The Gift of Time
by
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and backstory to Star Trek: Voyager. That honor goes to Paramount Pictures etc. I'm just borrowing them for a while and I'll put them back when I'm through.
Content Warning: This is not for the closed of mind. This story is about how love can manifest in many ways and how it can sometimes be shared by more than two. If this isn't your kind of story, if you're underage, or reading something of this nature is illegal where you live, please find another story.
Dedication: To the Bright Lady Bridget, for her inspiration. To DiNovia, for the ideas *wink*. To Gina Dartt, for B'Elanna's crush. Thank you. To my readers, Thank you, thank you, thank you. Your support means more to me than gold.
Note: This story is a sequel to my previous story, Challenges. Enjoy! : )
Part One: Days of Future Past
Personal Log: Seven of Nine recording.
When Voyager returned to the Alpha quadrant, no one, not even I, anticipated the reception we received. Indeed, we were too happy to care that Starfleet did not regard our ship as the return of the prodigal daughter. I remember with poignant intensity that Kathryn jumped out of her command chair the moment we cleared the spacial fissure we'd discovered, ordering that whatever was outside of our hull be displayed at once upon the main viewer. A collective gasp filled the bridge as the blue orb that is Earth filled everyone's vision. They -- we -- were home. No one was more surprised than I when Kathryn then circled around to my station, stopped in front of me, and stood on tip-toe to kiss me ferociously. I returned the embrace, somewhat puzzled at the display, but enjoying it none-the-less. That was the last chance I had to kiss her before the trial.
After being hailed as lost sheep returned to the fold, Kathryn was called before a court of inquiry to testify to her actions in the Delta quadrant. Chakotay and his Maquis were called to stand trial for their crimes as terrorists, and I, Seven of Nine, former Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix Zero-One was called to answer to the crimes of my entire species. I was Borg, and as such, responsible for the destruction of countless peoples and civilizations.
I was incarcerated for five years in a classified Starfleet facility and forced to recount every last iota of information I could recall regarding the Collective. I would have given them the knowledge, had they asked. I did not need their prodding, but Admiral Necheyev refused to believe that I would willingly "give up my secrets".
The former Maquis were pardoned. As part of the treaty between Cardassia and the Federation, a planet had been granted to any survivors of the former militant group for colonization. Many of Voyager's crew chose to go and make a new life there. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres opted to rejoin Starfleet, and because of Kathryn's recommendation, was allowed to finished her time at the Academy. I was happy for my friend, and I hoped that she would allow herself to succeed. Commander Chakotay was contacted by other Maquis and joined them to search the quadrant for other survivors. Although the commander and I had not "clicked" as friends, I often thought of him out there, roaming the stars.
Ensign Tom Paris took a job as a test pilot for the Research and Development arm of Starfleet, perhaps the best place for him. Ensign Harry Kim was promoted, and continued to serve on Voyager, under the command of Captain Tuvok. I believe the moment of my mentor's promotion from Tactical Officer to Captain was perhaps the most unanticipated of his Vulcan life. I wish that I could have been there to see his face.
The EMH, our sentient holographic doctor, was downloaded to Starfleet medical, where his every program string was peeled apart, then reassembled. He was determined to be a sentient being and granted full citizenship to the Federation four years after our return.
Ensign Samantha Wildman was reunited with her husband, the Ktarian Greskrendtregk, and she continued to flourish as an Exobiologist, stationed on Deep Space 9. Her daughter Naomi entered the Academy at the age of 12 and became an exemplary student.
Captain Kathryn Janeway, my beloved, was court-martialed and ordered to serve a term of no more than ten and not less than five years in a maximum security prison. Five years later, she was released, and given another chance at command. During that time, I heard from her once. Just before she stepped on the transporter pad that would take her away, she asked to see me. We had exactly 5.745 minutes of time together. She said to me, "Darling, it will get worse before it gets better, but it will get better, and we will be together. I love you." Then she kissed me, and stepped onto the pad. It was the last time I saw her.
After five years, she was released and given command of the USS Peregrine, but I was still imprisoned on Earth, pouring out my memories to plain faced men and women. She took her new ship out to the borderlands, and was promptly engaged by a rogue Cardassian Gul, who shot down her tiny ship, killing everyone aboard.
When they told me of my Kathryn's death, I went a little insane. I laid in my cell crying, and refused to move, to speak, or even to eat. Starfleet was so shocked at the depth of my emotion, they called in their best authority on Borg. Counselor Deanna Troi and Captain Jean-Luc Picard spent only a few moments in my company before giving their evaluations.
"For God's sake man, she's Human!" Captain Picard said fervently to Admiral Ross.
Later, Counselor Troi told me that she had primly informed Admiral Necheyev, who still doubted my humanity, that, "Borg do not cry, ma'am."
I was allowed to view the funeral via 3D projection, then asked, politely, if I would please assist Starfleet medical in understanding more about Borg physiology. Having no where else to turn, I agreed.
The medical arm of Starfleet was kinder, but I was still a guinea pig to be studied, probed and catalogued. The implants that controlled my digestive tract had been removed while I'd been a "guest" of the military, so the doctors focused on the remaining implants. In medical, I met several other severed drones who had not fared as well as I; I'd like to think that I had some small success in assisting their re-integration into Federation society.
Once medical was through with me, I willingly went to psychiatry, where I spent two years having my "head shrunk". (Strange, my cranium is no smaller than it was when I first arrived, but Deanna apparently thought that was an apt description of what they did.)
Two years later, I left with a Federation citizenship and the thanks of Starfleet. I nearly rejected the citizenship, wanting nothing more than to crawl in a hole somewhere and expire. I had nothing to live for, without Kathryn. Yet, somehow, I could not die. A message came to me, from Earth, from her family, asking me to meet them, so I went.
Gretchen and Phoebe Janeway welcomed me into their fold with open arms and tear-stained faces, and together, we spent six months relating stories of Kathryn's youth, and of her time in the Delta quadrant. I also discovered that they had letters for me, letters from Kathryn that were written while in prison, and while in command of the Peregrine. I can never thank Phoebe and Gretchen enough for the healing they offered me. Their open, unrestrictive love allowed me to let go of the ball of hurt that had formed inside of me. It was then that I was able to grieve for my Kathryn.
Phoebe discovered that I had a love of the game of Velocity, so she started challenging me to matches and soon, I was competing against some of the best players in the league. I actually won several of those games and became something of a local celebrity, notorious not for my strange implants, but for my speed and cunning on the court. I even looked up the remaining Hansens, and was only mildly disappointed when they were coldly distant, declining to meet in person. The Janeways were more than willing to become my adoptive family, encouraging me in all that I did, and Phoebe was a wonderful chaperone to the many community gatherings.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that I was lonely. That above all else, I missed the companionship that Kathryn and I had barely begun to develop. It was then that I recalled the one other person that had affected me as deeply as Kathryn had. B'Elanna Torres. My first kiss, my "first crush" as Counselor Troi had explained it, late one night after an exhaustive "head shrinking" session. Then, I realized that I wanted to know what had happened to the rest of Voyager's crew.
A letter has come. A missive from my old friend Tuvok requesting that I join the rest of Voyager's crew at Sandrine's in Paris on the date of the tenth anniversary of Voyager's return to the Alpha quadrant. I am scared. I fear what I will find, and even more, I fear that I will not find it at all. Will she be there? And if she is, will she still feel the same? It is with great trepidation that I prepare to join my old friends, but I have to go. I must, because Kathryn would have wanted me to.
End Log.
Chapter One
Seven of Nine entered the darkened bar and stopped to look around, briefly shaken by the familiar-but-not surroundings. She recalled with perfect clarity the holoprogram of the same name that Tom Paris had designed, but being in the real thing was ineffably different. She was the first to arrive, having made it a point to do so in order to find a good seat. Seven walked over to the bar, acquired a stool and ordered a glass of water with a twist of lime. She preferred to stay sober for the moment, knowing that later, she would share many drinks with the rest of Tuvok's guests. Voyager's captain, once her tactical officer, had sent letters to every former member of Captain Janeway's ship he could find, inviting them to come and celebrate the tenth anniversary of their return to the Alpha quadrant.
They arrived slowly, by twos and threes, some changed, some still so familiar, that Seven had to pinch herself to remember that they were on Earth, not somewhere in the Delta quadrant. The biggest surprise came in the form of a fifteen year-old Naomi Wildman, now a cadet at Starfleet, who, upon seeing Seven, raced across the room to throw herself into the former Borg's arms.
"OhSevenImissedyousomuchItriedtowritebuttheykeptsendingmylettersback!" The teen babbled, while tears of joy leaked out of her eyes. Seven just held the girl close, mindful of the wicked looking spikes that now protruded a good two inches from Naomi's forehead, and enjoyed the warmth of the contact. She had missed the precocious child, and had hoped that the girl had done well for herself in the decade since Voyager's return. Even Samantha had tears and a hug for the Borg, as the two had become friends in the Delta quadrant, brought together by their love for Naomi. Next to arrive were Tuvok and B'Elanna, both still in uniform.
Hesitantly, B'Elanna approached Seven, stopping to greet others along the way, until finally, she stood before the former Borg. Seven noted an extra pip on the former lieutenant's collar and cocked an eyebrow in surprise.
"Seven," she stated, tasting the word, and finding that it wasn't bitter.
"Lieutenant Commander Torres. It is good to see you." Seven's eyes were shining with unshed tears.
"Yeah? You too, Blue Eyes." Then B'Elanna did perhaps the most surprising thing of her life, she broke down into tears, crying softly while reaching for Seven. The two women cried together for a while, then B'Elanna pulled away, chuckling and wiping away tears. "Look at us! We must look like a couple of babies, carrying on like this."
Seven just smiled, and used her napkin to clean her face. Once B'Elanna had regained her composure, she looked at Seven and said, "I hate you. I cry, I look like someone sucker punched me in the face. You cry, and you look gorgeous."
The other woman had no answer for the half-Klingon, as she was looking at the entrance. Chakotay and Neelix entered together, the last members of their reunited family to arrive. Chakotay looked the most aged of them all, gray and white streaking his hair and deep lines furrowing his face, while Neelix looked the same as he always did, with perhaps longer whiskers and a few more spots.
Everyone rushed up to greet the former first officer and the Talaxian ambassador. Neelix had a smile and a kind word for everyone, remembering each person by name or face. Chakotay was more reserved, nodding, or shaking hands solemnly. B'Elanna he hugged tightly, fiercely. Strangely, he even had a hug for Seven, almost clinging to the former Borg, and she got the feeling that he was using her as a support, a wall against whatever emotions were raging below the surface of his calm, weary exterior.
"Seven, it's good to see you again," he said, the tattoo above his left eye crinkling upward in a mockery of his once open grin. "I'm glad they finally saw fit to let you go," he added in a soft growl. "Kathryn and I protested your detainment as often as we could, until not even an underling would accept our communiqués. I'm sorry it took so long."
"I am undamaged, Commander." Seven replied, just as softly, granting the former first officer his old rank out of respect. Chakotay let her go, squeezing her shoulders briefly before continuing to greet the rest of Voyager's former crew. He and Tuvok shared a cordial, if strained, greeting.
"Captain." Chakotay inclined his head, but did not shake the Vulcan's hand. The ex-Maquis had not been pleased when Voyager's chief of security had requested permission to represent the Maquis during their trial. He was even less pleased when Tuvok had not only secured the Maquis' freedom, but also brokered a deal to get them a new colony planet. Chakotay had felt emasculated by the Vulcan's logical actions; for years he had envisioned himself leading a passionate fight for his people's rights, and instead, had become enmeshed in a world of dark alleyways, political scrambling and rumor hunting.
"Prime Minister." Tuvok also nodded, referring to Chakotay's new designation as Prime Minister of Liberty Prime, the planet ceded to the surviving Maquis. Each man circled the other like two old dogs who didn't know whether to bark, bite, or share the food dish. Finally, they determined not to cause a problem, and sat down together, jovially talking about old times.
Music, laughter, and dancing soon became the prevalent atmosphere. Seven, who had been "people watching" as Phoebe Janeway had termed the Borg's incessant need to study humanity, noticed that several young men were eyeing Naomi in the way young men had been eyeing young women for centuries. She smirked, leaned over and whispered, "I see you have attracted a following." Naomi glanced over to where Seven was indicating, then sighed heavily.
"Oh, they're just boys." The teenager said agrievedly.
"Indeed. I was led to believe that this is usually a good thing, for young women your age." Seven pointed out, one eyebrow arched as Naomi sighed again.
"Oh, no. I don't like boys." One young man was had slowly separated from the pack and was slowly approaching Seven and Naomi, his purpose clear. He wanted to ask Naomi to dance. Just before he reached the two women however, Naomi grabbed Seven's hand and dragged her out onto the floor. "Quick, dance with me!" she whispered hastily to a confused Seven.
Thanks to Kathryn, Seven understood the concept of dancing -- moving in time to a set rhythm --and she was prepared to dance, what surprised her was her partner. Naomi Wildman, whom she remembered as a precocious five year old child hiding in cargo bay two because she was afraid of going to Earth. Now she was a young woman, on the edge of adulthood and about to blossom. Very gently, Seven cradled the girl in her arms, allowing Naomi to lead as they moved across the dance floor, swaying slowly to a quiet song. The half-Ktarian looked into Seven's eyes and sighed happily.
"Thank you for dancing with me Seven. It's been a wish I've had for a long time."
"Really? Why is that, Naomi?" Seven asked, amused. Naomi blushed, the base of her spikes turning almost purple with her embarrassment.
