The Gift of Time

by

sHaYcH

Part Two: The Past Through Tomorrow

Chapter Ten

Voyager broke through the asteroid field and emerged into free space. The system had a single weak yellow star and thirteen planets that orbited in the standard sol-type ovoid. The fourth planet from the sun, a Class M in its prehistoric era was home to the one single humanoid life form that the ship had come so far to find -- Captain Kathryn Janeway.

The rescue was quick and quiet, only the command crew even knew that an extra person had been beamed aboard. Janeway, understanding even now the need for utter secrecy, allowed herself to be quartered on deck three, in guest quarters, where she voluntarily stayed put. Doc Z, after his initial circuit shock at seeing the woman he had last spoken to seven years prior while she was a prisoner in the New Zealand minimum security detention facility, began the arduous process that would prove that this woman was who she claimed to be.

After three weeks of tests, communiqués with Starfleet and more tests, she was affirmed. In that time, she had seen only three people: Captain Tuvok, Doc Z and Lieutenant Commander Harry Kim. Tuvok and Harry came by daily to keep her company and to discuss the details of her journey in the Delta quadrant. Doc Z almost never left her side, constantly needing to extract this or that bit of bio-matter, or, conversely, giving her test after boring psychological test. She did not reveal the entire truth of why she was alive in the Delta quadrant, instead, she told the story that she and Kes had discussed in her dreams. In truth, Kathryn almost believed it more than she believed the actual reason. Archangel was nothing but a shadow, while the lie -- that she had been whisked out of the Peregrine at the whim of Q -- was much more believable.

What was even more amazing was that Q itself was more than willing to go along with the falsehood, tickled at the idea that it would be considered a hero. That it would also aid in the destruction of a force that it was afraid of never entered the discussion. In fact, Q had been so tickled, that he had occasionally shown up on the Voyager clone to provide some much needed company for Kathryn. Captain Janeway would never, ever tell him, his mate or their precocious child that aside from her dream visits to Seven, their company was the only thing that had kept her sane.

Starfleet did not question her explanation, knowing the fickleness of the being called Q all too well. What was being discussed now was whether or not Kathryn was fit to return to duty as a Captain, and whether or not she should be given command of Voyager. Captain Tuvok had made quite clear his faith in Janeway's abilities, even going so far as to state that he'd rather serve her as an officer than command her as a Captain. The Council had been debating for four days, attempting to come to an equitable decision over her fate. Since the war with the Dominion, good captains, especially ones as proven as Janeway, were hard to come by. Yet, there was a faction among the delegates that felt that someone who had spent five years alone in a hostile quadrant could not possibly be sane.

So she sat in her unfamiliar surroundings, staring blankly at a wall where a sketch of Verona should hang. But that sketch, and the room that held it, were on another ship, in another quadrant, lost ten years ago when she had agreed to Kes' proposal.

"It won't be easy," she'd said, resting her hands on the captain's shoulders, locking her greenish gold eyes on Janeway's steel gray ones. "But it is the only way to save the Federation." So Kathryn had agreed -- agreed to give up her life, her command, and any chance at a life with Seven, all for the vision that the evolved Ocampa telepath had presented her. For five years, she'd traveled incognito in the Delta quadrant, in a copy of Voyager that Kes had produced, her only companion a copy of Voyager's holodoc.

Now she was aboard Voyager once more. Not as her captain, but as a passenger -- a refugee from a class M planet she'd been forced to land on when her ship had finally given up the ghost. Kathryn rubbed her eyes, closing them briefly as her fingertips tried to scrub away the tears that threatened to fall. She hadn't thought it was going to be as hard as it was, seeing B'Elanna and Seven, together.

Over the years, she'd dreamed. Kes had been powerful enough, kind enough, to allow her to see the life her beloved had led, after she'd left. It had almost been torture, at first. Janeway had returned to the Alpha quadrant and was received as somewhat of a dark hero. She had enjoyed her accolades, a brief moment of time with her family, and then, had faced the wrath of Starfleet. After serving her time, she took command of the scout ship, Peregrine, and had raced off to Bajoran space to join the patrols lurking around the system. When the raggle taggle Cardassian ship had de-cloaked off of her port bow and had fired five quantum torpedoes at her ship, she had made a desperate flight toward the wormhole, hoping against hope to use the spatial phenomena's gravity to pull the torpedoes away from her. It didn't work. Just as the warheads impacted with her hull, Kes appeared and whisked her away to a place outside of the fabric of reality. It was time for her to return to the Delta quadrant and let the galaxy think that Captain Kathryn Janeway was dead. After that, Kes waited, watching until Starfleet had perfected the transwarp technology, and when it was ready, she inserted herself on the ship as the ship's counselor. Of course now, no one remembered her. No one but Seven, B'Elanna and Janeway.

