What would you normally say?"

"Copulating with you is an acceptable use of time. And the lubrication you excrete is a flavor that interacts extraordinary well with my taste-buds."

Torres gave a mixture between a groan and a laugh. "I see what you mean. Hearing you say that is as exciting as a cold shower."

"Indeed, and an added bonus is the way you react to me if I say instead, 'I want to spend every free minute fucking you because I love the way you taste when I eat you'."

"Oh, boy," Torres closed her eyes in reflex to hearing her blonde talk. "I see what you mean. I so want to take you right now."

"Of course," Seven said in a superior, yet kind tone, "I am your Body Slave. It is my duty to know how to play you."

"Play me?" Torres laughed. She once again leaned closer to the blonde and they spent a few minutes kissing.

"Alright Seven... Sorry, I mean my Pet; you said they have a problem with Bajoran law?"

"Yes, Mistress," Seven answered, easily slipping back into her role as slave. "Bajoran law states that their Intendants have to be able to fully function without advisers. They can, and are advised to, work with advisers, but the Intendant must be able to make all decisions."

"Damn," Torres thought for a moment.

"Forgive me for not pointing this out before Mistress."

"When did you read about that?" Torres asked while still thinking about this latest problem.

"Yesterday, Mistress."

"And you didn't mention this before because...?"

Seven placed her elbows on Torres' legs, folded her hands and then rested her chin on those hands, looking up at her Mistress through pale eyelashes. "Normally I had to know all the things I read, after all, it was the reason why I was reading them. But since I can now only read while we are in private, I have learned to take in as much information as possible, and go over it in my mind at a later time. I realized this problem on the way back from the mines, and did not have proper opportunity to tell you this before."

Torres placed a kiss on the head that was now so invitingly close.
"Seven, I don't blame you for having to digest the information you take in. You take in more each day than others do in a year. So from now on, I see the moment that you digest the information as the point in which you should tell me ASAP. And you did that."

"Yes, Mistress," this time Seven decided to not call Torres 'B'Elanna' because she knew that Torres had only used her name to give the statement more weight.

"So basically Ro can't become Intendant," Torres said, coming back to the subject at hand.

"No, Mistress, not unless you find a way in which Jetur can help Ro without being her adviser."

"Like her being a co-ruler instead of adviser."

"For instance, Mistress."

Torres sighed and shook her head a little. "That's also not possible, my Pet. I haven't given you this to read yet, but the Coalition rules on Intendants states that it's a one person job."

"Then I cannot help you, Mistress."

"You did help by pointing that out," Torres disagreed. "I will have to think about this. I'm not about to give up on those women that fast."

"Mistress, maybe your daily bath would help you relax and think."

"That, my dear, is a very good idea," Torres agreed. "Go fill the bathtub; I want to soak in water tonight."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said while starting to stand up. But as her eyes fell once more on Torres' battle uniform jacket, she hesitated and then sank back down to her knees.

She tugged at the bottom of the jacket and asked, "Mistress, I am wondering why you also wear this at home. Surely it must be uncomfortable."

"We aren't home; we're on Bajor," Torres reminded with a teasing grin. She had a feeling that she knew what the blonde meant, but who said you couldn't deliberately misunderstand just for fun once in a while?

"When you retire for the evening," Seven amended tolerantly.

"I told you once before; I always have to look like I'm willing to jump into battle. It's part of the image," Torres explained with a shrug.

"I understand that this is the reason why you need to wear this during the day and in the evening as long as there's a chance that you might leave again," Seven said before persisting, "But I do not understand why you still need to wear it after you decided to call it a night, as you call it."

"So that I'm ready to go, might something happen?" Torres said more as a question than an answer.

"Mistress, if something where to happen at night you would actually be wearing a nightshirt or nothing at all, depending on how much you felt like donning a nightshirt after whatever we did before that moment. If something were to happen then you would need to dress first. Why is this different for the time between you letting it be known that you should be considered retired for the evening and therefore preferably not be disturbed, and the evening bath?"

"Why are you asking me this, my Pet? Do you want me to run around nude?"

"No mistress," Seven assured. "I was about to suggest placing a stand at the door. Here at the door out of the quarters, and on the ship at the door from the private quarters to the official ones. There you could then place the parts of the battle uniform that can be taken off and yet still be considered fully dressed. That would then leave you in the under-armor; full leg covering pants and a shirt with sleeves. This is still considered proper public clothing, so if time truly is so dire that every second counts you could leave the quarters in that. Otherwise you could spend the minute to put the over-armor pants and the uniform jacket on."

Torres pursed her lips while thinking about the suggestion. "Well, to tell you the truth, I kinda got into the habit because... well, before I got you to keep me busy I just did things when I felt like them and didn't really bother about what time it was. So until I decided to go to sleep there was always the option of me leaving again. So, no undressing before my bath. But why do you suddenly ask?"

Seven leaned forward and molded her body as much as she could against that of her Mistress, which made the top of her head just touch Torres' chin. "Because I love being between your legs."

"And I love you there. Mmhmm, do I ever love you there," Torres shot back with a grin.

Then Seven started to poke places along her body where they were touching. "Hard, hard, cold, hard, sharp."

She placed a hand on the armor that covered one of Torres' breasts. "Too much distance between my hand and what I want to feel in it."

She moved back to a sitting position. "I know that you are soft and firm and wonderful in all the right places. You are hot; in more ways than one."

She leaned against one of Torres' legs. "I love to sit between your legs, but I would really love to feel your thighs pressing against my breasts instead of armor plates. I want to... feel you."

Torres grinned. Well, explained like that, wearing only under-armor at home suddenly made a lot more sense. But she wasn't about to agree too fast. "Hmm, that almost sounds like it's all about you. You should really remember that you're nothing more than a slave. I'm the Mistress here, remember. What's in it for me?"

"Besides feeling more comfortable at home?" Seven couldn't help but ask.

"Yes, besides that."

Seven smiled at her. "I would be more than happy to promise you that I would make it worth your while, but that would only be an empty promise because we would have sex at that time regardless."

"Hmm, good point," Torres agreed. "Tell you what, not here since now you need to wear those bio-suits every moment when we aren't enjoying some good sex anyway. But once we're back on the ship, you dive into the replicator and find some flimsy, but oh so tempting clothing. And at those times where I shed the over-armor until we take that bath, you wear something tempting. You 'are' a slave after all, so why not be some nice eye candy for me?"

"I will be anything for you," Seven said softly. "And now, please excuse me while I prepare your bath."

Torres shook her head and stood up, pulling the blonde to her feet. "No, I changed my mind. I want to watch you while you prepare that bath."

"You just want to see me bent over," Seven accused with a smile.

"No," Torres disagreed. "I just want to see you. Seeing you bent over is only one of the fun parts. Come on, my Pet, it's time for you to make me horny. And then..."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate choices
By H.W.

Chapter 16

"Damn, damn, damn," Jetur Adami chanted while nervously pacing back and forth in her room. During the day, she had been able to present a cool front, but now that the Intendant had retired for the evening, Jetur had gone back to her own quarters and thought about what she had done. About the stupid mistake she had made. The sound of the door chime made her jump and she turned to face the door. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to pull herself together. She knew who had to be on the other side of that door. She finally said 'enter' when the chime sounded again.

The door opened to reveal Ro Laren, who strolled into the room, her eyes never leaving Jetur.

"Ro, I'm sooo sorry," Jetur broke after only a few seconds. "Please tell me we can still save this somehow. I can't believe I did that. Shit, I know I fucked everything up, I just couldn't keep my damn mouth shut."

"Why didn't you?" Ro asked softly as she walked to the table and leaned against it, folding her arms in front of her.

Jetur started pacing again, nervously rubbing her hands. "She ordered Bajorans killed. And, even more importantly, she's leaving those slaves without supervision, save for the guards that have to make sure they don't escape."

"And this made you question the Klingon Intendant because...," Ro prompted.

Adami sighed. "Because I don't think it's a smart move. Or better said, I thought that. Having had the time to think about it, I do think she had a point. As weird as the idea is, it might just work. In hindsight she is right. With there still being guards to prevent them from escaping, those slaves will work extra hard to meet their targets because they'll do pretty much anything to keep the privilege of not having to cower for Masters."

"So you questioned the Klingon Intendant, in front of the Commander of the Klingon Security Department, and a Klingon Captain who is a well known adviser of the Chancellor from time to time. In front of three hundred Klingon Commandoes; in front of five thousand slaves. In front all of these people, you questioned the Klingon Intendant."

Jetur rubbed her face with her hands. "Laren, I know I fucked up, don't rub it in."

"I'm not," Ro assured. "There's nothing to rub in, since you didn't fuck up."

"What?" Jetur asked while turning to Ro.

"Oh, that's what I thought too, in the beginning, that you ruined everything," Ro admitted. "But you didn't. To the contrary, you helped us very much."

"How can you say that? You heard what she said to me."

"Adami, I heard it, but did you?" Ro asked patiently.

"Don't play with me, Laren. Not now."

Ro came closer and placed a reassuring hand on the redhead's shoulder, thereby also stopping the pacing. "I'm not playing with you Adami. Think about it. You questioned her, and you lived. She had to say what she did, she is the Klingon Intendant after all. She can't tolerate someone speaking back to her so publicly, unless she can give a good reason for accepting it. And the reason she gave, was that you were close to me. But think about that for a moment longer. If she truly had been upset with you, she would have killed you with the others. But she didn't, and I started wondering why not."

"You sure I didn't mess up?" Jetur asked, looking up into the caramel brown eyes of Ro, which were located about fifteen centimeters higher than Jetur's own grass-green eyes.

"I'm sure," Ro assured her.

"Oh, my manners," Jetur said while breaking the eye contact and pointing to one of the comfortable chairs to one side of the room. "Please sit down. Do you want something to drink?"

"No thanks," Ro said as she sat down.

Jetur went to the replicator where she replicated a drink for herself and then drained it in one go.

"Adami, calm down," Ro soothed again. "Come sit and let me explain your masterful move to you."

Jetur saw the smile Ro gave her and sat down in the second chair.

"I actually think that with you speaking up, you covered something we both didn't even think about," Ro said in her soft voice. "You see, the thing is, if I become Intendant, you'll become my adviser. But, I, you, Delik, Martok, probably that blonde slave, and most certainly Intendant Torres, everyone knows that I can't function without you. Not if I want to cover all the bases."

"Right," Jetur agreed. "So that means..."

"That means that Intendant Torres has to be sure that you can stand up to me and say that something I want to do is absolutely nuts. That you won't be afraid to say to me, 'Laren that is the stupidest thing I ever heard'. But today, Adami, today you did that, only more politely, to the Klingon Intendant. She knows that if you'll question her, than by the Prophets, you sure won't hesitate to question me."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Jetur said with a small smile.

Ro shook her head. "Believe me, Adami, I'm not. You saw what Torres did in those mines. How she calmly sat on that chair and watched all of them being killed. And all they did was try and use her presence on our planet. Do you really think that if you had truly pissed her off, that she would have spared you simply because you advise me? Prophets know, she would probably have killed me as well. Just to have it all over and done with."

"But I really didn't speak up because of this. I only did that because it didn't sound too smart to me," Jetur admitted.

Ro smiled and leaned forward in her chair, closer to the redhead. "Adami, that's the whole point. Think about it. Torres knows that people normally start pissing their pants when she says she's coming by for an inspection. Would you want her mad at you?"

"By the Prophets no!"

"But yet you questioned her," Ro reminded. "Now, if you dare to question Torres, you are bound to certainly dare to question little old Ro Laren who needed your help to get her new job. Right?"

"Right," Jetur agreed, finally having calmed down enough from Ro's words to see the truth in that.

Ro leaned back in the chair again. "So you did well today."

"I did well today," Jetur repeated, still amazed by it.

"And Adami, for future references, it did take me a while to get used to the fact that I will indeed need you, need your objective view, your input. But now I have. So, don't ever wonder if you should question me. If you think I'm doing something wrong, tell me."

"Alright, I'll do that," Jetur said with a brilliant smile before asking, "So you have any idea what our chances are?"

"Eh, difficult to say," Ro answered thoughtfully. "I noticed that she asks us a lot more than she's asking Delik."

"True," Jetur agreed. "I have a feeling that she already made her mind up about him."

"And now she's looking to see how we are compared to him," Ro finished for Jetur. "I think that she considers Delik the safe choice, and is now in the process of seeing if she can appoint us, or if she should go with the safe choice."

"You think that we could do something to help her make that choice?"

"No," Ro said after thinking about it for a minute. "We've handled things in a certain way until now, let's go on like this. Though we made some mistakes along the way, we're still in the race. Unless we do something really stupid, we can't change her impression of us negatively by continuing to act in that same way. But, the more time the Intendant needs to make her decision, the more time there is for Delik to mess up."

"Right," Jetur agreed. "Alright, we go on as we have; with me putting my foot in my mouth from time to time."

Ro was about to reply but then saw the smile, realizing that Jetur had been joking. Ro liked that. She liked it when someone understood that they made a mistake and accepted it. Even if this time around it had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. During her time as Intendant Adviser, or more to the point, Kira's play thing, she had seen how all the others always put their best effort into trying to blame others for the mistakes they made. It was so refreshing to see someone basically admit 'my fault'. But then, Ro had to reluctantly admit, on the other hand, admitting to Kira that you made a mistake could have been quite deadly, so trying to blame someone else made a lot of sense if you wanted to live a long life.

She looked down at the redhead's feet which were tucked into the open sandals the redhead preferred. She noticed the bright blue nail polish... and that apparently there truly wasn't an ugly part on that body; even her feet were well formed and the toes were surprisingly straight; as if they had never had to suffer the confinement of shoes for long. Which, they probably hadn't, considering how much Jetur seemed to love the kind of sandals that had only just enough fabric or straps to keep them attached to the feet.

"Well, there are worse things to have in ones mouth," Ro replied with an amused smile.

Pale red eyebrows lifted in surprise. "But Laren, don't tell me you have a foot fetish."

Now Ro chuckled. "Adami, remember that I've had the full Special Forces training, and have had years of active service. I lived on worms and snails for over a week once. Believe me; there are things much worse than sucking on some well-washed toes."

Jetur couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, good answer." She wiggled her toes. "Just between you and me, I had them straightened."

Ro looked up from the feet to the eyes. "I thought you were so proud of what nature had given you and that you had never visited a doctor for altercations."

Jetur pursed her lips for a moment. "I did say that, didn't I? Well, it's true, mostly. And I wouldn't have gone to have my toes fixed if I didn't have an accident once. Really, they were good enough for me. But since I always wear sandals there was not much between my toes and a hammer that fell off my oldest brother's workbench when I came bugging him to fix something for me."

Ro lifted an eyebrow.

"It honestly fell," Jetur assured. "I bumped the work bench and then... auw. I was fifteen then by the way. Three of my toes were crushed on my left foot. I had them fixed, and of course they were all nice and straight after that. It just looked weird compared to the slightly bent rest of the toes. So I had the rest of my toes straightened as well. So, there is my little deep dark secret. I had something of my body fixed."

Ro chuckled. "Don't worry; your secret is safe with me. Oh, and talking about body, how about I switch subject a little?"

"To what?" Jetur wondered.

"From body to Body Slave." Ro's eyes found Jetur's once again. "You got any idea just what is up with Intendant Torres' Body Slave?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I never had any dealings with a Body Slave before, so last night I did some reading on the matter. I can now understand why you told me to treat her as if she was very important. The reason being that she 'is' very important. But there's more about her. Did you see what she did today? She lifted that man off the ground with just one hand, and kept him off the ground for minutes. That takes a lot of strength. A lot more than a person of her figure could ever have. A lot more than anyone I know has."

"True," Jetur agreed before pointing a finger at Ro. "And there's more. Every single one of us had a go at trying to get at the information in Kira's personal computer unit. None of us succeeded. Yet the Intendant asked the slave if she could get into the unit, and the next day the slave knew things that she could only know if she indeed had been successful in getting at the information."

"Like Kira's financial records," Ro continued where Jetur had stopped. "So at the very least that must mean that she's far better at breaking codes than anything we have here on Bajor. And she must have the brains to remember it all."

"Not to forget," Jetur added, "That she went over the budget we proposed. I sent it over, and a day later she knew all that I proposed, and this while we know that both of them had been out yesterday, the day I sent it over. So that means that the slave only had a few hours this morning, at most, to look all of that over. How in the name of the Prophets did she do that? Just reading the proposal we made would take an entire day, let alone go over it and make corrections."

Ro smiled. "You are so generous; the proposal we made. The proposal you made, you mean. I just said general things like 'we can use those credits there to do this'.

Jetur returned the smile. "Just because I was the one doing the typing doesn't mean that it wasn't 'we' that did the work. If it had been only me then your ideas wouldn't have been in there."

"True, I guess," Ro agreed. "As for the slave, I guess it's safe to say that there's more about her than meets the eye. But I think the main question is, how does this matter to us?"

Jetur thought about that for a moment. "I think that Torres uses the slave to get information she would get eventually anyway. So, that really doesn't affect us. What does affect us, however, is that I have a feeling that Torres is very protective of her slave. And that might aid us. We're treating the slave with respect; Delik only acts dismissive of her as far as I could see. I think that doing that is not something that's helping his case."

"So, if we keep treating the slave as we have been, not only do we help our case, but Delik helps our case as well," Ro surmised.

"Right," Jetur agreed.

They were quiet for a moment before Jetur spoke up again, a bit hesitantly. "You know, the Intendant had a point. We aren't communicating enough about what we're doing."

"Why not?" Ro asked. "I think that we're delegating out tasks just fine. You take care of the politically oriented stuff, like Kira's funeral. And I take care of the forces and security, like having the Intendant followed."

Jetur shook her head, and then took a moment to put her red locks back behind her shoulder. "That's not the point. True, that all works out fine. But what I'm talking about, and what Intendant Torres was talking about, is that we don't know what the other is doing. If we want to make sure that we don't accidentally start working against each other somewhere down the road, we need to start communicating about what we do. Otherwise it could happen that we have a different view on a subject and we actually both do things that counteract what the other is trying to do."

"Alright, I can see your point," Ro agreed. "But how do you suppose we deal with this?"

Jetur lifted one hand, palm up, giving the impression of 'speaking' a suggestion with the movement alone. "Well, we spend a lot of time together now, but we don't really talk about what we've done, only about what we want to do. I suggest we start doing some kind of 'end of day meeting', or something. You know, come together at the end of the day and go over the things we did that day. It would really have not been that hard to tell you at the end of the day that I started arranging Kira's funeral. That way you wouldn't only have known about it, but you would also have known why it was done."

"Alright. We can start doing that," Ro agreed.

Both of them went quiet again. After a few long minutes, Jetur decided to break the silence. "It must be time for dinner."

"Well, in that case, I will leave you to it," Ro said, getting the hint, or so she thought.

"Actually, Laren, won't you join me?" Jetur heard herself say before she could stop herself.

"I'm not much for dinner conversations," Ro said, not necessarily saying no, nor yes.

Jetur smiled. "That's okay, as you know, I love to talk. I'll just talk for the both of us. Please stay, I think I would enjoy your company."

"Alright, I wouldn't mind some company for dinner," Ro relented.

"You normally don't have company for dinner?" Jetur asked while getting up and walking to the replicator.

"No, normally I eat alone." For some reason, Ro decided to leave the sentence at that and not add that normally that's how she liked it. Normally she didn't like company while eating... normally.

"Such a shame, we'll have to change that." Then an idea came to Jetur and she suggested, "Hey, how about we make that end of day meeting over dinner from now on?"

Ro thought about that for a moment. She knew that this would mean that she would be resigning herself to having dinner with the redhead every night. Then she wondered about that for a moment. Would that really be so bad? It had most definitely not escaped Ro's attention that Jetur was a beautiful person, and there was definitely something to be said for having someone beautiful to look at during dinner, who also had, as Ro knew, excellent table manners.

But that wasn't the main part of it. It was interesting. The thing that others always saw first, and in most cases only ever saw... a hot body... was the thing that Ro always saw last. Oh, she wasn't blind and had spent enough time checking the redhead out by now. But it had always been in quiet moments during conversations and meetings. As soon as the redhead was talking, Ro's focus was solely on what Jetur was saying. When talking to each other, Ro's eyes were always firmly fixed on Jetur's, and not on two objects lower on the body, like Jetur was used to from others.

The redhead could have very pointed discussions about issues they had to deal with, or could talk about general everyday subjects with a deep and profound understanding that was deep enough to challenge even Ro's mind. Which was quite a feat since Ro was almost always thinking about things on at least three different levels.

But on top of that, it was true; Jetur also loved to talk simply for the talking. She could literally spend hours talking about the simplest daily things and gossip about the lives of the public entertainment stars. Once Ro had even heard the redhead have a full one hour discussion with a friend over a viewscreen about who the father might be of a child on some damn public entertainment channel. Talk for a full hour about a damn child that didn't even exist and who's mother also didn't exist... other than being portrayed by some upcoming entertainment star that is.

And yet, somehow Ro had found that she truly loved to listen to the redhead speak. More so because Ro didn't get annoyed by all the talking, which was strange because normally she hated people that talked without saying anything. But for some reason, when Jetur talked aimlessly, Ro found it somehow comforting. Maybe it was in the sound of the voice, which was a perfect combination between sounding as beautiful as her body looked, and being profoundly enticing to listen to because the things she said actually made sense, even if they were about unimportant things.

"Alright, sounds good to me," Ro finally agreed.

"You have any favorite foods?" Jetur asked casually while thinking only a single word, 'Yes.'

"Sure," Ro said before starting to name her favorite foods.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Care to tell me what's bothering you, my Pet?" Torres asked without turning around.

They were both soaking in the bath, and Torres was lying in the arms of the blonde. When they were done bathing, they normally just lay and soaked some, a tendency that had only developed after Torres had found out just what it felt like to lie in the water, against a soft body and being held by two strong arms.

"Mistress?"

"Something is bothering you, I can feel it. Normally you don't talk much, but you're always present and focused. But now you're actually absent."

"Mistress, I was just thinking."

"Come on, share with me, my Pet."

"Mistress, I am enjoying my time with you."

"And that's a bad thing?" Torres asked.

"No, Mistress," Seven assured. "But I was contemplating the fact that I am enjoying a bath with you, enjoying the fact that I am holding a very attractive woman in my arms. I am spending my time by doing something I like doing."

"But?"

"I was thinking of the Voyager crew. While I am enjoying my time here, at the same time they are working to repair the ship."

"Ah," Torres said in understanding. "You feel guilty for not being there to help them. There is no need for that, my Pet."

"Why not?"

Torres sighed and turned around in the arms that were holding her. "Think about it, you have nothing to feel sorry about. There isn't anyone standing behind their back with a disrupter rifle shouting, 'go, go, go, faster, faster, faster'. Right now, they're rebuilding that ship as if they were at a neutral star base. It's just that it's one they want to get away from as fast as they can. All they're doing is renovating the ship."

Torres saw Seven open her mouth and placed a finger against the blonde's lips. "Before you say that you feel that you should be helping them, you are. Look at what you've already done for them. I agreed to let them 'escape', I agreed to give you fifteen minutes so that you can do whatever you need to do, I agreed that they can take their ship with them. You made me let them keep their personal possessions. I even let them use Klingon resources to repair a ship that I know will never be mine since they're taking it with them. If it wasn't for you enjoying time with me, your friends would now be divided to different projects. Who knows; I might have even ordered them to those mines we visited today. You, my Pet, are doing more for your friends and that ship by sitting here, holding me, than they are by working twelve hours every day."

"Mistress, you make it sound as if I am only using you."

"You are, my Pet, you are. I might enjoy my time with you. But let's be honest, you'll still try almost everything to help your friends."

"Mistress, I am not only using you," Seven said defiantly.

"Not 'only,' but you agree that you are using me," Torres countered gently. "Seven, that's how we came to be together; there's no use denying that. You agreed to do whatever I told you, save killing, isn't that what you said? You agreed to that because you knew that if you appeased me, I would be more likely to help your friends. You used me from the first minute. But, as much as you use me, I use you as well, and I think you know I'm not talking about sex now."

Seeing the raised eyebrow that comment got, Torres elaborated, "I'm talking about the things I have you do, I'm using your implants even more than you yourself do. I've come to assume that if I want to know something, you already know it, or can find out about it in one minute flat. I'm using your hearing, your sight, I'm using almost all your implants, and the ones I don't use, I don't use because they have no further function than keeping you alive. I use you, Seven, and I'll continue to do so. Not doing so would be plain out stupid on my part. Just as it would be stupid on your part if you didn't use me to help your friends. Using the people close to you is an everyday thing."

"Not where I come from," Seven disagreed. Not knowing if she should call the Intendant Mistress, or B'Elanna. The last few days the Intendant had the tendency to sometimes use Seven's name to give a part of a conversation more meaning, while not taking the whole conversation to that higher level. Probably, Seven assumed, because Torres had noticed that in normal conversations it more often than not wasn't really necessary.

"Really?" Torres asked, thinking for a moment, "Alright, tell me, are there couples on that ship?"

"Yes, Mistress. Several. Married, and also couples in loose relationships."

"Okay, forget about those last ones; let's focus on the married ones. Surely they would not use each other, right?"

"Correct."

"Then how can you explain, for instance, one of the two never cleaning the house. And the one who does clean the house, never goes out of the house to work in a paying job?"

"On Voyager everyone works, Mistress," Seven couldn't help but point out.

"Seven," Torres growled, "you damn well know that was an example. I don't know what they really did on that ship and I don't fucking care."

Torres leaned forward and softly kissed the blonde, showing her that she wasn't upset, despite how she had spoken.

"They are enhancing each other's strong points, equaling out each other's weak points," Seven said after taking her time to kiss Torres back.

"They use each other," Torres stated more bluntly. "They use their partner to do the things they themselves can't do, or don't want to do. But the whole thing about using each other is the degree in which you do it, and if the partner doesn't object. If someone can do something for their partner, they do so willingly. As you like to point out, my Pet, there's a difference between doing something willingly, and doing something out of free will. If you like someone, you don't mind doing things for them. You don't mind them using you. But, the line is between using and misusing. You don't mind people using you, you will however hate people misusing you."

Seven frowned as she went over the words. "Then why kill the Bajorans who used your presence?"

Torres lifted two fingers. "Two reasons, first of all, I didn't know them and therefore I certainly do object to them using me. Second reason was that they were not just using me; they were misusing me. That I won't allow."

"And what turns what I do into using you, and not misusing you?" Seven wondered.

"Because I don't mind it," Torres said thoughtfully. "Do you mind me using you to get information?"

"No, Mistress. I enjoy the fact that I can please you in that way."

"And that, my Pet, is what makes all the difference. You enjoy the fact that you can help me, and I enjoy the fact that me helping you and your friends makes you happy... And I can't believe I just said that."

"Said what?" Seven asked, knowing only too well that Torres was talking about the fact that she had basically said that seeing Seven happy made her happy.

"That...," Torres started to repeat, only to be silenced with a kiss, and once again softly hearing the blonde ask, 'Said what?' Now Torres understood that her slave was giving her the chance to pretend that she had never said what she had.

"Thank you, my Pet." Torres leaned in to share a very long and passionate kiss. "But I can admit to myself and to you that seeing you happy makes me happy. I think we both know that it won't make me act different... More different than I already am."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Okay, back to the matter at hand, no more feeling sorry for the fact that you're spending time with me, alright?"

"Alright, B'Elanna."

Torres looked in those blue eyes for a moment before saying, "You're welcome, Seven."

"Welcome?" Seven asked.

"Yes, weren't you about to say 'thank you'?"

"Actually, no."

"No?" Torres repeated, slightly surprised.

"No, I was about to show you how thankful I am, Mistress. I have you naked, in a bath. I will now commence with taking you until you pass out. Resistance is futile."

"Oh, boy," Torres said, but a wide grin was forming on her lips, "Resistance is futile, huh? What's up with that line? You love using it."

"I will tell you tomorrow, when you wake up again." Seven let go of the Intendant and opened her legs a little wider, sending some of the water over the edge of the tub, "Now, you turn around fully and then 'you' kneel between 'my' legs."

Torres heard the commanding tone in the blonde's voice. She knew what the blonde was doing. 'Kahless, how I love what that woman does to me,' Torres thought before reacting in the way she knew the blonde expected her to react. "You think you can order me around, slave?"

"Yes, I can. It is up to you how we do this," Seven started, mimicking words that Torres herself had spoken the first night she had seen Seven. "Either you work along, or I will take what is mine."

Torres thought about the words her slave had spoken. They were the same, but in the situation they were in now, they meant something else entirely. It meant that Torres had the choice. Either she could make the night about pleasing her slave, until the blonde started pleasing her. Or she could resist and make things a little rough. Torres had discovered that she also liked that, the way the blonde could do it.

It was rougher than normal, but nowhere near what would be considered true Klingon sex. Somehow the blonde knew exactly how far she could go, how far she could push. Making something Torres never truly enjoyed, rough sex, into something very enjoyable. Though she knew that the 'rough sex' wasn't really anywhere near truly rough. It was more a 'down to the point, and forget about the gentle caresses' fuck. And sometimes Torres really liked that. She loved to make love, but sometimes, sometimes Torres just wanted to get fucked. And boy was the blonde good at that too.

Torres was in the mood for a little rough, but... Seeing those blue eyes looking back, so openly, understandingly. Torres' decision was made. She moved to kneel between the blonde's legs, sending even more water over the edge of the tub.

"Let me please you, my Pet. But tomorrow, think of something I can punish you for. Punish you by taking what is mine."

Seven liked the compromise, "Very acceptable, Mistress."

Seven felt Torres softly caress her cheek, and she realized, no matter how she felt about the Voyager crew having to work, she was right where she wanted to be.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"So, what do you think?" B'Elanna asked.

Annika took her time to look at the quick drawing that B'Elanna had made. "Alright, we can do that," she finally said. "But my question is; why? It will only make an already complex place to work even more complex. Not even talking about the time it would take to do this."

B'Elanna grinned. "True, all of it. But, see, the thing is that those three consoles have been designed in such a way that three people can work there at once, one on each console. But, in all the years I worked in engineering, I never saw more than one person working there. There's just no reason to. And even if by some mysterious event in the future more than one person would need access to the systems regulated by those three old consoles, it can be simply rerouted to one of the other consoles I assigned as backup. Simply by the push of a button."

"Which would mean that the information on those consoles would no longer be available since you rerouted the other information to it," Annika pointed out.

"And it can be accessed again by simply pushing the button again," B'Elanna countered. "Trust me, Annika, that's only backup safeguards. And even if by some miracle, the new combined console, and the backup consoles couldn't be used, all of it can still be rerouted to the other consoles in engineering."

Annika tapped her finger against the PADD. "Okay, but you still haven't told me why all of this? Why go through all of this unnecessary work?"

"Because of... this," B'Elanna said, reaching past Annika, who was sitting beside her, to take another PADD.

Annika looked at the PADD for a moment and B'Elanna could see her eyes getting wider with every passing second.

"This is the layout for a cloaking system control panel," Annika stated.

"Yes," B'Elanna agreed excited. "While we were in the Delta Quadrant, I wished more than once we could cloak. And that will be even more important if we can't find a way back to our universe and have to stay in Coalition space."

"Are you nuts?" Annika asked, being sorry for saying it a moment later when she saw that unique mixture between a smile and a grin that was just so... B'Elanna, disappear.

"Why?" B'Elanna asked, deflated by the fact that Annika was not as enthusiastic about the idea as she was. "Annika, we have access to Klingon resources. Voyager wouldn't have to mess around anymore with changing shield harmonics to mask us a little bit for sensors. We now have the opportunity to put in a set of heavy-duty cloaking generators. We could be cloaked for hours, days on end. We can't let that opportunity pass us by."

"Did it slip your mind what kind of work this is?" Annika asked in disbelief. "B'Elanna, you as nobody else, should know that installing a cloaking system involves a lot more than just slamming in a set of generators, which is what most non-technical people assume. It also involves hooking up the cloaking generator to the shield generators. And even more important, the shield projectors Voyager now has are not designed for cloaking use. Every single shield projector would have to be replaced by a dual system version."

"True, but those are very standard," B'Elanna countered. "We even have them in the Voyager database. We can replicate those, we would be using Starfleet material; no worry about incompatibility. And before you say that there would be compatibility problems with the cloak generators, not very likely. It's a known secret that Starfleet ships are designed without cloaking capabilities, but they are designed in such a way that this convenient feature can quickly be added."

Annika raked her hands through her short hair. "B'Elanna, you're letting your enthusiasm run away with you. You seem to forget the numbers. True as everything you just said may be, there are normally thousands of shield projectors on a ship. How many are there on Voyager's hull?"

"Almost six thousand," B'Elanna was forced to admit.

"Which all would have to be replaced by hand," Annika added.

"You're probably right," B'Elanna sighed, admitting defeat. "It's just too much work. But damn, it would have been so convenient. It would have made it possible to hide every once in a while instead of only running."

She reached for the PADD that Annika had put down. "Alright, let me delete this. And then we can see what still needs to be done."

But just as B'Elanna had taken hold of the PADD, a warm hand closed over hers. They looked at each other for a moment. "B'Elanna, we two already have enough to do."

"I know. I,"

"Hush," Annika said while softly rubbing her hand over B'Elanna's. "What I was going to say was... We two already have enough to do. So who of your engineers do you trust enough to give them the job of installing the cloak generators?"

"Carey and Harry would do a great job of it," B'Elanna said softly. "But what about all those shield projectors that have to be replaced?"

Annika shrugged. "It 'is' a massive job, but it also is a simple one. It basically means going out on the hull, opening the access hatches, pull out the old projector, and plug the new one in. It's just that this will have to be done six thousand times over. But that's work that can be done as well by those that are running out of things to do. You'll get your cloaking system, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna lifted their hands to her lips and placed a soft kiss on Annika's knuckles. "Thanks."