"Well you know that when I was a kid I idolized you... and... that just sorta grew into this impossible crush." Naomi took a deep breath, looking away for a heartbeat, then she returned her gaze to Seven's shocked expression. "I mean, IknownothingwouldeverhappencuzyouloveCaptainJaneway, but..." she took another deep breath, "it was a nice dream."
Seven was quiet as she assimilated this information. "You have a crush on me?" She finally managed to get out, still unable to process the data. Naomi smiled shyly, enjoying having shocked the normally unflappable Borg.
"Yeah," then she grinned mischievously, "but not nearly as huge as the one that B'Elanna's got!"
"I beg your pardon?" Seven choked, almost laughing. Naomi directed Seven closer to where the half-Klingon had gone to sit.
"Look at her, Seven." The teenager indicated B'Elanna with her jaw. Seven looked, and was taken aback by the haunted look that shadowed the engineer's eyes; eyes that were glued to Seven of Nine. Naomi moved them away, back to the middle of the floor. "Well?" she whispered conspiratorially.
"I do not have enough evidence to substantiate your claims, Naomi," replied the Borg.
"Now you sound like Professor Data." Naomi stuck her tongue out at Seven, grimacing. Seven's Borg-enhanced memory filled with images of a gold-skinned, amber-eyed android that at one time almost became a part of the Collective. Her memories painted him as a mad mannikin, strung up in a maze of wires as a Queen played merry havoc with his positronic relays. Momentarily, she wondered if he remembered the perfection of the Collective, the harmony of many voices speaking as one, and then, that faded, to be replaced with a deep sense of revulsion. That was a harmony she never wanted to experience again. She was individual -- alone, terribly alone -- but she would endure that a thousand times over, rather than return to the Borg hive.
Unconsciously, she and Naomi had moved closer together, allowing the slow jazz beat to carry them around the dance floor, and Seven realized that Naomi had almost fallen asleep with her head on the Borg's shoulder. Gently, Seven led the dozing teenager over to her parents, brushed a kiss across Naomi's forehead, then found a seat at the bar. She needed to sit down, she realized, as the surprises of the night were a bit much even for her.
Most of the dancers had settled down, and Tuvok, perhaps understanding that everyone was relaxed, stood, and motioned for attention. "Crewmembers of Voyager, past and present, I have an announcement to make." The dark skinned Vulcan stepped into the center of the bar, so that his voice would reach everyone.
"Many of you are aware that Voyager has been completely redesigned and outfitted with the new transwarp drive. What you may not be aware of is this: its maiden voyage is to return to the Delta quadrant." He paused to allow the gasps and murmurs to die down once more.
"Starfleet Command has granted me the privilege of choosing my crew -- and I could think of no better crew to have than one that has already proven its mettle. I am asking you, those of you that have left Starfleet, or who were Maquis, or who have been assigned elsewhere, will you accompany me on this mission?"
Chakotay, whose face had been growing darker and darker with emotion, finally stood and barked, "Tuvok, you can't be serious?"
"I assure you Prime Minister, I am very serious."
"Well you can count me out of this farce. I'd rather rot in a Cardassian prison than return to the Delta quadrant." The former first officer turned his back on the mixed group of Starfleet and ex-Maquis and stormed out of Sandrine's, leaving a chill wind in his wake.
Finally, Neelix spoke up, breaking the uneasy silence. "I for one am excited to be a part of this mission. I look forward to returning to the Delta quadrant and seeing all of our old friends." Several other current members of Voyager's crew nodded in agreement.
"I will go." Seven stepped forward, challenging Tuvok to nay-say her with a proudly lifted chin.
"You will be welcome, Seven," Tuvok said, raising his eyebrow at her near vehemence.
"Well, you can't expect to go back to the Delta quadrant and not have the best damn pilot in the galaxy with you." Tom Paris stepped forward as well. By ones and twos, the former members of Voyager's crew stepped up to join, those still in Starfleet accepting padds from Tuvok containing orders for their change of post and the rest stepping out to begin the preparations to rejoin Voyager. Soon, only Tuvok, the Wildmans, the Doctor, B'Elanna and Seven remained in the bar.
"I supposed I too should volunteer, if only to keep you all out of trouble." Voyager's former Emergency Medical Hologram, now affectionately called "Doc Z", said while crossing his arms and looking mildly put out by the whole idea.
"You too will be welcome, Doctor." Tuvok turned to look at Sam Wildman, who had attained the rank of Lieutenant and become head of Exobiology on Deep Space Nine. Sam and her husband shared a long look while Naomi seemed to nearly burst with the need to say something. The teen could not hold her tongue any longer.
"Captain Tuvok, I graduate in a week and, if you request it, I could also join you. I would very much like to be a part of Voyager's new crew. I have spent much of my time at the Academy studying the data that was gathered while we were there originally. I would like the opportunity to gather even more data." Naomi Wildman had taken after both her mother, Samantha and her mentor, Seven and had become a bio-engineer, actually designing and building a series of prosthetic limbs for small animals during her years as a cadet.
Tuvok's eyes narrowed minutely at the cadet's outburst, then nodded. "I will not promise anything, Cadet, but I will consider your request."
Meanwhile, Sam and Greskrendtregk, her Ktarian husband, had been quietly talking. Sam nodded, then said, "I will go as well. Gres can't join us, as he is too important to his family's business here, but I understand that Voyager is equipped with long range communication devices, as well as relay beacons. I assume that part of our mission will be to lay out a communications network?"
"The mission parameters will be explained at the first briefing, which will take place exactly one week and 3 days from now." The Vulcan replied. "Now I must go. I was... gratified... to see everyone again."
"Yes, we must go too." Sam added, as Gres and Naomi stood. Naomi grabbed Seven and squished her in a bone-jarring hug before joining her parents.
"Bye, Seven. Will you come to my graduation?"
"Of course," Seven, whose eyes had grown a little misty, answered solemnly. Soon, it was just B'Elanna and Seven. Sandrine, noticing this, removed the "private party" sign from the window, and within a few short minutes, the nightclub was once again filled with customers. Music, tobacco smoke and the sound of pool cues cracking against balls threaded the air. Seven had resumed her seat at the bar and was nursing a glass of water with a twist, while B'Elanna was situated across from her, at a small table, chugging Tarkathian ales.
Eventually, the half-Klingon looked up, catching Seven's eye. Seven raised an eyebrow, waiting for the engineer to say something.
"Well, are you just going to sit there, or do I have to come over there and threaten to beat you up to get you to share a drink with me?" B'Elanna finally growled.
"I never thought you'd ask, Lieutenant." Seven drawled, taking her drink and joining B'Elanna at her table.
"That's Lieutenant Commander to you, Borg," B'Elanna growled playfully. "You sure ain't what you used to be, are you Seven?" B'Elanna added after the Borg had sat down, leaning against the wall, crossing her legs at the ankles.
Seven shrugged elegantly, rolling her shoulders and cocking her head to the side. "I am no longer Borg, I am -- me. Ten years is a long time to be severed from the Collective." She took a drink of her water, setting the nearly empty glass down. "Starfleet prides itself on its ability to debrief anyone. I spent five years being 'debriefed'."
"I guess I should be thankful you're not a vegetable then," B'Elanna said dryly, draining her mug, then punching up an order for another. Two beverages materialized on the table's replicator pad and she handed the other woman the flute of champagne she'd added to her order.
"Thank you." Seven smiled faintly as she raised the glass to her lips, slowly tasting the fizzy liquid, memories of the first -- and last -- times she'd had the drink.
The first had been at a party on Voyager, to celebrate what was thought to be the successful installation of the slipstream drive. The last had been on her final night aboard Voyager, in Kathryn's quarters, with the auburn-haired captain curled into the circle of her arms. Seven sipped the bittersweet liquid, ignoring the tears that slipped down her face.
"Well, targ farts." B'Elanna cursed.
"Excuse me?" Seven choked, laughter warring with her tears.
"I made you cry, and damnit, that's the last thing I ... oh never mind!" B'Elanna buried her head in her hands.
"B'Elanna, you did not 'make' me cry. I was just reminded of Kathryn, and that never makes me sad."
"You don't have many regrets, do you, Blue Eyes?"
"No, I don't."
"I should be so lucky," muttered the half-Klingon woman into her ale.
"What regrets do you have, B'Elanna?"
B'Elanna was just drunk enough that she answered. "Regrets? I got lots of those, Blue Eyes."
"Such as?" Seven pressed, amused.
"Well, f'r instance, I wish I'd been the one to ask you to dance earlier." The engineer blinked owlishly, the dozen Tarkathian ales she'd consumed doing their job and making things fuzzy around the edges. "Of course, now there's like six of you, and I couldn't possibly dance with all of you."
Seven sipped her champagne, smiling around the edge of her glass. She remembered the first time she'd ever been kissed. The absolute storm of emotions that had raged through her body, the strong need to touch -- all of it inspired by the woman sitting across from her. Suddenly, that storm came back, drenching her with desire, and she set her glass down.
"Too bad, B'Elanna Torres. I would have danced with you." While B'Elanna sat there gaping at Seven, the Borg lifted her glass in a mock salute and drained the contents. She stood and looked down at the still dumbfounded lieutenant. "Well?" Seven smirked, and held out her hand.
"Huh? Oh, yeah." B'Elanna took the offered hand and found herself hauled to her feet, then caught in two strong arms that held her upright. She looked up and fell. Seven's eyes were locked on hers, twin phasers of electric blue that stabbed straight to B'Elanna's groin. "Kahless," she whispered breathlessly as Seven glided them out to the dance floor. The Klingon in her struggled to break free, to rise up and take over. It wanted to grab Seven, fling her over a shoulder and run off into the woods. However, the Human side was quite pleased with the way things were going and primly told the Klingon to Hush and Go Lay Down. B'Elanna melted into Seven's embrace, allowing the younger woman to set the tone of the dance.
In her mind, Seven was remembering the patience of another woman, who took two days off to teach her new lover the intricacies of dancing. Seven echoed those slow, hesitant steps now, allowing the alcohol in B'Elanna's system time to wear off.
Gradually, the engineer became more alert, coming to complete sobriety when she felt gentle fingers begin to caress her neck and back as she was led in a slow dance that seemed older than time itself. "Uh, Seven, what are you doing?" she hissed, not quite jerking out of the warm embrace.
"Dancing with you, Commander. Is there a problem?" Seven's ocular implant rose, twinkling in the dim light of the nightclub.
"Um, no, I guess not. I just... Damnit Seven, how can you still do this to me after ten years?" demanded the half-Klingon suddenly.
"You have the advantage of me once again, B'Elanna. Do what to you?"
"This." B'Elanna stopped dancing, tilted her head up, stood on tip-toe and kissed Seven on the lips, allowing the Borg to feel just a hint of the emotions roiling just under her skin. Surprisingly, Seven returned the kiss, deepening it, returning the passion two-fold. They parted and B'Elanna rested her forehead against the soft fabric of Seven's dark purple biometric suit. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."
"You are correct, I do not know. Please enlighten me?" Seven smiled at the half-Klingon, then brushed her lips over B'Elanna's dark auburn hair.
B'Elanna took a deep breath and said, "Ever since the first time you kissed me, I've wanted you to kiss me again. Don't get me wrong, I never would have gotten between you and Kathryn, but damnit if I wasn't jealous of the two of you."
"What of Mr. Paris? He was the reason you used to keep us from beginning a romantic relationship to begin with."
"Oh, you mean Tom 'Studboy' Paris? Mr. 'I can't keep it in my pants' didn't even wait two days before breaking up with me once we returned to the Alpha quadrant." B'Elanna laughed, a harsh, self-mocking bark. "You know, I can remember lying in bed with him that last day, wishing that I was playing poker with you and Kathryn instead... I would have given anything just to be in your presence, rather than under his sweaty body." She sighed, then growled. "Well, given the state of things, what with the trials and all that, once I was free, I ran. I ran far and fast. I went all the way to Qo'noS, looking for myself. I was standing in the great marketplace, looking at a broken down power converter when I realized that my place was on a ship, in the Engineering section. I went back to Starfleet, made my amends, finished my courses, and for some reason only Kahless knows, Tuvok agreed to let me back on board Voyager."
"Mmm. I'm glad you found what you were looking for B'Elanna. My years were spent alone but for the company of books, and the occasional visit by Counselor Deanna Troi."
"Hey, at least she was nice to look at. Have you seen what some of those Academy professors look like?" Both women shared a laugh. Then a kiss, then another, until they had stopped dancing and were much more interested in speaking in a non-verbal language.
"Okay ladies, we're closing for the day." The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to illuminate the bottom row of windowpanes of Sandrine's. Sandrine herself was watching over Seven and B'Elanna with a somewhat proprietary expression. "Get on out of here before I have Jean-Paul douse you with ice water."
Seven pulled away from B'Elanna, eyes twinkling merrily. "I believe we are being 'thrown out'."
"Hmm. You may be right. Your place or mine?"
"My 'place' at this time is Kathryn's old room in the Janeway family home... perhaps your quarters would be more appropriate?" The two women had walked outside, arm in arm and B'Elanna was resting her head resting against Seven's chest.
"Hm.. Yeah, that would probably not be kosher. Okay, we'll go to my place, though I gotta warn you -- it's a dump."
"B'Elanna -- I lived in a cargo bay on board an Intrepid class ship, not to mention the size of the quarters that Starfleet considered adequate for my living space -- I doubt your place is a 'dump'."