Seven and B'Elanna. One tear broke free of its sapphire prison and streaked down her cheek. They were probably making love right now. Yes, she'd given her blessing to Seven, allowing Benjamin Sisko to bring her spirit to Seven in Paris. How could she not? How could she force her beloved to spend her life alone? There were no guarantees that they would ever meet again. Kes had not been able to promise that.

Now, she was on the new Voyager, about to be reinstated as its Captain, if the padd bearing the message from Admiral Necheyev were to be believed. Necheyev. Janeway nearly snarled at the thought of the diminutive blonde admiral. Bitch. Her inner voice provided, not having the same restraints that Janeway had. She and her superior were definitely going to have a "talk" about the treatment Seven had received. But she really didn't care about all that. What she cared about, what was driving a knife into her heart was the fact that the woman she loved, was probably, at this very moment, making love to the woman she loved.

Kathryn snorted, laughing at herself. "Oh, I am a big old mass of contradictions, aren't I?"

"Excuse me, Captain?" Janeway jumped, nearly falling off of the couch she had been sitting on.

The voice had the same vocal tonality of the computer, but it was friendlier, almost -- human.

"Computer?" Janeway croaked uncertainly.

"Of course, who else did you expect? You are the Captain of the NCC-74656-B, which grants you the rights to have the AI Computer in your quarters. Starfleet has determined that a captain needs a completely unbiased confidante. I am that confidante." The voice changed slightly, adapting the air of a slightly offended older woman.

"Oh. Well. I see that I have some catching up to do." Janeway said uncertainly as she righted herself on the couch. She steepled her fingers, putting their tips against her pursed lips, her emotional dilemma drifting away at the introduction of the conundrum of the new computer. She thought about things for a few minutes, then said, "Computer, just how -- detached -- are you? Are you just a better sounding voice for the same old database, or have they given you personality subroutines, like Doc Z?"

"I am -- for everyone on the ship, aside from yourself and those you authorize -- the same computer I have always been. For the captain of this vessel, I am the Model 7747-MarkIV Artificial Intelligence Computer Program Beta-XII, code named, 'Sanity'. I have been programmed to respond to you as a friend, to like you, or not, based on your reactions to me. I am also 100% trustworthy, as I cannot be bribed, threatened or even," here, the computer's voice paused, then continued distastefully, "hacked. If such action is taken against me without your explicit, coded permission, I am to shut down and delete myself."

"So I'm supposed to think of you as a person? Oh no. I can't do that. I mean, you don't even have a name." Janeway was rambling, she knew that, but the problem -- or whatever it was -- of Seven and B'Elanna was beginning to look more appealing than the idea of a sentient ship's computer. At least I'm not in love with the computer, she thought wryly. She shook her head slightly, then ran one hand through her hair. Oh God, I've loved them for so long, I can't even remember a time when I didn't love one or both of them. They just don't prepare you for situations like this in Starfleet.

"You may, if you wish, assign a designation to me. I have been programmed to answer to both 'computer' and to whichever name the Captain assigns. You may also, if you choose, reprogram my voice to that of any voice print in the Federation database."

"Oh, great. Well, I wouldn't have the first idea of what to call you. I've never been particularly adept at choosing names for things. I mean, Molly Malone was as creative as I've ever been. As for changing your voice... I don't think so. I'm used to this one."

"The creativity of the designation does not have any bearing on my performance, Captain. I will perform at the same level of competence whether you call me Computer or 'hey you'. As for my vocal patterns, I am content to retain this one, at your command."

"Fine by me!" Kathryn nearly shouted, jumping up to pace around the room. "Computer, is this to become my quarters?"

"These quarters are the size of the standard Captain's quarters aboard this class of vessel. If you wish to requisition them as yours, I will so log it."