Only when she saw how Annika was looking at her, did B'Elanna realize what she had done and let go of Annika's hand as if it had been on fire. "I... I... I..."

"You," Annika mercifully interrupted, "are the one who now has to go to Janeway and let her know that she'll get a cloaking device on her precious Federation ship. I have a feeling she won't be pleased."

"Right." B'Elanna agreed readily, "I'll go do that right now. I'm sure with a little help from Chakotay we'll be able to get Janeway to see the benefits."

Then, before either of them could say anything else, B'Elanna quickly stood up and disappeared out of engineering.

Annika looked at her hand for a moment before kissing it on the very same spot where it had been kissed only a moment before. A smile slowly started to spread over her lips. But the smile quickly disappeared when she realized just what a vast amount of extra work she had just agreed to. She realized that she had only agreed to it because B'Elanna wanted it. She had only agreed to it to make the Klingon happy. The smile came back even bigger than before.

She had done something, not for herself, not to gain something from it, but simply to make someone happy.

Damn, that felt good.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Do you have any plans for today, Mistress?" Seven asked while they were enjoying breakfast.

Torres thought for a moment. "Besides ravishing you at some point you mean? No, not really. Today we get rid of Kira, that should take most of the day. Normally the funerals of Intendants last hours on end. Add to that that we're on Bajor and more likely than not some priests will babble about prophets and all of that blah, blah, blah, I wouldn't be surprised to be sitting there for at least six hours. And after that, the 'grief' of the situation will become too much for the poor Bajorans and they'll have to weep in private for losing such a beloved Intendant. So today there isn't really much I can do. But tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow, what?" Seven asked when Torres didn't continue.

"Tomorrow will be the day that I'll test Jetur's devotion to being Ro's assistant."

"How?" Seven simply asked.

"I don't know yet. Martok and I will have a little talk tomorrow and see what the best way is."

Mere moments later, their peaceful breakfast was interrupted by Torres' communicator.

"Tarch to Torres."

"What?" Torres merely asked. She had told Tarch, the Captain of her ship, to only contact her if it was extremely important.

"Intendant, I don't know how important this is, since he refused to talk to me more than was necessary to tell me to contact you, but Intendant Dukat wishes to speak to you."

Torres pursed her lips for a moment. "Hmm. Did he say that he wishes to speak to me, or did he say that he demands to speak to me?"

"Wish, Intendant."

Now Torres smiled, it was not one of the pleasant smiles that Seven normally rated. "Good, that means that he wants something from me. Alright, put him through."

"Yes, Intendant."

A second later, the beep was heard that indicated that the transmission was put through.

"Dukat, what do you want? Somehow I don't think that you're contacting me to tell me that you'll be coming to Kira's funeral."

"I'm sorry, no. Unfortunately situations beyond my control force me to stay on Cardassia."

Torres snorted her answer. "Damn shame that I'm already here and can't use that excuse. Troi, Dax, and Shinze also were unfortunately detained."

"Even the Romulans won't come?" Dukat asked, slightly surprised. "I would have thought that they would surely come and gloat."

"Yeah, well Shinze had an excuse even better than yours," Torres admitted. "He reminded me that Kira had forbid him to ever again set foot on Bajor. He was really, really sorry, but he could simply not come."

Dukat laughed. "Damn, I should have thought of that. She forbade me about ten times from ever setting a foot on Bajor again. How often did she tell you that as well again?"

"Seeing how she loved me, I stopped counting after thirty times," Torres admitted with a grin. "Anyway, to the matter at hand, somehow I don't think that you contacted me to give your condolences to the Bajorans."

"You're right. I need a favor from you."

"Wait, let me guess," Torres interrupted. "You need some more Vulcan slaves but you don't want to pay full price for them. So now you want to ask me to see if I can put in a nice word with the Klingon sellers, am I right?"

"Your power of observation never ceases to amaze me," Dukat said somewhat impressed. "I see you heard about the complaints about there not being enough Vulcan slaves shipped onto Cardassia."

Torres grinned. "But Dukat, surely you know by now,"

"Torres knows everything," Dukat interrupted. "Well, as much as I would love to bolster your ego by saying that you're right... no. I can handle that nonsense myself. No I have something more important to discuss. We discovered some irregularities in our dilithium stocks. And I would like to ask you for a small amount of the stuff. Seeing that you Klingons can simply produce it."

Torres frowned. "I'm surprised, Dukat. Weren't you the one boasting that skimming dilithium so that it can be sold on the black market didn't happen in Cardassian mines?"

"It didn't happen in the mines, it happened in the central storage facility."

"So, why contact me?" Torres asked, now even more confused. "Our salesmen would love to sell you Cardassians a heap of dilithium."

Dukat sighed. "I would like to keep this out of the official listings."

Torres laughed. "Dukat, to keep it out of the official listings I would have to give the dilithium to you, without you paying me for it, and on top of that order the factories to not report that they made and shipped the amount that you would get."

"That, I know."

Torres thought about it for a moment. She didn't really care about having to order one of the dilithium factories to not report the making of some of the stuff.

She knew that they wouldn't care, and more than likely would just assume that someone high enough up the power chain was using their power to get some dilithium and then sell it on the black market for some extra credits. It wouldn't be the first or last time it would happen.

It was one of the few illegal things she very willingly turned a blind eye to. Nobody got hurt, physically or even truly financially, since the earnings would have gone to the Klingon treasury otherwise. And the people who did it were normally smart enough to pay a little something to the workers that had made it to ensure amnesia. So it was more than just one person that profited. Plus, nobody hurt for it... Torres preferred that people earned some extra credits that way instead of starting to do other things that would hurt people, and more importantly, were harder to track.

Finally she asked, "Just what amount of dilithium are we talking about?"

Dukat was quiet for a moment before finally saying, "Twenty-four tons."

"What?! Dukat, how in Kahless' name can someone get away with stealing twenty-four tons of dilithium? You need a Kahless be damned transport shuttle for that at least since it won't even fit into the cargo room of a normal shuttle!"

"She was the Chief Administrator of the resources department," Dukat explained. "She had been skimming profits for years, but normally only enough to not be noticed. But this year, she developed a taste for gambling in the Ferengi casinos. And she went quickly downhill from that moment on."

"So? Why not make that common knowledge, and punish her and her family for it?"

Dukat was once more quiet for a moment before finally simply saying, "She is my sister. I demoted her, sent her to a clinic that will put an implant in her brain that will make it impossible for her to ever gamble again. But I can't do anything else, unless I want to have my sister killed, and more importantly, my own name tarnished. You understand why I want to keep this quiet?"

Torres shook her head, but knowing that Dukat could not see it, she said, "I need to think about that for a moment. Contact me again in five minutes and I'll give you your answer."

"Alright," Dukat merely said before closing the channel.

"Torres to Tarch."

"Yes, Intendant?" the Captain asked.

"Dukat will contact me again in five minutes, put him right through when he does."

"Yes, Intendant."

"Mistress, is there something I can do to help?" Seven asked when the channel was shut off.

Torres sighed. "No, not really, my Pet. I simply need to think about whether I want to give Dukat the dilithium. That kind of amount would sell for about fifty million credits. Dilithium sells at about two million credits a ton. By Kahless, how can someone gamble away fifty million credits in one year? Talk about a string of bad luck."

"Is Dukat someone who honors his debts?" Seven asked.

"Yeah, at least the debts he owes to me."

"Will the Klingons miss the dilithium?" Seven continued to ask.

Torres shook her head. "Not at all. The stuff is so easy to make, if you know how to and are allowed to make it since you have all the rights to the technology of course, that we actually only have five factories that produce the stuff. And even there they have a nice and relaxed working speed and only produce at about half of maximum capacity. It's all we need to still have enough to sell the damn stuff to everyone in the Coalition."

Seven frowned. "Why have five factories produce at half capacity and not two or three at full capacity?"

"We have to keep them working at half capacity to have the potential to produce more, should we ever need it," Torres explained. "We like having that potential built in, but at the same time only produce just enough to provide only barely everyone with what they want. We have to do that to keep the price up and not flood the market. It would be stupid to produce more, only to bring the price down. You want people to want your product, and not to have them act like they're doing you a favor by buying it."

"Then I would suggest giving him the dilithium," Seven offered. "With such a vast amount, which is normally worth so many credits, it would mean that he would owe you a very big favor, Mistress."

Torres waved a hand dismissively. "But the problem is that he already owes me a lot of favors. Do I really need more favors from him while he'll probably never repay them? I'm not one to call in favors that often."

"Mistress, what is the difference?" Seven reasoned, ignoring the dismissive gesture since she had long since learned that all Klingons, including Torres', talked very actively; hand, arm, and other body movements were part of the conversation. Often it actually said more than the words. "You, nor the Klingon Empire, absolutely need those credits. But can you really have too many favors owed to you by another Intendant? And certainly by the Cardassian Intendant?"

Torres thought about that for a moment before treating the blonde to a grin. "That's what I like about you, my Pet. Always down to the basics. Please get us a drink while I wait for Dukat to contact me again."

Seven did as she was told, and when she came back with the drink, the chime of an incoming audio message sounded and moments later, Torres had opened the channel.

"Alright, Dukat. I thought about it."

"And?"

"You'll get your dilithium. But, you owe me big time. You can be sure that I'll collect this favor. And you can also be sure that you won't like what I'll ask. I don't know yet what it will be, but you can rest assured that I'll make certain that you won't like it."

"Alright," Dukat sighed, "I can't really expect you to be thrilled about this. Your 'price' sounds reasonable. I will send a ship to collect the dilithium. Dukat out."

"He is politeness himself, isn't he?" Torres asked, not really expecting an answer. "Anyway, I think it's time to prepare for Kira's funeral."

"Yes, Mistress. Should I change into a normal bio-suit now?"

"Hmm," Torres said while looking at the gray form fitting suit the blonde was wearing. "You know, I think this would be the perfect opportunity for you to wear that green wavy thing. Isn't green the Bajoran color of mourning?"

"It is, Mistress. I assume that with 'that green wavy thing' you mean the bio-suit that has extra layers of fabric over it to give the impression of a normal loose dress?"

"Yes, that thing," Torres agreed with a grin.

"Very well, should I go change now?"

"Yeah," Torres said while she stood up from the table.

Seven did the same and decided to first clean off the table before going to change. The rule that the table had to be cleaned as soon as Torres was finished eating had been 'tweaked' days before. Torres had found that she enjoyed it more to eat leisurely in the company of the blonde, than having her clear the table at the last bite. Somehow, a clean table meant that the quiet start of the day was over and the job of ruling began.

The second time Seven came back from walking to the replicator to put something away, she suddenly collapsed.

Torres, who had seen this, was at Seven's side in less than a second. "What's wrong?" Torres asked when she saw that Seven was still conscious and moving... Or better said, moving her upper body.

"My lower body ceased functioning," Seven pointed out the obvious.

"I figured that," Torres said annoyed. "But I want to know why. People don't just get paralyzed walking from a replicator to a table."

"Do not raise your voice at me. I am in distress here," Seven shot back in a way that was not like her at all.

Torres closed her eyes for a moment. The way the slave had talked to her normally was more than enough to send the volatile Klingon into a rage. But she knew that this was not what was needed at the moment.

"I know, Seven, I know," Torres said softly while placing her hand against Seven's cheek. "What I meant is, if you know how and why this happened."

"If I had known this would happen, I would have prevented it," Seven said annoyed.

Torres stayed surprisingly calm. "Yeah, yeah, if I had known I was going to fall, I would have lain down first, right?"

Torres continued to caress Seven's cheek and speak softly. "Come on, Seven, let's look at the obvious first. You told me that you didn't know how your implants would react to going a prolonged time without regenerating. So, is this an implant problem?"

Seven took a moment to mentally take stock of her implants and how they were functioning. Normally she didn't think consciously about them, only if she did something that was outside the norm did she think about them. Like when she changed the sensitivity setting of her hearing.

Just like normal Humans, the Doctor had once told her, they don't normally think about how their body is functioning. They only start thinking about it if something is wrong, or if they're about to do something that's not an day thing, like lifting a heavy weight.

"An implant in my lower back is not functioning. It regulates all the data going to the implants in my lower body."

"So, why are your Human muscles not working then?"

"Because the Borg removed my spinal cord, replacing it with an enhanced implant that moves nerve information faster than the normal Human spinal cord, and which makes it possible for me to constantly have the strength a normal Human only possesses under extreme circumstances, when their entire body is flooded with adrenaline."

Torres caressed Seven's face in an incredibly tender way that few would have assumed her even capable of. "I thought you had those other implants to make you stronger?"

"As well," Seven corrected. "The Borg combined the two. After all, a drone can never be too strong."

She realized how calm she had become while talking about her implants. And she knew that Torres had done this on purpose. "Thank you, B'Elanna. I am sorry I shouted at you. Please, I need assistance."

"Don't mention it," Torres said with a smile. "Tell me how this can be corrected."

"I require the tools that the Doctor gave to me."

"Where are they?" Torres asked.

"In the small bag."

Torres walked to the bedroom and one of the closets there. She knelt on one knee and pulled out one of the bags that had been brought to their rooms since sometimes, on shorter trips, it was simply easier to take stuff along in a bag, than it was to upload replicator patterns. She took out the box that was roughly the same size as an average computer unit and went back to the blonde's side.

Seven tried to open the box, only to have her hands softly batted aside by Torres, "I'll do it. You just lie there and tell me what to do."

Seven was only too happy to let Torres do what would be difficult for herself to do since the implant was in her lower back. She reached to her back, indicating where the implant was. "The implant is located here."

"This one?" Torres asked, touching the implant softly. It wasn't the first time she touched it.

"Yes, you need to scan it with that device to the left."

"This one?" Torres said taking a device out of the box. "Looks like a Tricorder."

"It is," Seven agreed. "Federation version. Adapted by the Doctor for use with my implants."

"Okay, I think I know how to use this." Torres activated the Tricorder and scanned the area that Seven had indicated. A moment later she showed Seven the readings.

"It is not broken," Seven said with relief. "It only needs to be reset."

"Alright, how do I do that?"

"Almost all Borg implants can be reset by a simple Electro Magnetic pulse. The device, beneath where the Tricorder was, is designed for this."

Torres took the device and studied it for a moment while asking, "Isn't that a very weak spot? I mean, you can deactivate a Drone with a simply EM pulse."

"Not at all," Seven disagreed. "An EM pulse resets the implants; it does not shut the implants off. Under normal conditions, I would not even notice my implants being reset. In normal space travel, Drones are exposed to EM pulses of different strengths on almost a daily basis. The Borg decided to use that to actually enhance the functioning of a drone. There are only a few implants that are negatively sensitive to EM pulses, like my neural implant. But they are extremely well shielded against EM pulses. The EM pulse will have to be very strong. A Borg spaceship would be deactivated by an EM pulse before the Drones on that ship would be."

"Alright, I think I figured out how to use this. Check the settings I put in."

"Those are correct." Seven affirmed after looking at the screen for a moment. "You only have to hold it against my implant for five seconds. But you will have to open my bio-suit first. The EM pulse will destroy the technology in the suit if it passes through it to my implant."

"So? The Doctor can make a new suit," Torres said while she started to open the bio-suit at the neck of the blonde. Once there was enough room to allow for the blonde's torso, she started to peel the stretching material back.

"Lift your upper body a little, baby," Torres said to the blond who was still lying on her stomach.

Seven did as asked while answering the earlier question. "I like this suit. I do not want to see it destroyed. And if it would be destroyed, it would mean that I would have to wear one of the other bio-suits to bed at night. I do not think they would be as comfortable to sleep in as this one."

Torres stripped the suit down, moving the blonde's body whenever needed, until she could see the implant and the soft raise of the blonde's buttocks. "Okay, here goes."

Torres put the device against the implant and activated it. A moment later, a beep came from the device and Seven started to move her legs again.

"You okay now?" Torres asked.

Seven turned on her side and towards Torres. "Yes, thank you."

Torres patted the blonde's hip before moving her hand further around the blonde to trace the implant she had just reset. "You know, I really like the way this implant looks."

Seven knew Torres well enough by now to know that the Intendant was only commenting, and not leading on to more, certainly not after what just happened. "Why?"

"I don't know, it just looks kinda hot. The way it curves to both sides, following the line of your beautiful ass in a V shape; the way it appears blue, or gray, depending on how the light falls on it. And the way it's constructed it seems as if there's a design in it, an artistic design," Torres clarified before Seven could point out that it was only logical that the implant had to be designed at some point. "And you know the very best part of it?"

"What?"

"The very best is that I'm the only one that can touch it. Your ass belongs to me, and the implant above it does as well. Just between you and me... that implant sometimes turns me on like crazy. When I see you nude and see that implant, see that tip point down like it's showing me where all the fun stuff can be found. I tell you, that thing is sexy as hell."

"I am still surprised that you find my implants aesthetically pleasing."

"Seven, I think that you simply don't like them because you know how you got them; because you know how the Borg use them. But if you forget about that for a moment, they look very original and very nice. But..."

Torres offered Seven a hand and helped her stand up, "Now, my Pet. I didn't like what just happened. It's much too dangerous for you to go much longer without regenerating. So, as soon as the funeral is over, you're out of here. I'll send you back so that your Doctor can have a good look at you."

Seven stripped fully out of her bio-suit, knowing that she had to change anyway. "Mistress, no. I do not want to leave."

"That, is not negotiable, my Pet. I don't want you keeling over dead."

"Mist... B'Elanna. Do not send me away."

"Seven,"

"No," Seven interrupted. "B'Elanna, you want to send me away only because of an incident."

"An incident?" Torres asked in a raised voice. "Damn it, Seven, you fucking collapsed okay?"

"I know only too well, I was the one lying on the floor," Seven countered, also raising her voice. "Excuse me for not being perfect. Yes, I have weak points as well."

"Weak points?" Torres now shouted. "Having bad vision is a weak point. Being paralyzed from one second to another without warning is a disaster waiting to happen."

"Please do not shout at me, it will force me to react and I do not want to fight with you."

Torres looked at the blonde for a moment with her mouth half open. "What?" she finally asked.

"You are not Voyager's B'Elanna. I have discovered that I enjoy fighting with Voyager's B'Elanna, but I do not enjoy fighting with you."

Torres massaged her temples while trying to calm down. "Alright, let's sit for a moment."

They both sat down on the couch and Torres looked the blonde up and down. "You really don't have any modesty at all, do you?" Torres asked the naked woman.

Seven couldn't help but look down her own body for a moment before looking back up into the Klingon's eyes. "You have seen me undressed before, at very close range actually. There is nothing to see that you have not seen before."

"True, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't affect me anymore." Torres sighed. "Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I really think that you should go back."

"Why?"

"Seven,"

"No, B'Elanna, I think that you are making a mistake again, just as when you decided I could no longer be your slave. We got through that problem, and we can get through this one."

"Seven, this is different. I'm not sending you away to get rid of you, or because I don't know how to handle what we have. I'm sending you back because I want you to stay strong and healthy."

Seven took one of Torres' hands and held it between her own. "No, what I mean is that you decide something without first looking at other possibilities. Let us look at other possibilities, and if we do not find a different solution, you can still send me back."

"What other options are there? You dying?"

"That is an option I do not prefer," Seven said, and Torres knew that the blonde was doing anything she could to get her to think rationally.

"Alright, tell me," Torres said thoughtfully, "how likely is it that something like this, or even worse happens again?"

"I cannot say," Seven admitted honestly.

"Alright, a different angle," Torres said thoughtfully. "Like... like, what options would I have if sending you back wasn't possible for some reason. What would I do if you had to stay because... No, that won't work since I'm the Intendant and it's possible for me to send you back no matter what, unless the Coalition would pretty much collapse in the next hour."

"Then what about the angle that it is supposed to be anyway, if I had not become more to you than a slave?" Seven suggested. "What would you do if I was just a slave to you? A slave that you like to take to bed and that on top of that has abilities that you want at your side, especially now?"

"Like being able to break into Kira's computer unit?" Torres asked. "Hmm, alright, that might work, let me think along that line for a moment."

They were quiet for a few minutes. Then Torres finally said, "Alright. Then I would want you here and would want you as healthy as you could be here since you're important to me because of your abilities... and since you're a very satisfying Body Slave. Hehe, get it, satisfying?"

"B'Elanna."

"Just kidding, my dear. Alright, along the line of me being selfish and wanting you here... That Tricorder I used to scan the implant, will it only register implants that are not working? What I mean is, does it only say 'working, not working'. Or does it also register when an implant is not working at peak efficiency, say only at sixty percent?"

Seven shook her head a little. "It does neither. It measures the readings of the implant, and from that I am able to tell you how well the implant is working."

Torres was quiet for another several minutes. "Alright, here's what we'll do. And this is truly non-negotiable, I mean it this time, Seven. This is a take it or leave it deal."

"I understand."

"Okay, from now on, every night when it's not possible for you to regenerate, and I stress the 'every night' part, we'll scan all your implants to see if they're working correctly. If something is wrong, we'll see if we can fix it with the stuff we got here, if not, you're out of here, even if the implant is not yet truly malfunctioning."

"Scanning every implant will take more than thirty minutes," Seven started to object.

"I don't give a shit," Torres interrupted, "Damn it, Seven. What part of non-negotiable don't you understand? From now on, every day before we take a bath, we scan your implants. And before you say anything else, if you don't answer me right now with, 'yes, B'Elanna', you're out of here. I'm not kidding, Seven."

Seven sighed. She was not looking forward to having her implants scanned every day, to be reminded every night that she was part machine. But then she realized that Torres also would not do this for the fun of it. She was truly concerned for Seven. Seven closed her eyes for a moment to let that realization wash over her.

"Seven, I need an answer."

Seven leaned in and placed a kiss on Torres's shoulder. "Yes, B'Elanna."

"Good, and we'll start with it now, before we go out. We still have the time to do so."

"Yes, B'Elanna."

"And you will not deceive me about the readings on the Tricorder. Remember, you promised to never deceive me. When something is wrong, you tell me."

"Yes, B'Elanna."

"And even if it's not showing on the Tricorder, if you have a feeling that something is not working right, or just that it might be better to check something, you tell me."

"Yes, B'Elanna."

"Hmm, you know what, my Pet?"

"What, Mistress?" Seven asked, slipping easily back into her role of slave. Knowing that Torres had made her choice, and knowing that she had succeeded in staying.

Torres patted Seven's legs fondly. "You're right; sometimes it isn't so bad to look at alternatives."

"Indeed," Seven agreed.

"Now, my Pet, you stand up and we'll scan your implants. Where do we start?"

"I would suggest starting at the cranial implant and work our way down."

"Good idea." Torres agreed with a grin, "I like going down."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 17

"So, how are things?" Torres asked Martok. "Do you know who killed Kira?"

Martok nodded. "I'm pretty sure, I just don't have any hard evidence. To get that, I would have to interrogate one of the Intendant candidates. And considering why you're here, I don't think that this is such a good idea."

"Who?"

"I think that it was indeed Ro."

Torres drummed her fingers on the table for a moment and then addressed Seven, "My Pet, get us something to drink..." Torres interrupted herself to ask, "Some blood wine, Martok?"

"Sure."

"Get us some blood wine. You can get yourself something else if you want and then join Martok and me at the table."

"Yes, Mistress."

"What are you doing, Torres?" Martok asked when he heard Torres tell the slave to join them at the table.

"What do you mean?" Torres asked before realizing what he was probably talking about. "Oh. I asked her to join us because I appreciate her input. But you know what, Martok, I think it's time we had a little talk. Clear the air a little, so to speak."

Seven brought Torres and Martok their drinks, only to change direction to the table when Torres pointed in that direction. She put the drinks down and went back to the replicator to get her own drink, the prune juice that Torres always drank. After drinking it with Torres all the time, Seven had acquired a taste for it as well.

All of them moved to the table and sat down before Torres asked, "Alright, so what's your problem, Martok?"

"My problem?"

"Yes, I can see how you turn your head whenever I ask my Pet something, or how you look at her when she speaks."

Martok looked back and forth between Torres and the slave for a moment and then figured that since Torres asked, she would get her answer. "I think that you're in way over your head."

To his surprise, Torres laughed, "Tell me something I don't know."

Then Torres got serious. "Look, I know that I'm letting her do things that I shouldn't. But my question is, do you have a problem with it?"

"Torres, my problem isn't with the fact that you have a toy..." He let his words trail off before stating with absolute conviction, "No, she isn't a toy for you, not anymore, is she?"

"No, she isn't," Torres was forced to admit to Martok as well as herself.

"Well, I don't have a problem with you spending your time with someone, even if she is a Human slave. That will actually make things easier for you in the general perception. A lot easier than if you were to spend your time with a free person. No, my problem is with the fact that I get the feeling that you don't have her under your control anymore."

Torres was about to deny his claim, but then she took a second to contemplate his statement before asking the blonde, "Hmm, tell me honestly, Seven, do I still have you under my control?"

"Yes, Mistress. But not the control Martok means. You have me under your control because I give you that control," Seven stated honestly, knowing that it was in her best interest to clear the air with the Commander of the Security Department. "But what I do not understand is why this is such a problem for him."

"Why I have a problem with that?" Martok asked disbelievingly, "How about Torres' safety while she's alone with you? Or how about you being in a position to influence her? Who is to say that you won't do something to help others if they offer you enough?"

"My Mistress' safety is of paramount importance to me," Seven assured. "She is safer with me than she would be with any of your Klingon guards. Your guard would only be interested in her safety because it is their job, and because of the honor of being allowed to protect the Intendant. I also have the honor of my Mistress trusting me with her safety, but beyond that, there is also the fact that she is of paramount importance to my wellbeing. If something were to happen to her, I would be sold to someone else. Or become part of an inheritance, to be passed on as if I was nothing more than decoration. I will never again find a Mistress like her. Her wellbeing equals my wellbeing."

Seven stopped for a moment to see if Martok would object to that statement. When he didn't, she continued, "As to your point that I could influence her to do something for others, as I pointed out to my Mistress in the beginning, it would be stupid for me to do so. I know that the Klingons are the post powerful faction in the Coalition. I now have a Mistress I like very much, who treats me very well. Nobody could ever offer me more than I already have."

"She'll still end up doing things for you," Martok pointed out. He knew that the slave was right and it satisfied him to know that she understood her own position.

Torres was the one to agree to that. "True. I do things for her that I would normally not do. But, Martok, think about it. Let's say that I had found a free person that I liked enough to do things for her. The scale would be a lot bigger. You worry about the power that I give her by letting her use my computer unit, by commands she could give in my name. But think about it, how about the power a person would get if it became known that this person is involved with me. Imagine her saying, 'you will sell the dilithium to my friends for one tenth of the price, or else I'll tell my lover that you came to me asking me to influence her'."

Torres patted Seven's hand on the table. "People will see my Pet here as my slave, that's it. They might see her as a powerful slave, but a slave nevertheless. In fact, you're the only one who even knows that I listen to her advice. All that others know is that she must be good in bed since she's still alive. And a few, like the Intendant wannabes here, know that she knows a lot and I ask her for information. It's not very likely that someone will ever find out more. And that's the way we both want it, right, my Pet?"

The last part was directed at Seven and Seven answered immediately. "Yes, Mistress."

Torres looked back at Martok. "See? My friend, I don't blame you if you don't believe this so easily, it took me some time to get used to it as well. But there truly is no ulterior motive. Seven truly simply wants me happy. Now, before you begin about the ship and the crew, that's extra. I know exactly what she's planning, she told me. We talked about it and came to an agreement."

"You really want me to think that all you want to be is Torres' slave?" Martok asked Seven.

"I never said that it is all I want," Seven disagreed. "What I want is for my Mistress to be happy. What she wants, I want. And if that means that she does not want anybody else to know what I am allowed to do, then I am satisfied with that. But if my Mistress decided that she wanted everyone to know truly what I am allowed to do, then I will be satisfied with that as well."

"Seven," Torres interrupted, "I think it would make things a lot clearer for Martok if you tell him why you like being my slave. And I think it would also be better if you show him what your implants enable you to do. It will make him understand what you already could have done if you wanted to."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Um, Martok," Torres said more in an afterthought, "You do have an hour or two before we continue the conversation about Ro?"

"Yes, if you throw in something to eat. I skipped breakfast."

"You got a deal," Torres said with a grin. "Seven, start explaining."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Martok sat back in his chair, pulling his beard thoughtfully. "Damn, Torres, she could have taken over your ship while she was on it and nobody would have been able to do anything about it, except for switching everything off and leaving the ship dead in the water."

"Actually, even that would not work," Seven disagreed. "If I use my assimilation tubes to access the main computer, one of the first things I would do would be to deactivate every console on the ship. The only thing they could do would be to manually take key circuits out in certain places on the ship. That would then leave the ship dead in the water, as you call it. But most people would not do that, always assuming that they can lock me out of the computer if they have enough time."

Martok gave them both a grin. "You know something, Torres?"

"What?"

"You are a true example of the essence of a Klingon."

"What do you mean?" Torres asked, being affected by Martok's grin and grinning as well.

"You don't just flirt with danger, you take danger to bed and fuck her."

That even got him a smile from Seven.

"Now I ask you again," Torres asked when they were done laughing, "You got a problem with the way I treat her?"

"No," Martok said after thinking about it for a moment. "But, Torres, make things easy for yourself and me, don't show people more than you're doing now."

"Not planning to, for now," Torres said before asking, "Now, I need your help. Tell me honestly what you think of the deal my Pet and I made?"

"About letting the others escape?" Martok clarified.

"Yes."

Martok did take a moment to truly think about that. "Under normal circumstances, I would say that you're nuts. But having seen what I have, and knowing what I know now, I think that it's not a bad deal."

Torres nodded. "Good, because I want to ask you to convince the Chancellor of this."

"Why not do it yourself, he's your friend just as much as he's mine."

"True," Torres agreed, "But if I bring this to him, Worf will think that I'm only doing this because Seven succeeded in influencing me."

She was quiet for a moment before saying, "And I wouldn't be fully able to deny that. I need you to give him an objective view on this. Tell him what my Pet can do, and tell him what you think of the deal."

"Alright, but to do so, I need to ask you some questions."

"Sounds fair."

"First off, how far does this deal go? You'll let them escape, but then what? Does the deal continue after that? Will you continue to protect them?"

Torres shook her head. "No, once they're gone, they're out on their own. But, I will also not actively hunt them down. I will not look for them, and I will also not put out a message on the headhunters network. People will never know they escaped, and therefore bounty hunters will not go after them. It's up to them to deal with situations that arise, if they stay away from everyone, or if they try to contact people and risk those people selling them out."

Martok hummed, apparently liking that answer. "Alright, next question, that's a lot for one person. To oversee the building of an entire ship, to safeguard the information. What if something were to happen to her?"

"We are not planning on something happening to her," Torres merely said.

Then Seven spoke up and added, "But you are right. There is that risk, and it is indeed too much information for even me to only have it in my memory. To compensate for this, I will built a data storage device with Federation technology, and download all relative information, including the information needed to make the tools to actually build the ship to specs. The information stored will be encrypted to the best of my abilities, also adding the safeguard so commonly used here; time triggered deletion. It will not be possible for anyone but me to access that information."

Seven took a sip from her drink, mostly to let what she had said sink in, let especially Martok realize that security of the information was not a problem. "However, I will make it possible for my Mistress to access that information as well, even if something were to happen to me. And furthermore, I will oversee the building in so far that I will give the engineers in charge the information they need to continue the next stage of building the ship, and check whatever they have built. But I will not continuously be at the building site. Building a ship still takes months even if done on the most accelerated speed possible. I will not be separated from my Mistress for that long. I will not."

"Calm down, Seven," Torres said gently. "I would not ask that of you. I would not do that to either of us."

Martok saw how the two women were looking at each other during this last exchange, and he wondered if Torres knew that she was not just in over her head, but that she was actually in love with the slave. Martok decided that this was something he would have to tell Worf as well. It would make him agree more easily. Despite the fact that the Chancellor was firmly in favor of slavery, he, just as Martok himself, had a weak spot for Torres. And he was sure that Worf also would not want to deny Torres the right to finally have someone in her life, even if it was a slave.

"Now, in light of this, do you still want to continue with what you proposed to him?" he asked. "You know he'll never agree with your proposal, he can't."

"Yes, I want to go on, this has nothing to do with that," Torres said before answering the question she could see in the blonde's eyes. "I'm not ready yet to tell you about this proposal, Seven. As much as I appreciate your input, this is something that I can't use your input on. It would weaken the proposal in the long run. Once I've tweaked it to my liking, you'll see it."

"Yes, Mistress," Seven said. To her own surprise, she was not really curious as to what proposal they were talking about, probably because Torres had told her that she would find out eventually.

"She doesn't know this?" Martok asked surprised.

"No," Torres assured.

"Good, the Chancellor will be glad to hear that."

"Right, and as far as Worf is concerned, I know that he will not, and cannot, agree to it." Torres grinned before pointing out, "That's the point. It's a first proposal. And just like all deals, we'll now go back and forth, giving and taking, until we will hopefully reach some middle ground that we can both live with."

Martok struck the table with a fist. "Damn it, Torres. You might have mentioned that before. Worf would have agreed to talk to you about it a long time ago."

"Ah, but I needed that time," Torres said with another grin. "Martok, even I know that this is a huge thing. I needed the time to think about this, think if this was just a passing interest of mine, or if it truly was something that I wanted to pursue. I know what kind of heat I'll get, if this plan, as it is now, would become known."

"Alright, I'll let him know that as well," Martok relented.

"So, are we done with that for now?" Torres asked.

"For now," Martok agreed.