"Just wait." They walked together through a steadily increasing traffic of people. Bicycles, hovercars and vendor's carts began to appear, as if from nowhere, lining the streets. The vendors began hawking their wares, coffee, croissants, and other morning sundries. At one cart, B'Elanna stopped and traded some ration vouchers for a couple of cups of tea and two croissants. "Breakfast." She offered the food and drink to Seven, who took it gratefully. She hadn't eaten anything since dinner the day before at the Janeway's. They walked and ate in silence, B'Elanna leading the way. Finally, they came to a transporter station. B'Elanna gave the operator a set of coordinates and then she and Seven stepped onto the pad.
When their molecules recombined, they were standing in the main room of a run down motel. A double bed, a ratty couch, a table, two chairs, a beat up dresser and a 3D projector were the only furniture. The bed was so old that an impression had formed down the center of the mattress where B'Elanna had been sleeping. There was a tablecloth on the table, but it was so tattered that it resembled fine lace. Seven looked around, taking in the water stains on the ceiling, rough spots in the battered shag rug and badly patched walls.
"I stand corrected. This is a dump."
"Gee, thanks. You know Blue Eyes, you've got a great way of making a girl feel better." B'Elanna quipped as she tossed her empty cup into a trash recycler.
"Would you feel any better if I said that I wouldn't care if this was the finest hotel on Risa, I'm just pleased to be here with you?"
"Oh, now you're a romantic, too?" B'Elanna asked as she stepped up to Seven and wrapped her arms around the taller woman's waist.
"Of course. Romance is an efficient method of wooing someone."
"Oh? Well, why don't you use a little of that efficiency right now?" purred the engineer. Seven smirked, then bent her head down to brush feather light kisses over B'Elanna's lips.
"Like this?" she whispered, enfolding the smaller woman in her arms, then lifting her up to kiss her deeply.
"Mmm. Yes, exactly." B'Elanna replied when they stopped to catch their breath. "But I think I like this even better." The engineer slid her hands up from Seven's waist to cup the Borg's breasts, chaffing the rapidly hardening nipples with her palms. Seven moaned with delight, leaning into the half-Klingon's touch as B'Elanna's caresses grew bolder.
"I like it too," Seven whispered. B'Elanna smiled and allowed her hands to grow bolder, wandering over the Borg's body possessively. When she found the catch that opened the biometric suit, the engineer's smile turned mischievous.
"Ah, what have we here? I wonder what this does?" Deft fingers released the fastening, parting the back of the dark purple unitard. "Well isn't this convenient?"
"Efficient." Seven corrected softly as B'Elanna began peeling the fabric back, revealing the Borg's pale skin.
"Well, I gotta hand it to Doc Z, his designs just get better and better." The unitard pulled away easily, allowing B'Elanna instant and total access to Seven's full breasts. She buried her face between them, inhaling the unique scent that was part soap, part perfume and part Seven. Her hands had wandered back to caress the naked flesh, pinching and rolling Seven's nipples until they were pebble-hard. Seven's breath was coming in staccato gasps as B'Elanna continued to fondle and nuzzle her breasts.
Finally, Seven couldn't take the teasing touches any longer and she growled, "Bed, now."
"Ooo. Demanding, are we?" B'Elanna teased, leaning up to nip Seven's throat lightly. Seven didn't reply, just lifted up the lieutenant and carried her over to the bed, covering her face with hungry kisses. Words weren't needed as they slowly stripped each other of their clothes. Neither could get enough of touching the other, even when those caresses sometimes brought laughter.
B'Elanna cried afterward, huddled in Seven's arms as the Borg comforted her. "Sorry," she muttered when she had calmed down. "I don't know why I did that."
"It's all right." Seven said soothingly, uncertain as to what to say, just aware that she needed to say something in order to help her new lover.
"Thanks, Seven." B'Elanna sighed. "You know, I don't know that I'm in love with you, but this is definitely shading into deep like," she said as she snuggled up to Seven, pulling the blanket up over them to ward off any chill.
"I have a deep regard for you as well, B'Elanna." Seven murmured sleepily, already slipping into dreamland.
"Computer, lights out," the engineer called out as she too joined Seven in Morpheus' realm.
Chapter Two
Seven awoke on an unfamiliar bed with someone curled up nearly on top of her. She felt very strange -- very detached. She looked down, and the entire memory of the day before came splashing down on her. What have I done? she thought, feeling a chill shake her to the bone. She had made love to B'Elanna Torres, that's what she'd done. Suddenly Kathryn's face filled her mind, a face that was accusingly stern.
"You betrayed me." Kathryn mocked. "You never loved me. You only used me. I was nothing to you, nothing. Just another conquest -- another 'lesson' in humanity."
"No," she whispered hoarsely, rolling out from under B'Elanna. Quickly, she dressed, and before the half-Klingon was fully aware of what was happening, Seven was gone.
Seven raced out into the early morning fog, running away from B'Elanna and her perceived infidelity as fast as her Borg-enhanced legs would carry her. She ran for miles, not thinking, only concentrating on putting on foot in front of the other.
Some time before dawn, she ended up in a small park where she collapsed on the dew-dampened ground, crying. She felt worthless, self-hatred spiking deep into her heart, making her want to bash her skull against the nearest solid object. She curled her knees up under her chin, rocking back and forth as sobs wracked her body. A warm hand covered her shoulder and she didn't look up.
::Annika.:: A voice she knew so well, a voice that had been in her dreams for nearly ten years touched her mind.
"No. Go away. You're not real." She muttered.
::Annika. Listen to me.:: Kathryn Janeway's warm, rich voice reached out to enshroud Seven in a haze of remembered love. Seven pulled away, looking up, attempting to challenge what she believed to be a hallucination. Her eyes grew wide as she saw what was "speaking" to her. It was Kathryn. But it was no vision. Standing before her, feet just a few centimeters above the grass, body rimmed by a dim blue-gray aura was Captain Kathryn Janeway.
"Kathryn?" she choked out, wiping her away her tears with the back of her hand. "Is it really you? You are not dead?"
::Oh Annika, I wish I could tell you that I was here, that I was alive and well and ready to take you home to Indiana. But I can't. Gul Murat was very thorough. No, I am here because of a favor owed to me by a friend. He gave me this time to come to you and tell you not to throw away your life for me.::
"But... I... I have betrayed you, Kathryn." Seven sniffled, then harshly said, "I have copulated with B'Elanna." Seven went on to describe, in perfect detail, exactly what she and B'Elanna had done the night before.
Kathryn seemed taken aback by Seven's words, but then she smiled softly. ::Oh darling, I'm glad. At least, I'm glad if you made love to B'Elanna because you care for her. You need to move on, to live your life for you, and not exist in the past, and what might have been.::
"You're not -- angry -- with me?" Seven asked, hope and incredulity washing away the Borg's self-hatred.
::Of course not! I want you to be happy, Annika, and if B'Elanna makes you happy, then I think that's wonderful.:: Janeway sat down next to Seven on the grass, wrapping her ghostly, yet tangible arm around Seven's shoulders. Leaning over, she cupped her hand to Seven's ear and "whispered", ::Can I tell you a secret?::
The complete change in her former lover's attitude shocked Seven into answering, "Sure."
::I used to have quite a crush on B'Elanna myself.:: Kathryn chuckled at Seven's stunned expression. ::Oh dear, you look as though you'd been struck by a level two phaser blast!::
"Kathryn, you, crush, B'Elanna?" Seven babbled.
::Yes dear. Me, crush, B'Elanna. Now, I can't stay too much longer, so I want to tell you that I love you. I will always love you.:: The captain's form began to waver and the warmth of her arm started to dissipate.
"I love you to Kathryn. Always." Seven's tears streamed again as Kathryn Janeway vanished, once again gone from Seven's life.
::Don't hate yourself my love. Go back to B'Elanna, she's waiting for you.::
***
Seven somehow managed to relocate then quietly slip back into B'Elanna's motel room. She could hear the whine of the sonic shower and realized that she'd have to explain her absence, but at that moment, her stomach reminded her that it had been a while since she'd had anything to eat. She walked to the replicator, keyed in her personal code, then entered a recipe for hot cinnamon rolls and milk.
In the shower, B'Elanna leaned her head against the tiled wall and cried. She'd awakened to find Seven gone, no note or indication of where she was, just the vaguest impression left by her slim body in the sheets. The half-Klingon felt like an idiot. She felt like as if she'd pushed Seven away, allowing the younger woman to see into her secret self like she had. The showered cheeped at her, shutting off. Vaguely she recognized the scent of cinnamon and sugar drifting through the room, and heard her stomach growl, demanding attention. With a towel tucked haphazardly around her body, B'Elanna wandered back out into the main chamber of the room, surprised nearly into dropping the towel when she saw Seven standing by the replicator, taking a sip of milk.
"What the hell are you doing?" B'Elanna demanded.
"Eating breakfast," Seven replied calmly, left eyebrow raised only slightly. "Would you like a bite?" She broke off a piece of the sticky sweet and offered it to the engineer. B'Elanna was drawn to Seven's fingers, to the sugary glaze that was slowly dripping down them. She took a step forward, then tilted her head up, allowing a slightly mischievous grin to form on her lips.
Casually, B'Elanna wrapped her hand around Seven's wrist, then opened her mouth and took the bite offered, sucking off all the cinnamon syrup that had coated Seven's fingers. "Mmm," she purred, placing a soft kiss in Seven's palm. "Tastes wonderful." Still grasping Seven's hand, she asked, "Where have you been?"
Seven sighed. "I -- I had some thinking to do. I am sorry if my absence caused you any distress." The Borg traced the edge of B'Elanna's cheekbone gently. "I would never wish to hurt you." She stepped closer to the half-Klingon, continuing to caress her face, "That is the farthest thing from my mind."
B'Elanna's heart sped up as Seven approached, her breathing slowed to follow the rhythm of Seven's caress and she closed her eyes momentarily, lost in the sensation. "Oh Blue Eyes..." she whispered.
"Annika. Call me Annika, B'Ella." Tears slipped down the engineer's face and she reached blindly for Seven, pulling her down, searching for lips that would welcome hers.
***
Ten days passed quickly as Seven went about saying her good-byes first to the Janeways, and then to the friends she'd made on the Velocity circuit. Naomi's graduation was next, giving Seven her first real exposure to Starfleet Pomp and Circumstance since Voyager had originally returned to the Alpha quadrant. Now, as then, she felt it was way overblown, but somehow, that didn't seem to bother her as much when Naomi walked across the stage, proudly dressed in Sciences blue to accept her diploma, her Ensign's pip, and a handshake from Admiral Picard. Seven felt tears creep down her face as she applauded the young woman and she looked over at Sam and Gres, and saw that they, too, were crying.
B'Elanna, seated next to Seven, squeezed Seven's hand gently. "It's tough when they grow up, isn't it?"
"I did not recognize how much Naomi had progressed until tonight." Seven agreed quietly. The two women had decided not to hide their relationship, feeling that starting a mission with a lie would only encourage further misinformation and perhaps put them into situations that would be less than palatable.
After the graduation ceremony, there was a party and Seven made sure to dance with Naomi in front of all of the new ensign's friends. Naomi was ecstatic, knowing that the jealous looks her friends were tossing her way were all because of the beautiful blonde who was gracefully leading her around the dance floor.
For a gift, Seven designed and replicated a special padd for Naomi. The teen loved it of course, immediately checking the padd's database functions. Dazzled by the amount of information Seven had coded into the memory, she grinned wildly and said, "This is so cool."
A runner came to their table, bearing a message padd for Naomi. The newly graduated officer took the padd solemnly, read the message, then nodded. "Thank you, cadet." The runner raced off, handing out padds to other new grads as he went.
"So what'd it say, hon?" Samantha Wildman asked curiously. Naomi grinned like a Cheshire cat and the base of her spikes flushed with excitement.
"It said that 'Captain Tuvok of the starship Voyager has requested my presence aboard the NCC 74656-B at 0800 hours in three terran days.' I get to go!" she squeaked happily. Everyone at the table laughed, sharing in Naomi's enthusiasm.
Chapter Three
Three days later, they met again around a table, although this time, it was the table in the briefing room of Voyager. It was odd to see Tuvok in Captain Janeway's normal spot, but odder still to see Lieutenant Commander Harry Kim as First Officer, Lieutenant Tom Paris at the Conn, Ensign Naomi Wildman at Ops, Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres in Engineering, and, much to her surprise, Seven of Nine, granted a field commission of Lieutenant, as Tactical officer. Of course, Doc Z was the ship's Chief Medical Officer, Lieutenant Samantha Wildman was Chief of Sciences, and Neelix was acting once again in his capacity of Morale officer and Ambassador. Voyager had also added a Counselor, a half-Human, half-Betazoid named A'sha'heyrin deRosa to its crew.
"Greetings. I am Captain Tuvok. Let me begin by welcoming you all to Voyager. All of you have been familiarized with the new systems aboard Voyager, so I propose that we begin by discussing the mission parameters.
"We are returning to the Delta quadrant to test the new transwarp drive and establish First Contact with the races Voyager previously encountered. That is our public mission. We have also been enjoined to discover the source of this message." Tuvok nodded to Naomi, who nervously approached the wall display. She keyed in a few commands, and static filled the room.
".... anew... of the Federati... arshi... V... ger. Mayday. May..." the message repeated, several times before Tuvok nodded again, and Naomi cut the sound.
"Starfleet has spent the last four years analyzing this message and has determined that it is genuine, and does emanate from the Delta quadrant."