"Good. Now, put a level four lock on the door. Code: Janeway Alpha Seven Beta."

The computer chirped, signaling that it had done as she'd ordered. She continued to pace, rubbing her chin. Tomorrow, she knew, Tuvok would relinquish command of Voyager to her, and take his place as her first officer. Wistfully, she thought of Chakotay, the darkly handsome Maquis who had been forced into the position the first time they'd been through the Delta quadrant.

During her testing phase, she'd taken the time to research her crew, reading what she could of their lives that was available to public record. She knew of course about the trial and the subsequent appointment of Chakotay as the Prime Minister of Liberty, what she did not know was that he had, through a combination of luck and skill, managed to locate nearly three thousand Maquis survivors.

It had not been easy for him though. Several of his rescue missions had taken him into the heart of Cardassian territory, deep into the hellish prisons the race were reviled for. For one, brief instant, Kathryn wished that she could have been by his side, playing hero with him. It would have been oh, so much easier to love him. But she couldn't. She could not ever give her heart to a man that did not believe in her one hundred percent.

Her heroic fantasies vanished, replaced by reams of reports and news items about her crew. An award here, a promotion there. Some deaths, from accident, murder and natural causes. She grieved them, and moved on. Eventually, she ordered the computer to replicate her a carafe of coffee and with cup in hand, she sat down to review as much of the history of Voyager and the Alpha quadrant from the last five years as she could. She had to be prepared for tomorrow, and for the future.

Chapter Eleven

Seven of Nine stood in the ensuite of her quarters. She was clean, having just stepped out of the sonic shower, and she was naked, not yet having put on the shorts and tee-shirt she'd replicated to sleep in. The mirror, usually fogged with steam, was clear and her reflection brought her up short. Her body, as familiar to her as the charts in astrometrics, was no longer flush with the youth of the recently severed drone. She sagged in places. Her belly was not flat, nor was it smooth. Angry red scars woven with lighter, silvery scars marred the surface of her creamy white skin. She was not perfect. She was -- ugly. Seven's eyes closed and tears fought to fall, but she swallowed them, not wanting to admit how much she was hurting.

She didn't always feel this way, only when she was inadvertently reminded. She wasn't vain, for vanity was inefficient. She just felt as though she were lacking in some quality that would forever lock her firmly in the realm of "Human". Other implants, still a part of her, stood out on her body, but she was not repulsed by these -- they were more perfect than her flesh, still as bright and unscarred as the day they erupted.

B'Elanna entered their quarters, tired and hungry, and more than a little frisky. The day had been boring, with only minor things to do as Captain Janeway acclimated herself to the new systems on Voyager. She had actually spent several hours in the woman's company, and had realized for the first time in her life, that the way the captain smelled made her blood burn.

She had narrowly avoided throwing Janeway against a bulkhead and kissing the breath from her lungs by concentrating on what she would do to Seven when her shift was over. Now it was over and she was home and it was time for -- "Seven?" B'Elanna called out, hoping her beloved Borg hadn't gone efficient on her and worked late.

Seven held her breath, fighting the impulse call out a response. She did and did not want company.

B'Elanna noticed a light in the bathroom and decided to surprise her lover in the shower. She stripped down quietly and walked back to the room, stopping when she noticed that Seven was not in the shower, but standing in front of the sink, staring at her reflection, hands idly stroking the scars on her stomach. Rage, hot, flashfire quick sparked along B'Elanna's nerves. She hated what Starfleet had done in the name of "science" by removing the implants that had once regulated all of Seven's nutritional and waste functions. The worthless sons of honorless dogs hadn't even had the decency to reconstruct the tissue, and instead had just passed a dermal regenerator over the site until it had sealed, leaving several large, ugly scars. Her lips curled into a snarl and she wondered what possessed her beloved to leave herself so vulnerable.

Then she knew. It is the return of the captain -- her Kathryn, the woman Seven had loved briefly and yet so deeply. Janeway had avoided any contact with Seven and B'Elanna outside of duty and B'Elanna knew that was driving her lover a little mad. She and Seven had talked; Seven knew she was willing to share her with Janeway, willing to let them become a triad, but so far, Kathryn was not cooperating. Seven was obviously at a loss as to what to do. So was B'Elanna, but that did not matter now; what mattered was seeing her beloved smile.