Torres bit into a well-cooked, though by now almost cold, bird's leg. "Alright then, back to Ro. You think she killed Kira, why?" she asked with a full mouth.

Seven was well used to behavior like that by now. Torres was a Klingon after all. Speaking with your mouth full was not considered bad manners, but not answering and pretending that it was because your mouth was full was. It gave Klingons the impression that you were not honest and needed time to think of new lies. Seven had noticed that Torres, maybe because she was Intendant and often had to eat with people from other species, actually had very good table manners... for a Klingon. She might speak with a full mouth, but she didn't belch loudly to make more room for food. She might clean her mouth with the back of her hand, but at least she did clean it.

"That I can't answer," Martok replied to the question. "But she left behind too much evidence."

Torres frowned. "Hmm, that surprises me, given her training."

"Torres, no matter how well planned a crime is, how much time you take to conceal it, how much time you take to clean the crime scene. You always will leave some evidence behind. Ro was good. All evidence I found could be explained. Her DNA on Kira's body; Kira took her to bed on a regular basis. If that happened in the last two weeks, and Ro said it did, then DNA will be found on Kira's body even if Kira took a bath every day after that. Ro finding the body. Ro's fingerprints on Kira's throat; Ro checked to see if Kira was dead, it's nothing more than expected. I can go on, all can be explained, but it's simply too much."

"Okay, but I still cannot believe it. If you know this, then she would know this as well," Torres persisted. "She could have come up with a better alibi."

"Eh, you got to remember that having a weak alibi can actually be one of the best alibis to have," Martok pointed out. "I personally am always very distrustful of people who can tell me days after the fact, how they spent every second of the day that something happened. If I'm looking for innocence I much rather prefer to hear a, 'how the hell am I supposed to know what I did at noon six days ago'. And also, I think that she expected us to do all the normal tests and then some. But nothing that is normally never done. It's not really a known thing that I have a team of Vulcan slaves to investigate crime scenes. Cases like this are why I keep that quiet. Most people forget just how much eye for detail Vulcans can have, if you allow them to develop it."

"Ah, yes, even I forgot you have those," Torres said thoughtfully. "So let me see. Ro killed Kira. Bajoran law forbids Ro to become Intendant because she can't function in that position without Jetur. We don't know what her reign will bring, while we do know exactly what Delik will bring."

"That pretty much sums it up," Martok agreed. "But I have to tell you, Torres, from all the... people around here, and I'm using the word 'people' nicely, I would like to see Ro in the position of Intendant. She's the only one who actually deserves that position."

Torres nodded her head. "I couldn't agree more. She and Jetur are the only ones who have demonstrated that they have some real honor. Alright, I think I'll take this one step at a time. Maybe the other problems will resolve themselves if I take care of one problem at a time. So first thing we need to do is test Jetur. Just how committed is she to helping Ro do the job."

"How do you plan on testing her?" Martok asked.

"By giving her the choice," Torres answered. "Either save a thing that is very important to her, or stay loyal to Ro. What do you think we could use the best as a pressure point?"

Martok pulled his beard thoughtfully again. "Well, as I said before, there are a lot. But if you ask me for one specific point... I would say, her little brother. She loves to spend time with him, often making time just so that they can go and do something. He is the youngest of the family and while she cares deeply about the others as well, they're older than her."

"Hmm, which would influence the test," Torres surmised. "Threatening to kill a grownup is one thing, but threaten her kid brother is something else entirely."

"Mistress," Seven interrupted. "Forgive me, but are you planning to kill her brother?"

"Not necessarily," Torres said thoughtfully. "We're going over options. But right now it sounds like the best option. I'm sorry, my Pet, but we just have to see how easily Jetur can be influenced."

"I see, thank you for explaining Mistress."

"But?" Torres asked. "Seven, you're sitting here because I want your input, so let's have it."

"Yes Mistress," Seven agreed, personally glad that she could voice the problem she could see in that approach. "I think it would not be a wise decision to kill her family member."

"But we have to test her," Martok pointed out.

"True," Seven agreed. "But the point is that it would not be wise to do a test like this. It would mean that Ro could only become Intendant if you kill a family member of Jetur. That would mean by definition that you would appoint someone Intendant whose close adviser, basically the person who shares the position with Ro, has a great dislike for you. You would always have to deal with a person who hates you for what you did. She will resist you in deals where you need her help, and she will do this for only one reason; revenge for what you did. It would be a lot more efficient to appoint someone who is very thankful to you for being appointed, than it is to appoint someone who hates you for being appointed."

"She has a point," Martok said thoughtfully.

"That she has," Torres agreed. "You got an idea to solve this, my Pet?"

"I believe I do," Seven said.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Annika laughed at Chakotay's joke. She liked the man. In fact, she had found that she liked most of the Voyager crew. And the few she didn't like, she also didn't dislike. With them, she could at least appreciate their dedication to the ship and the crew. The only person she still had a certain dislike for was Janeway. The woman had the ability to get on Annika's nerves. She could just see how the woman was constantly itching to take command of situations.

"Alright, I'll take you up on that. But don't blame me if you end up scrubbing the conduits as well."

"Well, that's the risk I'm taking," Chakotay said with a smile. "But those lines could use replacement. And since I'm done with my stuff, I might as well do that."

"That's slowly becoming a problem," B'Elanna, the third and last person at the table said. "We're slowly running out of things for people to do. All the big things have been taken care of, except for the cloak system, but even that's coming along nicely. No matter how much work we think up, or what we decide to make now that we have the time for it, Voyager is starting to look too good. Most of the crew that don't have engineering experience, like anthropology, are already busy with redecorating the interior of Voyager."

"True," Chakotay agreed.

"Hmm," Annika said thoughtfully. "Alright. For the moment we can get away with the work that goes into the cloak system. But after that... Can you think of any place that could do with a good upgrade? It seems that the Intendant gave us quite a free range, we should use that. Hell, they didn't even question me when I ordered that industrial replicator. Nor did they stop me from accessing and then uploading all that information and those replicator patterns."

"Well, we could replace pieces of the outer hull and the underlying structure," Chakotay offered. "Over the years we've had hull breaches, weapon damage; you name it, we've had it. Normally we patch those places up by putting new hull plates on them. But the underlying structure is normally left alone, unless the damage to them is too great. We don't really have much choice, we can't just go and take the hull structure out while we might be attacked, or have to get out of some place in a hurry. That isn't something you can do if you have just made a Human size hole in the hull."

B'Elanna nodded her head in agreement. "That would work, but it would also mean that we truly would be stuck for those days. If we start doing this, we can't get out of here for three days, at least."

"Not that we're going to do that anyway," Annika pointed out. "The Doctor said that when he spoke with Seven two days ago, Seven told him that she suspected that they would be on Bajor for another week at least. Seeing that you're not going to leave her behind, that means that we have that week, and the three days that it would take for them to make the trip back. That's ten days. Would that be enough?"

"Yeah, I think it could be done in one week," B'Elanna said thoughtfully. "I think we should concentrate on that then. And leave the unimportant things we still have for later, if we once again have to make it seem as if we're still working."

"Alright," Chakotay said before starting to sum things up, "So you two continue with the data lines you're replacing, and whatever has to do with the computer and uploading stuff in the replicator."

"Right," the two women agreed at the same time.

"And Harry and Carey will continue to install the cloak generators and oversee the replacement of the shield generators," B'Elanna added.

"In the meantime, I'll try to keep Kathryn out of your hair," Chakotay said with a smile. "And I'll oversee the small stuff. Day to day things. It's the first officer's job anyway."

"Sounds like a plan," Annika agreed.

"Alright," Chakotay said while standing up. "Let me go and tell the Captain about our plans for the hull."

"He's a good man," Annika said when Chakotay had left Voyager's conference room.

"Yeah, he is," B'Elanna agreed. "Well, let's get going, shall we?"

"In a moment. First I want to ask you something."

"Ask," B'Elanna simply said.

"Were you ever in a serious relationship?"

"Wh... What?" B'Elanna asked, certainly not expecting that question while sitting at the Voyager conference table.

"I was wondering if you ever were in a serious relationship."

"Yeah," B'Elanna said slowly before mentally shrugging her shoulders and continuing. "The last relationship was with Tom. We were engaged to be married, but we discovered that we make better friends than lovers before we could make the mistake of getting married. I also had a close relationship with a woman called Joan while I was at the academy. But that ended when I left. Other than that, I only had some one night stands while I was with the Maquis. Why do you ask?"

"I never had a true relationship," Annika said almost thoughtfully. "If you're a slave that's passed to different projects every few months or a year at most, you don't start relationships. I tried, but found that it was just not worth it. Eventually all I ended up having were some one night stands, as you call them. Though it wasn't really spending the night. It was more a question of fining a quiet spot and taking care of business."

"So?" B'Elanna prompted.

"Things are different now," Annika reminded. "The Intendant has told me that this will be my last position. So even if we would not escape, I would continue to stay with you all. And if we do escape, well, I would become one of the crew. Either way, I'll be with you all for a long time. And now I find myself contemplating starting a relationship with someone."

"You found someone you're interested in?" B'Elanna asked wondering who it could be. She swore to herself that if Tom had approached the blonde, B'Elanna would kill him. "So, who's the lucky guy?"

"What makes you think it's a guy?" Annika asked. "Anyway, I think I could use some advice. I'm not really sure on how to approach her. I don't think that you people normally say, 'hey, you're cute, want to share a bed'?"

B'Elanna would normally have found Annika's remark funny. But not now. She felt a flare of jealousy flaming up inside her but she knew that she really had no reason to. With some effort, she brought herself to ask almost neutrally, "Does she know that you're interested in her?"

"I'm not certain," Annika said thoughtfully. "I think it's more that she hopes I'm interested in her, but doesn't really believe I would be interested in her."

"I see. So you now want some advice on how to approach her?" B'Elanna clarified.

"Yeah, I think that's what I want."

"Well, all I can really tell you is how I would do it."

"Which is?" Annika asked eager.

"Well, I might be part Klingon, but not as far as that's concerned. I normally build things slowly. Stand close to them in the beginning, and if they don't seem to mind that, I normally touch them, but only in a way that can be called innocent. Only touch her hand or forearm, and only if there's an opportunity to."

"I see," Annika said with a smile. "I think I'll try that. Thank you. Though if it works, there's a chance I'll ask you for more help."

"I'll help in whatever way I can," B'Elanna assured, trying to be the good friend. Even though giving Annika suggestions on how to get involved with anyone was the last thing she wanted to do. Well, a part deep inside her admitted, how to get involved with anyone but B'Elanna herself was the last thing she wanted to help Annika with.

Annika stood up and started to walk around the table. When she passed behind B'Elanna, she suddenly smacked the Klingon on the back of her head.

"Hey! What did you do that for?" B'Elanna asked in outrage while turning around to face Annika.

"Because you are so dense sometimes. I hope you don't mind me skipping a few steps." Annika moved B'Elanna's hair to the side and moved in to place a soft and short kiss on the Klingon's neck.

"Thanks for the advice B'Elanna, I have a feeling that she'll soon figure out that I'm interested in her." Annika placed another quick kiss and then moved out the door without saying another word.

B'Elanna kept sitting without moving for more than five minutes, trying to get her racing hearts back under control. Finally she spread her hands out on the table, looked at them for a moment before balling them into fists and drumming them on the table. "Yes, yes, yes!"

She took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, "Oeeeh wow. Okay. Calm down, Lanna. You take this slow, leave everything to her. Maybe she's just trying stuff out, seeing how she likes being involved."

That realization brought B'Elanna down to reality a little. She let the idea run through her mind for a moment. Shouldn't she stop this before it even began if this could possibly be just a test? "No way."

No, the best thing was to let Annika decide. Whatever Annika did, B'Elanna would react. Being a test case could be fun too... if you knew upfront that things might never be more.

With a big smile on her face, B'Elanna stood up and left the conference room. There were still a lot of jobs to do.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Damn it, you've got to help me!" Delik shouted.

"I can't. Don't you understand that?" the Ferengi shouted just as loud. "That Klingon screwed everything up. I can be happy that I had already made sure that there was proof that I didn't know anything. I had one of Martok's henchmen come see me. Do you really think they wouldn't investigate an assassination attempt on the Klingon Intendant?"

"No, why would they? It was a straight forward thing of him wanting what Torres had,"

"And took twenty men to try and take it," the Ferengi interrupted. "They know that K'Trelan could never bring them to do that unless someone footed the bill for him."

"Come on, Quark, surely there must be someone you can pay off. So what if there's some henchman snooping around? They need real proof before they can do something. And they don't have that. So,"

"They don't need proof!" Quark shouted. "They broke all my fingers, and then both my arms, and when that wasn't enough, they broke ten ribs. You hear me? Ten! And that was simply because my credits were used. He told me that it was punishment for not securing my funds enough. Oh, and he told me that next time, if he ever had to come and see me again, he would break my neck. Forget it Delik, I'm out of this deal."

"Quark, if you don't help me I'll,"

"You'll what?" Quark interrupted again. "You'll break my arm? Old news, Delik. I'd rather have you pissed at me than having the Klingons even suspect me. Forget it. Man, I don't even know why I'm talking to you. Quark out."

Delik looked at the blank screen for a moment before picking the computer unit up and throwing it against the wall; which didn't do much for his frustration because computer units had long since been built to withstand such abuse. It simply fell to the floor and continued to show him the mocking empty screen.

"Damn!"

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"You wanted to see us, Intendant?" Ro asked while she and Jetur walked into the quarters that were Torres' for her stay on Bajor.

"Yes," Torres pointed to the two chairs as she herself sat down on the couch. "Sit. Want something to drink?"

"Yes please," Ro responded.

"What would you like?"

"Some purple spring wine."

"For me the same," Jetur added.

"Alright, my Pet, take care of this and then sit down."

"Yes Mistress," Seven said while walking to the replicator.

Torres waited until Seven was back and stopped her from kneeling. "No, you sit on the couch, my Pet."

Seven did as she was told, "Yes Mistress."

"Alright you two. I'm getting very close to making my decision on which candidate we Klingons will officially support in their bid for becoming the new Intendant."

Torres gave them a smirk. "Of course that will have absolutely no influence on the honest and fair election that will be held here on Bajor."

"Of course," Jetur said, "We all know that all you Klingons do is appoint the person who will oversee the elections."

"Right," Torres agreed, "Well, I thought that it was really about time to talk about the chances of you both... Sorry, I mean the chances of Ro. Let me tell you,"

But before Torres could go on, she was interrupted by the communicator. "Martok to Torres."

"Martok, you sure know how to pick your time. I'm just talking to Ro and Jetur about their chances."

"Good, then I reached you right on time. We have a problem."

"What is it now, Martok? Another uprising?"

"No, this is more delicate. A thirteen year old boy was arrested for bringing a weapon into the palace."

Torres frowned at the news. "I don't see the problem. He brought a weapon in, he'll be publicly executed."

"The delicate part is that his name is Jetur Olan."

"Olan?" Jetur asked in a voice that was higher than it normally was.

"You know him?" Torres asked.

"My brother."

"What?!" Torres shouted. "Your brother is bringing weapons into the palace?"

"No! No, there must be some mistake. He would never do that, he's never even touched a weapon."

"Martok, what kind of weapon are we talking about? Could this be some kind of mistake?"

"Only if he had been hiding that disrupter purely by accident."

"Damn," Torres said and looked at Ro. "You sure know how to pick your allies. Well, I'm sorry Jetur, but there really is only one reaction to this. Martok, kill him and,"

"No!" Jetur shouted. "You can't do that."

"I can't?" Torres asked, her voice getting the same deadly amused tone that Jetur had heard Torres speak in while overseeing the massacre in the mine.

"Please," Jetur begged. "He's my little baby brother. There must be some mistake."

"Martok, is there a chance of 'forgetting' this?" Torres asked.

"We might, but I don't think that the group of former advisers and adviser assistants that were just on their way out when we arrested him will forget this anytime soon."

Torres thought about it for a moment. "Hmm, well, in that case we'll have to turn this around. Execute him in public and later we'll send out a message that the new Intendant and her first adviser will not play favorites, not even for their own family."

"No!" Jetur said again.

She got out of her chair and knelt in front of Torres. The tears were now rolling freely off her face. "Please. You can save him, you just have to not give the order."

"I can't," Torres said softly in a surprisingly compassionate tone. "Don't you understand, if I let him live it will send a clear message that all someone has to do is kidnap one of your family members and you'll do whatever they tell you? That's something I can't allow in a first adviser of an Intendant."

"I'll step back from that position," Jetur pleaded.

"Not good enough," Torres said. "It will leave Ro without the advice she needs to be Intendant."

"Then I will pull back my bid," Ro said softly.

"What?" Torres asked, not having expected that turn of events. "Are you nuts? You're only a step away from becoming the new Intendant and now you want to throw it all away?"

"You're using the boy as a pawn to see if I should become Intendant," Ro said, somehow having a feeling that there was more than met the eye to this very conveniently timed problem. "He doesn't deserve that."

She knew that she was indeed throwing everything away. But when she saw Adami looking up at her with eyes full of gratitude, she knew that she had made the right choice.

Torres smirked and nodded. "Alright, Martok, bring him in."

The door to one of the other rooms opened and Martok came in, his hand resting on the shoulder of a very healthy Jetur Olan. Jetur got up from her knees and threw herself at the boy, taking him in a tight hug.

"Can't... breathe," Olan managed to say after a moment.

Jetur loosened her hug, but didn't let him go. Her tears still flowing freely, this time because she knew he was alright.

"I'm sorry, Sis," Olan finally said. "I so badly wanted to speak up, to tell you that I was alright."

"You were in there all the time?" Jetur asked, trying to dry her tears, only to have them replaced with new ones.

"Yeah. They told me that they needed to see what your reaction was if they threatened me. Told me that you could become one of the most powerful people on Bajor if you passed. You finally going to change the things we talked about?" Olan asked with an eager smile.

"I'm trying," Jetur said, taking him in an embrace again.

"Martok, why don't you take Olan out?" Torres spoke up, deciding that the reunion had lasted long enough. "I need to talk to Ro and Jetur for a moment more."

"Sure." Martok put his hand on the boy's shoulder and took him outside, once Jetur finally let go.

"Please sit down," Torres said calmly.

"A test?" Ro only asked.

"Yes. I had to see what her reaction would be."

"So I assume I didn't pass?" Jetur asked while drying her tears for a final time.

"To the contrary. You did pass," Torres disagreed. "The point wasn't for me to see if you could stand having your family killed only to get the job. I read Kira's files, I knew that you would choose your family."

"Then why?" Jetur asked confused.

"I needed to see what you would offer me. As I said, I cannot appoint Ro if I know that you, her adviser, can be influenced simply by threatening your family. But, you offered to step back. You didn't offer me whatever I wanted. Even my faithful Pet here told me in the beginning that she would do whatever I told her if I would save her friends. You only offered to step down. That's good enough for me."

Torres looked at Ro before continuing, "But I must say that I was surprised by your offer. That's not what I expected from you, nor is it what Kira expected from you."

Ro decided that it was time for some honest bluntness. "He's a good kid. You might not believe it, but I truly am not only interested in me. I'm not going to lie, I'd live very well from the half million credits I would get paid every day for being Intendant. But I've not just been a Special Forces member; I grew up in the Special Forces. I joined when I was twelve. They taught me what was important; they taught me how to live. I've learned that for me true luxury is simply having a good bed to sleep in and at least one warm meal every day. I don't want credits that I can never use anyway. I truly want to change Bajor, and I won't change Bajor by walking over the dead body of an innocent thirteen year old boy. If that's what I have to do to get the job, then I don't want it."

"Good," Torres said with a grin. "Alright, you passed my test, the both of you. And I must say that I would like to appoint you Intendant, Ro. But there are some more problems. But we'll talk about those in two hours time. Jetur, go spend some time with your brother."

"More tests?" Ro asked, hinting to the problems Torres had mentioned.

"No, I'm done testing," Torres assured. "These are real problems. But you'll hear more about them later when I will meet again with you two and Delik. Now, scram."

Both of them stood up and walked to the door, but when they had reached it, Jetur turned around once more. "Thank you for not hurting him."

"Don't thank me," Torres countered. "We needed to test you, and the original plan was to truly put his life on the line. It was my Pet here who suggested this way."

Jetur came closer again and kneeled in front of Seven. She took the blonde's hands in her own and placed a kiss on both of them. "Thank you."

Had the woman not been a Bajoran, Torres would have killed her on the spot. But Torres knew about this particular practice, it was the highest possible way of showing gratitude on Bajor.

"I am glad I could be of assistance. No gratitude is necessary, Jetur."

"Please, call me Adami."

"Thank you for the honor, Adami. Please, call me Seven,"

"But only when it is appropriate," Torres interrupted. "I don't want people to think that I'm showing a Body Slave leniency. Her full name is Seven of Nine, by the way."

Jetur stood up and let go of Seven's hands. "Of course, Intendant. Thank you, Seven."

With a final nod she turned around and walked out of the room, closely followed by Ro who had been waiting at the door.

"You know something, my Pet."

"I know a lot, Mistress," Seven said with a smile.

"Ooh, you are so funny sometimes," Torres said before repeating. "You know something?"

"What?"

"We just created one Gre'thor of a thankful Intendant adviser."

"Indeed," Seven agreed. "But only if the other problems can be taken care of."

"True," Torres agreed. "How in Kahless' name can we take care of the fact that Ro can't become Intendant because she must be able to function on her own?"

"That is incorrect," Seven pointed out. "The law says that she must be able to work without advisers, it does not say that she must be able to work alone."

"So Jetur could simply work in the background without being an official adviser?" Torres asked, hope growing.

"No, Mistress. If she is not an official adviser, she is not allowed to negotiate in the name of the Intendant. On Bajor only advisers are allowed to do that, with the permission of the Intendant of course."

"Damn. Alright, let's wait for later, maybe they can come up with a solution."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Two hours later, Ro and Jetur walked into the Intendant's audience room after being contacted and told to go there. Normally it was Kira that sat in the same chair that Torres was sitting in. Ro could see that Torres hadn't lied, this was it. Besides Torres and the slave... Seven, as Jetur now insisted on calling her, there were also Martok, several guards, the Prime Minister of Bajor, and the Kai. Oh, and Delik.

Torres was the only one seated, because there was only one chair in the entire room. It had always thrilled Kira to have lengthy meetings in the room and have everyone but her stand the entire time. A practice she was smart enough to never use on the other Intendants if they came to visit for whatever reason. Martok was standing to Torres' left side, while the sl... Seven was standing on the right side. Everyone else was standing about three meters or more away from the Intendant.

"Alright, now that we're all here," Torres said while extending a hand to Martok. "Martok, please give me your official report of the investigation into Kira's death."

Torres took the PADD that Martok handed her and took a few minutes to read over it. "Hmm, alright. As I told someone a few days ago, while it's important to know who killed Kira, I might still give that person my support if I think that person is the right one for the job. But before I say if I'm willing to overlook the killing of Kira, I first want to know why she was killed. So, Ro, why did you do it?"

All eyes went to Ro, and even Delik clearly had a certain amount of surprise on his face.

"I didn't,"

"Think very hard on just how you finish that answer," Torres interrupted in a deadly and warning tone. "Very hard."

"Intendant," Ro said after a moment of hesitation. "Kira was robbing Bajor into bankruptcy, it had to stop."

Torres was glad that Ro had decided not to lie. But she wasn't about to just accept that answer either. "Not good enough. Kira had been robbing Bajor from the first day she was Intendant. So why now?"

Ro's eyes flicked to her side to Jetur before looking back at the Klingon woman that was quite literally holding her life in her proverbial hand. "As I told Martok, Kira took me to bed two weeks before she was killed... before I killed her. That night, after she was done, she told me that she was thinking of changing things. She felt that it was possible for Bajor to give her more credits. Everyone here knows that ten percent of Bajor's gross revenue each year went to Kira's personal accounts. She told me that with the coming of the next Bajoran New Year she would change that to twenty percent. Bajor would never have survived that. So I decided that it was time to take care of the problem, before she could put that plan into motion."

"I see," Torres said thoughtfully. She pondered that for a moment. She didn't put it past Kira, and if she had been in Ro's position, she would have killed Kira herself. "Alright, as you and Delik probably already figured out, I consider him the safe choice. But the thing is that we Klingons don't necessarily always do the safe thing. So I really want to give you, Ro, my support in your bid."

"What?" Delik interrupted.

"Delik," Torres growled. "If you are only half as smart as you want me to believe you are, don't... interrupt... me... again. Ever."

"I apologize, I was just surprised about the fact that you would want to support a clear killer for the job."

Torres couldn't help but laugh. "Delik, you'd be smart to remember who you're talking to. Do you really think that after all I did as Intendant, I would have a problem with supporting someone who killed 'one' person?"

"She killed more, she was Captain of the Special Forces," Delik disagreed.

"No," Torres growled. "Then she was following orders from her superiors, and once she was Captain, orders from the Intendant. That, I consider following orders, no matter how many people died. But with killing Kira, she made the choice herself, nobody told her that she had to do it, and Kira wasn't someone who had to be killed so that Ro could fulfill the true parameters of her job. That, I call killing. So she killed one person. Now, if you're done interrupting me..."

"Of course," Delik said with a forced smile.

"Well as I was saying, I really wanted to support you, Ro. But, according to Bajoran law, you can't become Intendant. The law says that an Intendant must be able to work without the help of advisers. And if Jetur is not your official adviser, she can't do the deals she has to do to make you function in the job. So, I really don't see a way of you becoming Intendant."

Torres decided to ignore Delik's mumbled 'yes'.

The revelation of Bajoran law had sent the minds of both Ro and Jetur racing, trying to come up with a solution. Ro, thinking along the lines of having Jetur be able to conduct negotiations without being an adviser, only came up with a big blank. Jetur needed a minute as well, but then an idea came to her, an idea she was about to dismiss. But then she wondered if she really wanted to dismiss the idea, or if she didn't actually kinda like it. Hearing the Intendant speak up again, made her make her decision.

"So that means,"

"Wait." Jetur almost shouted. "Oh, sorry for interrupting, but I don't really see the problem."

"You don't?" Torres asked amused. "Then why did you need so long to think, and had such a panic stricken expression on your face?"

"I um, well, I... I... Um, well, I was wondering if I should break the big news before Ro had a chance to do it officially."

"What big news?" Torres and Ro asked.

Jetur decided to ignore Ro for the moment and focus on the Intendant. "Well, you see, ever since Kira was found dead, Ro and I have been working together, and, um, we fell madly in love,"

"We did?" Ro asked surprised, only to be silenced by a rather forceful kick to her shin.

"Really now?" Torres asked even more amused.

"Yes, we actually love each other so much that we decided that the normal Bajoran wedding contract was not good enough. After all, that can be broken by simply signing some PADDs. You don't even need official ratification for that, just mutual agreement. No, we decided that this would never be enough to express just how much we love each other. So we decided to enter into a life bond."

"What?" Ro asked only to be treated to an even harder kick to her shin.

"Shut... up," Jetur said softly from the corner of her mouth.

"How lovely," Torres said sarcastically, but with a pleasant grin. She could see that her worries about Jetur being able to handle Ro certainly had been unfounded. Now she was starting to wonder if Ro could actually handle Jetur. "But I don't see what that has to do with this situation."

"Well, a life bond is seen differently than a marriage," Jetur explained. "A life bond is truly for life, and the two people always have to live in the same house. They may own more than one house, but they have to live in the same one. They may stay in hotels on trips and what not, but if they're together, they have to stay in one set of quarters. And, if they don't do this, they can be put in jail... together... for a certain amount of time. Oh, and if one of the partners ever has sex with anyone but the partner, both of them go to jail."

"Really?" Torres asked slightly surprised.

Funny how that kind of law kept popping up. Because according to the law, Torres herself was not allowed to have sex with any other slave than Seven. It was interesting to see that this kind of rule also existed in some marriage laws. Of course, there was no court in the Coalition that would ever send Torres to jail for something like that... or actually could without her just making an exception law. In her case it was more Torres' conviction that she was not above the laws that bound her to them. That, and the fact that she would rather hurt herself than hurt Seven like that.

But still, it was interesting how people seemed to be willing to limit themselves by laws on just who they could sleep with. Maybe it was more a case of a hidden excuse? Of course Masters would still sleep with their own husbands or wives, but sometimes you needed something else. Like Martok, who was so often separated from his wife. So slaves were used. But then, if the slave was good, you might want to show your appreciation to that special one amongst them. But they could never be more than just a slave, so how to show them how special they are to you? How, by having a law that made it illegal for you to sleep with another slave as long as you had that one slave that you had given that special position of Body Slave.

Apparently some species felt that something similar was also needed between married people, to give them something to show others that their marriage was much more special than just your average wedding.

"Yes Intendant," Jetur assured. "Only after it's truly proven of course, otherwise it would be easy to simply have someone pay someone else to say they slept with one of the partners, and then once the person is in jail, the person who paid the person who is lying, could take over a business of one of the two partners, or something like that."

Torres frowned, trying to make sense of that last statement.

Jetur saw that she was in danger of losing her audience and quickly pressed on. "You can see why this practice is hardly used anymore these days."

"Indeed," Torres agreed. "But I still don't see how this is of importance here."

"Well," Jetur said with a triumphant smile, "because the partners have sworn to be together for the rest of their life, they're seen by Bajoran law as one person, even going so far that in official records the couple is only mentioned with their combined surnames. So no matter if I, or Laren, do something, it would be mentioned in the official records as one person, as Ro Jetur or Jetur Ro. My love and I don't yet know which name will come first; we're still talking about that."

"Shut up, Delik," Torres said when she saw that he was about to say something. Then she addressed Jetur again. "After all that time, and being sooo madly in love, you haven't even decided on which name comes first? Doesn't say much about your decision making abilities."

"Well," Ro spoke up, finally seeing what Jetur was doing. "We figure that this is something we should only talk about in our own time, not while doing work for Bajor. But every time we're alone, I just can't keep my hands off of her, or we talk about how much we love each other. I love her sooo much. We just didn't think of things like which name comes first. When she looks at me, I just get lost in her eyes and we just sit looking at each other for hours, not saying a word."

"Okay, that's enough," Torres said. "I suggest that you work a little more on your lines, but for now I'll pretend to be impressed with so much love."

Torres looked up to the standing Seven. "My Pet, will that work?"

"I do not know, Mistress. I would have to research this. I must admit that I did not go into the limitations of marriage contracts of whatever kind. They seemed irrelevant."

"Understandingly so," Torres agreed. "Take a look, use the computer unit over there."

"Yes Mistress."

When Seven reached the computer unit, Torres started counting silently. A few moments later, Seven was once again standing beside the Intendant.

"Forty-eight," Torres said, and Seven knew what she meant. It had taken that many seconds to get the information she needed, and that without using her assimilation tubes.

"It is my pleasure to please you, Mistress."

"So, what did you find out?"

"I think you will be pleased with the result, Mistress. There is only one case in Bajoran law that compares. Eighty-three years ago, a prime minister died in an accident. He had a life bond, and his wife wanted to continue in his job, to continue the work that her life bond had started, or so she said. She was allowed to continue the job in the beginning, but she made enemies and lost her support base. With her support base gone, someone challenged her. Saying that she had no right to the job she was fulfilling. And the same courts that first gave the wife the job, now sided with the challenger. The wife was forced to step down."

Torres nodded her head. "So, in other words, as long as they have support, say from the Klingons, they'll be able to fulfill the job as one. But if we Klingons were to distance ourselves from them, they would lose their support, and someone could challenge their appointment. And without our support, they would be forced to step down."

"Indeed," Seven agreed.

Torres smirked. "So even if they are appointed, they can't afford to piss me off. Nice, very nice."

She looked back at Ro and Jetur. "Of course, it would be very tempting for either of you to kill the other and be rid of her if you happen to start hating each other. It would mean after all that that person would then be Intendant alone. What assures me that this won't happen?"

Ro had a feeling that the question was mostly directed at her, since she was the one that had a history of being able to kill. Getting into the spirit of Jetur's idea, she answered, "I could never kill her. We are so madly in love. To the point that if I ever was to lose her, I would not be able to go on without her at my side. I would step down as Intendant. I'm sure that my love feels the same way."

"Of course I do, honey."

"Oh, please, stop the sweet stuff," Torres said before simply asking, "Martok?"

"I think it could work. I especially like the fact that they'll need us, need us for a long time."

"You can't do this!" Delik said in a raised voice.

"I can't?" Torres asked, and everyone could hear the warning in the tone. Everyone except the enraged Delik.

"This is a scam! I should become the new Intendant. I'm sure that the only reason why you're doing this is because they let you fuck them. They're nothing more than whores, just as y,"

Delik's tirade was stopped when Seven gripped his throat and lifted him off the floor, only to slam his back down onto it.

"If you finish that sentence, I will break every bone in your body."

"Guards," Torres said lightly, "please help Mister Delik up, and hold him. We don't want him to fall down again. And you, my Pet, get back here."

Seven let go of Delik, but only when the guards had taken hold of him, and then moved back to Torres' side.

"Well done, my Pet. You put even an attack Targ to shame," Torres looked back to Martok. "Give me that report again, will you?"

Torres looked at the PADD again, and after a moment she said, "Oh, I seemed to have misread that part. You could have pointed out my mistake, Martok."

Having a feeling that he knew only too well what Torres was going to do, Martok merely say, "Don't you know? You never speak back to an Intendant. And pointing out mistakes? You should never do that."

"Ah, right," Torres nodded. "Smart move. Anyway, I owe you an apology Ro."

"You do?" Ro asked.

"Yes, the report doesn't say that Ro Laren killed Kira, but Delik Jetir."