Seven felt as though she'd just attempted to walk through a warp core. B'Elanna blanched, and the rest of Voyager's original crew shared varying looks of surprise. Only Tuvok remained unaffected, perhaps because of his Vulcan heritage. Even Naomi, who had heard the message already in a private meeting with the captain, had tears in her eyes.
"I think that it is safe to say that we all understand how important it is to ascertain the veracity of this message," Tuvok gave everyone in the room a long look, then nodded. "Dismissed."
***
As they exited the briefing room, Counselor DeRosa stopped Seven. "Lieutenant Hansen, if I may, I'd like to have a word with you."
Seven, who was not used to the new name and rank, stopped short. "Yes, Counselor, how may I assist you?"
"I understand that you and Captain Janeway were... involved?" the counselor said quietly as they walked onto the bridge.
"That is correct." Seven assumed her post at the tactical station, keying in her operations code and beginning to read the telemetry displayed on her console.
"I just wanted you to know that my door is open, should you ever need to -- talk. Counselor Troi has told me many times about how much she enjoyed your company."
"Understood, counselor." Seven nodded, more interested in making absolutely certain that all the parameters for the transwarp engine were met than in what deRosa was saying. The counselor, knowing that she would get no further answer from the Borg, smiled faintly and exited the bridge.
"Report." Kim commanded.
"Starfleet command hailing, sir. We have been given clearance to depart." Ensign Wildman replied.
"Set a course for the Delta quadrant and engage transwarp engines on my mark, Mr. Paris." Tuvok said calmly.
"Aye, sir." Paris responded, tapping controls and setting a course.
"Mark." One touch, and Voyager leapt into a conduit, heading toward the known unknown. They were going back.
***
After her shift, Seven made her way to the quarters that she would share with B'Elanna Torres. The morning's revelation had shaken her to her core, and she needed to be held by her half-Klingon lover. B'Elanna was already home, pacing around the room, agitation clear in the set of her shoulders. Seven stepped in front of the engineer and held out her arms, indicating that she wished B'Elanna to hug her. The half-Klingon stopped pacing, crossed her arms over her chest, and cocked her head to the side.
"I don't think so. I think we need to have a talk first, Seven." B'Elanna's voice was dry and dispassionate, devoid of any of the usual warmth she held for her Borg lover. Seven felt as though she'd been punched in the gut, and her eyes began to tear up. "Oh, don't get all weepy on me either. I hate it when women cry." B'Elanna growled. "Siddown, lover," she indicated the couch, and when Seven gingerly sat on the edge of the seat, took the overstuffed chair kitty-corner to the Borg.
"B'Ella, what is wrong? Why are you so cold to me?"
"It's an honor thing, Annika. If Captain Janeway is alive, then by rights, you belong to her."
"I do not belong to anyone, B'Elanna Torres, least of all Kathryn Janeway." Seven replied acidly, clearly annoyed by B'Elanna's statement. At this moment, it did not seem at all prudent to bring up the fact that she had Kathryn's blessing on their union. After all, she still wasn't certain that she hadn't dreamed the entire conversation.
"But..."
"But nothing, B'Ella. I have given you my heart now. Whatever may have occurred in the past is the past. Besides," Seven reached out and took B'Elanna's unresisting hand in hers, kissing the knuckles gently, "you are assuming that it is Captain Janeway we are going to rescue. The message could have originated from a multitude of phenomena."
B'Elanna lowered her eyes, dipping her head and shaking it in shame. "You're right, again. Damnit. I'm sorry. I just wasn't thinking. Or," B'Elanna got up and crawled into the couch next to Seven, wanting to be held in the blonde's lanky arms, "perhaps I was thinking too much. I don't know." She sighed. "You know, I -- I almost hope that it is the captain. I mean, Tuvok's a good captain, and someday he'll make a great captain, but there was something about Kathryn Janeway..." B'Elanna's voice trailed off as Seven pulled her closer, brushing soft kisses over the half-Klingon's dark auburn hair.
"Captain Janeway inspired death-defying loyalty in her crew." Seven stated quietly, "and, with a little help from that crew, taught this drone how to love."
B'Elanna purred as Seven's fingers began to roam over her body, restlessly caressing the engineer's flesh. "Amen to that. Mmm. She was a great instructor." B'Elanna rolled over and kissed Seven deeply, flicking her tongue across the Borg's lips, then nipping her. "Musta been something else..." B'Elanna muttered as she brought her hands up and unpinned Seven's hair, raking her fingers through the golden strands.
"If you are referring to Kathryn's proficiency as a lover -- then, yes, she was well beyond adequate. Equal to you, B'Ella." Seven unzipped B'Elanna's tunic and slid her hands inside, cupping the engineer's full breasts, tweaking the erect nipples and sending sparks of white heat sizzling through B'Elanna's body.
"So glad..." B'Elanna moaned as she began divesting Seven of her clothes. They kissed again, hungry and needy embraces that roughened as they removed more clothing, the garb flying this way and that throughout the quarters.
"Bed," Seven said between kisses. "More efficient."
"I agree," B'Elanna replied, peeling herself off of the Borg. They went to the sleeping area and tumbled onto the queen-sized mattress. "Computer, lights out."
***
B'Elanna was lying curled on top of Seven, half-awake as the Borg traced abstract designs into the skin of her back. She purred contentedly and nuzzled Seven's neck with her lips, painting soft kisses over freshly marked flesh.
"Mmm. I like that." Seven murmured, raking her fingernails over B'Elanna's back languorously.
"I can tell." They kissed, soft, promises of desire, rather than the passionate kisses they'd
shared so recently. When they parted, B'Elanna looked down into Seven's dark blue eyes and whispered, "I don't expect you to feel the same, but I love you, Annika Hansen."
Seven pulled back and frowned. "Why?"
"What? I don't know why, I just do. I mean, it's not like I can analyze myself the way you do..."
"No. Why don't you expect me to feel the same?" B'Elanna had continued to speak, and Seven's question brought her up short.
"Uh... I guess I just got used to not expecting anything."
"Perhaps you should learn to." Seven smiled sadly, "Expect things, that is. I love you back, B'Elanna Torres."
B'Elanna's response was tears, hot and salty, that trickled from her eyes to splash onto Seven's face.
***
Days, weeks passed. It would take six months of hopping in and out of transwarp conduits to take them to the location of the Ocampa home world, a place which many of the crew looked forward to seeing again, including the Talaxian, Neelix. Even though he and Kes had ended their relationship, he still held a fondness in his heart for his beloved "sweetie-pie", and he wanted to honor her memory by visiting her family.
Shipboard life developed into a routine, and soon, the crew began to experience the signs of long term deep space missions -- boredom. This was when the holodecks became of paramount importance. Aside from the holodecks, there was Neelix, who had perfected methods of entertaining a starship crew strung out on severe cases of cabin fever. Now that they had a bonafide Counselor on board, he looked forward to discussing with her other methods of relaxing the crew.
Counselor deRosa herself was far more interested in getting either Seven of Nine or B'Elanna Torres to come in and see her, as she was the bearer of a heavy secret. Before she had left Earth and boarded Voyager, she had sought and received copies of all of Captain Kathryn Janeway's personal logs. Gretchen Janeway had been more than willing to turn over the data cubes full of her deceased daughter's recordings when A'sha'heyrin had said that she intended to use the content of the logs to help Seven cope with Kathryn's death. Not a complete untruth, but enough of one to make A'sha cringe, even now.
A'sha was in her office, which was ancillary to Doc Z's sickbay, perusing one of the early logs, and meditating over what she was going to do with the information she had gleaned. It seemed that Kathryn Janeway's passion for women hadn't started with Seven of Nine. Not at all. In fact, B'Elanna Torres featured quite prominently in the captain's early recordings, first as a thorn in the captain's side, then as a grudging admiration began to form, as a friend, and finally, as someone whom the captain cared deeply for. Until B'Elanna began to date the helmsman Tom Paris, that is.
One entry, made shortly after Tom had been demoted to Ensign, showed just how far Janeway had fallen, she said, "I don't know anymore if I pulled his pip because he had acted against Starfleet, or because he held the heart of the woman I have come to desire."
There were other, even more private entries, descriptions of dreams, desires and fantasies that made the good counselor blush to listen to them. There were also entries of pure anguish, arising from Janeway's need to castigate herself for stranding Voyager in the Delta quadrant, to the wrenching hurt caused by Mark Johnson's "Dear Jane" letter.
Then, there were the whimsical notations about Seven of Nine. Similar in content to the first entries made about B'Elanna Torres, they grew as her affection for the former Borg did. Until Kathryn stated, "I do not know if I could choose which one I desire more, Seven -- or B'Elanna. Each has a portion of my heart that I would not take back even if it were the only thing standing between me and death."
DeRosa knew the outcome of course, that Seven and Kathryn had started a tentative relationship that had been abruptly interrupted by Voyager's triumphant return to the Alpha quadrant, and then severed completely when the good captain had been murdered by Gul Murat. She sighed, then sent another message to B'Elanna Torres, requesting that she stop by and speak to her.
She was very surprised when the lieutenant actually came by a few minutes later. The half-Klingon stood in the counselor's office, fidgeting with the sleeves of her tunic.
"You wanted to see me, Counselor?"
"Yes, thank you for coming. I'm trying to make it a policy to get to know all of Voyager's crew, and you are among the last of those I have yet to interact with beyond a few words." All true, and almost all of it a pretense, but it served to make the engineer more comfortable. B'Elanna relaxed a fraction, shoulders slumping a little as she realized that it wasn't a "professional" visit.
"Okay. What'd you want to know? I mean, isn't everything Starfleet can dig up about us included in those files you get to look at?"
"What I want to know does not exist in a file, B'Elanna. Please, sit down. Are you still on duty, or can I get you a synthehol?" A'sha stood and noticed the engineer's eyes go wide when she realized just how petite she was. A'sha'heyrin deRosa stood just above five feet two inches high, the top of her head would just barely brush B'Elanna's chin.
The counselor could feel herself become the object of B'Elanna's intense study and she grinned privately, wondering briefly if the half-Klingon was sizing her up as a mate, or as an enemy. She was no terrific beauty, not like the statuesque Lieutenant Hansen that Torres was living with, but her curly, copper colored hair, hazel green eyes and freckle-dappled olive toned-skin combined in a not unpleasant fashion. DeRosa ordered a cup of tea, Earl Gray, hot, an affectation she had picked up from assisting Jean-Luc Picard while he taught at the academy.
"I'll have a glass of cola." B'Elanna finally replied, after a considerable silence. A'sha nodded, and made the request, returning to her desk with the tall glass of carbonated soda. The lieutenant accepted the glass, took a sip, then flopped into the chair across from deRosa's. "Thanks." B'Elanna passed a hand over the ridges in her forehead and sighed heavily. "It was a long shift last night."
As per the counselor's suggestion, Captain Tuvok had scrambled the crews, moving everyone around so that no one would always be stuck on third watch. As a result, some people were having to adapt to new circadian rhythms, and apparently, B'Elanna was one of them.
"Well, you are more than welcome to relax here for a while." A'sha said and sipped at her tea.
"Thanks again, Counselor." B'Elanna tossed her head back, trying to crack her neck, and only partially succeeding.
"A'sha, call me A'sha, B'Elanna. Or shall I call you Commander?" Hazel eyes twinkled merrily as B'Elanna shuddered delicately.
"B'Elanna's fine, A'sha. I've never been one for formalities."
"Ah, good. It's about time someone forgot about protocol for five minutes around here." The counselor chuckled.
"You're an odd duck, A'sha." B'Elanna raised her glass in mock toast. A'sha accepted the toast with a rakish grin.
"Thank you. I do try so very hard to be different."
They sat, drinking in silence, listening to the hum of the ship's engines as they produced the energy required to open a fissure into transwarp space. The half-Klingon engineer would never be able to say why she did it, but quietly, she began to speak, words pouring out of her and filling the silences of the room.
"I was so envious of the both of them at first. I mean, Tom was great, he was, but he wasn't what I needed. I mean, I thought he was, but really, he wasn't. What I wanted was Seven -- or Janeway, or both." B'Elanna laughed self-depreciatingly. "Hell, I can remember finagling as many invites to dinner as I could, and it wasn't for the cuisine. Neither of those women is worth beans in the kitchen. Especially then -- Seven could burn air just by pressing a replicator button! And Janeway -- don't let that woman attempt to program the replicator for anything more complicated than a beverage if you value your stomach. Anyway, I can cook, when I'm moved to, and I found myself more and more moved to do so whenever I could spend the evening with the captain and Seven." B'Elanna closed her eyes, remembering. The counselor sat back, allowing the engineer the chance to talk.
"I remember one evening, I'd made pot roast, nothing special, just filling and tasty and not too harsh on the palate, because Seven was still learning what she did and didn't like to eat. After we ate, we sat around, laughing and joking, and the captain, she brought out this ancient terran game called 'monopoly' and tried to teach us how to play. Of course Seven beat the pants off of us, but that wasn't the point -- the point was the three of us, sitting on the couch together, sharing a bottle of some alien wine and none of us, especially not me, feeling left out. I sat in the middle and I never noticed them exchange those little 'intimate' glances that most lovers do -- I felt surrounded by their love, and I felt included, not excluded. That night, when I left, they each hugged me, kissed me on the cheek. I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry, or cheer." The half-Klingon opened her eyes and stared down the counselor, grinning helplessly. "How the Hell could I go back to Tom Paris after that? I tried, I really, really tried, but I'll tell you, I was happy that he couldn't keep it in his pants... after drinking Chateau Picard, I definitely didn't want Night Train." She laughed again, almost mirthfully.