"What?!" Delik shouted. "You can't do that,"

"She's the Intendant, she can do anything," Martok interrupted. "Guard, make sure that he doesn't interrupt again."

"Well now that we know who killed Kira, that person should publicly be executed for his crime, don't you think Martok?"

"Definitely," Martok agreed.

"Anything you want to say, Delik?" Torres asked while nodding to the guard, indicating that he should let Delik talk.

"You won't get away with this! I will talk at the trial. Everyone will get to know what you're doing."

Torres laughed. "Delik, don't you know, for killing Kira, you'll be charged with high treason. There will be no trial for that, just an execution. Be glad, at least it will be fast. Otherwise I would have cut you into fucking pieces for the way you just spoke to me. Guards, get that moron out of here."

The guards pulled the screaming Delik out of the room and as soon as the door closed, Torres looked at the Bajoran Prime Minister and the Kai. "I'm sure that you'll work fully with the new Bajoran Intendant?"

"It will be my pleasure," the prime minister said wisely.

"I'm sure that the prophets will bless the happy couple. I look forward to working with them," the Kai said just as wisely.

"Nice to hear that, now get out. I'll see you both again at the inauguration of the new Intendant."

The two Bajorans moved out of the room, happy that things had gone so easy for them. They would work with whoever would have become Intendant, but both of them were glad to see that it was someone who would probably actually let them do their job.

"Alright, now that we got that settled," Torres said to Ro and Jetur. "Martok will appoint someone to oversee the voting, and after that, you'll be sworn in. I'll stay until that time, to send the message that we're fully supporting you. But I want to be off of this planet in one week at the most, so..."

She looked back to Martok. "Martok, make quick work out of the election."

"No problem," he assured. "The elections have already been prepared, we can hold those in two days. That would leave time tomorrow for the life bond ceremony of Ro and Jetur. Then two days to 'count' the votes, and the day after that, the inauguration of Ro and Jetur. And finally a day to celebrate after that. That would then leave us free to go on the seventh day."

"Alright," Torres agreed. "Can't really do it any faster than that."

She looked back to Ro and Jetur. "Well, with that taken care of, I think I'll take my Pet to see some more of your planet. I'm sure that your friends in the Special Forces will follow us again, Ro. Tell them to stay back far enough."

"I will, Intendant," Ro said. "Thank you for giving us a chance."

"Don't make me regret it," Torres warned.

Ro shook her head. "Don't worry, we won't."

Torres nodded her head and moved to the door, followed by the rest of the group.

"I put an attack Targ to shame?" they heard the blonde ask as the door opened.

"Oh, way better," they heard Torres agree. "You my dear, are simply the best."

The door closed leaving Ro and Jetur alone.

They looked at each other for a moment before both of them started to smile.

"We did it," Jetur said after a moment. "You're going to be Intendant."

"No, we are," Ro disagreed. "Didn't you hear Martok, the inauguration of Ro and Jetur. We both will be at that podium taking the oath."

Jetur's eyes got wide when that realization sank in.

"Yes, Adami, you will be as much Intendant as I will. You'll have as much power as me."

"Wow," was all Jetur could say.

"Of course, that's how it should be for my life bond," Ro added.

"Um, right, about that," Jetur said hesitantly. When she first thought of the solution, it seemed like something she didn't mind doing too much.

She had found that she really liked Ro. She enjoyed the silent woman's company, and surprisingly to both of them, they enhanced each other. Ro was known for being a quiet person, Jetur for being very talkative. But it seemed that Ro liked to hear the redhead talk, and proved the fact that she did listen by given all the right pointed replies in all the right places. And Jetur really liked the fact that someone actually let her talk and also listened. Jetur truly liked to talk, but she didn't like talking to a wall; she did want an active conversation partner. And Ro was active. At least active enough to suits Jetur's needs just fine.

But she had to admit that she hadn't thought about how Ro would take it, the idea of them getting married so that Ro could get the job.

"Right, about that," Ro said. "You do realize that truly means that we're forever stuck with each other. We can't even simply stay in one house but live our own life. We can never have anyone else in our life; an unofficial partner."

"I know," Jetur agreed. "But it was the only way. I had a feeling that you would rather be Intendant, than give up on being Intendant in case you might find someone you like along the line."

"Hmm," was Ro's only answer.

"Well, I'm giving things up as well, you know?" Jetur said, having a feeling that she had messed up. "You might have been trained to suppress certain urges, but I personally like to roll around in a bed every so often."

"And who says that you'll not have that?" Ro asked reasonably.

"Wha, what are you saying? Please don't play with me on this, Laren."

"You know, there's a lot that you say that I shouldn't play with," Ro purred. "That could become very boring. I do like playing with things."

She very deliberately let her eyes drift over the redhead's body. "And, mmhmm, you have so much I would love to play with. A great mind, a wonderful personality. And on top of that, a body that can make someone horny just by seeing you. So much, so much to play with."

Jetur felt the gaze take in her body, felt the raw power behind it, and realized that she actually felt a bit shy.

By the Prophets, she, shy. She hadn't been shy ever since she was a teenager and had found out just how easy you could manipulate people with just the hint of a promise of sex. And yet, somehow those brown eyes, those deep, incredible, and not to forget sexy, brown eyes, made her feel insecure and wondering if she could ever be enough for this silent beauty.

"But, maybe it's for the best," Ro continued, once her eyes had once more found those of Jetur. "As we both know, I really do need you at my side to function as Intendant. And personally, I also need you, want you. Girl, believe me, do I ever want you."

Ro sucked in a breath of air, using it to make a hissing sound of approval. "Oh yeah, I most definitely want you at my side. During the day when we steer Bajor, during the evening when we spend a romantic dinner, and during the night when we hold each other and... well... you guess what we do then.

"Wha,"

"Adami, once we are life bonds, I won't live a lie," Ro said, now completely serious. "If you will let me, if you think I'd be good enough for you, I'll make it real in every way, everything."

"You will?" Jetur asked, not being able to stop a wonderful and huge smile from spreading over her face.

"If you let me."

"I will," Jetur said with an even broader smile. "If you want to make this for real, than by The Prophets, so will I. I would actually really, really like that."

"Good," Ro said, smiling as well. "But I'm going to do this right. Adami, will you join me for dinner tonight?"

"We already do that," Jetur started only to finally realize, "Oh! Are you asking me out?"

"Yes, I am."

"Out as in on a date?"

"Yes I am," Ro said again.

"Yes!" Jetur exclaimed. "I mean, I would love that."

"Yes! is good," Ro said with a smile, "Why don't you go to your quarters and choose something nice to wear? I'll pick you up at six. Does Meru's sound good to you?"

"That's the fanciest restaurant on Bajor," Jetur stated disbelievingly.

"I know," Ro agreed in a soft voice, turning on her charms. "Adami, you deserve only the best."

"Laren, I...," Jetur stopped talking when Ro moved closer.

Ro came closer until she was only a little more than half a meter away from Jetur.

"Adami," Ro said in a soft, smoky voice, nothing more than a whisper. "Just because the decision has been made for me, doesn't mean that I didn't want to do this anyhow. I like you very much, more than I ever liked anyone before. I really would like to make this work."

"You have no idea how I love hearing you say that," Jetur confessed. "I'll see you at six, don't be late."

"I won't."

Jetur moved to the door, but after about three steps, she turned around and walked back to Ro. She placed a soft kiss on Ro's cheek and whispered in her ear. "I want to make this work as well. You know in the beginning? In that conference room, when I asked to be your assistant? You know what stayed with me the most?"

"What?" Ro asked, she kept her voice calm, but with every word Jetur spoke, her warm breath caressed Ro's ear, making the brunette quickly loose her trail of thought.

"Ever since I grew from a child to a woman, you were the first person who first looked me in the eyes, before looking at my body. You never took me for an easy lay, not even when I offered just that. You have no idea how flattering it was for me, that you appreciated my mind over my body."

Jetur placed another sweet kiss on the surprisingly soft cheek. "I swear, Laren, as long as you treat me right, I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman that ever lived on Bajor. That, is my private life bond vow to you."

Before Ro could react, Jetur turned around and left the room.

Ro brought her fingers to her cheek and looked at the closed door. She closed her eyes for a moment and thought about what Jetur had just said. Then she decided that now that she was going to be Intendant, it was time to do some things differently. Jetur would be at her side for the rest of her life; there was no other way. Maybe it was about time that Ro finally opened her heart to someone.

"I really like that personal vow, Adami," Ro said to the empty room. "Later, before I take you out to dinner, I will give you the same vow. You deserve it."

Ro felt better than she ever could remember when she left the room to go place her reservation at Meru's.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 18

Seven moved her hands over the bio-suit she had just put on, smoothing out wrinkles that weren't there. It was something she had always done, from the first time she had ever put on a bio-suit. Torres and Seven had just finished their bath and Torres had already put on the nightshirt she normally wore. She had left the bedroom to answer the door, all the way to the door growling about morons disturbing people at that point of the evening, leaving Seven to finish putting on her bio-suit.

She had just changed into her 'nighttime' bio-suit. It was a bio-suit like the others, in that Seven could also wear it outside if she wanted to. But the cut of it was such that Seven felt that it continued to be comfortable even while moving and shifting in her sleep. And Seven also liked the fact that the decorative holes and very low d�colletage enabled Torres to put a hand inside the suit and touch her skin while sleeping. Having Torres always take hold of her, pulling her close in her sleep in a way that Seven could only call possessive, just as possessive as Seven took hold of Torres in her sleep, it always gave Seven a warm feeling. She never got enough of waking up in those arms.

While researching mating behaviors, Seven had also studied the time that came after the act of sex, knowing that a lot of species found that time just as important, if not even more important than the act. While studying, Seven had been sure that every minute spent after the act was only an inefficient waste of time. How perceptions could change.

She had discovered that sexual release was only a part of a much bigger whole. Laying in each other's arms while trying to calm your breathing felt really good as well. Just like sleeping in a really uncomfortable position could feel really great, as long as you could hold onto the person you love.

Love. Seven let the word go through her mind for a moment. No, Seven had to admit it to herself, there was no more denying it. She was absolutely madly and hopelessly in love with Torres. And she knew that Torres liked her as well, but she also knew that Torres didn't love her, not as Seven loved the Intendant. Seven closed her eyes for a moment as that realization hit home.

She knew that she was no longer just a possession to Torres, hearing the Intendant admit that to Martok had been a very wonderful moment for Seven. But it still hurt to know that her love was not returned. Only a few days before Seven had felt that it was enough for her to know that Torres liked her. But Seven was starting to feel that it wasn't enough after all.

How she longed to hear Torres say a simple 'I love you'. But she knew that she would never hear it. But as she was thinking this, Seven realized that she was being extremely unfair. Unfair for two reasons, first Seven herself had never told Torres anything more than that she liked her. Could she then really blame Torres for not saying more? As a matter of fact, Torres had at least used endearments. Torres had called her, my dear, honey... Torres had actually used the word love once. It had been a mere moment before climax. She had said 'right there, love'. But Torres had said it, Seven never had.

The second reason was that Seven had accepted Torres as her Mistress. That meant that whatever Torres did in their relationship Seven had to like it just as much as Torres. And it meant that Seven had to be fully content with the way Torres treated her. It was her duty as the slave, the duty she had accepted freely and willingly. Seven took another look at the situation she was in now, bearing in mind what she had just realized. Seven nodded her head. Life was good.

She was in a relationship she wanted to be in; even Torres had called it a relationship. Even called it a relationship in a conversation with Martok... Martok, his remark to Torres had been very sweet to Seven. 'You don't just flirt with danger, you take danger to bed and fuck her'. Most people would think of the remark as crude and demeaning, but most people would then be forgetting that it had been said by a Klingon, by a powerful Klingon. Klingons did not say things nicely, they said things in a to-the-point way. And the point was that Martok had called her danger.

To have a Klingon so openly admit that they consider you dangerous, a worthy opponent, it could be considered one of the highest compliments one could get. Especially considering that Seven was, to him, only a slave; a mere Human, a thing. Torres had been right, telling Martok about her abilities had brought her his respect, and having the respect of the Commander of the Security Department was a very convenient thing.

"You okay?" Torres asked when she joined Seven in the bedroom, holding a PADD.

"Mistress?"

"I've been standing here for about a minute now, and you didn't even see me until I spoke up, so I'm wondering if you're okay."

"Yes, Mistress. I was just contemplating my position."

"You know, my Pet, that just left me the perfect opportunity to joke about you and positions I like you in. But, I somehow have the feeling that you wouldn't appreciate that kind of joke now like you normally do."

"Thank you, Mistress."

Torres moved further into the room, lightly throwing the PADD onto the bed before sitting down on the bed herself. "So, what's the prob?"

"Prob?" Seven repeated.

"What's the problem?" Torres elaborated with a sigh.

Seven moved closer and knelt between Torres' legs. "I was thinking of one thing mainly, but I noticed another thing at this moment."

"Well, start with the first one, and if we can take care of that, we see about the second one," Torres suggested.

"Yes, Mistress. Mistress, what do you think of me?"

"Hmm, how about starting with the second problem first?"

"M,"

"Sssh," Torres interrupted. "That was a little joke. I just didn't see that question coming. Let me think for a minute before going into that conversation."

"Yes, Mistress."

They were quiet for a few minutes in which Torres moved her fingers through Seven's hair while thinking.

"Alright, I think I'm ready now. What do you mean with, 'what do I think of you'? Don't tell me that you think that I still see you as the first day we met."

"No, I do not," Seven assured. "I know that you have feelings for me, but I am wondering what those feelings are."

"I sincerely hope you're not insinuating that I see you as a passing thing?" Torres asked with a growl. "Or as a living vibrator? Sex is always up to you. In the beginning I didn't even start anything, except for the first night I saw you. Now I do, but as soon as I even get the hint of a feeling that you're not fully willing, I stop, change things to an innocent kiss or a single intimate caress. Do you really think I would do that if I didn't care about you?"

"No Mistress. But what makes me wonder about the extent of your feelings is that you only ever show them in a sexual way."

"Move," Torres suddenly growled in a tone of which Seven knew by now that Torres was only a fraction from exploding.

Once Seven had moved from between Torres' legs the Klingon stood up and pointed a finger at Seven. "You stay in this room. I need to let off steam and I really don't want the person around who is the one that pissed me off. I'll be back when I'm good and ready, and able to talk to you without giving in to my urges."

Without saying another word, Torres stormed out of the room.

Seven looked at the closed door in total bewilderment for a moment. Wondering what had angered Torres, thinking back over the last days, Seven closed her eyes when she realized that she had been totally wrong. Yes, Torres showed true emotions the most while they were making love... Seven liked to call it that even if it was only to herself... but Torres had showed much more.

Torres had taken the time to dress her in her bio-suit while Seven was sleeping, Torres showed at least ten times a day some kind of affection that was more than a caress or a touch. Torres might not use words, but she showed more affection towards Seven than Seven did towards Torres.

Seven knew the old Earth saying, 'A picture says a thousand words'. If this was true, than an action must say a million words. Torres might not voice her feelings for Seven, but she showed them every hour of the day. Seven smiled for a moment, but the smile quickly disappeared when she realized that she had some fences to mend.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Torres swung the bat'leth around her in a deadly figure eight, putting all her anger into her battle training. At some moments, the bat'leth moved so fast that it was little more than a blur in Torres' hands. Torres was so focused on her training that she didn't hear the door opening, but a moment later her battle ready body noticed that someone had entered her circle of control. Before she realized that this could only be one person, her body had swung around, bringing the bat'leth down in a trajectory that spelled certain death.

Seven merely put her mesh covered hand up and caught the deadly blade as if Torres had been moving in slow motion.

"DAMN IT SEVEN, I COULD HAVE KILLED YOU!!!" Torres shouted at the top of her voice while pulling the Bat'leth out of the blonde's hand and throwing it to the ground with so much force that the points of the Bat'leth tore the carpeting wide open.

"You could not kill me, even if you wanted to," Seven replied calmly.

She moved closer and took Torres into an embrace. While the Intendant didn't return the gesture, Seven was already more than happy with the fact that she at least allowed it. "I am sorry, B'Elanna. That was stupid, uncalled for, and out of line."

"I cannot believe that you said that," Torres said, knowing only too well that the blonde was talking about the conversation in the other room.

Seven could hear the tremor in the normally so steady voice as Torres continued.

"Do you really think that I only feel for you when we're in bed? I... How can you..."

"I am truly sorry," Seven repeated. "I have never been in a relationship. I never had a person I cared so much for that I wanted to know if that person feels as much for me as I hope she does. I never loved someone before, like I love you. I,"

"Wh... What did you just say?" Torres asked, not truly believing her ears.

Seven softly caressed Torres' cheek. "I gave myself to you on the first day we met. I gave you my body that day. And somewhere along the line, I also lost my heart to you. In my ungrounded fear, I thought that you did not care as deeply for me. I was going over my feelings, and the feelings you expressed for me in our relationship, when you walked in and asked me what was wrong. I guess you could say that it was a matter of bad timing. You walked in before I had finished the thought course, and you caught me in the 'she never says anything' stage of the thinking."

"Seven, just because it's hard for me to talk about feelings, doesn't mean I don't have them. I'm a Klingon, we don't talk about feelings. I'm an Intendant, as such I'm supposed to be able to put myself above any feelings I might have. My entire life I've learned that emotions are something you do not talk about except if it's hate, revenge, or honor. It's hard for me to actually tell you how I feel about you. But I could,"

"No," Seven interrupted. "It was stupid of me, you show me how you feel with everything you do. Though I may complain about it every day, I love the fact that you insist every night on scanning all my implants. If you truly only cared as much about me as I accused you of, you would never do that. I love the way you always sit beside me, our bodies always touching some place. As I said, you walked in at a bad moment in my thinking. It was mere moments later that I realized that it was actually you that showed the most affection of us two. It was you that used the word 'love' for the first time, calling me love as an endearment. I love you B'Elanna Torres, and I know that you love me as well, there is no need for you to force yourself to say it, since I know you love me."

"You sure use that word a lot all of a sudden."

"Word?" Seven asked before understanding what Torres meant. "Love, you mean?"

"Yes, that word."

"That is because I realized just after you left the bedroom that I have reached the point where I can admit to the both of us that I love you. And I noticed that every time I say the word, a warm feeling spreads through my body. Simply from the fact that I can say it, and the fact that it is true."

"Seven, I..."

"No," Seven interrupted. "Do not say it only because you think you have to. Only say it when you are ready."

"Thank you," Torres said relieved.

"Please tell me that you forgive me for my behavior in the bedroom," Seven pleaded.

There was no way that Torres could have denied the request, not even if she had wanted to. She put her arms around Seven and finally started to return the embrace the blonde was still giving her.

"You're forgiven," she said after placing a soft kiss on those perfect lips. "You are just so damn perfect, that every time you do something that isn't perfect, it confuses the living crap out of me."

"I am not perfect," Seven disagreed resolutely.

"To me you are," Torres disagreed just as resolutely.

Seven softly kissed the Klingon before putting her head on the muscled shoulder. "And here I accuse you of not showing how you feel. I love you, B'Elanna Torres, and I love how easily you can find it in yourself to forgive me."

Torres moved her hands softly over the blonde's back for a moment before stepping out of the embrace. "Come, let's go back to the bedroom. You had something else to ask me, and I have something to show you."

Seven turned towards the bedroom and they both slowly started walking. "B'Elanna, I think it would be better to keep the second subject for a later date."

"Why?" Torres asked while passing through the door. "Is it going to piss me off again?"

"I doubt it."

Torres sighed. "Then let's get it over with. Despite the little interlude we just had, I want to know what's troubling you."

"Very well," Seven once again took her favorite spot between Torres' legs. She somehow liked sitting there and looking up at her while having a discussion.

"Alright, let's hear it."

"Mistress,"

"Mistress or B'Elanna," Torres interrupted.

"Mistress."

"Alright, let's hear it."

"Mistress, I have a problem,"

"Good, at least it's not me this time," Torres interrupted, treating Seven to a grin and a soft caress.

"The problem is that I really like the relationship we have," Seven started to explain after a smile. "The power you give me, the trust, the confidence, the freedom. And I like the way you treat me in public, I would not want to change any of it."

"But?"

"But, you are giving me too free a rein."

"Come again?" Torres asked. "Seven, I know that we both like the master/slave thing, but I don't want you to be like a mindless attack targ. I want you to give your view on things, and yes, I also like to do things for you every once in a while."

"And I want that as well," Seven said, and Torres could hear a trace of frustration in the blonde's voice. "This is quite annoying. Our relationship is exactly how I would have designed it if I had to design a perfect relationship."

"Then what was that all about a minute ago?" Torres couldn't help but ask.

"That was nothing more than my insecurity showing. Mistress, how often do you get exactly what you want? If you get it, you start wondering, assuming that something must be wrong."

"Unless you're simply lucky. And that's what we are Seven."

"I am finally starting to understand that," Seven agreed.

Torres softly raked her fingers through the blonde's hair. "Okay, so what's the problem? If you have exactly what you want, what else do you want?"

"Your control. Mistress, I do not see the Mistress/slave relationship as a game. It is real, and it is just like I want it. You give me the perfect mix between freedom, and yet having a Mistress to command me. But sometimes, sometimes I want you to control me even more."

Torres nodded slowly. "Hmm, I think I know what you mean. Just like I am more than happy with what you do while we make l... love,"

Torres was interrupted by Seven pulling her close and treating her to a searing kiss that made Torres very glad that she had been able to say the word, even if it was in 'make love'.

"Damn it honey, the things you can do to me," Torres panted once they broke apart. "Anyway, normally I'm more than happy with that, but sometimes I need you to use the toy. Sometimes I really need that, but not most of the time. This is kinda the same, right? Normally you're perfectly happy with what we have, but sometimes, sometimes you need me to totally control you, show you that I'm your Mistress. This doesn't have anything to do with sex, even though it could also be during sex. But this could just as well be during the normal course of the day. Am I right here?"

"Yes," Seven said relieved, glad that Torres understood.

"Sometimes you want to change from being my Pet as in an endearment, to truly being my Pet," Torres elaborated. "As in something to give orders to and expect them to be followed."

"Yes," Seven repeated again.

"Well, I think that I wouldn't mind that sometimes," Torres assured. "Just as I like to have you as an equal partner at times, I think I would also like this. But the problem is that I can't know when you want this, and this could also only be done when we're alone. If we go out, I need to be able to trust that you'll tell me things I need to know."

"True," Seven agreed. "I will think of a way that I can let you know when I need your total control."

"You know," Torres said with a grin. "You could of course simply tell me what you want when you want it."

Seven returned the grin with a smile. "What a novel idea. I think I will do that."

"So, you okay now?"

Seven took hold of Torres' hands and placed soft kisses on the knuckles. "Yes, B'Elanna. Let me apologize once more. I cannot believe that I accused the person who is sitting here so patiently listening to my problems, of not caring deeply for me. I never was ashamed of something in my life, but I am ashamed of myself for not trusting you."

"Seven, don't. I know that no matter what you know, it still is very nice to hear it every once in a while. I'm as guilty of what happened as you were. Give me time, Seven."

"You have all the time you need, that I promise you."

They kissed once more before Torres changed the subject with a sigh. "Alright, now. You know, my Pet, you made one Gre'thor of an impression on those Bajorans. Look at this."

Torres reached over and took hold of the PADD that she had brought into the bedroom the first time and that had been lying on the bed ever since.

Seven looked at the short message for a moment.

To Ma'am Seven of Nine and Intendant B'Elanna Torres.
Hereby we would like to invite you to our life bond ceremony.
Please grace us with your presence at the Palace temple tomorrow at noon.

Jetur Adami and Ro Laren.

"It seems that they decided that the name is going to be Jetur Ro," Seven concluded. "It is tradition to put the names in the order they will later have so that people know how to address them."

"Interesting," Torres said, and meaning it. "But if they weren't going to be Intendant, and if I really cared, I could have them killed for that message. But I think they were sending you the underlying message, not me."

"Mistress? I do not understand."

"My Pet, I am the mighty Klingon Intendant. Boss of bosses, commander of commanders." Torres gave Seven a grin to indicate that she knew that she was laying it on rather thick. "And you, my dear, are nothing more than a slave, moving furniture,"

Torres interrupted herself when she saw that Seven was about to say something. "Sssh, go along for the moment."

"Yes, mighty Intendant," Seven said with a smile.

Torres returned the smile before explaining, "Now, what do Jetur and Ro do? They mention you, okay, that's fine. They want to make sure that you also know that they want you there. But, they address you before me. They address a slave 'before' an Intendant. Oooeeh, that's close to committing suicide."

"I see," Seven said, understanding what Torres meant. "But you think it is really a message to me?"

"Yeah, I do. They want to make sure that you, and I, understand that they truly want you there, that they aren't only inviting you because they know you would come with me anyhow. They are inviting 'you', my dear, and if I want, then I can come along as well."

"And you will accept such a show of disobedience?"

Torres didn't even truly need to think about that one. "Yeah, because I don't think it truly is disobedience, I don't think that this is a sign of things to come. They understand what you did for them, they are thankful to you, and they want to show it. Hmm, I bet... Tell me, how many people are normally invited to a life bond ceremony?"

Seven hesitated for a moment while going over the information she now had stored in her mind. "Only the closest family and friends. Normally a group in total between twenty and fifty people."

Torres smirked satisfied. "See? They knew that they had to invite me either way. Not doing so would have given them a bad start with me, and they can't afford that. But there's no reason to invite you, unless they want to show you that they consider you a very important person in their lives."

"I see," Seven said in understanding. "Will we attend?"

"Yeah, I think we will," Torres said while nodding her head, "That will also give me the chance to see you in one of those other dress-like bio-suits."

"Mistress, I will be more than happy to model all of them for you."

"No, my Pet, that's not the same. There's just something about seeing you moving in them normally, not posing. Just walking beside me, or walking away from me to get me something. I don't know, it's just different."

"I will do whatever pleases you, Mistress. You just have to find more occasions for me to wear those bio-suits."

"I will," Torres agreed. "Now, why don't you go get the Tricorder so that I can scan your implants?"

Seven stood up and moved so close to Torres that the Klingon had to lean back onto the bed. "But Mistress, why waste time on that? I would much rather take you to bed and apologize in great length for my behavior earlier."

"Tempting, very tempting, but... no. You will get scanned, you won't get out of that. And once we've done that, we will go to sleep." Torres could see the disappointment on the blonde's face, "Aww, don't worry my little vixen. We have to go to sleep on time today, I want you to have your eight hours of sleep, and tomorrow we're invited to a life bond ceremony. But once we get back..."

"Once we get back?" Seven repeated, leaning even closer.

"Once we get back, I'm all yours for the rest of the day."

Seven came closer until her lips were a mere hair's width away from Torres'. "Very well," she whispered seductively, seeing Torres' eyes slowly close, she knew only too well what kind of effect she was having on the Klingon. "That sounds like an acceptable compromise. I will get the Tricorder."

Torres felt Seven suddenly move away. She opened her eyes to see the blonde move slowly to the closet, where she bent over to grab the box that held the Tricorder. Torres knew that it was a lot easier to simply kneel and take the box. The blonde was very deliberately giving her a very nice view of her body. "You know something, wench?"

"Yes," Seven said while looking back to Torres without standing up. "I am making you hot beyond belief."

"Yes, that too," Torres agreed. "But I was going to say that you can be an incredible tease."

"I know," Seven said, finally standing up. "And you wouldn't have me any other way."

Torres shook her head and sighed. "Seven, you really should get your sleep, but if you go on like that, I can't tell you what I'll do."

Seven handed Torres the Tricorder. "I know, I will be good. I just love the fact that I can tease you so easily."

"More of that?"

"Love?"

"Yes."

"B'Elanna, now that I can say it, I will. Be prepared to hear it a lot more often. Unless you do not want to hear me say it."

"I do, it's just that...," Torres didn't finish her sentence.

"Believe me, I am not saying it in hope that you will say it as well. I am only expressing my feelings for you; I do not expect a reply."

"Thank you. You really are the best."

"Of course," Seven said with a smile. "As you say, I am perfect. Now, please start scanning, I want this finished, I want to lie in bed holding you."

"Yes ma'am," Torres said before mumbling, and knowing that Seven would still hear every word. "My, my, demanding little vixen."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"There?" Annika asked.

"Oh, yeah. Right there, that's it," B'Elanna agreed. "No, don't. You're moving too fast, slower."

"Hmm, in my experience, fast has always been good," Annika replied, but she did slow down a little.

B'Elanna moved her legs a little more, twisting her body until she was lying fully on her back. "That may be, but you never did this before."

"True," Annika agreed. "Wouldn't this be easier if I moved my hand a little lower?"

"No, no, you stay right there, trust me, it will come,"

"You know, B'Elanna," Annika interrupted.

"What?" B'Elanna asked, moving her body a little more until it was just right.

"We can be glad that we don't have our communicators on."

"Why?" B'Elanna merely grunted. Talking was quickly becoming more difficult for her, her body was getting more and more rigid from the strain.

"Because if we had activated it again accidentally like we did before, and people could hear us talk right now, they would swear that we are having sex."

"What?!" B'Elanna asked, becoming distracted by the remark and pulling so hard on the spanner that the bolt finally loosened and the Klingon was treated to a face full of engineering oil.

"Phe, thep," B'Elanna sputtered, trying to get the oil out of her mouth while at the same time trying to cover the hole with her hand to prevent even more oil from coming out. To her extreme irritation, she could hear Annika laughing beside her. But no matter how much it irritated her, that soft sweet laugh also calmed her right down again.

"This is not funny," she growled, only to hear Annika start laughing harder.

"It's actually pretty damn hilarious," Annika disagreed. She put the spanner aside and moved from under the thruster assembly. Then she bent down and pulled B'Elanna from under the assembly by her feet. Seeing the Klingon covered in green machine oil only started her laughing again.

B'Elanna stood up, looked down at herself and couldn't stop the grin coming to her face. "Looks like I need a change of clothing. And I really need to get the taste of this oil out of my mouth."

She looked back to the spot where she had been lying. "Well, that needs to bleed out anyway. It's getting late, how about we call it a night and I go and change in my quarters before we have to leave Voyager again. We can clean up that mess tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Annika agreed, still smiling.

She moved to the replicator that was normally used for replicating the more exotic tools that weren't part of a standard tool kit. After a few commands she convinced it to produce a glass of water that she handed to the Klingon. "Here, for rinsing."

B'Elanna gladly took the glass and took a mouth full of water and rinsed her mouth. Only then did she realize that she had a new problem. She could either spit the water into the replicator, onto the floor, or into her glass. The last of which would mean contaminating the water and making it impossible to take another sip.

Annika just shook her head. "Just spit it out onto the floor already. We'll be cleaning up oil tomorrow. A bit of water will be the least of our problems if it hasn't already evaporated by then."

B'Elanna gave up and spit out the water. "Manners," she merely said before taking another sip, this one she swallowed to clean the deeper part of her mouth and her throat, not really worried about the last bit of oil she was also swallowing down since she knew it was totally non-toxic.

Annika waved her off. "Manners never met a Master Slave who worked in a coal mine for one year. Believe me; I learned to spit instead of swallow."

Now B'Elanna almost choked on the water.

Annika grinned before asking, "Mind some company when you go wash up and change? Not much that I can do here now anyway."

"Sure, let's go," B'Elanna agreed, deciding not to ask if Annika's remark had been from experience of the more sexual kind.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

A couple of minutes later they entered B'Elanna's quarters.

"Nice," Annika said while looking around the room. "I thought that all personal possessions had to be put in the cargo bay?"

"True," B'Elanna agreed as she walked to the door of her bedroom, leaving Annika in the living room. "But since I'm so busy all the time, I didn't get around to it. Just like I didn't get around to renovating my rooms."

"Hmm, how about when we finish tomorrow with the thruster assembly, we take a little two day break from the big work and tackle your quarters?" Annika suggested.

"Turn around please," B'Elanna said from her room.

"What?"

"Turn around and face the door for a moment. I stripped out of my dirty clothing and want to take a quick shower."

"Aww, you're so unfair," Annika said with a soft laugh while turning to face the door. "I let you look while I take a shower. Alright, I'm admiring the door."

B'Elanna sprinted from her bedroom to the bathroom. "You can turn around now. Actually, you can come into the bathroom if you don't mind sitting on the toilet while waiting."

Annika also moved to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet lid. She was happy to see that the ribbed glass of the shower gave pretty much the same outline image she was accustomed to from the prison cell they shared. Just that now the outline had the general body color of B'Elanna since there was no milky white to take away the color. "You know, you could have just replicated your new clothes and moved in here before stripping out of your dirty ones."

"Where's the fun in that?" the voice from the other side of the glass asked. "And if you don't mind throwing furniture around and throwing in new carpeting, we can do that. I wouldn't mind some help in here."

"Oh, but B'Elanna, if you want help in there, you just need to open the door."

Annika could see B'Elanna's outline stop moving for a moment before hearing a frustrated, "In my quarters I meant."

"Ah, pity."

"And if I truly opened this door, you wouldn't come in here anyway," B'Elanna said, calling Annika's bluff.

"True," Annika had to agree, she knew that no matter how much she loved the interaction she had with the Klingon, she was not ready to take things further. But that didn't stop her from teasing the poor woman into frustration. "After all, we only have half an hour or so left, not enough time to enjoy a good... shower. I mean, think about it, you, me, in an actual water shower, with a sponge, moving slowly while my free hand,"

"That's enough."

"You are sooo easy," Annika said with a smile. Then she realized that B'Elanna always made her smile. She smiled more in one day spent with the woman than she had done in her entire life before meeting her.

"Yeah, well, call me a prude and get it over with."

"No, I simply call you alive, how about that?"

Now B'Elanna laughed. "Well that certainly is true."

"So let me change the subject to something safer," Annika said, once again smiling when she heard the Klingon readily agreeing.

"Now, that sounds like a good idea," B'Elanna shut off the shower. "Could you hand me the towel on the counter?"

"Sure," Annika took the towel and opened the door of the shower a little to hand it to her, making sure to keep her eyes well away. She knew that while she didn't mind showing her own body to the Klingon, B'Elanna had a modesty that Annika liked to make fun of, but that she also found really... cute.

Once Annika was sitting again she asked, "So I was wondering. Why do you have such big... relatively big, quarters while you live alone? I've seen quarters on this deck that are smaller than these but that are assigned to two people."

"Because it's a compromise," B'Elanna said as she stepped from the shower, the towel securely wrapped around her body. "Every one of the senior staff is entitled to big private quarters if they want. And I jumped at the chance of not having to share my quarters. But, I'm an Engineer, and Voyager is my baby. I wanted to be as close as possible to Engineering. This normally was designed as one of the few family quarters on board Voyager. They're even bigger than what you already saw; there's a second bedroom besides mine and a walk-in closet the size of a small room that connects both. Don't ask me why they would put family quarters on a ship designed as a scout ship, but they did. So the Captain assigned it to me."

"I'm surprised that this never changed. I mean, in the beginning I can understand that," Annika said, looking in fascination at how B'Elanna was combing her thick Klingon hair.

Her mind flashed back to seeing B'Elanna's counterpart; the Intendant. Intendant Torres had the more wavy hair that most Klingons had. But despite having the thickness of Klingon hair, this B'Elanna's hair was as straight as Annika's own, on those few occasions Annika had let it grow out. Annika wondered, maybe it was time to let her hair grow out again. Normally she preferred to keep her hair short because it was easier and safer. Long hair could get caught in things, and Master Slave or not, as an Engineering Slave those things were often spinning. But Annika also loved to have bangs that just reached the eyes. Maybe shoulder length and bangs?

B'Elanna had great hair, Annika decided, focusing on the Klingon's hair again instead of her own. But still, she wondered why B'Elanna didn't have the normal Klingon waves. Maybe it had been in the way they had grown up somehow? Maybe the diet? Maybe it was the animal proteins in some way? Since the Klingons ate real meat while the Voyager crew normally only ate replicated meat, which meant that it wasn't real meat at all.

Then, as if answering Annika's musing, B'Elanna put down the comb and picked up a second comb that clearly had some kind of device in it, since B'Elanna first switched it on. Annika guessed then that at one point B'Elanna had decided that she had enough of the waves in her hair and had started to use a wave neutralizer. Which made sense, since that meant that she could get the waves back again if she stopped using the device and let the hair grow in its natural form again.

Never stopping in her talking while her mind was on B'Elanna's hair, Annika continued, "But surely during the years there must have been a point where someone thought of the fact that it might be better to put two people in these quarters and put you in one of the single person quarters."

B'Elanna finished combing her hair and turned to Annika with a grin. "I think that they never tried because they didn't want to get into a fight about quarters with a Klingon that can look really dangerous if she's pissed off."

Annika merely shrugged. "It would not have impressed me. I'm sorry to say this, B'Elanna, but I've seen a lot worse than you."

"I'm not surprised," B'Elanna assured. "Anyway it might be a moot point soon."

"Oh?" Annika asked while standing up. "You want to move to a different set of quarters? Then it wouldn't be of much use to redecorate these ones."

"No, I'm thinking of asking the Captain to reassign my quarters as two person quarters."

"Oh, you want to share your quarters?"

"Yeah."

"Anyone I know?" Annika asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Somehow she couldn't stand the thought of someone else spending as much time with the Klingon as she herself was doing now.

"You know, Annika. If there wasn't the chance of me dropping my towel accidentally, I would smack 'you' on the back of your head right about now," B'Elanna said before turning around and leaving the bathroom.

"Oh? Oh!" Getting the hint, Annika got up and followed the Klingon, "Hey, B'Elanna, once I become a part of the crew, I'll need a place to stay. Since we're getting along so well now, what about we continue that once we get away?"

B'Elanna walked into her bedroom and to the new clothing she had replicated before. "I don't know, I kinda like my freedom to do whatever I want whenever I want in here... You stay right there," B'Elanna said when Annika was standing just before the open door.

B'Elanna knew that this way Annika could see most of the room except for one corner that was more than big enough for B'Elanna to use to change. "So what do you have to offer, something to twist my arm and let you in here for good?"

"Um, I'm a really good conversationalist?"

"Not good enough," B'Elanna said, dropping the towel.

"Um, I can cook?"

"Nope, I can program a replicator just as well as you," B'Elanna countered as she reached for her new uniform.

"No, I mean real cooking, from scratch."

"What?" B'Elanna asked moving to the door in pure reaction. "You can actually cook, like on a heat source?"

"B'Elanna!" Annika almost shouted, quickly spinning around.

"What?" B'Elanna asked before she felt the draft from Annika's quick turn reach her naked body. "Oh, shit. You stay like that. Don't turn around."

"We could put a small kitchen unit in the main room," Annika suggested, mostly to put her mind on something else.

"No, I like the space in there," B'Elanna disagreed while putting her underwear on. "Okay, you can come in now, you've seen me like this before."

Annika moved into the room and sat down on the single chair in the room, somehow she didn't feel like she should sit on the bed. It was B'Elanna's. Not some prison bed, but the bed B'Elanna had slept in for years. But despite B'Elanna's reassurance about her state of dress, Annika kept her eyes well away from the Klingon.

"Would you want the second room as your bedroom?" B'Elanna wondered as she looked at the blonde, it amused her to realize that she wasn't sure if she was happy or sad that the blue eyes weren't looking at her.

"What?" Annika asked.

"If you were to move in here, would you want the room that I'm not using as your bedroom?"

"I guess."

"You guess?" B'Elanna asked while putting her trousers on.

"I never had a room for myself. But I guess I could get used to it," Annika clarified.

"Well, that's what I was thinking about." B'Elanna hesitated for a moment in dressing to think if she really should suggest what she was going to suggest.

Then after a mental 'what the hell' she continued. "We could change this room. Put two beds in, and then we could change the second room by putting in a kitchen unit and an eating area. Take out the wall over the length of the room and make it kinda of part of the living room, but yet have it be a separate room because it's set to the side. And not an actual part of the living room. After all these years, I think it's time these quarters got a real makeover."

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind me living here, sleeping in the same room as you?"

B'Elanna shrugged her shoulders. "We're doing that now."

"Because we are in a prison at night and you don't have another choice."

B'Elanna put her hands on her hips. "Annika, I like having you around, okay? The only reason why I never shared my quarters with someone, is for the simple reason that nobody dared, and I didn't want someone in here who is afraid of me. Don't get me wrong, they're a great crew, but sometimes my Klingon temper blows up and none of them would want to be caught in one room with me."

By now Annika had finally managed to bring her eyes to look at B'Elanna and even as she was truly hearing and taking in every word the Klingon said, Annika couldn't help but notice just how damn sexy B'Elanna looked while dressed in a pair of pants and a bra. Annika could see a lot of skin now, and couldn't help but wet her lips at the deliciously caramel color that she just loved to see.

Knowing that she had Annika's full attention, B'Elanna decided that it was safe to turn around and continue dressing without Annika losing focus again. "Even when Tom and I were engaged, we still had our own quarters. Sleeping in whatever bed was closer at the end of the day, or the one who got off duty last would visit the one that was already off duty. As you said, you've seen worse than me. You've seen me blow up, and simply laughed at me in response, laughing even more the angrier I got at that stupid piece of junk."

Annika's eyes were focused alright, enough to be sad to see that wonderful back being covered up by a uniform tunic. "That stupid piece of junk was a brand new industrial replicator, before you took your spanner to it and treated it to some nice dents."

"Yeah, well it didn't fit, okay, and I got those dents out," B'Elanna defended.

"It did fit, had you bothered to take my advice and also use the Klingon style converter to hook it up to Voyager's systems," Annika countered.

"I couldn't do that because..." B'Elanna interrupted herself and treated Annika to a grin. "See? The others would already have backed down. Come on, let's take a chance. If it doesn't work out, I can still throw you out somewhere down the line and you get other quarters like you would have if you asked for them at the moment we get out of here."

"Alright, you got a deal."

"No," B'Elanna disagreed. "The deal is that we put in that kitchen unit and you cook every once in a while. You really can cook?"

"Yeah," Annika assured. "It was a necessity. Some places where I was sent didn't have nice replicators. And to make sure I didn't get food poisoning from some of the food others made, I decided to learn it myself."

"Do you like doing it?"

"Yeah, it's very calming," Annika said thoughtfully before adding more decisively, "Yeah, I like it."

"Alright, then here's the deal. You cook, and on the days that you cook, I do the small quarters cleaning. But the big cleaning we do together."

Annika smiled. "Alright, I think I'll like that..."

They were interrupted by the ship's claxon going off, the sign that it was time to leave Voyager and be transported back to the prison.

Both of them stood up and moved out of the bedroom. As they were about to leave the living room and move into the Voyager corridor, B'Elanna asked, "Did you sneak a peek?"

"B'Elanna, you were standing naked in front of me. What do you think?"

"I think you turned around really quick."

"I don't have to ogle you for hours to see you."

They walked down the corridor for a moment before B'Elanna asked, "Did you enjoy what you saw?"

"B'Elanna, I'm not dead either."

"You know what?" B'Elanna asked.

"What?"

"I think sharing quarters is going to be very interesting."

"I think you're right," Annika agreed.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"So how did your family take it?" Ro asked when Jetur came out of the bedroom.

It was only minutes to midnight and Jetur had just gone to her bedroom to contact her family in private. It wasn't that she didn't want Ro to hear what she had to say, but she didn't know how her family would react and didn't want Ro to hear if it had been negatively.

"Surprisingly well. There were the obvious questions about whether I really wanted to make such a big step, going into a life bond with someone I barely know. My father suggested marrying you first, and then we still could go into a life bond if we're still together several years from now."

"I assume you explained the deal to them?" Ro asked.

Jetur sat down in the chair that was facing the chair Ro was sitting in. "Actually, no. I lied by telling them the truth."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I told them that I've already known you for three years now. Which is kinda true because three years ago, I became an adviser's assistant and from then, I saw you almost every day, even spoke to you several times. I just didn't tell them that I would normally only see you when you and I were both walking through the corridor to a different place in the palace. And I told them that once I became your assistant, we had to work together more and since then my feelings for you started to grow. Which is also true, since I did start to like you more with every day that passed."

"So why not just tell them the truth?"

"Ro, I told you, I will do anything I can to make this work for real, and I don't want my family to think that I'm only putting up a front because I have to. I want them to think that I am truly madly in love with you, that I can't think of a more beautiful thing than spending the rest of my life with you. I want them to welcome you into the family as my true partner, not just as my business partner."

"It will be interesting to have a family again," Ro said more to herself than to Jetur.

"That's right," Jetur agreed when she remembered something. "You never did tell me if you had any family, and if not, what happened to them. You only always talk about the Special Forces as if they were your family."

"In a way they were," Ro agreed softly. She had never told anyone what truly happened to her family, she normally only told the official 'they died in a robbery' story. But since Jetur was going to share her life with her, she deserved to know. "Long story short, I killed them. I was an only child and I killed my father and mother."

"Wha..." was all that a clearly shocked Jetur could say.

"Okay, not so short I see," Ro said with a smile. "Adami, not everyone comes from a loving family like you. Allow me to tell you the whole horrid tale."

"My father never wanted kids, my mother did. So, my mother decided to simply get pregnant. She stopped taking the yearly injection and two years later, she did indeed get pregnant with me. I'm lucky that here on Bajor a child is seen as having rights from the moment it is conceived; my father couldn't force my mother to get rid of me before I was born.

But it destroyed their marriage. They would have divorced, had their marriage not been an arranged marriage to keep the credits from two very wealthy families in those families. They knew that they couldn't let out their anger on each other for fear of starting a family war, so they turned to me as an outlet for their anger.

I was beaten from the first day I can remember, and the older I got, the harder the both of them started to hit me. I had scars all over my body, scars that were only removed by the Special Forces doctor once I joined them. My parents never cared enough to have them removed, to have my wounds properly healed.

Then one day I was crying because my mother had once again blamed me for the failing marriage, and given me the beating that normally accompanied that accusation. My father got home and beat me for showing weakness and crying in front of them. He beat me so hard that I could hardly move, but he made one mistake. He shoved me into the corner where he had dropped his stuff when he saw me crying. Normally he always locked away his disruptor, but that day he forgot; too eager to beat the living crap out of me I guess.

It was the last mistake he ever made. I shot them both right then and there. I shot them so often that I drained the energy cell of the disrupter. When my father didn't show up for work the next day, they came to see if everything was alright. I was arrested, and seeing what I had done, they offered me the choice: jail or join the Special Forces. I never regretted the choice I made."

Ro stopped talking when she saw tears rolling down Jetur's face. Suddenly, Jetur threw herself at Ro and took the sitting woman in a tight embrace.

Ro moved her body slightly to give them both more room in the big comfortable chair that nevertheless was not really designed to have two people lying on top of each other in it. Ro could feel her shoulder getting wet from Jetur's tears. Somehow it felt right; as if Jetur was shedding the tears that Ro had not. She had promised herself that day that she would never cry again, and she had kept that promise.

"I swear to you, Laren, our children will be drowning in love."

Ro knew that children would come somewhere along the line, it was expected of life bonds. Not by law, but by culture. But somehow it felt nice to hear Jetur assume that they would have children. It awakened something inside that she had suppressed for as long as she could; having a family, a loving family of her own. Ro had already decided that she would open her heart to Jetur, but now she was starting to wonder. Maybe, just maybe dreams could come true.

Jetur loosened the embrace a little and smiled down at Ro, "You know, you're really lucky. The deal just gets better and better for you. Not only do you become Intendant, you also get a loving wife and a great family thrown in. A father, mother, two brothers, two sisters, dozens of aunts and uncles... did I already mention the loving wife part?"

"Yes, you did. But I don't mind hearing it twice." Ro assured. Then she sighed and pulled Jetur a little closer. "I'm glad I could tell you this, and that it hasn't sent you running to the hills screaming."

"I'm glad that you felt that you could tell me," Jetur said softly. "And no matter what you tell me, it won't send me running and screaming."

She placed her hand softly against Ro's cheek. "Laren, I know that there must be things that you rather not talk about. I know what kind of jobs the Special Forces normally have to deal with. But know this, whatever there is you want to tell me, whether it's from your job in the Special Forces, or personal, I'll listen. I told you, as long as you treat me right, I'll be here for you. Nothing you tell me will change that."

Ro took hold of the hand and placed a couple of kisses in the palm. "Thank you. You are such a caring person, Adami, don't ever change. If there's anything you can't do, or don't want to do, tell me, and I swear to you that I will make the problem go away."

"Thank you." Jetur had resigned herself to the fact that there were going to be moments where her new job demanded of her that she do things she didn't want to do. But maybe she didn't have to do that after all. How many people didn't want to have someone who could make their problems just... go away. And Jetur now knew that she had such a person. Ro would make the problems go away. One way or another.

They stayed in their embrace for more than an hour. It was the first prolonged contact between them. Sure there had been touches, a comforting hand on a shoulder, a caress. Even a few kisses on the cheek or hands since they realized that they would be life bonds. But this had been the first time that they truly touched each other simply because they wanted to touch and hold each other.

Ro realized to her own amazement that this was the longest contact she had even had with anyone as far as she could remember. Even when she had slept with someone, the sleeping had really only been two people sharing a bed and having some distance between them. But not this, nothing like this.

It felt wonderful. It was amazing just how wonderful and perfect it could feel to have a grown person lying on top of you. But eventually even the best things had to end and Ro's back began to protest the continued strain.

"It's getting late, I should go," Ro said as she softly prompted Jetur to move off her lap. Reluctantly she got up and moved to the door.

Jetur joined her at the door and took hold of Ro's hands. "I'm dying to ask you to stay... for the night."

"And I'm dying to accept, but I can't. I'm going to do this right, Adami, and that means that I'm going to court you. My honor demands nothing less."

Ro moved a little closer to the door, into the range of the sensor, opening the door.

"Wait," Jetur said, coming closer once again. "Before you go, I want to give you something."

"What?" Ro asked, feeling her body react to the redhead's body standing so close.

"This," Jetur said before leaning in and placing a soft, sweet kiss on Ro's lips.

"Thank you," Ro said breathlessly. "That was a very nice gift."

"There are a lot more where that came from. It's a never ending source as a matter of fact." Jetur closed in on Ro once more, and this time the kiss they shared was much longer, but just as sweet.

"You know something?" Ro asked once they broke apart.

"What?"

Ro made a small show of taking in Jetur's body. "I'm going to be known for having the most beautiful wife in the whole Bajor territory."

Jetur thought for a moment that Ro was talking about her physical looks. But then Ro let a finger trail down the redhead's throat and down into the profound cleavage between Jetur's ample breasts. The finger moved up one breast a little until it finally stopped.

Ro tapped Jetur softly against the side of her breast, where by now the redhead's heart was beating so fast that Jetur could hear the blood rushing in her own ears.

"And they will say that the person with that beautiful heart looks beautiful as well. You have a beautiful heart, Adami, and I feel very honored that you want to let me into it."

Before Jetur could reply, Ro turned around and walked down the corridor to her own Palace quarters.

Jetur could feel fresh tears running down her face. She placed her hands over her heart before whispering softly. "You are so wrong, Laren, there's not only room for you in my heart; it's yours entirely. Just like my body and soul."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate choices
By H.W.

Chapter 19

Torres looked at the 'dress-like' bio-suit that her slave was wearing. The 'dress-like' suits, as Torres liked to call them, were made of as little technology and bio-suit fabric as possible, and over that, there was a garment that looked like a regular dress. If a person didn't know that there was a bio-suit incorporated into the design, that person would see the outfit as a regular dress.

The particular bio-suit the blonde was wearing at that moment, was a light blue long 'dress' that left Seven's arms bare and besides the very nice, but not too deep d�collet�, it also had slits in the fabric up both the legs, showing those long planes of perfection with every move...

"You know something, my Pet?" Torres asked, as she stopped trying to describe to herself how her Pet looked. She preferred to just take in the vision of beauty.

"What, Mistress?" Seven asked, turning away from the mirror, deciding that her hair was as perfect as it could be, having put it up for the occasion.

"You drive me nuts."

"Of course, Mistress. It is my aim to make you lose your mind at least five times during every day." Seven moved closer and stopped in front of Torres before asking with a smile, "What did I do now?"

"I was just thinking to myself how you look, and I thought of your legs showing through those splits as 'those long planes of perfection'."

Seven looked to one of her sides and moved her leg until the fabric moved and showed one of the planes of perfection in question. "Mistress, my legs are really not that flat."

"Flat?"

"Plane: adjective; flat or level, as a surface. Or noun; a large area of land with few trees. Or verb,"

Torres sighed. "Trust the walking dictionary to take the fun out of a remark."

"No," Seven disagreed. "Trust the walking dictionary to take the fun out of a remark up to the point where you kiss me just to shut me up."

"Oeh, now that's an idea." Torres put her hand behind Seven's neck and pulled her close to share a sensual kiss.

"It is time, Mistress," Seven said after a moment.

"I guess it is," Torres agreed. "But wait."

Torres looked at how the blonde had done her hair up. While it was up, it wasn't in the tight bun that it had been the first day Torres saw the blonde. Normally Seven had her hair hanging loose down her back, just like Torres had told her, and just like Seven herself liked it.

Seven found it much more efficient, not needing the work of putting it in a bun, and Torres had to agree that she liked to see the blonde like that the most. But when they went somewhere, like the day that they went to the theater, or now that they were going to the temple, she liked to see those long blonde strands put up. It somehow gave the blonde an air of superiority that Torres didn't even see all that often in even the highest of free people.

Torres reached up and freed a few strands of hair, making them hang down the blonde's face on both sides, just over the temples so that they wouldn't bother the blonde. "There, the famous finishing touch. You look beautiful, my dear."

"Thank you, Mistress. You look beautiful as well."

"It's just a battle uniform, with a few decorations to show that this isn't actually the uniform I wear on a daily basis."

"Regardless. You, always look beautiful to me. I love you very much, B'Elanna Torres."

"And you are a mush-ball talking to a Klingon."

"Who loves for me to tell her that I love her," Seven replied with a smile.

"True," Torres agreed. "Come on, let's get moving, my dear."

"Yes, Mistress."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"I can't believe I'm so nervous," Jetur said while pacing back and forth in the temple waiting room. The temple waiting rooms were especially designed to have one of the partners wait for a ceremony to begin, while the other partner was waiting in a similar room in another part of the temple.

"Why?" her brother Olan asked. "You're only going to walk in there and give your entire life away to her. Nothing to be nervous about."

"I'm glad you find this funny."

Olan laughed. "Of course. This is a one time thing; I have to get my enjoyment out of it now."

Jetur walked over to her brother and put her hands around his throat as if strangling him. However, a mere moment later her hands moved and she took him into a loving hug.

"She doesn't mind you being so touchy feely?" Olan asked once they parted. "I mean, you're always touching someone."

Jetur smiled. "What, did I embarrass you again?"

"Neh, Meru isn't here now."

Jetur wagged a finger at him. "Ah, but she will be at the reception later. I guess I just have to hug you in front of your girlfriend later on."

"She's not my girlfriend, she's just a friend," the thirteen year old Olan defended hotly.

"Right," Jetur agreed. "And if that's all that you want her to be, then you're on the right track."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that if you want her to be more than just a friend down the line, you should show her that you're interested in her more than 'just a friend'. Touch her sometimes, hug her. Let her see that you care. Do things with her; go places."

"Adami..."

"I know," Jetur said with a smile. "Right now you think it's much more fun to run around in this palace than it would be to be seen somewhere in the company of a girl. But, you see, little bro, the thing is, soon you and your friends will start to find girls and boys a lot more interesting than you do now. And when other boys or girls start drooling over Meru, they'll all be too late because she'll be only interested in the nice boy and friend who took her places when she was younger. If you're lucky that is. If not, she'll only be your friend, and you can never have enough of those either."

"But Adami," Olan almost whined, "last time she wanted to go to the museum!"

"So, don't you like the museum?"

"Yeah, but,"

Jetur lifted a hand to stop him. "Let me get this straight, you like her, you like the museum, but you don't like going with her to the museum?"

"But the others will laugh at me."

"Let them laugh. Once they start asking Meru out, she'll laugh at them." Jetur sighed before continuing. "Besides, soon they won't laugh at you anymore. Soon every boy and girl in your school will want to be your best friend. Better know upfront who your real friends are. What girl is really interested in you? Meru is really interested in you; don't let her slip through your fingers."

"Why would everyone suddenly want to be my friend?" Olan asked confused.

Jetur caressed his cheek before saying softly, "You, my man, are going to be the little brother of the Bajoran Intendant. People will want to be your friend because they think that you'll be able to do things for them. Get them jobs, a governmental position, or maybe just something as simple as getting them a house in the middle of Bajor City without having to be put on the waiting list for several years."

Olan frowned. "Why would they think that?"

Jetur put a hand under his chin and lifted his head a little to look him in the eyes. In the back of her mind she noticed that there was actually not much lifting involved. Soon her little brother would no longer be smaller than her. "Because, hey, you would only have to ask your sister right? Can you think of an even more direct line to the top?"

"That's nuts."

"That won't stop them from doing it," Jetur countered. "As I said, best thing to do is know who your friends are now. They already were your friends before there was even the slightest chance of me becoming Intendant. Prophets know, a few weeks ago, even I would have laughed at the notion."

"You think Meru is really interested in me?" Olan asked in a soft voice.

"Olan, when you're my age,"

"Yes, grandma?" Olan couldn't help but ask with a giggle.

"When you're my age," Jetur continued. "A few years don't matter. Laren is six years older than me. But with you kids, a year is a big thing. If Meru wasn't interested in you, this fifteen year old popular girl wouldn't be caught dead showing interest in a measly thirteen year old. She would hang around the boys her own age. Those are the ones lusting after her. They don't see her as just a friend; they see her as a young woman. She could have every single one of them falling over themselves wanting to do everything for her. But she blows them off so that she can go spend some time with a thirteen year old kid. What do you think? Is she interested in you?"

"Wow," Olan said, finally seeing the light. "She's interested in me, cool... Aww, you just had to tell me this when I'm going to see her in less than an hour?"

"Of course," Jetur smiled, "now we can both be nervous."

Then realization set in for Olan. "That's why you invited her to your life bond ceremony, isn't it? She's nowhere close enough to you to normally be invited; you just know her because she's with me sometimes when we meet. You invited her because,"

"Because," Jetur interrupted, "I know enough of her to know that she is a great and wonderful person with a gentle heart and a sharp wit that can easily keep you in line. She won't turn down the honor of being invited to a life bond ceremony, and on top of that will feel closer to the family because we invited her."

She gently caressed his cheek. "Call me a busybody, but I like her, I know that she would be a great match for you, and I know that her family is important enough to have dealt with people in power. She won't cower from you just because of who your sister is. And believe me, my man, to be truly happy with someone, you need someone that cares for you, but that is willing to stand up to you if she thinks you're making mistakes."

"You sound so calculative," Olan noted. "I haven't gotten much further than the fact that I like her."

"And want her," Jetur said confidently.

Olan cringed. "Do you have to say it like that?"

Jetur laughed. "Sure I do. Come on, she's a knockout, and I know that you're old enough to have run the training programs in the holo-suites. Just that right now you think that it's not that important. Well, my man, it is. Because if you want to be happy later on, you have to find someone that you know likes you because of you and not because of who your family is. So, Meru is smart, likes you, is beautiful, makes you feel good just by spending time with you... do you really want to let her slip through your fingers because you also like being a kid? You don't have to give up being a kid yet, just stop being a kid in regards to Meru."

"Yeah, but I don't even know what to do. She's my friend, how do I change that?"

"You don't," Jetur said with a smile. "She should always be your friend. Just that you enhance the friendship. Look, just start small. As I said, don't keep so much distance, touch her. Hug her, hold her hand, show her by actions that you would much rather go with her to the museum than do something really cool that you could be doing at that time instead. If she likes the interaction it will evolve all by itself to more. If not, well then you know that friendship is all there will be."

"Is that how you knew that you and Laren could be more than just business partners?" Olan asked after a moment of silence, changing the subject. But at the same time making a mental note to take hold of Meru's hand later on when she was standing beside him. "You really like her?"

"I love her," Jetur said with a smile, knowing that it was the absolute truth. "And the love between us has grown over time. There's no moment that I can point to and say 'that is when I fell in love', but I can tell you that I am in love."

"She better be good to you or else I'll hurt her."

Jetur laughed at the determined tone in his voice. "Olan, you couldn't hurt her unless you shoot her from a very long distance. I forgot to tell you, she was a captain of the Special Forces."

"She was?" Olan asked, his determination wavering, but not disappearing. "Well, um, I would find a way."

"Don't worry. I think she would rather kill herself than hurt me." A tear rolled down Jetur's face when she added, "I think she opened her heart for me, letting someone in for the first time ever. She's a good person, Olan. You heard what she said while the Klingon Intendant was testing me. She was prepared to pull back her bid in order to save you."

"But the Special Forces, they ki,"

"They do what the people in charge want to have done," Jetur interrupted. "And they're good at it. Laren is very good at it, that's why she made it to captain, but she's willing to move on now. With m...," Jetur brushed away a new tear, "with me, and my family, that includes you."

"You sure cry a lot since you met her," Olan pointed out, not knowing if this was a good or bad thing.

"They're happy tears, little bro. I always had a good life, a protected life, a loving family. It always made me smile. But just thinking of her makes me feel warm inside. Just seeing her smile at me makes my heart beat overtime."

While she was telling this to her brother, Jetur knew that it still was only an inadequate way of describing what she felt for Ro. Once she had decided to truly open her heart to the brunette, it had been all the way. There was just no middle ground with Jetur. "I love her all the way."

"And, in about fifteen minutes, you'll be bonded to her for the rest of your life."

"How cool is that?" Jetur asked while taking her brother into another embrace.

"How cool is that?" her brother replied with a smile. A soft knock on the door was heard a moment later. "Bet that's mom and dad."

"Let them in, will you? It's time to prepare."

"Sure," Olan said, while walking to the door.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Don't fidget."

"I'm not," Ro snapped back.

"My, my, aren't we touchy? What are you worrying about Laren? You're just going to throw your life away, that's all," Oryn said.

Ro turned away from the mirror to face her former commander, and the man that had been as close to a real father for her as long as she could remember. Ro didn't count her biological father since in her eyes he had never done anything that would make him earn the right to be called an actual father. Ro preferred to think of him, if she actually had to think of him at all, as an abusive sperm donor. But Oryn... He had made her his prot�g� once he saw what she had learned from the Klingon trainer they had at that time. He had only found out years later why that trainer had taught the young girl so much.

"I'm not throwing my life away, I'm making it complete."

Oryn made a waving hand gesture to indicate Ro's clothing. "You sure you want to wear that? Don't get me wrong, we, in the Special Forces, are honored that you would go into a life bond ceremony wearing your captain's dress uniform. It's just that... you've been out for five years now."

"Didn't you once tell me, 'You never leave the Special Forces'?" Ro asked.

"That I did," he agreed.

Ro turned to the mirror and checked her appearance for the umpteenth time. "The Special Forces made me: they turned me into what I am today. I would have still been in the Special Forces if Kira didn't want me to be her play thing and took me out. I feel comfortable in this, it is part of me, and I want people to know that. In fact, I want people to remember that. They should know that the new Intendant won't hesitate to carry out the 'or else' part of a threat."

"So how does your wife-to-be handle that?"

"What? Knowing that I was part of the Special Forces, or knowing that I slept with Kira several times?"

"Yes," Oryn merely said.

"She's okay with it." Ro gave him a smile before adding, "She takes me just the way I am. I told her things only you know, even things you don't know, and all she did was hug me and cry the tears I can't. I told her about my parents; the true story, not the official one."

"Did you now?" Oryn asked impressed. "I didn't know this was so serious. I thought that this was only part of a deal?"

"Oh yeah, it is serious, more than you know," Ro assured, turning away from the mirror to face him. "The deal is what made us go straight to a life bond ceremony. But, I think... no, I know. I know that eventually I would have married her if she had only stayed my adviser. She's such a gentle person; she's exactly what I need. She doesn't condemn me for the things I did. She knows I killed Kira, she even asked me how and when I did it. Yet she still wants to feel my arms around her."

"It was you who killed the bitch?" Oryn asked surprised. "I thought it was that Delik guy. That's why the Klingons executed him publicly yesterday."

Ro shook her head. "No, they killed him because he was stupid enough to try and call the Klingon Intendant a whore. He was quite surprised when he was... stopped before he could fully say the word. Torres knows I killed Kira. The Kai and the first minister were there as well when we spoke about it."

"Ah, one of those public secrets. Since they wanted you to be Intendant, they conveniently executed him for your crime. They would have executed him anyway for what he did, but that is a different matter."

He paused for a moment. "Hmm, actually I don't think that it will even be a public secret. For that people need to actually know about it. But even I fully believed the evidence the Klingons brought against that idiot. And I'm sure that the first minister and the Kai will be more than happy to pretend they never heard anything. So, in fact you don't even have to hear about it ever again."

"Right," Ro agreed.

"So why did you..."

"Because she wanted to put twenty percent of the national income into her own pocket."

"What?" Oryn asked in disbelief. "If that had become known, Bajor would have had uprisings of the scale that even we and the army would not have been able to control."

Ro nodded her agreement. "I decided to not let it go that far. And as for your other question, I slept with Kira, and Adami did what she had to do to get her job. She's not new to using her body."

"Her job? You mean as your assistant? I can't really blame you, she looks damn hot I," Oryn suddenly found his words cut off by a hand closing around his throat.

"You know Laren," he said with difficulty, "you seem to forget who trained you to the point that you could become captain in the Special Forces. Do you really want that arm broken when you're about to go out there to be joined?"

"Sorry," Ro said, while letting go. Her body had acted before her brain had.

"You truly do love her," Oryn stated.

"Yes I do," Ro said and somehow it felt nice to actually say it out loud. "What I meant was that she had to sleep with the guy who gave her the job she had before she became my assistant. Adami and I have not been intimate."

She hesitated before correcting, "We haven't slept with each other I mean. We have been intimate though, since I consider her hugging me like crazy intimate as well."

"Ah."

"Sorry for that," Ro repeated as she pointed to his neck.

"My fault really, Laren. Even if it had been as I thought it was, it was disrespectful to talk like that about your wife-to-be. I apologize for that."

Ro nodded her head, taking the apology and moving on. That was how things always had been between them.

"So she goes both ways?" Oryn asked to get talking again.

"No, not really, she goes whatever way she needed, like most do. She can truly enjoy being with a man, but women are her preference."

"Um," Oryn asked thoughtfully. "I know that we trained you to use your body in whatever way you need to, but do you think you can, um, make love to her?"

"I know I will be able to please her. There's no question about that," Ro said confidently. "Will she be able to please me? I think so, I hope so, Prophets I hope so. But even if my body won't let me enjoy it fully, it won't matter."

"Why not?" Oryn asked. He and Ro had talked about certain things in both their lives that, in comparison to the conversation they were now having, could be considered mild.

"Because, just a few weeks ago, I thought this was impossible, but... Oryn, when she just touches my arm, or just looks at me in 'that way', I feel more inside me than I ever did while sharing my body with someone."

Oryn grinned slightly. "In that case, I don't think you'll have to worry. Tonight you'll find out what making love is all about, all the times you had sex before, it won't even measure up to her just kissing your nipple."

"Tonight?" Ro asked.