"So now I'm with Seven -- Annika -- and she loves me, or, says she does, and I believe her most of the time, but a part of me is so scared. Scared that we are going to find Kathryn Janeway out there, somehow alive, and waiting, just waiting, to take her away from me. Silly, isn't it?"
"Not at all, B'Elanna. It is natural for you to feel threatened by the possibility," Counselor deRosa said calmly.
"But I don't. Feel threatened that is. I feel... hopeful, almost. I mean, if it is Janeway, and she does take Seven back, at least I'll still get to hang around them, and at least I had this time with her. Kahless, why am I even talking about this? This is all going into my file, isn't it? Years from now some Starfleet headshrinker is gonna read about this and know that B'Elanna Torres was a babbling bimbo."
"I assure you, this will not show up in your permanent record."
"Yeah, right. So, where's the recorder, anyway? On the ceiling?" B'Elanna scanned the room pointedly, giving hard looks to everything that was even remotely suspicious.
"There is no recorder. I don't use those things." A'sha tapped her temple, smirking, "I have an eidetic memory. What goes into the report is what I feel is important."
"Starfleet trusts you that much?" B'Elanna asked, disbelief clear in her voice. "You're not Vulcan."
"No, they don't. When I actually initiate a full session, then I record everything with this," deRosa removed a small device from a drawer in her disk. B'Elanna was familiar with the holo-recorder, it was one of the kind that were used universally by the Federation. "But I didn't want this to be a formal session. This was just for us to get to know each other."
B'Elanna laughed, a short, self-mocking bark. "And I just happened to blurt out everything that's been swimming around in my head for the last -- oh -- two months, at least."
"I don't mind," deRosa smiled, and unaccountably, B'Elanna was comforted.
Must be some of that Betazoid hoodoo, the half-Klingon mused.
"I will not hold what you've said against you, B'Elanna. You are always welcome to unburden yourself here, that is what a Counselor is for."
"Thanks. Um, well... I, there's just so much up there, and sometimes it just wants to come tumbling out, and others, all I want to do is hack something to bits."
"A rather interesting description of your two heritages, if I may say so," A'sha commented wryly. "Please, if you want, go on."
"You gonna tape this? Or is this 'unofficial'?" B'Elanna grinned and looked pointedly at the recorder.
"Which would you prefer? I will tell you that I will be making a notation that you did visit, and for how long you stayed, and of course, what the general topic of our conversation was."
B'Elanna shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs nervously. "Well, I don't much like being holo'ed. Let's just keep it informal for now, okay?"
"All right. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" deRosa put the holo-recorder away and leaned back in her chair, then took another sip of her tea.
The engineer chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, then said, "Yeah, I guess."
"Did you ever consider telling either of them how you felt?"
B'Elanna, who'd been taking a sip of her drink spluttered, then squawked, "What? Me? Tell either of them that I had a major crush -- okay, so it was more than a crush -- on them? HAH!" She set the now empty glass down on deRosa's desk. "I would have rather cleaned the plasma manifolds with my toothbrush!"
"Why? Do you think they would have rejected you?"
"I -- I don't know. Yes. No. Hell, I don't know. Maybe I was afraid they wouldn't reject me. I mean, it hasn't been that long since I've accepted myself, how could I have let them accept me? Oh. Very good, deRosa."
The counselor smiled enigmatically, then said, "I'd call that a breakthrough, B'Elanna."
Torres laughed, a deep rich sound. "You think? Heh, well, I have been here far too long. Annika will be wondering where I am, and whether or not she should attempt to fix a meal without me." B'Elanna shuddered. "Even though she's gotten better, and makes some pretty mean cinnamon rolls, she should still avoid main meals."
"All right. Please remember, you are always welcome here." B'Elanna nodded, and both women stood and shook hands. Then the engineer left, leaving the counselor alone once more. "Well, good. Now, I wonder if I can get Seven to come down here tomorrow?"
Chapter Four
"Ow, damnit!" Flesh thudded against unyielding metal. Another alarm joined a choir of beeps, blips and flashing lights. "Where is that damn coil?" Sounds of movement, the scrape of metal against metal, and finally, a satisfied, "A-ha! There you are, you fried piece of Kazon dung." A soot covered form emerged from a grate, bearing a twisted and melted bit of technology.
Smoke was billowing out from ten different places, causing a string of curses in sixteen different languages to pepper the air of the shattered engine room. The warp engine column was glowing a ghastly orangish-blue and a computerized voice dispassionately continued a countdown.
"Ten minutes until complete warp core breach."
"I know that, you useless hunk of engineering." The speaker's voice was harsh, as if unused for far too long. "Activate the damn hologram, and I don't care where you get the power to do it." The air grew even staler, and the woman imagined that she could hear the air purifiers shut down, one by one, until there was enough spare energy to power the hologram who'd been the only other "living" being aboard the vessel for five years.
"How may I help you?" The hologram's voice, once measured and pleasant to the ears, was now a monotonous drone.
"You can start by putting out those damn fires."
"Yes, Captain." The hologram stiffly moved away, in search of an extinguisher.
The captain sighed, mumbling, "Back to the drawing board," then began hunting through a pile of spare parts, hoping to locate another one of the blasted variance coils. Hang on Captain, it's nearing time. A voice, one that was hauntingly familiar to the captain, whispered.
"Oh, don't you worry about that, my friend. I'm not about to let something as simple as a warp core breach get me down." The voice was a long time friend of the captain's, a sound that had echoed comfortingly through the corridors of the empty ship over the years the captain had been forced to rely on wit and ingenuity alone. At times, the captain had wondered if the voice wasn't real, was actually nothing more than insanity manifesting itself, but decided that insanity was a luxury, and there were no luxuries for this captain. Not when the ship required a functioning variance coil.
Chapter Five
It was alpha shift, and the bridge crew was stepping lively to their jobs, each person working as a cog in a well-oiled machine. Captain Tuvok sat in the command chair, looking over and sharing observations with Lieutenant Commander Kim regarding the readouts displayed on their shared console. Seven of Nine was running a routine diagnostic on the aft phaser arrays and Ensign Wildman was putting the finishing touches on the duty roster for the next month.
The turbo lift opened, allowing Counselor deRosa to exit. She walked over and took a place at the forward science station. Tuvok looked up from his conference.
"Is there something I can help you with, Counselor?"
"Nope, I just wanted to be here when we broke the threshold," she replied casually.
"As you wish. Mr. Paris, begin transwarp power-down on my mark. Mark." The ship shook as the inertial dampers rushed to compensate for the change in the rate of Voyager's speed and those not seated grabbed hold of conveniently placed grips as the ship shot out of transwarp, into warp, then, to impulse. Calmly Tuvok said, "Report."
"According to navigational readouts, we are three light years from the Ocampa home world, sir." Naomi said. The bridge cheered. Even Tuvok was flushed a little darker than normal, and he held his head high.
"Set a course to the Ocampa home world, Tom." Harry, still grinning, ordered.
"Aye, aye, sir!" Shortly, they were in orbit. "Ocampa home world," Tom said as he brought the planet up on the main viewer.
"Mr. Neelix, your presence is requested on the bridge," Tuvok said. Everyone was still focused on the vision of the Ocampa world floating before them on the main viewer. Everyone, but Seven. She was watching the counselor. The half-Betazoid had made her edgy whenever she came near, and no matter how many times B'Elanna told her that the woman was harmless, Seven felt the hairs on the back of her head rise. As the Ocampa home world came up on screen, Seven watched deRosa's eyes fill with tears, then she blinked them back, and the counselor's normally cheerful expression settled on her elfin face.
Seven filed the information away, her resolve firming that she did not trust deRosa. Neelix came on the bridge, and, seeing the still battered and barren world filling Voyager's main viewer, broke down into tears.
"It's so beautiful. I had forgotten how beautiful it was to me," he said, wiping his eyes. "Are the Ocampa still there? Have you attempted to hail them, Captain?"
"Not as yet, Mr. Neelix. That is why you are here. Ensign Wildman, hailing frequencies."
"Hailing the Ocampa, sir." Naomi's fingers danced across her board. "Message coming through."
"Main viewer." The all watched as the planet's image was replaced with a young-seeming Ocampan male.
"Good day, travelers. How may I answer your questions?" he said politely.
"I am Captain Tuvok, of the Federation starship Voyager." Tuvok replied.
"Ah yes, Voyager. We recall you. It has been a generation since you were last above our world. Have you decided to stay in the Delta quadrant after all?"
The conversation continued, with Tuvok and Neelix explaining what had happened in the interim. Shortly, a party of Ocampans were beamed aboard Voyager and a celebratory dinner was being prepared.
***
It was late, and Seven had just spent several hours crawling through Jeffries tubes. She was grimy and hungry and she wanted to just go to her quarters and snuggle with B'Elanna for hours. Seven was just stepping off the turbolift when she heard voices. Neelix, Counselor DeRosa and one of the Ocampan delegates were walking down the hall.
DeRosa had her arm entwined with the Ocampa, who was animatedly holding a discussion with Neelix over Kes, the Ocampa who had left the home world to travel with Voyager. For some reason Seven felt like she was observing something very private, but she couldn't help watching.
"Oh yes, my Kes was so adventurous, always wanting to go places, see new things!" Neelix was saying.
"That does sound like the stories mother used to tell me about Aunt Kes," the Ocampan female, Selas, said.
"Did she ever tell you about the time that she ran off and found the crystalline pools?" Neelix asked as the rounded the corner and headed for the turbolift.
Selas laughed and said, "No! You must tell me about this, Neelix!"
Seven stepped off of the lift and headed down the corridor toward her quarters, but not before noticing the tears that were sparkling in Counselor DeRosa's eyes.
***
Voyager spent two weeks in orbit around the Ocampa planet, laying the foundation for future Federation contact and installing a new relay station on one of the planet's moons. During that time, the Kazon attacked once, but were no match for Voyager's defenses. It was revealed that because of the Caretaker's last gift of energy, the Ocampa were able to expand their underground home to include hydroponic gardens and geo-thermic energy plants. The force fields around the caves were strengthened and intensified, making the Kazon virtually harmless to them. The crew of Voyager were allowed to visit the surface, and see the test areas the Ocampa were attempting to reclaim, prompting Tuvok to send a message via the new transband subspace station to the Starfleet science division, suggesting that they send a delegation of their best Genesis experts.
Counselor deRosa spent a great deal of time with the Ocampa, interviewing them, visiting their homes and generally immersing herself in their culture. Neelix spent much of his time with Kes' family, telling them of her adventures, and presenting them with a holographic scrapbook he'd created. When Voyager left, it was with the best wishes of the Ocampa.
***
They expected to encounter the Vidiians, and they did not have long to wait. Two months after they left Ocampa space, they were beset by the organ pirates. However, instead of fighting, Tuvok ordered the crew to punch through the Vidiian ship's shields and had the captain of that ship transported to Voyager's sickbay. There, Doc Z, who'd spent much of his time analyzing the data that he and the Vidiian geneticist Denara Pel had collected, as well as updating his medical database to the very latest of Starfleet research, explained to the irate, confused man that he had a cure for the Phage. Of course, the Vidiian did not believe him, at least, not until he'd been cured. The doctor, along with Seven of Nine and some of the best research Starfleet had to offer, had designed and created nanoprobes that could resequence the Phage and restore the afflicted victim's normal DNA. The nanoprobes were easily replicated, and could not ever be used for anything other their programmed purpose.
It took three days to heal the captain, one Rellan Var, and his entire crew. The word spread, and for six months, Voyager stayed within the same five light years of space transmitting the design schematics for the nanoprobes to every Vidiian ship that passed. Doc Z worked non-stop, moving through the crowds of Vidiians who came to Voyager like a man possessed. When he was ordered to rest by Lieutenant Kim, he beamed himself over the Vidiian ships and continued to work from there.
Finally, Harry asked Seven to find out why the doctor was so bent on curing every single Vidiian that came within transporter range. The Borg immediately went to Sickbay, where she found the doctor had beamed in to retrieve some supplies.
"Doctor, if I may have a word with you?" she said, causing him to stop programming nanoprobes.
"Oh, Seven, it's you. Of course, what can I do for you?" he said pleasantly.
"I have been asked to find out why you're wearing yourself out with the Vidiians."
For an answer Doc Z handed Seven a padd. She clicked it on and began reading about Denara Pel, the Vidiian who wanted to cure her people. There were letters, written to the doctor, almost fifty of them, before a death certificate appeared.
"She died, Seven. She died before she could see her dream realized."
Seven put her hand on the doctor's shoulder and said, "I'm sorry."
"Can't you see, Seven?" he asked plaintively, loading his pockets with tubes of reprogrammed nanoprobes, "Do you understand why I must do this, why I must make sure that no more people die?" Doc Z's face was anguished and Seven nodded slowly.
"I think I understand, Doctor. I will inform Lieutenant Kim that you are not endangering your program."
"Thank you, Seven," he said, and initiated transport to another Vidiian ship.
Aside from the healing, negotiations began to set up a very basic treaty between Starfleet and the Vidiians. The crew also installed another set of transband subspace relay stations. The ability to communicate with home made the crew feel as though they were still in the Alpha quadrant. Counselor deRosa spent much of her time talking with people who remembered the lonely, isolated days of the first trip through the Delta quadrant.
B'Elanna and Seven spent all of their free time together, either with Naomi and whomever Naomi had contrived to drag along, or alone, in their quarters. Their love grew, wrapping around them and buffering them from the monotony of playing doctor for the Phage-ridden Vidiians.