"Well, yeah. You are about to go into a life bond, are you not? Life bond or marriage, it's the same in the sense that after the reception the couple bids the guests goodnight and goes to their quarters to... party by themselves while the guests party on without the couple. The guests continue to party and talk good things about the couple that is by then probably testing out the customary new bed."

"Tonight?" Ro asked again.

"You do know that it's considered bad luck and a curse on the relationship if the couple doesn't make love the first night?" Oryn reminded.

"Tonight?" Ro repeated once more before finally adding, "But I'm still courting her."

Now Oryn chuckled. "Laren, you know that I'm married for the fifth time now, and this marriage has lasted twenty years already, while the other ones only lasted a couple of months, a year at most. May I give you some good advice, something I learned only after doing it wrong four times?"

"Sure, I think I can use all the help I can get," Ro said eagerly.

"Don't ever stop courting her. You don't have to stop showing affection only because you now live together. You don't have to stop telling her how you feel about her only because you told her already several times before; you keep doing that for the rest of your life. Sixty years from now, you still come home with a little present, just because. Sixty years from now the first thing you tell her in the morning should still be, 'I love you'."

"How do you know this?" Ro asked, wondering how a fellow Special Forces member could know so much about relationships.

"Because unlike you, I could not suppress my feelings while being drafted. So they only trained me along the commando style while they also trained you for special ops."

"Ah. Is it really like they say it is?"

"I can't really answer that for you," he replied, knowing that Ro was talking about married life. Except for some arranged marriages, like Ro's parents had been, there really weren't any bad marriages on Bajor. It was so common, expected even, that marriages only lasted a couple of years at most. A marriage like his twenty year one only happened with about one percent of the population. Marriages were normally ended if the people didn't get along that well anymore, were ended long before partners could start hating each other. In fact, it was actually quite common for people that were divorced to still like each other enough to stay friends. And often enough, to also occasionally be sexual partners, until one of them found someone else they wanted to start a relationship with.

"Every marriage is different," Oryn reminded. "All I can tell you is that I wouldn't want to miss a day of the last twenty years with my wife. Oh, we had our disagreements, fights. But, at the end of the day, we always reached a compromise we both could live with, literally. We made it a point to not go to bed unless disagreements were settled. I can also tell you that every day I wake up beside her, I realize just how good life is. Laren, if you love her, your life will finally feel complete when you know that she is all yours."

"As I said, my life already feels complete."

Oryn patted Ro on her back. "I'm glad for you. I think she will make you a wonderful wife."

"She is wonderful," Ro agreed.

Oryn smiled. "So how about we end this mushy stuff? We are Special Forces. We are tough, rough, bad mannered, and madder than an Odik on three legs. We don't do mushy stuff."

"Right," Ro agreed. "It's time anyway. Thank you for giving me away."

"It is my honor," Oryn assured. "Thank you for asking me. You know, I think that with the both of you being Intendant, Bajor will change a lot. Change a lot for the good of Bajor. After Kira, the prophets know we can use it."

A soft temple gong was heard and Ro took a shaky breath.

"Come on," Oryn said, "it's time to be joined to your wife. May the prophets bless you, my friend."

"Thank you. I do feel blessed."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

For such an important event, the ceremony had actually been very short, Seven deducted. Efficient, she liked that. Jetur and Ro had come into the temple's main room from two different sides, the priest had given the mandatory blessings, the couple had exchanged vows, and the priest had announced them joined.

What Seven had liked the most were the vows. She had heard the sincerity in them, there had been no deception in their voices, and Seven could see that the two women truly did have feelings for each other.

"Thank you for coming, I'll see you at the reception in a moment," Jetur said to the people standing in front of Torres and Seven.

"It was a pleasant ceremony," Torres said politely when it was their turn to speak with the newlywed couple. She knew that now was not the time to be the bad ass Intendant that everyone should fear.

"Thank you for coming," Jetur said to Torres, but both Torres and Seven knew that the woman was really talking to the both of them. It was just that Jetur couldn't thank a slave in public, not even if that public was her own family. "We will never forget what you did for us."

"All that was done was to make sure that the right person will rule over Bajor and its territories." Torres felt the very soft pressure of her Pet's hand on the small of her back. Knowing what the blonde wanted to convey, Torres continued her conversation. "I'm also glad that you were able to truly find each other during this. Something tells me that you will be blessed in your bond. That is also what I wish you both; blessings and a good life."

"Thank you," Jetur said, flicking her eyes briefly to the blonde woman standing to the Intendant's side, showing them both that she understood where the well wishes were truly coming from.

Ro, on the other hand, wasn't as talkative. She merely looked at Torres for a moment before bowing her head for a few seconds, showing her gratitude. Then she looked at Seven. She didn't bow her head this time, but she did lower her eyes for a moment. Basically sending the same message, but doing it in a way that others could not see.

"We would be honored if you could join us at the reception," Jetur spoke up.

"You sure you want me there?" Torres asked amused. "Having me there is sure to put a big damper on the party."

"That may be," Ro agreed, "but, it's our party, and you have been a very big part of me now being married to the woman I love. I, we, want to show our gratitude."

Torres grinned when she heard the words. She had a feeling that it was a lot easier for Ro to say the word 'love' than it was for herself. But she was also pretty sure that Ro was not a person that would use the word unless she meant it. It pleased her to find out that apparently the feelings between Ro and Jetur were real and not just played for family sake. She was glad for the couple, and more selfishly, she was also glad because this more than likely meant less problems for Torres later on that she would have to take care of as Intendant. "Very well, we will be there."

"Thank you," Jetur said, as the two women walked past her and out of the room.

Torres and Seven had been the last to leave, so Jetur turned around to face Ro. "Two weeks ago, I was wondering how I could come out of this mess with some kind of a job. That was what I was looking for; a nice job. Now look what I got, I'm going to be Intendant, but more than that, I got you."

Jetur took Ro into an embrace and was glad to notice that where there had been a moment of hesitation on earlier occasions, now those strong arms closed around her right away.

"You got me alright," Ro agreed. "I never thought that anyone could really care that much about me. I'm a coldhearted killer that,"

"No," Jetur interrupted forcefully. "You are a wonderful person who just never got the chance to show it. You did what you had to, and I'm glad you did."

"You are?" Ro asked surprised.

"Yes. Laren, if you hadn't lived your life like you have, if you had done things differently, you would not have been here now. I would never have known you. I might have found someone that I could have settled for. But because you did what you had to do, I don't have to settle, I've won the jackpot. I have landed the biggest prize of all, I got you."

"I just can't understand how you can accept me so easily. I'm a ruthless person if pushed wrong. I can..." Ro was interrupted when Jetur took a step back and treated her to a very stinging slap to her face, "Wha?"

"Are you going to kill me now?" Jetur asked pointedly.

"What?" Ro asked while rubbing her cheek. "No, of course not."

Jetur stepped closer and took Ro once more into an embrace, an embrace that was once again immediately returned. "Laren, I know what you're capable of, alright? And truthfully, I think we will need that. We will never be able to satisfy everyone once we're Intendant. We will need people to know that the Bajoran Intendant will do whatever is needed. Others might have to fear you, but I don't fear you."

"Is that why you hit me? To show me that?" Ro asked.

"No, I did that because you were trying to convince yourself, just as much as you were trying to convince me, that you are not the wonderful person I know you to be. Don't ever do that again. I know that you aren't perfect, neither am I. Do you really think I don't know that I'm just a weakling with the only advantage I have being that I have a nice body and am not above using it. Delik was right, I am a whore, I slept my way into my job, and I had to sleep with my former boss several times to keep that job. We both aren't perfect, but we enhance each other. Together you and I will make a wonderful life. Have faith in me, and in yourself."

"Alright," Ro relented. "I'll make you a deal."

"What?"

"I will simply be who I am, and won't try to paint myself worse. If you never call yourself that again. Never again."

"What? A wh,"

"Never... a... gain." Ro interrupted forcefully. "I will kill him for doing that to you."

"No you won't," Jetur disagreed with a smile.

"You're already trying to influence my decisions?" Ro asked, mentally wondering how a simple smile could calm her down so easily.

"Well, it is my job. I will influence all your decisions, just like you will influence my decisions. But no, that's not why you won't kill him."

Jetur gave Ro another smile, and this one Ro could only describe as wicked. "You see, my love, he 'was' my boss and I had to do whatever he wanted, but now, now I'm going to be Intendant. I'm going to be 'his' boss."

"Ah, I see," Ro said before leaning down a little to kiss the slightly shorter woman. "You sure you aren't the evil one in our relationship?"

Jetur winked at her. "Ah, but I never said that I wasn't. I merely said that I don't go as far as you. I'm not above petty vengeance. I heard that they still need a government representative in sector 103."

Ro couldn't help but laugh. "Woman, you are truly evil. You really want to send the poor man to the only Bajoran star base that lives in permanent weightlessness?"

"Oh yeah."

"A place where, thanks to the neighboring spatial anomaly, the magnetic north and south pole switch every thirty minutes, making even the most sturdy person live constantly with a severe case of space sickness?"

"Yep, that's the place. Someone has to make sure that the spatial anomaly continues to shrink without destroying that solar system."

"You do realize that doing this will send a signal?" Ro wondered.

"Yeah," Jetur agreed. "But I don't think that would be such a bad thing though. Laren, sleeping with someone for a job is becoming too common. I mean, it's never going to disappear, but it should also not be as expected as it is now."

"Alright, I agree. So who is going to tell him the good news?"

"We both are going to tell him," Jetur suggested.

"Yeah," Ro agreed, "no matter what, we will do things together. That means telling people that they have to pack and move out, just as much as it means telling Bajor the new rules we instate."

"Sounds good to me," Jetur agreed.

Ro sighed and stepped out of the embrace. "Alright, now, how about we get going? We are expected at our own reception."

"Right. Um," Jetur stopped talking for a moment before continuing shyly. "You, um, do realize that it's expected of us to leave the reception early?"

"Yeah."

"You also know the reason why?"

"Um, yeah," Ro said again.

"Sooo, are you going to frown or smile at the reception?"

Ro spent a brief moment wondering what Jetur meant; then she gave the redhead a broad smile. "Oh, I'll be smiling alright."

"Good," Jetur said with a smile just as broad.

Ro stepped closer until their bodies were touching. She leaned down and kissed the redhead. The kiss started soft, but soon Ro decided to put as much passion into it as she could. She was glad when she heard Jetur moan in pleasant surprise.

Ro's hands had been on Jetur's back, but as they enjoyed their wonderful series of kisses, she started to move them. One hand went down and found a very wonderful perch on Jetur's very shapely behind. The other hand moved to the front and up. Slowly, so that her new life bond knew what was coming, and was hopefully anticipating it.

Jetur moaned softly when she felt a wonderful hand slowly cup one of her breasts. For a moment the hand just stayed there, but then it started to lift, squeeze, and mold just a little. Jetur could feel her body react, and moments later Ro showed her that her body's reaction had not gone unnoticed when a thumb came to rest on a now erect nipple that was poking through the bra and dress.

Finally the taller woman stepped away again, but only a little. Just enough to create some distance, but still close enough to leave both hands where they were. She smiled. "Adami, you know how much I love your mind, right? That one could even say that I'm in love with that wonderful mind of yours?"

"I know," Jetur assured.

Ro hesitated before asking with surprising sincerity, "Would you be terribly upset if for the rest of the evening I'm more interested in your body? The fact that I know that we will... that we will retire together later is making me so turned on that I can't think straight. Adami, I can honestly say that you are the most beautiful, and sexy, and all-round hottest woman I have ever seen. Just for one night I want to be a hound like the rest of them and look at your breasts instead of your eyes. For just one night I don't want to have to worry about insulting your intellect by only focusing on how to get my hands on your ass."

Ro had been honestly worried by the reaction she would get, and she wasn't expecting the laugh. A wonderful laugh that made her smile in response. Laughing was good. It was interesting what this woman could do to her. Not long ago Ro was wondering if her body was actually capable of feeling the pleasure she had only heard about in stories. Sex had always been nice, sure, but nothing so special that she would actually crave it. And now, not long after that wondering, now she was wondering how it was possible that just feeling a silk covered breast and butt could feel so damn incredible that she felt like she never wanted to remove her hands again.

"Laren, you already have one hand on my ass," Jetur pointed out. "No, I won't mind at all. Don't you understand? I'm yours now, this ass, and the rest of me, is well and truly yours. I love the fact that you admire my mind so much, and that you truly mean that. But Laren, you know how proud I am of my body, don't you think that I would also want for my wife to crave me?"

"I just don't want to..." Ro started, not really sure what she wanted to say.

"Give me the impression that you're only interested in my body?" Jetur finished. "My most wonderful life bond, you already made clear what you find the most important part of me. Now it's actually time for you to show me that you also like the rest."

Ro allowed an abnormal slip of composure. "Like the rest? Just like? Damn woman you have no idea just how close I have come to ripping your clothes off from time to time, do you?"

Jetur smiled and stepped closer until their bodies were once again touching. "Well, that would be a waste of good clothing. Don't worry; I'll be more than happy to take them off for you. Hmm, you truly are one of a kind, aren't you? Others only think of how to talk to me so that they can have my body. You're only interested in how to talk to me so that my mind realizes that it will always be the most important thing to you."

"Your mind and your heart," Ro admitted.

Jetur kissed her, feeling Ro's lips part in eager need. "Aww, don't worry. I love it that you appreciate my gray matter, and I most definitely love it that I'm turning you on simply by looking so hot that you want me. Tell you what, how about I make you a little deal? Until we settle into simply living with each other without thinking, we have this little day and night thing?"

"Day and night thing?" Ro repeated just before almost exploding when a leg slipped between her own. A little pressure in just the right spot showed Ro that she was actually more turned on then she herself realized. She did something she had never done before; she whimpered for mercy.

"Yes," Jetur said, liking the reaction her little move had caused. "Well, not really day and night, more like outside private doors, and inside. Outside, when we have a job to do, when we meet other people, you treat me like you have until now. Look me in the eyes before glancing at my boobs. Appreciate my mind like it's the most important part of me."

"It is," Ro assured.

Jetur ignored her. "And then behind private doors, when it's just us, you stop treating me as your business partner, and start treating me like the wife I am; the wife that gets you hot with a smile. The wife that has a body you admire so much, that no other person can ever match your hungry gaze."

The idea seemed so simple and perfect to Ro that her mouth actually fell open, for a moment. "I like that idea. Yes, business partner, I like that."

"And wife?" Jetur asked.

Ro grinned. "That part I love."

"Good, because I for one truly like how composed you are all the time," Jetur admitted. "How calm and collected. But sometimes I see this flash of you, like just now. I think I would love to do business with that calm and collected person during the day, only to have a carefree and impulsive wife at home."

"Deal." Ro leaned in and whispered softly in Jetur's ear. "But don't you go and think that I'm anywhere near finished courting you. I plan on doing that for many years to come."

She placed a soft kiss on the tempting cheek and took Jetur's hand to gently lead her out of the room and to the part of the temple where the reception was being held.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"I can't believe I'm doing this," B'Elanna said while sitting down on her prison bed.

"Yeah, well, you wanted fair and square," Annika retorted.

"Alright, alright." B'Elanna brought her fist up in front of her and started to shake it a little.

"Rock, scissors, paper. Damn." B'Elanna shook her hand in a wait a minute gesture. "Okay, two out of three. Rock, scissors, paper. Damn, damn, damn. Okay, three out of five?"

"Forget it," Annika said with a triumphant air. "You lost. I win. Swallow your pride and surrender."

"Oh, alright already," B'Elanna surrendered. "I'll go update Janeway. You just sit here and relax."

"Actually, I'm not planning on relaxing right away."

"You aren't?" B'Elanna asked, while standing up and walking to the door.

"No, I was planning on taking a shower and after that I think I'm ready to show you how I normally deal with my stress and the tension that builds up if I have to work with someone I like."

"What? Are you telling me that you want to lie down there and... um, you know, with me watching."

"Actually, I normally prefer to sit with my legs crossed, but, yeah, I think I would really like to show you this."

"I... I... I..."

Annika laughed and decided to have some mercy. "B'Elanna, you really shouldn't think about sex that much."

"Yeah, well, I thought you knew that I'm part Klingon," B'Elanna huffed, realizing that she had been tweaked. "Like it or not, a big libido is part of the package."

Annika laughed again. "Tom must have been a very happy guy then."

"Um, 'he' was."

Annika's laugh ebbed away to a smile. "You mean you weren't?"

B'Elanna hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should talk about something so personal, then she figured that she had been honest with Tom, and wasn't spilling dirt by telling Annika the truth. She walked back to the bed and sat down. "Actually, to be honest with you, Tom is a good friend, and he was also a very good lover. The thing is that he's a Human male, and I'm half Klingon. After thirty minutes, at most, we were done. That might be enough for your average woman, and I think he would make a Human woman a great partner, but,"

"I get it," Annika said. "He's a good sprinter while you would love to have a long distance runner."

B'Elanna hung her head for a moment before looking back up with a grin on her face. "Yeah, something like that."

"Well, I can tell you that I really love a good, long... run. "Annika gave the Klingon a smile before changing the subject. "Actually what I was talking about was that relaxation technique I was talking about earlier."

B'Elanna slapped herself against the forehead. "Oh, right, that. Um, I don't know Annika. Tuvok once tried to teach me a Vulcan meditation technique, I stopped doing it because it frustrated me to no end. Chakotay tried to bring me into contact once with my spirit guide; I ended up killing the damn animal."

"Tuvok is too logical, and Chakotay apparently forgot to take your temper into account," Annika stated. "B'Elanna, as you say yourself, you're a Klingon. You shouldn't try to meditate your energy away. If you're pissed, you can't just say 'ohommm' and have that energy just disappear. You have to accept your energy and focus it. This relaxation technique isn't about emptying your mind; it isn't about taking energy away. It's about taking the energy that's inside you and focusing it. I solved many problems by focusing my energy on the problem and on nothing else. Just looking at the problem from all sides. I even have to say that being able to do that, meditate and solve problems I mean, was a big part in me becoming Master Slave. I was normally put in charge because the Masters knew that I would get the job done."

"Alright, I'll give it a try when I come back." B'Elanna stood up and walked to the door.

"Oh, and B'Elanna," Annika said while standing up as well.

B'Elanna turned around, her hand ready to open the door. "Yeah?"

"One thing that I can promise you," Annika said while starting to open her uniform and showing most of her chest to the Klingon, speaking while she continued to strip. "I won't let your libido go to waste. I learned to control mine, but if I let loose, I have a very big appetite."

"You really are out to drive me crazy, aren't you?" B'Elanna said while turning to the door again. Just when she was about to leave the room, she heard a soft voice behind her.

"Every minute you can resist me driving you nuts, my admiration for you grows."

"Just remember what I told you," B'Elanna said without turning away from the door. "I will tell you when you go too far."

"But you haven't told me that I went too far," Annika noted.

"My point exactly," B'Elanna said, before finally opening the door and walking out.

"What a woman," Annika said to herself. She finished stripping and stepped into the sonic shower. She smiled to herself when she thought about the Klingon's reaction when Annika had talked about her own sexual drive. Annika hadn't exaggerated; she did have a healthy lust for sex, when she let it surface. Normally she didn't, that was why she invented her relaxation technique.

It wasn't that often that she trusted someone enough to take them to bed, to take off her knives. But she did want to take B'Elanna to bed, and that was becoming a problem. She loved teasing the Klingon, but it was beginning to affect herself as well. More and more, she was beginning to hope that B'Elanna would call her bluff.

However, as much as she wanted to be in the same bed with the woman, she didn't want to just have sex with her. She felt that she could have more, so much more with the Klingon. For a moment, Annika wondered what she should do. She didn't want to fully stop with teasing the Klingon in an erotic way; she knew that they both enjoyed it too much for that.

Maybe it was better to cut it down just a little. Not too much though. More a case of from now not reacting to 'every' opening B'Elanna gave her. Maybe she could start doing something else instead. Like... deep conversation. There were things in her life that she wanted to tell someone, but until now she never had someone to tell things to. She was sure that the Klingon must have lived a very interesting life as well. They had touched on different subjects before, but never really talked much about it.

She guessed that the others she had let close before hadn't wanted to talk about certain subjects since more often than not, they had experienced those things as well and just wanted to forget about them. That, Annika decided, had to change. She and B'Elanna should feel comfortable talking about all kinds of stuff if they really wanted to have... something together. And Annika felt that both of them indeed wanted that.

Annika nodded her head; the teasing would stay, just not as blatant. And at night, she would just talk to the Klingon. Decision made, Annika started whistling softly. Life, she decided, was good.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Seven frowned for a moment while looking at the report in front of her.

"What is it, my Pet?" Torres asked while sitting down beside the blonde. They had left the reception four hours after the ceremony had ended. Only moments after Ro and Jetur had said goodbye to the guests.

Torres had known that the party would go on for hours yet, normally. But with the newlyweds gone, Torres had decided to leave so that the rest could party those hours at ease without having to worry about the Klingon that could order people killed on a whim.

Though Torres would never admit it, she had liked the party. Well, that part she would admit, but the part she wouldn't admit, was that she had found the young couple of Olan and Meru cute to the extreme. Holding hands all the time, looking at each other when thinking that the other wasn't looking. Torres had to admit that she really liked Olan's move of placing a kiss on Meru's knuckles. Harmless, but leaving no doubt of intention at the same time. Ah, young love. There were so many things Torres had missed in life. Well, good thing was, now she finally had found someone with whom she could do a lot of those things she had missed out on because Klingons didn't do romance.

And so, deciding to let the other guests party in peace, Torres had decided to leave. But with it only being four o'clock in the afternoon, both Torres and Seven knew that the day was far from over. And with them in the quarters alone, there was so much they could do with the rest of the day. Torres put an arm around the blonde and pulled her close, smiling at how easy the blonde went with the motion.

"I am reading the report on the repairs to Voyager, Mistress," Seven answered Torres' question.

Torres turned the computer unit towards herself and took a moment to go over the list. "Now I know why you were frowning. What in all levels of condemnation are they doing? Industrial replicator? A cloaking system?"

"They have also uploaded a lot of replicator patterns into the memory of the industrial replicator," Seven pointed out. "So much so that I assume that the memory must be filled to capacity."

"I'll just believe you on that part," Torres said, not wanting to bother looking at a list of patterns that had to number in the hundreds of thousands. "It seems that they're using the chance to stock up for years to come."

"It is only logical," Seven concluded after thinking about it for a moment. "They are preparing to be on the run for a long time. I assume that they concluded that there are two possibilities. Either they will find a way to get back to our universe, which means that they will be once again back in the Delta Quadrant. Or they will not find a way back and will have to stay in this universe, which will be a very hostile place to them. Either way, they can use the enhancements. Mistress, will you allow them to use the wormhole to get back to the Delta Quadrant?"

Torres thought about that for a moment. "Hmm. I don't know, check the report on it. We have devices to monitor the stability of the wormhole on one of those weapon platforms. You'll find it under the header military forces, and then under, stationary arms. You'll be looking for weapon platform cluster thirty-three."

"Thank you Mistress." Seven navigated to the file holding the information she needed. "I have found the information. It states that the wormhole has achieved a state of flux four times in the last week."

"What do you think, my Pet? Will they take the chance to travel through it against those odds?"

"I am not certain, but I would think not."

"So," Torres surmised, "there's really no need to make things harder on myself by deactivating those platforms."

Seven frowned. "Why would it make things hard on you Mistress? Surely giving an order to deactivate those weapons platforms is not an order that would bring an Intendant into trouble."

"Normally, no," Torres agreed. "But think of the chain of events, my dear. Slaves escape from a star base. Now, that I can cover by the deal we made, and I really only have to worry if the Chancellor finds the deal acceptable. And since Martok must have told him by now, and he didn't contact me, I assume that he will not intervene in the plan. However, if I also were to let them escape safely back into their own space with ship and all, I don't think even Worf would be able to accept that. Besides, there's a much safer way for them to go to their own universe. A way that is much safer, but will require them to leave the ship behind."

"Mistress?" Seven asked, her interest fully awoken.

Torres sighed before starting to explain. "Remember that I told you in the beginning that the wormhole and a second way were the only two safe ways of traveling between our universes, that we know of?"

"As far as an unstable wormhole can be considered safe," Seven said, mostly to show the Intendant that she remembered, but also to prompt her to go on.

"Right, well that second way involves the transporters. Some years ago an engineering slave was caught while trying to escape. Now, I told you, if you are caught 'trying' to escape the penalty is certain death. But, the way he wanted to escape was so interesting that they brought him before me. Since he was caught in Bajoran territory he normally would be brought in front of Kira, but he was lucky, a Klingon spy was there when he was caught and the spy paid the others off, bringing the slave to me. The slave had developed a device that changed the working of a normal transporter if it was activated. Instead of sending you to a different place, you would be sent to a different universe; yours. I made him a deal. He would explain the full workings of the device and put the schematics to PADD that make it possible to recreate the device if needed. In return, I would give him a very nice job. It wouldn't be freedom, but he would live, and have a good life. He works at my home now, making sure the mechanical stuff keeps working right. Anyway, the device was set to bring the person using it to a Bajoran star base in your universe. A base called Terok Nor."

"Terok Nor was the name of the star base that later was called Deep Space Nine," Seven said, to indicate that she knew the base. "They would be just a few days from their home if they could use this."

"If," Torres agreed. "But they can't. Not yet."

"But,"

"Ah. No," Torres interrupted. "They can't use it for the complexity of it. Think about it. I would have to bring slaves to Bajor, into Bajoran territory, to let them escape on a Bajoran station. It would cost me my neck for involving the Bajorans into this, and it would cost Jetur and Ro their necks for allowing it. I can get away with a lot of stuff because I'm the most powerful of the Klingons. Bajorans are third in line after the Cardassians, but Ro and Jetur are only just Intendant, hell, they aren't really Intendant yet, that will be tomorrow once they're appointed. We can't let your friends escape from the base. It would cause a political earthquake that would shake the whole Coalition. It's just too much, Seven."

"I understand Mistress. Besides, you are already doing as much as you can for them, for me."

"You really do understand, don't you?" Torres asked, glad that the blonde did understand the problems of Coalition politics. "Anyway, if what I'm working on succeeds, they might be able to use it to go back in a year or two. If they succeed in being on the run for two years and my plan works, then we can send them back."

"Mistress?"

"Soon, my Pet, soon."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Anyway, time to change the subject," Torres said with a grin.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"I promised you something yesterday."

"What?"

Torres closed the computer unit and pushed it a way a little. "I promised you that after the joining ceremony of Ro and Jetur I would be yours for the rest of the day."

"To do with whatever I please?" Seven asked before softly kissing the Intendant.

"What... ever... you... please..." Torres said between kisses. "I'm not kidding baby, today I'm all yours... if..."

"If what?" Seven asked when Torres stopped talking. She knew that the Intendant had been waiting for her to ask.

"Today I'll be totally yours if tomorrow, tomorrow you will be totally mine, completely."

"I am always yours Mistress."

"No, what I mean is that tomorrow you are totally mine, without restrictions, all the way. I decided that I can ask you that as well as you asking me."

When Seven understood what the Intendant meant, her heart skipped a beat. "I would like that very much, Mistress. However, we are supposed to be at Jetur and Ro's inauguration tomorrow."

"That's okay. We take a little break then."

"Acceptable." Seven kissed Torres once more before asking. "So you are mine now, completely?"

"Yes," Torres whispered.

"Then get up and follow me to the replicator. I think I would like to see you in something else other than a battle uniform or naked. I think some lacy lingerie, in black."

"I thought looks were irrelevant," Torres noted while she got up to follow the blonde.

"They were," Seven agreed. "Until I fell in love with a beautiful Klingon. Suddenly I understood that aesthetics are relevant after all. I think I would enjoy seeing you dressed in something else."

"Well, my dear, today is all about you, so I would love to play fashion model for you. Go on, pick something nice for me."

"Thank you, B'Elanna," Seven said while turning to the replicator.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Disclaimer reminder.

In the disclaimer I said that if you loved Janeway then you might want to give this story a miss. In this chapter, you will see only a part of why I said that. Trust me; it will be worse, much worse, later on.

Chapter 20

Two days later.

"So they're starting their journey back tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"That's what Seven told the Doctor yesterday," B'Elanna agreed. "They stuck around for the inauguration of the new Intendant and today is some party, and tomorrow they start the trip back."

"Hey, I really like what you did in here," Tom said as he came back from the kitchen area.

They were on their break and after Harry and Tom had heard B'Elanna and Annika talk about the new look of the quarters, they had begged the two women to take their break there so that they could check it out.

"Now that you got rid of the second bedroom to put the kitchen in, where are you going to sleep, Annika?" Tom wondered.

"In the other bedroom of course. B'Elanna and I are sharing a room now, and we decided that we like it. So we decided to continue that here."

"Ah, yeah that makes sense," Tom merely said, surprising B'Elanna by the restraint of the comment.

"What, Tom?" the Klingon asked. "No cheap jokes about two women sharing a room, or about you coming over to visit?"

"Neh," Tom said with a smile. "I'm not stupid enough to make those kinds of jokes with the boss around. I can still torture you when Annika isn't there."

"Why?" Annika asked slightly surprised. She had heard B'Elanna talk about some of Tom's jokes, and how the pilot knew how to always only just stay under the line; never quite crossing it. But Annika had never heard one of those jokes directed at her and she wondered why not. "I'm not your captain, and once we're out of here, I'll be just one of the crew."

Tom nodded his head in agreement. "True. But right now you are the boss here. The Captain might have a big problem with that, I don't. So right now, you simply are the boss for me."

He gave her a grin. "What happens once you're just one of the crew, we will see when that moment comes."

"Thank you," Annika said. "Except for your Captain, all of you have accepted me with so much ease. Faster than I ever saw before."

"Yeah, well we are just all a bunch of nice folks," B'Elanna interrupted. "Come on everyone. We're supposed to be here for lunch. So let's beat it to the replicator."

"Actually, it would be a shame not to use such a nice kitchen," Annika noted. "How about I make us a little something?"

"Sure," the others said as one.

Annika stood up and moved to the kitchen. The others looked at each other for a moment before B'Elanna mumbled, "This I got to see," and got up to move to the kitchen as well.

Tom and Harry looked at each other for a moment before they both started to grin and also got up to move to the kitchen.

"So we have three days before we must be able to leave?" Harry asked as he sat down on one of the stools that were attached to the floor and were located on the other side of the preparation counter.

The kitchen was set up in a U shaped design. The two sides that were attached to the walls of the corner that the kitchen unit was located in had the devices installed that someone who cooked from scratch would need. While the last side of the U form did double duty.

It was meant to be used for the preparation work that didn't need electronic devices, and it also served as somewhat of a bar if guests were visiting. The idea obviously being that regardless of whether one was cooking or preparing lighter party stuff, the person doing it could look at guests and speak to them while still being able to do the kitchen work.

"Right," B'Elanna agreed to Harry's question.

"Is there any work left that we can do in those three days to make it look like we're busy?" Harry asked.

"Well, we still have those cables," B'Elanna said. "After all, we let that be for the moment because we were coming too close to completing that."

Annika replicated some ingredients and started mixing them in a bowl before continuing where B'Elanna had left off. "The rest of the crew is basically busy with the finishing touches. Hell, even the refurnishing of the crew quarters and the hallways is almost done."

"What's that?" B'Elanna asked, taking a greenish little ball out of the bowl and popping it into her mouth. "Mmhmm."

"Those are Jet'Ik testicles." Annika couldn't hold her straight face when she saw how B'Elanna stopped mid chew.

"Don't worry," she said with a smile, "that's Jet'Ik cheese."

"Very funny," B'Elanna said while trying to take another cheese ball, only to get her hand slapped away.

"You'll ruin your appetite."

"I thought you knew I have a healthy appetite," B'Elanna said, her joke fully understood by Annika, but totally going over Tom and Harry's head.

"So anyway," Harry said to get the conversation back to the point where he wanted it. "I was thinking. Since there's not really that much left to do, maybe we could remodel the bridge a little. I brought this up some years ago, but then the Captain said then that we couldn't spare the power that was needed to replicate parts. And more importantly, she didn't want to put the bridge out of commission for a couple of days. Since we have a few days to spare, and energy is not a problem now, how about we finally replace the standing stations with ones we can sit at?"

"Why? You tired of standing all the time?" Tom asked amused.

"Well, I just find it kinda stupid if you think about it," Harry pushed on. "On a quiet day, we have to stand eight hours doing absolutely nothing but looking at the console to see if everything is how it's supposed to be. But as soon as something happens, we're really vulnerable. Besides having to try and do our job, we also have to try and keep standing. I lost count of how many times I've kissed the floor because Voyager got shaken up."

"But that saved your life when the Klingons attacked us," B'Elanna interjected. "That panel would have exploded right in your face if you had been sitting and therefore hadn't been thrown to the floor."

"Yeah, well, now that you happen to bring that up," Harry said with a grin. "If you ask me, it's also really stupid that those panels are made of simple translucent aluminum. If we did put new consoles on the bridge, we could put in epoxy-alloy-duranium panels."

They all looked at each other for a moment.

"Now, that sounds interesting," Tom finally said, giving the impression as if he was licking his lips. "That stuff is so strong that it would never explode. Voyager would almost have to get totally destroyed before that stuff even breaks."

"Um, am I the only one who remembers how expensive that stuff is?" B'Elanna said, bringing the two men back to the ground a little. "Just one panel would cost about sixteen bars of gold pressed latinum. That's the very reason why the stuff is only used inside the warp core. Hell, the stuff can't even be produced with the replicators."

Tom grinned and reached over to clap B'Elanna on the shoulder. "Ah, but what are the Klingons going to do? Send us a bill for it? This is supposed to be the Intendant's ship after all. It will be expected of us to put the best of the best in. This might also be just the thing we need to have Janeway agree to have her precious bridge remodeled."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. Then he decided to sweeten the deal a little for the Klingon. "Come on, B'Elanna. We could also replace some of the panels in Engineering. With those, we wouldn't have to replace the whole console, just the protective touch-sensitive cover on top of them."

"It's that easy?" Tom asked.

While he had engineering knowledge, it was nowhere near the knowledge of the others around the kitchen counter. Even when creating the Delta Flyer, Tom had thought up the 'look' of everything, Harry had turned Tom's ideas into workable schematics, and B'Elanna had supervised the building of the Flyer. Sure, Tom had put a lot of time into helping build it, but he had always installed fully finished components.

"Yeah, it's that easy," B'Elanna agreed. "All the real parts of a console are beneath the protective cover. The cover is really nothing else than one big touch-sensitive plate that covers the whole thing. Why do you think there are no real buttons on a console? They're all under the transparent cover."

B'Elanna gave him a grin. "Be glad, otherwise you would have to learn Klingon if we were to do as Harry suggests. Somehow I don't think that the Klingons have panels with Federation language on it."

"Alright, I think I get that," Tom said. "We aren't really talking about the full consoles; we're talking about the cover that goes over it. That's normally made of translucent aluminum. When, if, when we make new consoles and renovate the bridge, we can make everything out of Federation material, except for the epoxy-alloy-duranium. But then, we wouldn't notice that because the stuff is fully translucent."

"Right," Harry agreed. "And we could then make the sides of the consoles out of standard duranium. That way we can lead possible explosions safely away from the people sitting at the console."

"We could also order some extra panels of the stuff then and put it in storage. Who knows what we could use it for somewhere down the line." Tom offered.

"Well, it really isn't for me to decide," B'Elanna relented. "You should ask the boss."

"So, boss," Harry asked dutifully while looking at Annika. "Any chance of us using those days to remodel the bridge?"

"Well, I don't know if we have the time for it," Annika said, giving B'Elanna only a ghost of a wink to let her know that she was tweaking the poor man. "I don't really know how long it would take to do that remodeling. You better ask my second-in-command."

"Hey, B'Elanna, come on, what do you think?" Harry prompted the Klingon again.

"I don't know, I guess it could be done, if we have enough people for the job. Better ask the boss if we have enough people for it." B'Elanna replied while returning the ghostly wink.

"Annika?" Harry merely asked this time.

"Well, I guess we could spare about twenty people for the job. I just don't know if we have twenty people with engineering knowledge that we could spare. You have to ask my second-in-command that."

"B'Elanna?"

"I think we could," B'Elanna said thoughtfully. "But you better ask my boss if it's okay to pull those people off the work they're doing now."

"Annika? No wait." Harry interrupted himself. He had finally caught onto the game. "Hey you two, what do you two think, could we do this?"

"Aww, Harry you're no fun," B'Elanna said before looking at Annika for a moment.

"Sure," Annika relented. "I'll put the order in as soon as lunch is over. Let's see what happens. If we really get the stuff, and get it in time, then you get your new consoles."

Annika put whatever it was she had created into four smaller bowls and put one in front of all of them. "Here eat up."

"What is this?" B'Elanna asked while peering at the mixed creation.

"Food," Annika deadpanned.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "That I figured. What I mean is, what's it called?"

"Food," Annika said once again before giving the Klingon a smile. "I have no idea. I never named my food, I just ate it."

B'Elanna returned the smile with a grin of her own before tasting the concoction. "Hey, this is great."

"Thank you."

After B'Elanna had first tried the green/yellowish creation, Tom and Harry tried it as well. They found that they had to agree with the Klingon; it truly was great.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Half an hour later Tom and Harry were standing in front of the door of the two women's quarters, having left after thanking Annika for the food.

"So?" Tom asked with a smile, nodding his head in the direction of the door of the quarters with the two women still inside.

"Oh, alright, you win," Harry relented.

"Told you; you can see the sparks flying between them if they aren't 'on duty'."

"Yeah." Harry agreed as they started to walk down the corridor. "You know, Annika could teach Janeway a thing or two about throwing a switch."

Tom nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, while at work she's always nice... as long as you do the things she tells you to do. But there's no mistaking it; no doubt that she is the one that is in absolute charge. But if you see her in private, there's nothing that would indicate that she can muster up the command presence to outshine Janeway."

"I can see why B'Elanna likes her so much," Harry said with a sigh that made Tom laugh.

"Poor Harry. Falling for the unreachable woman again?" Tom asked. "Thought that if you didn't have a chance with Seven, you could have a chance with her counterpart?"

"Yeah, something like that," Harry agreed.

Tom put an arm around his shoulder. "Well, too bad, she's spoken for."

"Yeah, I can see that. B'Elanna is one lucky woman." Harry smiled at his friend. "At least we got a standing dinner invitation out of it for when we're out of here."

"True," Tom agreed. "I sure won't mind sampling her cooking once a week."

"We still don't know what was in that salad," Harry said, but he couldn't agree more about being glad that they could come over for dinner once a week.

"Somehow I don't think you really want to know," Tom pointed out while they stepped into the turbolift.

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, think about it. She learned how to cook while living as a slave. You've seen the rather limited choice there is in the prison replicators, and we're placed in a very nice prison. Somehow I don't think that slaves in mines and such have the choices that we have. They're considered animals, remember? I think that we would consider most of the food they normally get nothing more than garbage."

"Oh," Harry said, understanding what Tom meant. A moment later his whole face lit up. "Hey, think about it. If she can put a salad like that together with only the most basic of stuff, just imagine what she can do if she starts experimenting with everything Voyager has in its database."

"Oeh, yeah," Tom agreed. "Fridays are going to be fun."

When they had left the turbolift and reached their destination, Tom nodded his head in the direction of one of the people working there before whispering to Harry. "You do realize that Jennifer is still interested in you?"

"What? Oh, come on, Tom. I told you, she is,"

"The wrong sister," Tom continued. "I know. And if you ask me, you're just being stupid. Jennifer is the one that loves classical music and stuff. She would love to just sit and listen to you playing your clarinet all the time, while it would drive Megan up the wall."

"She is?" Harry asked surprised.

"Sure," Tom assured. "She's also the more scientific of the two. She would actually want to hear how your day was, what kind of problems you had. She would actually understand what you're talking about. While Megan is more into the stars and reading their meaning."

"How do you know this?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"You seem to forget that I dated them both for a while," Tom reminded.

"You did?" Harry asked, his eyes getting slightly bigger.

Tom shook his head. "At different times, you dope. And then they called 'me' a dog."

"Sorry," Harry said slightly sheepishly.

"Anyway, I'm kinda back together with Megan. And both of us kinda want to make it work."

"Ah, now I get it," Harry said in understanding. "You need someone to distract Jennifer. So that you and Megan can romp around without Megan feeling guilty for her sister sitting home alone and having nobody to talk to."

"Yeah, something like that," Tom agreed. "Anyway, Jennifer is here, you are here. There are things here that need to get fixed, so go fixing and say hi."

With his last word, Tom gave Harry a not so subtle push towards Jennifer.

"You owe me for this, Paris," Harry hissed.

"Yeah, yeah, how about I forget that you just lost a bet? And Harry, be nice to her. She really likes you."

Harry had reached Jennifer's side by that time and couldn't reply without being heard by the woman. Instead he decided to talk to her and not Tom. He kneeled down beside the sitting woman who was focusing surprisingly much of her attention, namely all of it, on just looking at the console couplings in front of her. Once he was sitting properly to his liking, Harry finally spoke up. "Hi."

"Hi," came back the shy reply.

"So, um," Harry started, thinking of what to say. "I'm out of stuff to do for today, so, um, you, you know, you want some help over here?"

"Sure, I would love some help," Jennifer said softly with a smile.

They were quiet for a moment before Jennifer spoke up again. "So... um, you still play your clarinet?" She was clearly desperate for something to talk about.

"Yeah, I like playing it a little after a day's work, you know?"

"Yeah, it's kinda relaxing," Jennifer agreed. "I myself like spending some time just listening to the old masters, you know? Of course, it drives Megan wild."

"Wait a minute," Harry said, putting two and two together. "Did Megan tell you to be nice to me? That I'm interested in you?"

"No!" Jennifer said a little too loud, before sighing and adding a much softer, "Yeah."

"Tom told me the same about you, about how he and Megan were kinda together again and how they felt sorry for Megan not being able to spend all her time with you because of it."

"Megan told me the same thing. About how Tom could spend less time with his friend now, with you."

Harry stood up and looked around for Tom, seeing him standing across Engineering talking to Megan of all people. "Paris!!! You are so dead," he shouted, only to see Tom and Megan quickly disappear out of Engineering.

"They set us up," Jennifer concluded once Harry sat down again.

"Yeah, they sure did," Harry agreed.

"Um, well, since we know their plan now, there's really no reason for you to stay here," Jennifer said in a soft voice, once again focusing her full attention on the couplings in front of her, without touching a single one of them.

"I guess not," Harry agreed. After a minute or so of silence, he decided to, for once, do the smart thing. "So, you really like listening to the old masters?"

Jennifer looked at him for a moment before giving him a broad smile. "Yeah, Johnson and Smith are my favorite. I just love their sixteenth. It's just so different from the other classical music from the twenty-first century."

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about," Harry agreed. "You know that they were the first to introduce the Vulcan Tarch into Earth music?"

"Yeah," Jennifer affirmed. "But they did it in such a beautiful way that it just seemed as if the instrument was made to be used in their twenty-fifth."

"You know, I have a data crystal with their combined works on it. It was a gift from my mother. You can borrow it any time you want," Harry offered.

"No, I couldn't do that," Jennifer said seriously. "If it was a gift from your mother, I would be scared I would break it. Thank you for offering though."

"Well, um, once we're out of here, you, uh, could of course, um, you know, come by my place and listen to it," Harry offered shyly.

Jennifer gave him one of the sweetest smiles he had ever seen before speaking in a very soft voice. "I think I would like that."

'Okay,' Harry thought, 'maybe I don't have to kill Tom after all.'

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"I'll kill them. I will fucking kill the bastards," Torres roared. "I will break their fucking spineless necks. I will rip their heads off one by one and spit down their necks. I will rip their fingers and toes off one by one, after first ripping their nails out. I'll carve them into pieces with a dull knife. I will kill them, I will fucking kill them. They are going to die, die, die!"

"Who are we killing now?" Seven asked, having long since gotten accustomed to her Mistress blowing a fuse every day or two. She knew that it normally didn't last long and also knew that she didn't have to worry about it. Not even the three times that such an explosion had been directed at her had Seven really felt worried about it. Seven knew, if the Intendant used the word 'kill' in her tirade, it was not directed at her. Torres never threatened her, not even that time Seven had pissed her off so much that Torres had started breaking the furniture. When the anger was directed at Seven, all that she needed to do was take the angry woman into an embrace and tell her she loved her. It always worked and calmed the Klingon down in mere seconds.

"I'm going to kill your friends and that bitch I put in charge of them."

"Somehow I do not like it when you call a woman that is basically me, a bitch and knowing that you do not mean the word in fun," Seven said, pointing out, but not accusing.

Torres looked at the blonde for a moment before nodding her head. "Sorry, you're right, I apologize. But that will not stop me from killing them."

Seven tilted her head a little before shaking it slightly. "Somehow I also do not think that you will actually do that. Otherwise you would not be talking about it now, but already be giving the orders to have it done."

"You're taking all the fun out of a good healthy tantrum," Torres growled.

"Forgive me Mistress," Seven said while coming closer. "I promise you that I will fully make it up to you tonight. It is time I experienced what makeup sex is like."

Torres grinned at her Pet. "Ah, in that case, I threw a tantrum too early. The whole point of makeup sex is that you end the fight with it."

"Do not worry, Mistress. If you want, I can 'piss you off' later."

Torres closed the last bit of space between them and caressed the blonde's cheek. "Neh, my Pet. I never want to go to bed with you while being angry at you. I would much rather have you tease me again 'til the point where I take what I want."

"Yes, I liked that," Seven agreed. "Now, what did they do to enrage you like this, Mistress?"

"Read that," Torres said, pointing to a PADD that she had thrown on the floor at the beginning of her rage attack.

Seven bent down and took the PADD. A mere moment later, her eyebrow started to wander higher and higher. "This is a bill, waiting for your approval. The Master Slave of the 'Intendant ship renovation' project has requested epoxy-alloy-duranium panels with a combined value of... sixty-six million credits. Now I understand why you would want to kill them."

"I can build an entire ship for that."

"It would be a small ship," Seven pointed out.

"You're forgetting that we use slaves, my Pet," Torres growled. "Twice that amount will buy you a basic model of a fucking Bird of Prey!!"

"Please Mistress, calm down," Seven pleaded.

"They have crossed the line with this, Seven. I can understand the industrial replicator. I can understand the cloak generator. But epoxy-alloy-duranium panels? What are they doing? It would actually be cheaper to spray-paint the ship with a layer of latinum."

"Mistress, I think that they do not know that you are not mentioning this anywhere," Seven guessed. "They assume that this is a project that will fall under just one of the many bills that are made while maintaining the Klingon ships. After all, is it not more than logical that on a ship for the Intendant only the best of the best is used."

"Yeah, well I don't care what they think. I'm the one who will have to put up the credits for this. Unlike Kira did, none of the Klingon national income goes into my pocket. So I have the choice, either I make the ship an official project and have it paid for by the Klingon treasury, which I can't really do since they will 'escape' soon. Or I have to pay for it myself."

"Mistress, this is not an amount that you will miss," Seven pointed out carefully.

"Damn it, Seven. If I just throw all my credits away, I sure will start missing credits soon. I can't agree to this, I just can't."

"You can deny payment," Seven pointed out. "They do not have the panels yet; the order is waiting for your approval. If you do not honor it then the deal will not be executed and you will not lose the credits. As you say, you cannot agree to this. Then do not agree."

Torres snorted. "What and let it be known that the Torres Holdings, or even I myself, can't even honor a deal worth sixty-six million credits? The damage to my name for canceling the deal is worth even more than those damn panels are. You really think I would be ranting and raving here if I could fix this just by saying no?"

"Then what if you pay the bill and I give you something in return for it?" Seven suggested.

"Seven, I'll be damned before I will let you work off what they do. I can't believe that you even offered something like that. I thought we moved past you being with me because you have to."

"We have," Seven agreed. "What I meant was that I can use my knowledge to enhance or improve something to your liking which will mean that the Torres holdings will make more profit and therefore you will earn the credits back."

"Ah, right," Torres said, seeing the misunderstanding. "Sorry about that. So, you would improve something to my liking, huh?"

"If I can, yes."

Torres thought about that for a moment. She trusted the blonde enough to be sure that she would deliver on her promise. That changed things. That changed things from Torres just losing the credits to her putting up the credits to earn more in the long run, kind of a business loan.

"Alright, they will get their panels, and I will think of something you can do to let me earn it back. But I must say that you're really sure of yourself. Assuming that you can enhance what we have. Klingon scientists aren't stupid you know?"

"Of course not," Seven agreed. "However, I have come to understand that whatever is invented, has more than likely already been invented somewhere else in the universe. And more than likely, there also already exists a better version of it somewhere in the universe. I have the combined knowledge of tens of thousands of species at my disposal. It is therefore more than likely that I will know how to enhance something that the Klingons invented. This is how I was planning to 'make a living' once Voyager reached the Federation."

"You think that this Federation would accept you enhancing things with knowledge that isn't really yours?"

"I am certain of it," Seven stated confidently. "If, for instance, I could offer them a simple but effective way of enhancing the output of all engines by 2.5 percent, like I did on Voyager, they will eagerly take that offer, and not care the slightest that my knowledge of this enhancement comes from species 3978."

Torres snorted. "In that case, the Federation your friends love so much is the biggest bunch of hypocrites I've ever heard of."

"Mistress?" Seven merely asked.

"Here they go on and on about their Prime Directive," Torres explained. "About other species not being allowed to get their hands on Federation technology. Yet at the same time, they're more than happy to use the technology of other species that never offered them that technology freely. If they are so concerned about technology being used wrong, they themselves should also not use technology they didn't invent until the point where they themselves invent that technology."

"I see your point," Seven had to agree. "Maybe they feel that they will not misuse technology like others could misuse Federation technology."

"Yet they needed the Vulcans to hold them back in your universe. Here they weren't held back and they happily used all their knowledge to enslave billions of people."

"You should not judge the Federation in our universe because of how Humans behaved themselves in your universe," Seven pointed out. "I agree that it was in the Humans' advantage that the Vulcans held them back from exploring space in the beginning. But Humans did change because of it and because of it the Federation as a whole is more honorable than the Sol Empire was here. True, there will always be individuals that are different than the rest, but the majority of people do respect the individuality and sovereignty of individual species."

"That may be but...," Torres interrupted herself and gave Seven a grin. "How do you do it?"

"Mistress?"

"How do you always manage to pull me into a conversation that makes me forget all about the thing that pissed me off and started that very conversation?"

"I am merely very talented, Mistress," Seven said with a seductive smile.

Torres laughed. "That you are, that you are. Alright, as I said, they get their panels, but this is really the last thing."

"I think it is," Seven agreed. "Voyager has been longer at a starbase now than it has ever been since being lost in the Delta Quadrant... since entering service actually. Add to this that none of the crew is enjoying shore-leave like they normally do on a starbase, and that they are working twelve hours every day, I think that they are running out of things to do. The sudden request of epoxy-alloy-duranium panels indicates to me that they are going to remodel a certain part of the ship. And they would not do that if they had not already repaired or enhanced all they can."

"Ah, good thing that we're going back today. When we are back in three days, you can download all you need from that computer and they can finally get away and out of my hair."

"Indeed," Seven merely said, not saying that the Voyager crew still fully expected her to come with them.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Four days later.

Seven felt weird being on Voyager again. So much had happened since she was forced to leave Voyager three weeks before, since she became the Intendant's...

'The Intendant's what?' Seven wondered. Just what was she? A possession? A lover? A friend? An adviser?' All of it was true, officially she was the Intendant's possession, even though she and Torres agreed that this wasn't truly the case, it still was so according to the law. She certainly was a lover. But she was also more.

True, things had started out with it just being about sex, and they still had plenty of it. Torres was a woman with a Klingon libido after all. And Seven had to admit that she liked it just as much as Torres did. Except for early in the morning, Seven was always in the mood, and she started sexual contact just as often as Torres did; slightly more often actually.

Interesting enough, it was only with Torres that she was so easily aroused. It wasn't like seeing others or even a holo-program turned her on. But Torres could sure turn her on just by smirking at her in that knowing way. Maybe it was because Torres was so good at it? After all, you craved things you liked. You craved them so much that you wanted more and wanted it again and again.

Or maybe it was because they made love instead of having sex. Could you ever have enough love?

But she knew that she had also become Torres' friend, and a confidant. Torres told her things she had told nobody before. Seven had certainly become Torres' adviser. There almost wasn't a single thing that Torres did without talking about it first with Seven. Getting her view, and then Torres made her own decision on all information, including Seven's point of view.

"You thinking again?" Torres asked.

"Yes," Seven said after a moment. "I was just asking myself just what I was. Your possession, your lover, your friend, your adviser."

Torres hummed. "I'm not going into the possession part because I know that you're talking about the law with that. After all, we talked about that the day before yesterday, so instead I'm going to ask you; so, what are you?"

"My conclusion is that I am simply yours."

"Mine huh?" Torres repeated with a grin.

"Yours. Completely," Seven agreed. "I love you."

"And I like to hear you say that."

"Which is convenient since I like to say it."

"Alright, enough of the mushy stuff," Torres said with a growl but patting the blonde softly on her rear at the same time. "Where are we supposed to go on this bathtub?"

"I think that workroom 2 will be best suited for this. It has a replicator, and an access point for the main computer."

Torres wracked her brain for a moment. "Isn't that one of those rooms you showed me that Engineering uses if they have to build stuff?"

"Indeed it is," Seven agreed. "Which means that we have to go to Engineering."

"Well, then let's get moving," Torres said while moving out of the transporter room.

As soon as they left the room, the four guards that had beamed over first and had been waiting outside of the room, formed the armed square that Seven was so accustomed to by that point.

It wasn't long before they came across the first Voyager crew members. Torres had told Seven that she would be damned before she waited for some slaves to be moved off the ship. Seven herself assumed that Torres simply didn't feel like bothering. Torres knew that she would be absolutely safe with the four armed guards. After all, what could the Voyager crew do? Kidnap Torres? Kill her? No, Torres knew that she was just as safe on Voyager as she was on her own ship.

Ensigns Harper and Sharr were smart enough to leave the roll of carpeting where it was and move out of the way of the small group of armed people.

A few minutes later they walked into Engineering, and after having taken a quick look around, Torres gave two of the guards a small sign, letting them know that they had to guard the door from the corridor side while the other two guards took position on the inside.

"Oeh, look who we have there," Torres said, pointing to one of the consoles where Annika and B'Elanna were working.

Annika was the first to see Torres and Seven coming in their direction and she nudged B'Elanna to get her attention.

Torres looked at the transparent plate that the two had been connecting to the console. It looked surprisingly much like glass to Torres, but she knew that it was far from it. "So, are these the epoxy-alloy-duranium panels that almost got you all killed?"

"Intendant?" Annika asked while straightening up, standing as much at attention as she could.

"That stuff cost me sixty-six million credits," Torres said while grabbing Annika by the front of her shirt and pulling her closer. "I had to fucking pay for that myself. If it wasn't for my Pet, you'd all be dead now."

B'Elanna was about to get involved when she felt Seven's hand on her shoulder. "Do not intervene, B'Elanna, or else the guards might react."

"Just what in all levels of condemnation gave you the idea to do that?" Torres asked, not caring the slightest about what was going on at her side.

"Intendant, I..."

"You fucking crossed the line, slave," Torres pulled Annika even closer until little more than a hand width was between them. Torres growled before speaking so soft that only Annika could hear her. "If it wasn't for the fact that I'm letting you all go, I would cut you in pieces; one for every credit you cost me. You hear me, bitch?"

"Yes, Intendant," Annika said, all of her confidence gone. For all of her life, she had been taught to fear the Masters. And now she had the highest of the Masters mad at her.

"Now," Torres purred, and this purr certainly wasn't comforting. "I know that you yourself would never come up with such a crazy idea. You got one chance. You tell me whose idea this was and you're off the hook. But if you don't tell me... Well, I don't really have to tell you what I do with people that defy me, do I? Tell me, or else."

Annika's whole body was stricken with panic and she felt herself starting to shake. If there was one thing she didn't want, it was to undergo one of the Intendant's infamous interrogation sessions.

It was common knowledge throughout the Coalition that Intendant Torres was very... creative... in her interrogations. Rumor had it that there hadn't been a person yet that didn't talk eventually. Even those that were trained not to talk. There had been a few people that had survived the interrogation, but they had never been the same again, literally. Depending on the interrogation they had either needed prosthetics to go through life, or were admitted to a mental institution because their mind had been cracked beyond repair. In one or two cases both had been needed.

Annika knew, all she had to do to prevent that from happening was to mention one name, any name. Harry had been the one to suggest it, Tom had helped to convince her, B'Elanna had agreed. Janeway had been bugging her from the beginning and was therefore an easy scapegoat. She knew, just one name was all that it took.

She closed her eyes and resigned herself to the ultimate fate. "Intendant, it was solely my decision. Nobody came up with the idea but me."

"You... are... lying... to... me..." Suddenly, Torres let go of Annika and slapped her firmly on the shoulder. "Good. A good leader never shifts the blame to the lowers, not even if it was the fault of those lowers. Follow me."

Knowing that her order would be followed, Torres started to walk out of Engineering and a few moments later, the four of them walked into workroom 2. This time Torres gave all four guards the order to wait outside.

"Alright, my Pet, feel free to begin. You two listen up, my Pet and I reached a deal. Part of the deal is that this ship, and everyone on it, will succeed in 'escaping'. My Pet will take care of the how and what. She will let you know when you need to be ready."

"What?" B'Elanna asked amazed. "You're letting us go? Wait, what deal?"

"That is between my Pet and me," Torres merely said. "Just be advised, this deal is only until you have 'escaped'. Once you're out of here you are solely on your own, and you will be seen as escaped slaves. So, Master Slave, you might do well to advise morons like that Janeway person that acting high and mighty here will only get them all killed or captured. You will be one ship, one ship in a Coalition where every Coalition member has more than enough ships to destroy you all a thousand times over. The crew of this ship will have to choose what they do. They can't use the wormhole that brought them here; it's much too unstable."

"She is right," Seven interjected to make B'Elanna and Annika know that the Intendant was speaking the truth. "The Klingons monitor the wormhole and I checked the information before coming here. In the first two weeks since we have arrived the wormhole has become unstable four times, but since then it has become very active and has become unstable over three-hundred times. It is too much of a risk."

"Thank you for pointing that out, my Pet, I'm sure they wouldn't have believed me if only I had told them," Torres said amused. "And let us not forget that those weapon platforms are still there as well, so even if you were crazy enough to try the wormhole, you wouldn't reach it before being destroyed, since this time around you would be approaching from the side where sensors can pick you up long before you reach the wormhole."

"We have a cloaking system now," B'Elanna reminded, but mostly only because she was sure that this is what Janeway would say.

"Which is of Klingon technology," Seven reminded in turn. "You would have to decloak if you wanted to destroy them, and they are so heavily armored that Voyager's weapons could not even get through the shields of one with hours of continuous firing. You would be destroyed if there was only one, let alone the amount there actually is."

"Now you two," Torres said while pointing at B'Elanna and Annika, having enough of the talk about the wormhole. "As I said, you have to decide what you do once you're out of here. But... if you manage to stay alive for... let's say two years, and you're still inside Coalition space, then you can contact me and maybe, just maybe, I will be able to get you home then, and with home I mean to your universe, and to a starbase you call DS9."

Torres saw how the head of her slave shot up when hearing what she had just said. "A little early birthday present, my Pet."

"Thank you," Seven could only whisper. She had never expected the Intendant to do something like this. In one of their conversations, it had come up that Seven's birthday was in two weeks and all Torres has said was, "Ah, interesting."

"You can bring us home? Why do we have to wait two years?" B'Elanna asked.

"Because," was all Torres said.

"There is a reason, B'Elanna," Seven said when she noticed that Torres was not going to explain her reasoning. Seven could certainly understand why. Even she felt like not going into a lengthy explanation about Coalition politics.

"What are you doing?" B'Elanna asked when she saw that Seven was building 'something'.

"I am creating a data storage device," Seven replied simply.

"I can see that, I'm just wondering why?"

"That," Torres interrupted, "does not concern you. And now that you're updated, scram, get out of here. My Pet will be in touch with you through the computer unit your Doctor has. Make sure that you stick to the plan, do the things she tells you to. It would be a waste if you got killed for no reason. Now move."

B'Elanna looked at Seven for a moment before she and Annika moved out of the room.

"You really enjoy being tough on them, do you not?" Seven asked once they were alone.

"My Pet, considering the fact that I'm the Klingon Intendant and they are slaves, I think I'm actually extremely lenient on them," Torres pointed out.

Seven stopped working for a moment to think about that and then nodded her head. "You are right, of course."

Torres grinned and came a little closer. "Of course, I'm always right. So, how is it coming?"

"The device is..." Seven connected a last plug. "...Ready."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later they left the room, a data storage device full of information securely held in Seven's hand.

"Now, how did I know she was going to show up here?" Torres asked, not sure if she should curse or chuckle.

Seven looked over at Janeway, who had suddenly appeared in Engineering and saw her looking back. It was clear that Janeway was dying to talk to her.

"Alright." Torres said. "Normally I would not even think about doing this, but, you go talk to that moron and tell her to not intervene. Maybe she will listen to you."

"Mistress?"

"My Pet, if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it is that people who are in charge... or think they are... always want to do things their way. It wouldn't be too smart if that woman would try something at the same time that you're trying to help your friends."

"I see, thank you Mistress."

Torres chuckled. "Oh, my dear, don't thank me. You are the one who has to talk to her, not me. You go over there, I want to see you. I don't trust that woman."

"Yes Mistress."

Seven walked to the part of Engineering that Torres had indicated and not more than ten seconds later, Janeway had joined her.

"Seven."

"Captain."

"How are you doing?" Janeway asked.

"I am doing well Captain, thank you for asking. Captain, I must inform you, when Voyager escapes, you must make sure that there is no loss of life. The Klingons might not bother with trying to track down escaped slaves, but they will hunt Voyager down if Klingons are killed during the escape."

Janeway nodded. "B'Elanna and Annika pointed that out to me already. Well, since we want to get out of here that's what we will be concentrating on. Talking about getting out of here. Seven, I'm afraid that we will need your help on that."

"I know. I am working on something and once I have more information, I will let B'Elanna know."

"You can let me know just as easy," Janeway pointed out.

"Unfortunately my Mistress does not like you Captain. Therefore she will not allow me to talk to you."

"You shouldn't call her that," Janeway objected.

"My Mistress?" Seven asked confused. "But she is."

"Damn it Seven, no matter what these people say, we are not their slaves."

"They might disagree with that," Seven said, knowing that it was certainly not the time to point out to Janeway that she liked being Torres'.

"Anyway," Janeway said focusing on the issue at hand. "We need your help, Seven. We are either here on the ship or in some prison, we can't get to the information we need. We need to know where they keep the dilithium crystals that came from Voyager."

"I am aware of that fact," Seven merely said.

"Right. We also need you to see what kind of information you can get out of the Intendant. If we get out of here, we need all the information we can get."

"As far as I know, Annika Hansen downloaded a lot of information into the main computer core," Seven pointed out.

"I'm sure she did," Janeway said bitterly. "Then again I wouldn't know since I can't access the computer."

She shook her head slightly before going on. "Anyway, the information we need won't be in information she could download. We will need information about troops and ships. We need to know in which direction we should go after escaping to make sure that we won't run into Klingons within a day."

"How would I be able to get information like that?" Seven asked, having a feeling that she knew what Janeway was getting at, but not wanting to believe it. "I am a slave after all. It is not that likely that the Intendant would tell a slave information about troops and ships."

"Damn it Seven, I told you, you aren't a slave," Janeway said annoyed. "And as to how you can get information, well... It is well based in history that powerful people tell their secrets to the people who share their beds at night."

"Are you telling me that I should sleep with the Intendant to get information?" Seven asked, wondering at what time in the Delta Quadrant Janeway had changed into the person who was now standing in front of her. If Janeway had acted like this when Seven had come to stay onboard Voyager, she would have left and gone back to the Borg within one week.

"I'm telling you that you should do whatever it takes. Seven, you have to have sex with her now, you might as well pretend that you enjoy it and at least get some information out of it."

"You have a flaw in your theory," Seven stated in her cold Borg voice.

"What?"

"The Intendant never forces me to have sex."

"Then you use your charms to seduce her," Janeway countered, misunderstanding Seven's words.

"Borg do not have charms," Seven said even colder than before, if that was even possible. "If you will excuse me, my Mistress is waiting for me."

"Seven, I told you, she isn't your Mistress."

"You are severely mistaken," Seven merely said before walking away.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"And?" Torres asked once they were in the corridor.

"I tried. However I do not think that I got through to her."

"So what did she do to piss you off like this?"

Seven looked at Torres for a moment before giving her one of her beautiful smiles. "She does not know me nearly as well as you know me. You can see when something is bothering me, while she could not even see that I have feelings for you."

"Commander," Torres suddenly growled.

"Yes Intendant?" one of the guards behind them asked.

"Once we're back on the ship, have that moron in front here replaced by someone who doesn't find it necessary to listen to my conversations." While saying that, Torres pointed to one of the two guards in front of her, indicating the moron in question.

"Yes Intendant," the commander merely said. Even if he hadn't warned the guard before, which he had, he would have followed the order. He knew, not following an order from the Intendant meant certain death and he was very fond of living.

"So what did she ask of you?" Torres asked as if the little conversation with the commander had never happened.

"She said that I should use my close proximity to you to get certain information from you."

"So she told you to fuck me to get me to tell you things," Torres simplified.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Hmm, I was wrong about her. She would fit in perfectly in this universe."

"This would not be considered a compliment to someone from the Voyager crew," Seven pointed out.

Torres grinned. "That's why I said it. If she told you to do that then she is really behind on the facts, isn't she?"

"She is," Seven agreed. "Then again, I told B'Elanna not to tell the Captain the things B'Elanna knows. And Annika considers herself in charge, why would she tell Janeway about my position? I also think that they are not telling the Captain this because she could make... hasty decisions the Voyager crew cannot use right now."

"So are you going to follow her order?"

"Mistress?"

Torres grinned. "Are you going to fuck me tonight to get all kinds of secrets out of me?"

Seven returned the grin with a smile of her own. "I certainly will. But I know exactly what you will say."

"You do?" Torres asked as they walked into the transporter room.

Since the guards once again waited outside the room, this time until Torres and Seven had beamed off the ship, Seven nodded her head before answering very seductively, "Yes, it starts off with a little soft moaning, then there is a clear 'mmhmm' and after that the moaning becomes louder and your breath starts to come in gasps. And most of the time, but not always, you produce a 'a,ha' when you come. Unless of course if we are not making love tenderly but a little more... rough. On those occasions, you scream out your release."

Torres shook her head amused. "You really do keep track of everything."

"Yes," Seven agreed. "B'Elanna, I love every sound you make. I would never be able to forgive myself if I did not put every little sound you make to memory."

"I would much rather make the sounds than think about them," Torres said. "Besides, you make a very enjoyable 'a,ha' sound yourself you know."