Naomi, along with Seven, also began the daunting task of seeking out the garbled communication, trying to pinpoint its exact location through the billions of signals that Voyager recorded every day.
Chapter Six
It was midday during the beta shift when Voyager encountered its first real threat since entering the Delta quadrant. Ensign Varez looked up from ops and said, "Sir, we have an incoming message."
"On screen," Lieutenant Commander Kim replied. Varez brought up the communiqué.
The alien visage that appeared on the monitor was grotesque, composed of dense plate-like carapace joints and tentacular streamers. "We are the Vo'okore. You are trespassing. Prepare to surrender your vessel to the Crimson Brotherhood. If you refuse, you will be destroyed. That is all." The sound appeared to come from two vents in the center of what the crew assumed was the head of the creature. The eyes were large, silvery-white and bulbous. A hissing whistle-click preceded each word spoken.
"Seven, can they back up their claims?" Harry asked, as he stood to pace around the bridge.
Seven scanned the three rapidly approaching ships. "The Borg have not encountered this species; I have no recollection of their technological distinctiveness. Telemetry shows that their ships are equal in size to Voyager, however, we are tactically superior."
"That's just what I wanted to hear. Thank you, Seven. Red alert!" The bridge darkened as the alarm klaxons went off, bathing the crew in an eerily sanguine glow. Varez keyed up the forward scanning array to the main viewer, displaying the three Vo'okorian vessels moving into a standard tripod attack formation. Once again, they were hailed with the same message.
"You are trespassing, surrender now, or be destroyed."
Harry grinned, showing his teeth. "Bite me. Seven, fire when ready."
"Yes, sir." Seven replied calmly, loading several quantum torpedoes and marking targets with the phaser array. Moments later, she was firing, watching with detached interest as the deadly weapons hit, the phaser blasts ricocheting off of the other ship's shields, but the torpedoes slipping in through the cracks and doing severe damage to the left wingman's weapons pods.
"Nice shooting, Seven. Again." By this time, Tuvok had arrived on the bridge, and was going over the data they'd already gathered.
"Seven, I suggest that you aim for the central vessel's warp core. It should create a chain reaction, causing the others to detonate." The Vulcan said.
"Aye, sir." Seven said, proceeding to carry out Tuvok's order. Before she could fire the torpedoes however, the other ships fired.
A pulse-wave beam enveloped Voyager, shutting down all power, throwing all systems temporarily off-line. Without inertial dampers, Voyager went into a hard roll, diving stiff to port, throwing crew and any unbolted objects around. When the systems came flickering back to life, the bridge was in chaos. Muffled thuds could be heard in the corridor, and as Varez staggered upright, he called out, "Decks three, five and nine are reporting intruders, sir!"
"Arm yourselves!" Tuvok ordered. "Shields?"
"At eighty-eight percent, sir," Seven responded as she reached under the tactical console and retrieved a phaser rifle.
"Take a security detachment and sweep the ship, Lieutenant," he said to Seven, "Mr. Kim, you have tactical."
"Aye, sir." They both replied, as Seven stepped away from the console and moved toward the turbo lift doors. They whooshed open, revealing two of the Vo'okorians struggling with four of Voyager's crew. One of the crew was Counselor deRosa, who was using a form of martial arts to disable her attacker. Seven, Harry, Tuvok and Varez all fired at once, while Tom, who was at the helm, sent Voyager into another sharp bank, knocking the invaders off-balance. Shortly, they had the four subdued and imprisoned in a force field. Taking two of the security team with her, Seven left the bridge to continue sweeping the ship.
"Why do you hold us, invader scum?" One of the Vo'okorians hissed, while the others shushed it.
"Because you attacked us and boarded our vessel, even though we did not attack you." Counselor deRosa replied, at Tuvok's nod.
"Shellshards! You lie so well, squishbody. But I know the truth, for I have lived it with my own senses. My ancestors know you, hooman of starrrfleet. You destroy our homecaves, yes. We vow vengeance!" The others keened loudly at the word, causing those on the bridge to wince at the ear-splitting wail.
A'sha turned to Tuvok. "Did you encounter this race before?"
"No. I do not recall ever contacting this species." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps Mr. Neelix has heard of them." He called Neelix to the bridge. The Talaxian arrived, along with three security personnel, all of whom sported some injury or other, as well as three more restrained Vo'okorians. The invaders were shoved into the corral with the others.
"You called for me, Mr. Tuvok?" Neelix asked, a bit breathlessly.
"Yes. Do you know anything about our guests? They claim to be Vo'okorians." Neelix registered surprise, running his fingers through his whiskers briskly.
"Really. Well, then these are certainly the most -- warlike -- Vo'okore I have ever encountered." He examined them, squinting his eyes. "Yes, I see the resemblance, though the last time I saw one, he didn't have all that armor." Two security entered the bridge, bearing another Vo'okore. Voyager disgorged two torpedoes, destroying the second ship's weapons systems.
"As you can see," Captain Tuvok noted calmly, "our ship far outmatches your ships. Call off your attack, and we will leave peacefully, returning you to your people."
"Hooman dogs!" One of the aliens whistled. Another, the one who had first spoken, threw himself at the force field barrier, getting shocked for his troubles. Neelix turned to the latest Vo'okorian arrival.
"N'botchtha, hatchling. What cracks?" he asked, his voice almost perfectly mimicking the Vo'okorian speech patterns. The alien's tentacles, which had hung limply around his cranium, suddenly came to life, pulling back to reveal a face that was shockingly human-like, only instead of the features of an adult, the alien's face was that of a three year old child.
"N'botchtha, elder." he responded, then bowed low. "Kith'real, Firstson of Aneth recognizes you, Talaxian trader."
"Greetings, Kith'real Firstson. I am Neelix. These are Captain Tuvok, Lieutenant Commander Kim, Ensign Varez, Lieutenant Paris, Ensign Jones and Ensign T'nal." Neelix indicated each person with a nod. Surprisingly, the alien bowed to each. The other Vo'okorians began a clamorous uproar of whistling and clicking, speaking so fast that the universal translator could not keep up. The Firstson waved his hand, commanding silence.
"Talaxian trader Neelix, we are shamed that we have engaged you in battle. You are not our enemy. You are not the J'nawey of Vea'ger." Kith'real tapped his forearm and hissed several commands, and suddenly, the barrage of attacks on Voyager ceased. Minutes later, Seven returned to the bridge, along with several other Vo'okorians, who were almost docile in their demeanor.
"That's okay, Firstson, accidents happen all the time." Neelix said affably. "Perhaps you could tell us more about this J'nawey so that we may also avoid them?" The ambassador indicated the doors to Voyager's briefing room.
"That would be a tactically sound idea." Seven added, at an imperceptible nod from Tuvok.
"Of course. We would be honored to deal with you, Talaxian trader Neelix."
"Just Neelix, please." Tuvok, Neelix and Seven followed the twenty odd Vo'okorians into the room.
***
Three days later, Voyager had left Vo'okorian space with a new treaty and more clues to the strange message that was in part responsible for their returning to the Delta quadrant. Seven and Naomi were working together in astrometrics, piecing together the bits of information the Vo'okore had reluctantly allowed them to copy. Included in the data crystals were sensor scans of a ship, several subspace transmissions, and one very heated battle between the ship and several smaller Vo'okorian vessels. What was clear to both the young ensign, and to the Borg was that the ship the Vo'okore had encountered, had fought and lost to, was Voyager. The original Voyager, not the newly designed vessel they were currently aboard. Also, the "J'nawey" was a battered, scarred and bloodied Captain Kathryn Janeway. This Janeway was not Seven's captain; was not the captain that had triumphantly returned Voyager to the Alpha quadrant ten years earlier. This was a woman who had lost nearly everything, and had worked tirelessly to hold onto whatever she had left. Voyager itself was nearly unrecognizable, being a hellish mishmash of two dozen different technologies crammed onto the old intrepid class frame.
"It's really her, isn't it, Seven?" Naomi whispered as they watched the broken up exchange between Janeway and a Vo'okorian firstson. Apparently, the Vo'okore had tried to take on Voyager, thinking the ship was an easy target. Janeway had proven them wrong, and had destroyed several of their ships in retaliation.
"There is insufficient data to make that assumption, Ensign Wildman." Seven replied woodenly. Naomi gave her a raised eyebrow, an almost perfect mimicry of Seven's patented expression.
"All right. Let me go over those subspace signals again, Lieutenant." Naomi keyed up the signal pattern onto her console and began a comparison analysis with the old Voyager's patterns.
An hour passed as each woman delved into the secrets the Vo'okorian crystals revealed. Seven ran the scans and recorded image data through every known test she could think of, twice. Each time however, it came back the same -- the woman was Kathryn Janeway, and the ship, albeit changed, was the NCC 74656. Fear, sharp and biting scratched at the edges of Seven's mind. What if it is her? A very nasty little voice whispered into her mind. Look at her. She's alive, she's been alive all this time, lost, stranded in the Delta quadrant, and all you've done is jump into B'Elanna's bed. You never deserved her. You never loved her. The voice resolved into an image, a blurred form that focused into a stern faced Kathryn, accusation hard in her steel gray eyes.
"I don't know what I ever saw in you, Annika. Or should I say Seven? That's who you are. Just a number. A drone. Worthless. One of many, not unique." Seven's mental image of Kathryn drifted away, as tears slipped quietly down the Borg's face. Naomi looked up from her console, saw the tears, and did what she always did... she calmly walked over and held Seven while she cried. Silent sobs wracked the older woman's body as she collapsed into the young ensign, but Naomi was now strong enough to hold Seven up, able to bear the Borg's weight easily.
"It's going to be all right, Seven. That woman probably isn't Captain Janeway, and if it is... then it isn't our Captain. Our captain came home with us. Our captain gave her life defending the borders. Remember that." Seven nodded, stepping away and regaining her composure.
"Thank you, Naomi. You are a good friend." Naomi smiled brightly.
"I hope so. I missed out on a lot with you... I got a lotta hugs to catch up with, you know," she teased, winking and nudging Seven in the ribs gently.
"Anytime you require one, it is yours for the asking, Naomi," Seven replied seriously.
"Oh goodie!" Naomi exclaimed, relief etching itself on the teen's face. "I could sure use one right now." Seven smiled, and embraced the girl tenderly, then let her go. "Ahh... much better! Thank you, Seven."
"Is there something troubling you, Naomi?" Seven asked, as she began to write a report on her findings. Naomi sighed, and continued to match the subspace frequencies.
"Yeah, kinda."
"Would you like to tell me about it?"
"I thought you'd never ask. You see, there's this ensign in Engineering -- and she's so cute, but so dense..." Seven settled in to listen to Naomi's woes over the young woman.
***
B'Elanna Torres was sitting in a chair with her head tossed back, eyes closed and hands wrapped around an ice cold mug of ale when the doors to her quarters whooshed open. She heard Seven's measured steps across the rug. The gentle thud-thud of her lover's boots being tossed into a corner, then the soft whishing of bare feet against the carpet. A warmth loomed above her momentarily, then, so fast she had no time to breathe, her mouth was covered, lips, teeth and tongue wrestling with her own for dominance. She growled, a deeply resonant, primal sound.
"Mmm, Seven. Rough day?" she pulled the Borg into her lap, stripping away the top of Seven's uniform, then cupping the Borg's breasts in her hands and pinching the nipples until they hardened. A moan and another one of Seven's all-consuming kisses was her response. Somehow, B'Elanna managed to peel away the rest of Seven's clothes as Seven removed the engineer's own garments. Eventually, they stumbled into the bedroom, loving and touching with a feverish intensity that almost -- almost, frightened the half-Klingon.
They made love fiercely. Each needing to mark the other deeply, Seven biting and clawing at B'Elanna so hard she actually tore the skin on the engineer's back, and B'Elanna returning the ferocity in kind, leaving a string of purpling bite marks all the way from Seven's neck to her hip.
Afterward, Seven lay with her head pillowed on B'Elanna's stomach as the engineer ran her hands through the Borg's long, blonde hair. Seven sighed. "All evidence shows that it is Captain Janeway we are seeking. Whether or not it is the same woman who allegedly died five years ago is unknown."
"I see." B'Elanna said, keeping any opinions to herself, letting Seven talk.
"Naomi Wildman has a crush on Ensign Vickers."
"Vickers? That twit? She wouldn't know how to ask a toad on a date," B'Elanna snorted.
"So Naomi has indicated." Seven looked up, smiled faintly, then sighed again, nuzzling B'Elanna's stomach. "I'm so scared, B'Ella. I don't want to lose you," she whispered, almost inaudibly. The half-Klingon shuddered, and drew Seven up to kiss her tenderly, then looked her in the eyes.
"You aren't going to lose me, Blue Eyes. I love you."
"I love you too, with all that I am." Seven and B'Elanna kissed again, sealing their words.
Chapter Seven
Counselor deRosa was sitting in her quarters, enjoying a cup of tea when the door chimed. It was late, well passed the mid-hour of gamma shift, which caused A'sha's curiosity to be aroused.
"Come in," she called warmly. Her door slid open to reveal Seven of Nine, dressed casually in a loose tunic and jeans, hair down in a ponytail. "Seven. What a pleasant surprise." The Borg teetered uncertainly in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back. "Please, come in. Share a cup of tea with me." Seven stepped across the threshold, then slowly made her way to a chair while the counselor replicated another cup of tea. A'sha handed the steaming cup to Seven, sat and said, "So, what brings you to my door at this hour?"