"Only for you Mistress," Seven said softly. She shared a leisurely kiss with the Intendant before they stepped onto the transporter pad. "And I just love the fact that no matter in which mood we are, whether you scream, or share your release more quietly, you always say my name. Either you shout it out, or you say it moments later."

"Seven, you are the first person whose name I ever said when reaching my peak," Torres said before quickly activating her communicator and ordering the beam over.

And when they materialized on the Klingon transporter PADD, the broad smile on the blonde slave made the Transporter Chief wonder what a slave could have to smile about.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

MAJOR WARNING!

Alright, I have said several times already that if you like Janeway then you might want to give this story a miss. In this chapter you will find out why I said that. Trust me, it is probably even worse that you assume right now.

Consider yourself warned.

Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 21

"So, everything ready?" Torres asked.

"Yes, Mistress. I am merely waiting for the signal that they are ready and that they have Voyager ready to leave."

A simple message came to Seven's computer unit at that moment, it was the agreed upon sign. Only one word: ready.

"Alright then, time for you to be Intendant for 15 minutes," Torres said while she sat down beside the blonde to get a good look at what she would do.

First there were the obvious things, like ordering Voyager's dilithium to be returned to the ship, and having the weapons of the star base turned away from Voyager. But there were also things that Torres hadn't thought of, like the simple fact of interrupting the communications channels between the base and the rest of the Coalition.

"And then to think that you can do that simply by sitting on my ship and only using my computer unit," Torres said impressed.

"As I said in the beginning when you allowed me to use this unit," Seven said while continuing what she was doing. "Your ship has a direct subspace link. Therefore, all they know on the base is that they are receiving an order from the Intendant. I could do this from any place where I have access to a subspace link. The important part is having access to this computer unit. If I did not have this, then your voice and/or thumbprint would be needed."

"Meaning I would have to give a vocal command, contact someone and actually tell that person what I want," Torres clarified. She had noticed that over the weeks she had evolved the tendency to clarify what the blonde had said. Partially to indicate that she understood what the blonde meant, and partially to tweak her, showing her that her proper words could also be said rather bluntly or more straightforward.

"You are correct," Seven replied.

"You know, I never really thought that much about just what a person can do with that thing if they want. I always assumed that nobody would ever be that stupid."

"Which is a logical reasoning," Seven agreed. "After all, under normal circumstances a person first would have to get into your quarters to take, or use, the unit. And even if they did, they could only give orders that would be effective for a short time. For instance, it would be of no use to order the Klingon fleet in Bajoran space away from there. They would leave, but they would be back in a day because the order would be undone by you by that time."

"But they would be gone for a day. A lot can be done in one day," Torres said, not realizing that she was basically echoing the same words that Martok spoke to her a month before.

She checked the time, and when she saw what the blonde was about to do Torres added. "Um, my dear, you really don't want to do that. If you give that order an automated destroy order is given."

Torres saw how the blonde stopped doing what she was doing for a moment and then changed the order in such a way that the result would be the same, but the order would still be different enough to not trigger an automatic response.

Seven looked at the Klingon with her finger hovering a fraction above the activation key. She saw Torres give only the slightest of nods and sent the order on its way.

"Five more minutes, my Pet."

Seven put the last five minutes to good use, giving orders that would not only make sure that Voyager could escape from the base, but that would also keep Klingon ships well away from Voyager's path for the first couple of hours of the journey.

"Time's up," Torres merely said while she pulled the computer unit towards her.

The blonde stood up to make more room, or so Torres thought, but a moment later, Torres heard the blonde whisper. "I am sorry, B'Elanna."

Before Torres could ask what the blonde meant, she felt her neck being pinched, and in that fraction of time before everything went black, Torres could only think of one thing, 'She is leaving me.'

Seven stepped away from the unconscious woman and brushed away some tears. Now she finally knew what it would take for her to shed tears. It wasn't physical pain, but emotional pain. "I am so sorry, my love."

With much difficulty, Seven turned away and walked to the door. There were things to do.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Captain, I don't think this is such a good idea," Chakotay said. "We're getting Voyager's dilithium crystals basically delivered to our door."

"I know that, but I'd much rather have some extra crystals. We're in enemy territory, and I don't want to gamble on when we will come across some extra dilithium."

"Captain,"

"This discussion is over, Commander," Janeway snapped, before checking her phaser a final time, affectively cutting off their conversation. She walked back over to the others and gathered their attention. "Alright, as soon as the person arrives, we act. B'Elanna, everything is set?"

"Yeah," B'Elanna said. She knew that Janeway was making a big mistake, but she was the Captain after all. B'Elanna lifted the device she had created. She just wished that she had had the chance to tell Seven of the plan Janeway had sprung on them that day. With the technology that they had on Voyager, it really hadn't been that hard to create a device that would prevent the force-field from being reactivated once it was dropped. Unlike the prison, where there were two force-fields, there was only one force-field in the corridor that led from Voyager to the star base.

Janeway had said that she thought that this was because nobody would assume that someone would try to get from a ship to the base, they would assume that it would be the other way around; that people would try to get from the base to the ship.

B'Elanna wasn't so sure about that. To her, it would be more logical to guard the corridors better. After all, once slaves were on the base, they could be contained at several places, but those slaves would have to enter through the corridors first. Normally you knew what was on a starbase and how to contain that. That meant that by definition any threat would have to come from the outside. So why not guard against that?

"You don't have to come with us," Janeway said to Annika.

"I'm not letting my people do things I wouldn't. What you're trying is suicide, but since you're ordering them to do this, I don't want to put them in a place where they have to disobey you."

"I appreciate your candid view," Janeway said amused.

"You ready?" B'Elanna asked Harry.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Harry said with a smile. Secretly though he was glad that his part in the plan was only the smallest part. The others had the hard job of trying to get the extra dilithium.

"I believe it is time," Tuvok, the last of the small group said when he heard someone in the corridor. Unlike the others, he wasn't complaining about the plan, but the only reason as to why he wasn't, was because he had tried to convince Janeway for more than an hour in private; without success.

The first step of the plan worked perfectly. They stunned the Klingon that brought the dilithium and prevented the force field from activating again. Harry grabbed the crystals and was on his way to Engineering so that he and Carey could put the crystals back where they belonged and prepare Voyager for departure.

The second step of the plan didn't work that well though. After they had woken the Klingon, he had told them where on the base they could find the dilithium, after which they rendered him unconscious again. This time by using a sedative. They had left the Klingon in the corridor, knowing that he would be out for more than two hours and the last thing they wanted was to take a Klingon with them while escaping. Only a few minutes later, they found that the Klingon had either lied to them, or neglected to point out that they would come across guards. He had given them directions that had led them straight to an armed guard station, and soon they found themselves pinned down by a heavy dose of disrupter fire.

"Pull back! There's no way we can get through there," Janeway shouted.

"We are receiving fire from the other side as well," Tuvok pointed out while returning the fire that was coming from that side.

"Damn, where did they come from?" Janeway cursed.

"Probably from one of the doors we passed," Chakotay ventured to guess the very obvious. "See how this corridor is laid out? I bet it's designed purely so that people can be stopped here, contained by disrupter fire."

He ducked his head when a disruptor blast impacted just above his head. "See the walls? They aren't affected at all by the blasts. They assumed that shots would be fired here; they designed it that way."

Janeway cursed before thinking for a moment. "You're probably right, but look, they made one big mistake. I don't think that cart is supposed to be standing here. It can take the disrupter fire from in front of us while I take out the guard behind us."

"You?" Chakotay asked, not at all liking what he heard.

"I got us in this situation, I'm going to get us out."

"Kathryn,"

"I'm going to try and get to that side," Janeway interrupted. "Send some phaser fire their way; that should give me the chance to get there. I should have a clear shot to both sides from there."

"And they will have clear shot at you," Chakotay pointed out.

"Not if I manage to reach that cart. Don't worry, I'll be careful," Janeway said and was gone before Chakotay could object further.

Janeway succeeded in getting to the other side unharmed and a moment later, she managed to stun the two Klingons that were firing from the side that they needed to go to in order to get back to Voyager.

But just when everyone thought that they just might be able to get back to the ship alive, it became clear that one of them wouldn't.

While shooting the two Klingons, Janeway had moved slightly from behind the cart, and the Klingons they had run into in the beginning finally had a clear target.

The Voyager crew watched in utter horror as they saw Janeway being hit by three deadly disrupter blasts. Where the Voyager's crew phasers had been set on stun, the disrupters of the Klingons had clearly been set a lot higher.

B'Elanna wanted to move to Janeway in pure reaction, but felt herself being held back by Chakotay and Annika.

"B'Elanna, don't," Chakotay said. "They'll only shoot you as well."

Only moments later the firing from the Klingons suddenly stopped and the Voyager crew heard a voice they all knew.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Seven wanted to move quickly. She felt that it had already taken too long to just get from Torres' ship to the starbase. But she knew that she had to act as if she had all the time in the universe, she could not awaken any suspicion. Minutes later she finally reached the main storage area of the base.

"Halt."

Seven tilted her head slightly and merely asked. "What?"

"This place is off limit unless you have a permission."

"I see," Seven said. "It so happens that I have a permission."

Suddenly she slammed her fist into his stomach. When the guard doubled over in pure reflex, Seven brought her leg up and slammed that into his face with enough force to break his nose, which was followed by an elbow to his neck, breaking it and also flooring the man. Seven looked at the man lying on the floor and then up to the second guard. "Do you need to see my permission as well?"

"No, ma'am. He is one of the few who wouldn't believe that the Intendant has taken a Body Slave," the guard said while shaking his head a little.

"After a month of me being my Mistress' Body Slave, he would still think that I am nothing more than rumors? It is not very comforting to know that persons like this would be allowed to guard my Mistress' possessions."

"Well, there is a reason why he's been demoted to the point that he is guarding a door on a star base."

"Spoken by a man doing the very same thing," Seven pointed out.

The guard laughed loudly at that. "Luckily I'm only here for two months. I was caught betting on my captain's abilities to win a fight. He was not amused to find out that I had bet twenty to one that he would lose."

"I see," Seven said. "You might want to take him to the doctor before his broken neck causes some permanent damage."

"Huh," the guard grunted. "He could only get better because of it." But he did bend down to pick the other guard up from the floor.

Luckily other guards Seven came across were smart enough to merely step out of the Intendant's Body Slave's way, and ten minutes later Seven was pushing a hover cart loaded with dilithium crystals down the corridor. Not much later she could hear disrupter, and... phaser fire.

Seven hurried up a little and a moment later she saw a guard station and outside of it, four Klingons were firing down the corridor. Seven assumed that the alarm had not yet been sounded because the guards thought that they could handle the problem by themselves.

'Klingon overconfidence,' Seven mused. But then again, that confidence in themselves had made them win many a battle. When Seven came closer, her eyes went wide when she saw the lifeless body of Kathryn Janeway lying in the corridor.

While at first Seven had wanted to order the guards to stop firing, she understood that this would take too long now. Instead she quickly rendered the guards unconscious by a few well placed hits.

"You can come out now. The situation is secure," Seven said while walking on.

Chakotay and Tuvok were the first to reach Janeway. "She is dead," Tuvok stated after checking the vitals.

"What are you doing here?" Seven asked bluntly. "You are supposed to be on Voyager."

"Come on, we have to get her to the doctor," Chakotay said, starting to lift Janeway from the floor.

"I asked a question," Seven pointed out, not moving from the spot.

"The Captain wanted to get more dilithium for the trip," B'Elanna explained.

Seven frowned. "I made sure that Voyager got its original dilithium, it only stands to reason that I would also produce more for the journey. Not acquiring extra dilithium now that there is the opportunity for it would be illogical."

"Then why didn't you have it delivered to Voyager with our dilithium?" Chakotay asked. But where Janeway normally posted a question like that in an accusing way, a way that did make you explain yourself, Chakotay's question sounded like a sincere question without any underlying tone.

"Because having Voyager's dilithium delivered to the ship is an order that nobody would be surprised at," Seven explained. "However, there are one thousand kilos of dilithium on this cart. Ordering that amount for a ship that is still being renovated by slaves is sure to be covered by several armed guards. While I however, could simply walk into the storage area and take the dilithium without questions being asked. It seemed more efficient if I brought the crystals to the ship."

"Right, good point," Chakotay agreed. "I'm just sorry that the Captain saw the need to go hunting for dilithium that could just as well have been bought from some Ferengi or smugglers. Anyway, let's get moving, we need to get out of here."

When all of them started to move back down the corridor, B'Elanna heard Seven speak softly.

"B'Elanna..."

"What?" B'Elanna asked absently while looking at how Chakotay and Tuvok were carrying Janeway between them.

"I have to talk to you."

"Come on, Seven. Whatever it is, it can wait till we're on the ship."

"It cannot wait," Seven disagreed.

B'Elanna turned to the Borg, only to see an expression on her face that she never saw before. "What's wrong?"

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Because of her Klingon physiology, Torres wasn't unconscious for very long. When she woke and looked out of her quarter's window, she could still see Voyager sitting in its place. Torres knew that she could stop the ship from leaving, stop Seven from leaving. All she had to do was speak up and address the computer. It was so tempting. But she knew, if she forced the blonde to stay, things would never be the same again. It was all so damn twisted. She could make the blonde stay, but it would destroy the relationship they had. She could let Seven go, and the relationship would be over as well.

Torres felt like breaking something, but instead she just put her hands against the window and closed her eyes. 'Better to have lost and mourn a great relationship, than live in a broken home,' Torres thought as she heard the door behind her opening.

"The escape is in process," Martok merely said as he walked into the room.

"I know," Torres said without turning around. "I assume that there was a problem, since you're here."

"You're right. It seems that the redhead didn't feel like sticking to the plan. They tried to get onto the base to get their hands on some extra dilithium. They were stopped at the first guard station."

"Casualties?" Torres asked as she turned around.

"Well, since their 'escape' is not to be noticed I couldn't send someone to check, but sensors showed six unconscious Klingons and one dead Human."

"Who? What Human?" Torres asked while chanting in her head, 'Please don't let it be her, please don't let it be her.'

"The redhead."

"Really?" Torres asked relieved. "Good, she deserves it."

"Torres, about your slave, she,"

"She is gone," Torres interrupted. "She decided to go with them."

"Then the deal is off. I will contact the base."

"Don't."

"What?" Martok asked amazed. "Torres,"

"Just don't, alright?" Torres interrupted. "If she wants to go, let her go."

"Worf will have your head for this."

Torres managed a half grin. "No he won't, and you know it. Besides, I still have all the information I need. I still have the storage device and I've already accessed it so I know how to get the information out of it. The deal still stands, just that she isn't here anymore to supervise the building of a new ship."

"You still want the drone ship to follow them?"

"Yeah." Torres gave him a bitter smile. "First I just wanted to know where they are, for Seven. Now the ship will follow them so that I know where Seven is."

"The drone ship will never keep up with them, it can only sustain warp eight," Martok pointed out.

"I know," Torres agreed. "But the thing is that the cloaked drone ship can follow their trail on a 24/7 basis, while they will stop at places, change direction, and won't run at top speed all the time. It equals out over all."

"They're leaving," Martok said when he looked past Torres and out of the window.

Torres turned around and looked at the ship that started to move, and a moment later disappeared in a telltale trail of light of a ship jumping into warp.

"I'll go activate the drone ship then," Martok said and walked to the door, knowing that Torres would want to be alone.

When the door from the private section of the quarters to the official part opened, Martok was surprised to see another person standing there. They looked at each other for a moment before Martok gave a small approving grunt and stepped aside to let the other person enter before he left.

Torres heard the doors close behind her after a moment of hesitation and a grunt from Martok. Dismissing everything else, she focused on the spot where the ship used to be. "I forgive you, Seven," Torres said out loud to herself, assuming that she was alone. "I just wish that I had been able to tell you that I love you."

"You just did," Seven said while coming closer. "And I am glad that you can forgive me."

"Seven," Torres whispered as she quickly turned around. "I thought you left."

Seven took Torres into an embrace and put her head on her shoulder. "I could never leave you. I just had to make sure the others got away. I brought them a hover cart full of dilithium."

"I don't care," Torres said while pulling the blonde even closer. "I don't care. I got you back."

"I love you, B'Elanna Torres. I cannot contemplate leaving you for a day, I could never have left you for good."

Torres took a step back, but took hold of both of the blonde's hands. "Why did you put me out for the count?"

"I could not keep my promise to you, and I could not bypass it," Seven explained. "I needed more than fifteen minutes, and I needed you to not undo what I did. You have no idea how much it hurt me that I had to disobey you. I also did not keep my promise to you; I 'did' deceive you. From the moment you told me I would get fifteen minutes, I knew that it would not be enough. Yet I made you think that it would be."

"Seven, if you had told me that you would have stayed, I would have given you a lot more than that. Hell, even as we speak I still haven't started to undo what you did, and I don't think I'll even bother. In a day or so regular orders will have taken care of it all by itself."

"I know," Seven agreed. "But the undoing was never the problem. It was that I needed more time to do things and I could not allow you to do that for me. The deal was for fifteen minutes, I could not allow you to change that for me without getting anything in return only because I am who I am. Just like we moved past the point where I am with you to help the Voyager crew, I could not use my staying to help them. I am being extremely selfish, I am only staying for me... and for you."

"And therefore you decided to deceive me."

"Yes," Seven agreed while unshed tears pooled in her eyes. "I considered it a lesser of two evils." The tears managed to escape and rolled down her face. "I hoped that I could make you understand that my deception was a onetime occurrence, brought forth by a unique situation; the escape of my friends. But I could not use our relationship. Please, B'Elanna, try to understand this, I do not want to use you."

"We once talked about this already, people always use each other," Torres pointed out. "The important thing is to be honest about it. If you're honest, then at least I know what's going on. Then I know that I'm doing something I would normally never do, and that I'm doing it for only one reason; to please you. But if you deceive me, you move us to the point where I can't trust you, and I don't want that. Do you understand, Seven? I would much rather do something that will get me into a shit load of trouble with Worf, than move to the point where I can't trust you, where I have to start wondering what your ulterior motives are."

"But I," Seven started, only to be interrupted by Torres.

"Damn it, Seven. I ask you for advice on things that I never ask people advice on. You're my most trusted adviser, the only person I can actually call an adviser, even if it is only to myself. I can't move to the point where I can't trust my adviser."

"So you feel that my deception is worse than if I had used you?" Seven asked softly.

"Yeah," Torres agreed. She had heard the soft tone of the blonde, and by now knew her well enough to know what that tone meant. "But, remember what you just heard me say; I forgive you. Let's put this in the 'clearing things up' section. I'm so glad you stayed, I don't want to start things off by discussing things that happened before now. We take now, this moment as the point to go on, and not look back. How about that?"

"The past formed my current way of thinking, I do not know if I can simply 'forget' all that happened," Seven pointed out.

"And I'm not asking you to. You certainly can tell me about how things happened, or how you think things should be because of what you know happened once. Wait, let me explain this in a different way, remember the game I played, where I kept score in my head?"

"Yes."

"Well, what I meant just now is that today we start at zero, and I won't deduct you twenty points tomorrow for what you did today."

"Ah, I see," Seven said and smiled before adding, "just do not actually start that again."

Torres laughed. "Trust me, I won't. Besides, you would win every game. I love you so much I would be giving you points for every move you make. You would just have to breathe and you would have ten more points."

"I was wrong," Seven said while closing her eyes for a moment. "I always thought that only knowing it was good enough, but hearing you say that feels very good."

"And it felt good to say it," Torres said with a smile, knowing full well that Seven was talking about the words 'I love you'. "Maybe I can say it more often. I think I will like telling you that I love you. But, I also think that I can't tell you as often as you tell me; I just don't talk about emotional things."

"You do not have to tell me often, the effect of when you tell me makes up for the quantity."

"What do you mean?" Torres asked confused.

Seven took Torres' hand and placed it against her chest, over her heart, making it possible for the Klingon to feel the beating of Seven's heart. "Tell me," Seven whispered.

"I love you," Torres said, and was totally amazed to feel the heart under her fingers stop beating for a moment. "Wow."

"That is how I think about you, it describes you perfectly."

"Wow?" Torres asked.

"Yes. I see you standing here, and I realize that you are all mine. The concept is just... wow."

"I see," Torres said with a smile, fully understanding what the blonde meant. It was how she felt as well. Then she thought of something more serious and sighed before saying; "Seven... Martok told me that one of the Voyager crew was killed."

"I know," Seven merely said. There wasn't anything else that she could say.

"Let's sit down," Torres said while she pulled Seven to the couch. Once they were sitting, a very important question came to Torres' mind. "What about your implants? You can die now that your Doctor can't help you."

"I would rather live a month with you, than spend the rest of my life without you," Seven said softly.

"Seven,"

"B'Elanna," Seven interrupted, "I took precautions. True, the Doctor is not here, but when I was downloading the information from Voyager, I also downloaded all the information the Doctor had about me and my implants. I also downloaded all the information that is needed to make the few tools I do not yet have, to do more extensive maintenance on my implants. The chance of something happening to my implants that cannot be corrected is actually smaller than you dying from a spontaneous brain hemorrhage. It is a risk I am willing to take to be with you."

"You already knew that you were staying when you downloaded that information?" Torres asked.

"I already knew that I was staying when we were on Bajor," Seven corrected with a smile. "The night we went to the theater. From then on, from the moment I knew that you were not going to hide me away; that was the moment I knew that I could never leave you."

"You stayed, you really stayed," Torres said before suddenly taking a firm grip on Seven and pulling the blonde against her. Nothing else mattered. Seven had stayed. Seven had willingly stayed to share her life.

Torres realized that she would never be lonely again. The feeling that this realization brought settled over Torres like a warm blanket. She now could go on living, sharing her life with someone she loved, and with whom she could be just herself.

But Torres also knew, if she wanted to truly share her life, there was a question she needed to ask. "Seven, do you want our relationship to change? The whole thing about having a Mistress is that this person won't hesitate to punish you. But I won't be able to do that, not that I ever could."

Seven had already opened her mouth to speak, but then changed her words. "With those last words you already proved the point I just wanted to make; 'not that you ever could'. From the first day I was yours, you never truly punished me. The only 'punishment' I ever had was when you subtracted points when you were playing your game. Or when we occasionally make love as a 'so called' punishment for something I supposedly did wrong, and when you actually deny me sexual satisfaction for a longer time as a punishment. And we both know that these two last things are as far from being real punishments as possible, since we both enjoy it way too much for it to be real punishments."

"True," Torres could only agree.

"So there never was any real punishment," Seven pointed out. "But, all in all, you were still my Mistress, and you still are. I... and you... like it that way. You like to be the one in charge of our relationship, but I am your equal in decisions. I think we can continue our relationship in the same way we had it. I would like it like that."

"You sure?" Torres asked. "I must admit that I also like what we have, I just want to be sure that you're really okay with it."

"Please B'Elanna, believe me, I want... need, you to be just the way you are. I fell in love with the person you are, not the person you could be. If I would like to be with the person you could be, I would have fallen in love with Voyager's B'Elanna. I did not. I fell in love with you."

"Alright then," Torres relented. "But you promise me one thing."

"Anything," Seven said immediately.

"Whenever you start to feel different about our relationship, you tell me. I'm willing to compromise a lot if it means that you continue to love me."

"You do not have to compromise," Seven assured. "Any change would take away from the perfection you are. However, just to ease your mind; I promise."

"Kahless, I can't believe that you're really here," Torres said, shaking her head slightly. "I sooo just want to hold you."

"Hold me, B'Elanna. Show me how much you love me."

For the next two hours not a word was said. They just kept sitting and holding onto each other. Secure in the knowledge that no matter what else was going to happen, they had each other.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

"Where's Seven?" Chakotay asked when he saw B'Elanna walking into sickbay alone.

"She isn't coming," B'Elanna merely said.

"What?" Chakotay asked, wondering how things could go so wrong so fast. "What do you mean she isn't coming? Where the hell is she?"

"She stayed behind."

"We can't just leave her there," Chakotay said, quickly moving towards the door.

B'Elanna stopped him by grabbing his arm. "She isn't coming, Chakotay. Don't waste your time. She made a promise to the Intendant that she would never leave, and Seven intends to keep that promise."

"We can't leave her there only because she made a promise," Chakotay disagreed. He was fully prepared to turn the ship around and go back for Seven.

B'Elanna shook her head. "Chakotay, it's only an excuse. She won't leave because she's in love with her."

"What?"

"Believe me, she will resist if you try to force her to come along. Do you really think you can keep her on Voyager if she wants to leave? Besides, by this time she's probably no longer on the base but back on the Intendant's ship. You want to take on that ship with Voyager?"

Chakotay knew that B'Elanna was right, but that didn't mean that he agreed with simply leaving Seven behind, just that he agreed with that they didn't have any other choice. If Seven wanted to stay, they could never hope to take her with force. Besides, he had always thought that in the end, people should make the decisions of what they want to do with their lives.

"Alright, we need to get far away from that base, or else the time Seven bought us could be wasted by a ship going to the base stumbling across us."

Chakotay slapped his communicator so that he could give a ship wide order. "All stations, stay at battle stations for the time being, and initiate silent running."

When the Comm link was deactivated, Chakotay added more to himself than B'Elanna. "Now is as good as time as any to start using our new cloaking system."

"Chakotay, how... how is Janeway?" B'Elanna asked, but she had a feeling that she knew the answer. If there had been any hope, the Doctor would have been working on Janeway, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Chakotay merely shook his head slightly. "Go to Engineering, B'Elanna, you're needed there."

"She really is...?"

"Yeah, of all the things to die for, and after all we went through in the Delta quadrant, she had to give her life for some damn dilithium crystals."

"She should have trusted Seven more," B'Elanna said, a trace of bitterness crawling into her voice. "Seven brought us a whole hover cart full of the stuff. We have enough for the next ten years."

Chakotay shook his head once more. "We're wasting time."

They walked out of sickbay together but soon parted ways, B'Elanna going to Engineering and Chakotay going to the bridge.

Once Chakotay was on the bridge, he took a quick look around before activating his Comm link once more. "Chakotay to Annika Hansen. Please join us on the bridge."

He sighed deeply before sitting down in the Captain's chair. Not that he wanted to sit there, he was itching to go sit in his first officer's chair. But he was sending a clear signal to the others on the bridge, and Starfleet protocol demanded that the Captain, or Acting Captain, would sit in that chair.

Moments later the doors opened and Annika walked onto the bridge. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Before we do anything else, we need a place where we can lay low for a few days, think about just what we want to do next, and where we... can hold a funeral. Can you suggest a place? Somewhere where we probably also won't be bothered by smugglers."

Annika thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I think I know just the place. About four hours at warp six from here there's a small planet. It's seismically unstable since it's been mined way beyond the safety limits. The planet has long since been abandoned. We could take orbit around the planet, it's too deep in Klingon space for smugglers to be there, and the Klingons basically ignore it since there's nothing to gain there."

"Alright, could you point our pilot in the right direction?"

"Sure," Annika said and walked over to Tom. A moment later, she had given him the coordinates and turned back to Chakotay to ask a question she was wondering about. "Have you any idea on what we're going to do now? Leave Coalition space, or stick around for those two years that the Intendant talked about?"

"I don't know yet," Chakotay said thoughtfully. "We basically have three choices; we stay, we go, or we go and come back in two years. I think the crew should decide this."

"The crew?" Annika asked surprised. "I thought that was why there's a Captain, to make decisions."

"True," Chakotay agreed, "but the crew signed up for a tour of duty that was only going to last for two years, not possibly the rest of their life. People who joined Voyager later on, like me, never had a choice at all. It was take it or leave it; come along, or stay in the Delta Quadrant. I think it's time that the crew got a word in the important decisions. I'm not talking about whether or not we're going to stop at some planet, or whether or not we should engage in some battle. I'm talking about things like, are going to wait for those two years to end, or are we going to try and find a way back to our universe, even if that means going back to the Delta Quadrant."

"I understand," Annika said. "It's an important choice. Whether to hang around and waste two years for sure but then get home, or to go back to a situation where it might be decades before they're home."

"Right," Chakotay agreed. "Especially since we have no guarantee that we will get home in two years if we stay. We only have the Intendant's word that she might get us home then."

Annika nodded in understanding. "Alright. Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll go to Engineering, help B'Elanna a little."

"Sure," Chakotay said with a small nod of his head. "I'll let you know if we might need your help up here again."

Now it was Annika who gave a small nod, before heading to the turbolift. But halfway there, she stopped and turned to face him. "Just so that you know when you make that decision on whether to stay, the Klingon Intendant has a name as someone you don't want to mess with. But on the other hand, you probably won't find a person in the entire Coalition that wouldn't take her word over a signed contract. Even the Ferengi would rather take a promise from the Intendant over a signed contract with anyone else."

"I'll point that out to people when I explain the situation to them," Chakotay assured.

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Most of the people in the shuttle bay could not really believe that they were really at the funeral of Kathryn Janeway. They looked at how the torpedo shell containing the body of the Captain slowly got transported out of the bay. A blue flicker of light showed that the torpedo shell had passed through the force-field that separated them from the vast emptiness of space.

The realization truly hit them when they saw the torpedo shell move silently through space on its way to the star of the solar system. The captain they had known since being stranded in the Delta quadrant was gone. Now the time had truly come to make decisions.

With the ceremony over, the bay slowly started to empty out until only Chakotay, B'Elanna, and Annika were left.

"So we're staying," B'Elanna said, more to break the silence than anything else.

"So it seems," Chakotay agreed. They had let the crew vote on what they wanted to do and the end result was that they wanted to stick around. True, it was two years of waiting, but they hoped that the Intendant had told the truth. They hoped that if the Intendant had been lying, Seven would have told them. Knowing that you could go home in two years was better than not being sure if you could even get back to your own universe.

"So now what?" B'Elanna asked. "Where do we go from here?"

"Good question," Chakotay said thoughtfully.

"You're Captain now," B'Elanna pointed out. "It's up to you to decide where we go."

Chakotay spread his hands a little in a 'well' gesture. "I actually think the first thing to do is hold a senior staff meeting, there's something I want to suggest."

"Alright, let's get going then," B'Elanna said.

Once they reached the turbolift, Chakotay spoke up again. "Um, Annika, if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you weren't present for this meeting. We're also going to discuss your status as a crew member, and what you're going to do on Voyager, and I want everyone to speak freely."

"Sure," Annika merely said. She understood fully what Chakotay meant. Before she was the Master Slave, but now they would need to give her a new function, and for that the others needed to talk freely about her, as free as one only did if the person that was being talked about wasn't there.

Once they were in the turbolift, Chakotay activated the Comm link once more. "Senior staff to conference room one."

~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~

Seven felt a hand being softly placed on her shoulder and she turned away from the window with a smile.

Torres returned the smile with one of her own in pure reflex. "Please tell me that your friends are smart enough to not try and come back for you."

"They are," Seven said confident. "I told B'Elanna why I was going to stay, and I think she understood, even if she might not have agreed. Ironically enough, it will be in their advantage that Kathryn Janeway is no longer in charge. She might have tried to get me back because she would see it as a personal failure that I was left behind, and she would do anything in her power to correct that failure. No matter what the cost."

"Do you think your friends will stay in Coalition space?"

Seven thought about that for a moment. "I do not know; it is one of the choices they have to make. All I know is that I made my choices, and now I will have to live with the consequences."

"You aren't having second thoughts, are you?" Torres asked softly.

"Never," Seven whispered.

"Are you ready to go to bed?" Torres asked, already walking in the direction of the bedroom.

"It is rather early, do you not think so?" Seven asked amused while lifting her eyebrow. "Is there something else you want from me?"

"No," Torres said while taking Seven's hand and softly pulling her to the bedroom. "I merely want to lay and hold you, fully secure in the knowledge that when I wake up tomorrow, you'll still be here, that I will still be holding onto you."

"You really believed that I would leave you?"

"You come from a place where you are free," Torres reminded. "Why would you want to stay in a place where you are nothing but a possession according to the law?"

"I do not care about the law, I care about you. B'Elanna, even if I was only allowed to be in your quarters, I would still have come back to you. I cannot live without you. I would have still come back if I had known that I could only see you at night. At least that way I would see you once a day."

"Never," Torres said determined. "You will be right at my side wherever I go. From now on, whenever someone sees me, they will see you as well. But I do think that the first thing we must do is go and visit Worf. He needs to get to know you, to understand me."

"That sounds like a good idea," Seven agreed.

"Now please come to bed with me."

"It will be my pleasure," Seven assured. "I love to hold you."

"And I love you, Seven."

Seven closed her eyes upon hearing those words. "And then you wonder why I stayed."

Torres stepped closer to the blonde and they shared a long kiss, "Come on. Tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of our lives."

The end.

No, that isn't a typo; that really says 'the end'.

Whahahahahahaha!!!! I'm so evil, leaving you all hanging with so many unresolved issues. And there you thought that you would get a good and proper ending. No way, no how. And also... HEY, what are you doing with that knife? Put that away, you could hurt someone and... what do you mean that is the intention? WHAT??? You want to hurt me? But... but... but...

Oh, alright, no the story isn't really over.

In all seriousness, the story I have in my head really exists out of two parts. The first part has now been told, but there is still a lot to come. In a way, the two parts are so separate that they are almost two stories. So I decided to do just that.

The story you have been reading 'til now, about Voyager's capture and escape, that was the story 'Alternate Choices'.
And now that the choices are made, the plot will continue in the second story which will be called, 'Alternate Consequences'. You will probably find that story on the same site where this one was posted. :)

And as a last note, no, I didn't get rid of Janeway only because I don't like her. As writer I can make her however I want. No, I got rid of her for a very good reason. Trust me, there is reasoning behind my madness.

Thanks for reading,
H.W.

Started: January 01, 2003
Finished: March 03, 2004
Finished Second Edit: March 10, 2010