The other woman sipped at her drink, took a deep breath and said, "I am experiencing feelings of apprehension that I cannot understand."
"About?" deRosa prompted gently.
Seven looked down at her hands, which she had knotted together tightly. "Ensign Wildman and I pinpointed a distress call originating from an 'M' class planet less than eight days travel at warp five from our current position. The frequency is Starfleet and the message is clearly from Captain Kathryn Janeway." A'sha watched as the knuckles on Seven's right hand whitened to near-translucence.
"I see. You are concerned that Captain Tuvok is being deceived?"
"No. Yes. I don't know." Seven gritted her teeth. Coming to deRosa's quarters had been a last resort. Yet she could no longer fight off the demons that haunted her thoughts, dreams, even her notes had begun to include the random musings that had plagued her since discovering that an entity calling itself Captain Kathryn Janeway was alive. "I am afraid. Of what, I am uncertain. I only know that I -- dread -- knowing the truth. I love B'Elanna and I do not wish to lose her. Yet, there is something whispering that I will, if Kathryn is alive." Tears fell. "And I love Kathryn, too. Still. I...I tried not to. I tried to let her go, to forget... but I failed."
The counselor smiled sadly. "Of course you still love Kathryn. No one would expect you not to." DeRosa got up, walked over to Seven, then crouched next to the chair the Borg was perched in. "Seven, you have every right to feel all jumbled," she clasped her hand over Seven's, allowing just a touch of her empathy to leak through, soothing the other woman's frayed nerves.
"This is not natural. I do not enjoy this chaos of emotion, Counselor." Seven's voice had slowly hardened, becoming hollow, a shadow of her former Borg speech patterns. "This dr..." she hiccuped, "drone, is damaged. You must repair me!" Seven's knees slowly curled up, until the woman was huddled in a small ball on the chair.
"I will do everything in my power to help you, Annika." DeRosa's tone never changed, but something about the way she spoke the words struck a memory in Seven. Suddenly untrusting of deRosa, she buried her fears beneath a quick veneer of calm. In one lithe motion, she stood.
"My apologies, Counselor. I did not mean to disturb you. Good night," she turned and walked toward the door.
"Seven, wait!" A'sha called out.
Seven stopped, standing stiffly, almost vibrating with tension. "Yes, Counselor?"
"Please, don't go. Stay, talk to me."
Seven shook, torn between her need to talk, and her absolute distrust of the woman behind her. She half-turned and said, "I'm sorry, Counselor. I should not have come here. I don't know what caused me to do so, when I do not even trust you."
"You don't trust me?" DeRosa asked curiously. "Why not?"
The Borg's eyes were hard, boring through the counselor as she came around to fully face her. "You are not who you seem to be," she said it simply, as a fact, not an accusation.
The counselor smiled, apparently amused by Seven's statement. "Really? Who am I, then?"
"Not a Betazoid, nor a human. Were I to assimilate you, I would know in an instant, but I have not been capable of performing that simple drone function for several years. My ocular implant tells me that your heat signature differs by .0774 degrees of a standard Betazoid-Human offspring. It does not, however, differ from that of an Ocampa." Seven strode up to A'sha, her near six-foot height dwarfing A'sha's smaller form. "The only Ocampa I know of -- one that would be intimately acquainted with Voyager and her crew -- is Kes. Yet, she evolved. Perhaps, you are she. Kes."
A'sha did not flinch, nor back away from Seven, just calmly lifted up her head, letting her eyes meet Seven's. Then she sighed. "I knew I couldn't fool you for long." The counselor's form wavered, then shifted, twisting and morphing into that of Kes, the diminutive Ocampa telepath that had been one of Voyager's first new friends in the Delta quadrant. "And now, I must tell you things you are not ready to hear." Kes' deeply resonant voice held a note of regret -- and excitement.
"Which are?" Seven, not to be nonplused, though she knew she would spend endless hours attempting to decipher how she knew instinctively who the counselor was, raised an eyebrow and clasped her hands behind her back.
"Close your eyes." Seven raised both eyebrows suspiciously. "I'm sorry, it's the only way I can do this," Kes said gently, using her eyes to plead with Seven. Trust me, the Ocampa thought, Please.
"I will comply." Seven sighed, almost disgustedly and closed her eyes. Kes reached up and placed her fingertips against Seven's brow. Immediately, the Borg was overcome with gigaquads of information racing through her cortical implant faster than she could process. She cried out and fell forward, but the surprisingly strong Ocampa caught her and held her up until it was over. Shaking her head jerkily, Seven said, "I understand." She hesitated, then added, "Thank you."
Kes smiled warmly. "You're welcome. I must go now. I cannot stay in this form any longer. Besides, Kathryn needs me too."
"Take care of her until we get there, please."
"Of course. Sleep now, Annika Hansen. All will be well."
Seven slumped over, out like a light.
***
Seven woke up curled around B'Elanna, with an impact wrench attempting to drive its way through her skull. She moaned, then peeled herself off of her lover, and stumbled into the ensuite. A few groggily whispered words produced an analgesic and a glass of cool water. She returned to the bedroom and passed out once more.
Much later, she was awakened by B'Elanna slamming a pillow into her face.
"Wake up, sleepyhead!"
"Why?" she asked, or rather, groaned.
"Because I said so."
"I don't want to," Seven returned, though she pulled the pillow away from her face and cracked one eye open. B'Elanna was dressed in 'fleet issue tee-shirt and shorts. "It's my day off," she added, as her brain kicked 'on' and told her why she'd allowed herself to sleep so late.
"Yes it is. It's also the day you promised to play Velocity with me!" B'Elanna leaped onto the bed, bouncing around for good measure. "And I really, really want to whup your butt, Blue Eyes." Seven gave her lover a long, appraising look.
"B'Elanna Torres, I was an All-Alpha competitor. I highly doubt that you can 'whup my butt' as you so eloquently put it." The Borg sat up, yawning and rubbing her eyes.
"But I can try. Besides, who said I'd play fair?" The engineer replied, then proceeded to demonstrate her unfair methods by tickling Seven mercilessly. Seven bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
"Lieutenant Torres, this sensation is unacceptable to this drone." She tried to sound serious, but could not, and ended up laughing so hard that she had tears of mirth streaming down her face.
"Now that you're awake, let's go play Velocity!" B'Elanna said, sitting back on her heels. Seven grinned mischievously, and launched herself at the engineer, knocking her over, then alternately kissing and tickling her. "Seven, what are you... mmm, Seven..." The Borg stopped tickling and started caressing, slipping her hands up under the engineer's tee-shirt and massaging B'Elanna's full breasts heatedly.
"I don't want to play Velocity, B'Elanna Torres. I want to make love to you," Seven whispered into the half-Klingon's ear, then began to lay a path of delicate kisses and nibbles down the engineer's neck to the collar of her shirt. B'Elanna laughed, a deep, rich sound.
"Mm.. Suddenly I don't feel like playing Velocity either." She reached down and yanked on the edge of Seven's nightshirt, indicating that she wanted the Borg to sit up. Seven did, and B'Elanna pulled the garment off, smiling hugely at the expanse of revealed flesh. "You are so beautiful, Blue Eyes. I just love looking at you."
Seven flushed a deep crimson, unused to the compliment. "Thank you, B'Ella." She looked down at her lover, and grinned, "I find you aesthetically pleasing as well, and enjoy -- ogling you -- every chance I get." They both laughed, then finished undressing each other, allowing their fingers to linger on skin, touching and needing to be touched at the same time.
Seven brushed her fingers over the ridges of B'Elanna's forehead, loving the way the skin was so soft and smooth, yet the bone underneath was hard and unyielding. She considered this a reverse metaphor for the woman she had come to love; to the outside world, B'Elanna presented a fierce and sometimes intractable visage, but underneath, especially when she was alone with Seven, she was soft and loving. Seven leaned down and kissed her gently, then pulled back to whisper, "I love you, B'Ella." B'Elanna closed her eyes, breathing slowly and allowing the power of Seven's words to sink into her brain, enjoying the skittering chills that chased down her body as her lover continued to place small kisses on her face, neck, chest, then finally her breasts, suckling tenderly at the hardened nipples.
Seven's hands were not idle, one sliding up to capture one of B'Elanna's hands, the other stroking the engineer from hip to breast slowly, raising goosebumps in its wake. B'Elanna wove her free hand into Seven's hair, pulling her lover close, moaning loudly when the suction on her nipple increased and the flash of teeth could be felt. Then Seven was gone, moving down B'Elanna's body, kissing, licking, and nibbling, arousing the half-Klingon to a fever pitch. "Annika," B'Elanna growled, "you'd better not be teasing me." Seven smiled, and kissed the inside of the engineer's thigh.
"Teasing is for children," Seven finally replied as she slipped her tongue inside of her lover, "and I am no child." The intimate kiss continued, her tongue fluttering over sensitive flesh until B'Elanna screamed her delight. Fingers dipped down and slipped in, adding to the overload of sensations, sending her lover into warp.
When B'Elanna returned to herself, she found that she was curled up in Seven's arms, lovingly cradled against the lanky body of the blonde Borg. She looked up at Seven, who was staring up at the ceiling. "Did I ever tell you that you are a superb lover?" B'Elanna asked as she cuddled into her lover.
"Repeatedly, but I never tire of hearing it. Thank you."
"Seven?" B'Elanna asked as she traced the warm metal of Seven's hand implant.
"Yes?" Seven replied distantly.
"Are you okay?" B'Elanna pushed herself up and gazed down at Seven, concerned at her lover's remote tone.
"I am... all right." Seven's eyes were glassy, as if she were holding back tears.
"Querida, please. What's wrong?" The engineer asked as she rolled off of Seven and laid on the bed next to her.
"B'Elanna, I... I had the strangest dream. A dream that was not a dream." Several strands of golden hair fell into Seven's face, obscuring her eyes.
"Yes, and?" B'Elanna reached up and smoothed the hair out of her lover's face.
"I am afraid. Do you recall Counselor deRosa?"
"Yes, of course I do." The engineer's brows furrowed. "Why?"
"Computer, locate Counselor deRosa," Seven requested.
The computer chimed, then responded, "Counselor deRosa is not aboard Voyager."
B'Elanna frowned. "Computer, where is Counselor deRosa?"
The computer gave its "working" beep then replied, "Unknown."
"Computer, does Voyager have a ship's counselor?"
"Per Captain Tuvok's request, the NCC 74656 B does not staff a ship's counselor." B'Elanna's look of sheer astonishment spoke louder than words.
Seven sat up next to B'Elanna. "Apparently, A’sha’heyrin deRosa was not who she appeared to be and last night, I discovered who she truly was."
"Well who the hell was she?" B'Elanna snapped, irritated at the thought that she might have been fooled.
"She claimed to be the Ocampa telepath, Kes. I believe her." Seven's eyes locked with B'Elanna's, "And she told me that Kathryn is still alive and waiting for us to find her."
"What?!" B'Elanna squawked, getting out of the bed and pacing around the room. Seven tilted her head to the side, observing her lover.
"Kathryn is alive. A planet some light years away houses her. We have to rescue her," Seven said, as if she were reciting a grocery list.
"And we know this is true because?" B'Elanna stopped pacing and just stood in front of Seven, staring the Borg down.
"The planet's coordinates are programmed into my cortical implant."
"Oh." B'Elanna plopped onto the bed, slumping over dejectedly. "So I suppose what we just did was our 'last dance'? Now that your precious Kathryn is coming home, you won't be needing me anymore, right?" The half-Klingon's voice never rose, just got softer and softer, until she was almost whispering.
"B'Ella? Of course not. I shall always need you. I love you. You are my beautiful one, remember?" Seven scooted herself around on the bed until she was hunched over the engineer, then pulled the woman close and started rocking slowly. "I love you, B'Elanna Torres. The fact that I also love Kathryn Janeway does not change anything. I can love both of you. There is enough room in my heart for two."
A rough sob escaped the other woman and she burrowed her head into Seven's chest, crying, "Blue Eyes, oh, my Annika... I love you so much. Need you... need you so much."
"Shh." Seven stroked B'Elanna's back, rocking her as she cried. "I know. I require you as well."
B'Elanna snorted, an oddly strangled sound, coming as it did through her tears. "Leave it up to you to ruin a romantic moment with something completely Borg."
"B'Elanna, I am Borg," Seven pointed out, raising her eyebrow at the unamused engineer.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." B'Elanna scrubbed at her eyes. "Look at me... I'm such a wreck. Not a proper Klingon at all."
"You are proper enough for me, bangwI'," Seven growled.
"Thanks, I think," she gave Seven a droll look then said, "I have a confession to make, myself."
"Yes?" Seven raised both her eyebrows expectantly.
"I, too, dreamt. Or at least, I somehow remember this A'sha person, and I remember talking to her about things I've never told anyone... not even you."
"Perhaps Kes felt that those discussions needed to be preserved."
B'Elanna shrugged and said, "I guess so. I mean, most of it was about how I'd had this big old crush on you and Kathryn for so long that I thought I would go crazy from the wanting of you and... I've never said this to you before, have I?" The engineer turned her head up to look at Seven, who's face was as shocked as B'Elanna had ever seen it.
"You -- crush -- Kathryn?" Seven squeaked out the question.
"Yes." B'Elanna drew the word out slowly, holding Seven's gaze.
"How... coincidental," Seven finally said, after a long moment of gathering her thoughts. "Kathryn told me that she had a crush on you as well."
"Well, won't we make the happy little menage a troi when we find her?" B'Elanna said sarcastically.
"A 'marriage of three'?" Seven considered the idea, rolling over implications of it in her mind, going over what she knew of Human protocol regarding multiple partner relationships. "I had not considered the idea, but I find it -- appealing," she said, smirking at her lover.
"Are you serious? Oh, as if Captain, 'Starfleet' Janeway would go for it." B'Elanna could not believe that she was actually considering the idea herself. Then blushed as several visions of what it could be like flashed through her brain. Oh my. My, my my my. She exhaled slowly. "Oh, but if she did..." she kissed Seven hard on the lips, "oh my."
Seven, trying to recover from the kiss, closed her eyes. Accessing the assimilated memories of other cultures where a tripod was considered the only form of marriage, Seven allowed herself to imagine for just a moment what it would be like. A slow, sexy smile teased at the corner of the Borg's lips. She recalled several of the holovids that she and Kathryn had enjoyed were based on multiple partners. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered just how -- passionate -- those vids had made her lover.
"B'Ella," Seven's said huskily, "I believe I require your assistance."
"Oh?"
"Yes." Seven tipped her head down and kissed B'Elanna again, then whispered, "love me."
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Seven presented Captain Tuvok with a padd bearing the coordinates with the origin of the subspace mayday. Tuvok raised a carefully sculpted brow at the precision of Seven's calculations, but said nothing. The course was laid in and all sat back to wait, almost holding their breath in anticipation.
On the bridge, Tom Paris looked over from his station at the helm and said to Harry Kim, "How could it be the Captain? She died, right? I mean, there was nothing left of her ship. I remember, because my buddy Drake Hampton was on the salvage crew that swept the wreckage of the Peregrine."
"I know Tom, all I can say is this: stranger things have happened." Harry was thinking of his own life, and the fact that he was not originally from the timeline he was existing in. This timeline's Harry Kim and Naomi Wildman had died nearly fifteen years earlier. Paris turned around and glanced over his instruments, still frustrated by the idea.
At her Ops console, Ensign Wildman shared similar thoughts to Lieutenant Commander Kim while she scanned the surrounding space for any other ships or comm traffic. But then an image of Interstellar Botany Ensign Kyrin Thompson drifted across her mind, sending the darker thoughts scuttling into their burrows. Kyrin was nearly Naomi's age, being just 18, which for an Andorian/Human/Betazoid mix, wasn't old at all. And she had the most amazingly sky blue skin, which, combined with nearly purple eyes and pale, pale blonde hair was enough to warm Naomi's teen-aged hormones to boiling.
Naomi grinned as she worked, knowing that she would soon invite the shy, beautiful ensign over for dinner.
***
B'Elanna staggered into her quarters and collapsed on the couch, not even bothering to kick off her regulation boots before lifting her feet up on the synth-wood coffee table that Seven had recently replicated. The day had been long and hellish. A field of asteroids stood between Voyager and her goal, and the crew had been forced to manually pilot their way through it. Seven was still in astrometrics, making sure the pathway had been thoroughly recorded by Voyager's computer, just in case the ship had to get away fast. Engineering had had its hands full when one of the asteroids had suddenly exploded and ruptured Voyager's hull perilously close to the anti-matter containment chamber of the warp drive.
"Computer, play something soothing," B'Elanna ordered tiredly. A Bach concerto began, light and airy. One of Seven's programmed selections, but one that both women liked. Slowly, B'Elanna's eyes drifted shut as the music relaxed weary muscles into an uneasy slumber.
Seven walked in nearly twenty minutes later to find her lover sprawled across the couch and table, snoring like a bear in winter hibernation. The musical piece was just ending. The former drone smiled wistfully, adoring B'Elanna even in her most messy state. She was surprised then, when a picture of Kathryn, also sleeping on the sofa, with B'Elanna's head in her lap leapt into her mind. One eyebrow quirked as she considered the image. She didn't feel excluded from the intimate setting, just that this was a normal day where she had come home late, while her lovers -- Lovers? -- she asked herself curiously, then nodded, answering her own question. Her lovers snuggled, waiting for her. Then the image dissolved, to be replaced by the reality of B'Elanna, rolling over and hiccuping, then coming awake with a snort and a burp.
B'Elanna sat up and scrubbed her eyes, yawning loudly. "Well, are you just gonna stand there and stare, or are you gonna come and cuddle?" asked the engineer petulantly. Seven's eyebrow shot up, but she joined her lover on the couch.
"Did you have a 'rough day', dear?" Seven asked in what she hoped was a solicitous enough voice. She recalled the first time she'd attempted "after work" conversation with the fiery half-Klingon and she did not want to end up dumped on the floor while listening to B'Elanna use every explicative she knew.
B'Elanna snorted and said, "Oh yeah, that would be putting it mildly, Seven."
"I trust that you executed your duties in an expedient fashion?" While Seven asked her question, B'Elanna crawled into the Borg's lap and Seven's hands naturally began to massage the engineer's head.
"Mm-oh, that's so good Seven. Yes, I 'executed' my duties and almost our helmsman. There were far too many times that I was sure that Tom was deliberately trying to run into some of those asteroids."
"Ensign Paris does appear to have a taste for thrill-seeking." Seven noted as she worked her fingers through B'Elanna's reddish brown hair, then down to shoulders made stiff by long hours of hunching over an engineering console.
B'Elanna let out a long purr and stretched out, then said, "have I ever told you how good you are to me, Seven?"
"No, but I do not expect you to." B'Elanna rolled over and looked up at Seven.
"Well, you are. Too good, sometimes. Do you know that I just adore you, Blue Eyes? I don't think I've ever said that to anyone before, but I really adore you."
Seven blushed slightly, then bent her head down to brush a kiss across her lover's forehead. "I love you too, B'Ella."
"Okay," B'Elanna said while sitting up again, "now that we have the mushy stuff done with, how 'bout some food?"
"I believe I am ready to assimilate a nutritional supplement, yes," Seven replied with a smile.
"Good. I think I'd like to stay home tonight though... I feel the need to be domestic today." The engineer stood and ambled over to the replicator, then tapped the controls quickly. Shortly, several covered dishes materialized, which B'Elanna quickly placed on a small table. "All right, it's ready."
When the dinner was revealed, Seven was delighted. Small dishes containing a variety of different treats decorated their table. Cuisine from both of B'Elanna's backgrounds made up their meal. Gagh and spanish rice sat side by side with blood pie and sour creme.
"It looks wonderful, B'Ella." Seven had surprised both herself and B'Elanna by sharing her lover's taste for gagh and the two women delighted in finding unique and unusual ways to serve the writhing mass of worms to each other without smashing them too much.
"Oh you're just saying that because you want my gagh." B'Elanna chuckled as they both sat and began to tuck in on the meal.
"Of course. But then, you'll eat mine, so we will be even," Seven retorted as she reached over the table to sneak a bite off of B'Elanna's plate.
"True." B'Elanna did the same, snitching a forkful of rice and gagh off of Seven's heaping plate. Dinner progressed, each woman taking time to talk about her day, about mutual friends and studiously avoiding the one topic that weighted down the air between them like fog -- Kathryn Janeway.
Chapter Nine
The sun sat high and fat over the dark blue sky of the planet that had been Captain Kathryn Janeway's home for the last four months. When her Voyager, a near perfect copy of the original Intrepid class ship, had finally given up the ghost, Kes had come and transported her to this spectacular place. Many Federation citizens would have paid good latinum to live here, but Kathryn Janeway would have given it all up for just one cup of coffee. That, and a new uniform. The clothes she had were the same she'd worn when Kes had deposited her on the surface with the news that, "They're coming, Captain. Be ready."
Kathryn propped a foot up on a rock and surveyed the trail behind her, wondering if all the hassle was worth it. She'd hacked her way through dense underbrush just to come to this point, a flat pinnacle of rock that overlooked a shimmering lake.
I wonder if she remembers me? Kathryn thought to herself wistfully, calling up the shape of her beloved Annika's face in the reflection of the water. Of course now Annika was with another -- B'Elanna Torres, her former Chief Engineer. Her other love. After all this time, Kathryn could admit to herself that she was deeply in love with both women. Hell, she'd admitted to being in love with Mark, Chakotay and maybe even Tuvok a little, out of sheer need to keep herself sane.
Ten years...
A decade ago, just as Voyager was about to make the biggest trip of its existence, she'd been in her ready room when Kes had appeared. Kathryn smiled as she recalled how shocked she'd been to see a bright flash of light, then a shimmer of energy, and then Kes. Shocked and pleased; she'd missed the Ocampan telepath who'd become her friend and confidante.
"Kes, how wonderful to see you. Have you come back to us?" she had asked eagerly.
Kes had shaken her head no and sat down in the chair across from Janeway's. "Captain, I'm so glad to see you too, but I'm afraid I have much to talk to you about and very little time to expend."
"By all means, please." Kathryn waved her hand, indicating that Kes should speak.
"Are you familiar with the Smithson protocol?" asked the Ocampan without preamble.
Janeway blanched. Swallowing, she replied shakily, "yes, I am. My father was one of the few men working on the project that --"
"Then you will understand what I mean when I say that you are the last person alive to know exactly what kind of trouble Archangel can bring."
Just the name sent a deep shudder coursing through Kathryn. Archangel. A being more powerful than Q and more evil than anything the Federation had ever known. Imprisoned by a Human alchemist named Joseph Smithson some several thousand years prior, the being had sworn revenge. A group of scientists attempting to create new types of ship had inadvertently freed the thing from its extradimensional prison. All of them, excepting her father, whose bravery had nearly cost him his own life, died fighting Archangel. He had beaten the entity though, imprisoning it into a photon torpedo housing, then shipping it to Starfleet headquarters where it was placed under the tightest security ever seen in the Federation.
"Yes, I know about Archangel. All Starfleet officers with a security clearance of captain do."
"Not anymore. While you have been gone, Captain, the Federation has been at war. Many have died and their replacements did not have time to be briefed on all of the rules and regulations beyond those necessary to fight the Dominion. Soon, none but you will know of the Smithson protocol."
"Won't it be on record?"
"No. Although your father and his colleagues managed to stifle most of Archangel's power, they could not completely contain him. He is even now corrupting those whose minds are weak and in ten year's time, he will have gathered enough power to free himself. Then he will do what he has wanted to do since he was created: Destroy the universe."
Janeway got up and began to pace around the room. "Can't anything be done to stop him? I mean, we are about to go through a worm hole that, as far as we can tell, leads straight to Earth."
"Of course, that's where you come in, Captain. Or rather, you and I. You see, I need your help."
"Explain." Kathryn had stopped in the center of the ready room, a foreboding sense of dread creeping into her gut.
"I am not the first of my kind to evolve as I have, Captain. In fact, I am only the first in a very long time." Kes took a breath to steady herself, "Archangel, who was born Dake, son of Rulan, was the last."
"There are more like you?" Janeway asked, while her mind wrapped itself around the situation.
"Yes. Not many, but there are some. They are all very old, too old to fight. I am the only one who can face Dake and you are the only one who can call upon the resources necessary for me to do that."
"All right. I can see that. What do you need me to do?"
Then Kes had explained exactly what it was that Janeway would have to give up. Five years of my life. Five years where everyone I know and love will think that I am dead. Just so that Kes could have the time to learn everything that the Elders could teach. I wanted to go after Archangel right away, but she convinced me... The fleeting vision that was Kes' trump card was forever burned in Kathryn Janeway's memory.
She was lying on a beach, and there were people around her, laughing and talking. She could hear Seven, B'Elanna, her mother Gretchen and her sister Phoebe. The roar of the surf was a white noise backdrop that soothed her as the sun warmed her skin.
In those five heartbeats Kathryn had felt more content and at peace than she ever had before. The overwhelming flood of joy that flowed through the dream gave her a hope for a life beyond the burden of the mantle of the captaincy. She had grown so tired in the Delta quadrant and Kes' vision had reawakened Janeway's promise to never put her career above her family.
She could not say no. She had known that she would do whatever Kes had asked of her from the moment the other woman had said, "I need your help." That she would be serving Starfleet and the Federation by doing so was only an additional bonus.
What ate at her, what haunted her dreams from the moment that Kes had whisked her out of the Peregrine on that fateful day was how Seven of Nine would feel about Kathryn's decision.
She'd tried to do right by Seven, asking for and getting the chance to see Seven as she spent her life in the Alpha quadrant. She'd even been given the chance, through the surprising intervention of Captain Benjamin Sisko and the Prophets of Bajor, to visit Seven when the other woman had needed her the most -- the day she had given herself to B'Elanna Torres.
That had been hard for Kathryn, perhaps the hardest thing she'd ever done. Letting Seven go into the arms of another woman while still wanting both women was something she didn't think even she had the strength for, but she found it and she said all the right things at the right time, allowing Seven to move on.
Then, there was only the existing. Moving from place to place in the Delta quadrant, having as little to do with the cultures that flourished everywhere and having only a copy of Voyager's original EMH as a companion. Her doctor had "died" with the ship when the warp engines could no longer hold out, the reason she had been dumped on this planet in the first place.
Kathryn lifted her eyes away from the water. Soon, they would come. Soon, she could begin the real work. Soon, she would take the new Voyager back to the Alpha quadrant, and with Kes, face down the monster hiding in Starfleet's bower.
Soon, she would look into the eyes of her beloved. But which one will I look to first? she wondered as she stepped down from the rock and raised her machete once more, swinging it in an arc to clear a path back to her small camp.