Casually, she slid her arms around Seven from behind. "Hey, beautiful. I missed you," she kissed Seven's shoulder and sucked at the flesh, smiling when Seven responded by moaning softly.

"I missed you, B'Ella," Seven whispered, covering B'Elanna's hands with her own and leaning into the engineer's body.

"Mm. You look like you've been thinking... and I bet I know what you've been thinking."

"Oh?" Seven's eyebrow rose challengingly.

"Uh huh. I bet you're wishing that Kathryn Janeway would chuck her self-imposed exile out the nearest airlock and get her butt down her and visit." While she was speaking, B'Elanna's hands were wandering, touching, caressing, and massaging the flesh of Seven's belly, thighs, and finally, breasts. She held Seven's breasts firmly, slowly tweaking the nipples until they were hard, then pulling and twisting them while grinding herself against the taller woman.

"That... would... be -- nice," Seven gasped, breathing raggedly. Her eyes closed. So much... she wanted so much for the maelstrom of emotion in her heart to subside. She would not choose between B'Ella and Kathryn, both were equally beloved. She and B'Elanna were willing to make room for Kathryn -- why hadn't her former lover even bothered to ask?

B'Elanna's mouth whispered across Seven's bare skin. Teeth, sharp and harsh nipped at the join of neck and shoulder and the half-Klingon growled, "I wonder sometimes -- do you ever wonder Seven, what it would be like to have both of my hands," she caressed Seven from breastbone to thigh, "and both of Kathryn's touching you..." One of B'Elanna's hands curved around a breast, teasing the nipple, while the other skipped down Seven's belly to tangle in sodden curls, "loving you..." Fingers dipped and swirled, slicking themselves against heated flesh and B'Elanna purred, nipping and kissing Seven's shoulders.

Seven, unable to keep steady, spread her legs and braced herself against the wall of the ensuite. B'Elanna's fingers became restless, stroking, driving, penetrating deep, moving inside of Seven, causing her to push herself up on the balls of her feet. The room started to blur as her insides turned to liquid fire and she let out a ragged, "yessssss."

B'Elanna's thrusts grew even more agitated and deep and Seven twisted her head around to have her lips captured in a kiss that was hard and tender and exactly what she needed to send her falling forward. Held up only by the strength of her lover, Seven panted softly and cried silently.

"I would too, querida, I would too," B'Elanna whispered, holding Seven close and kissing her lovingly.

Lying in bed afterward, they began to talk, slowly and haltingly about what they desired. Seven started by stating, "I could not love anyone more than I love you, B'Elanna."

"I feel the same, querida, but -- we are not entirely whole, either, are we?" The half-Klingon was tucked up under Seven's chin, legs entwined with the taller Borg's and she was scratching Seven's arms slowly, causing her lover to purr luxuriously.

"Yes. That is exactly how I feel," Seven kissed the top of B'Elanna's head. "Incomplete. However," Seven pulled her head back to look B'Elanna in the eye, "no matter what happens, I will always be happy with you."

B'Elanna growled happily, kissed Seven and tickled her. "As wonderful as that is Seven," she said, "that does not help us to figure out how to convince Kathryn that we are what she needs."

"No, it does not. We must think on this." Seven's brow furrowed as she frown, concentrating. B'Elanna kissed the tip of her nose.

"Later. We need to sleep now."

"Only sleep, B'Elanna Torres?" Seven asked as she stroked the engineer's back suggestively.

"You're insatiable."

"You're complaining?"

"No..."

"Didn't think so."

Chapter Twelve

Captain Janeway entered her ready room on Voyager for the first time in ten years and breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. It did not matter that the room was nearly half again the size of the original ready room, or that Tuvok had not removed everything that he'd placed in the special alcoves placed strategically around the room. All that meant anything to Kathryn was that she was a Captain again, in service to Starfleet aboard a Federation starship. A moment before, she'd just been officially piped aboard, and given command of Voyager. Tears stung the back of her eyes, turning them to liquid smoke and she rubbed them, cursing herself for a fool.

She straightened the hem of her dress tunic, the dark burgundy and black material feeling eerily unfamiliar, yet comfortable on her shoulders, walked over to the desk and sat down. A stack of padds was waiting for her perusal, and with a sigh, she began reading over the reports.

An hour later, she pushed her chair back, replicated a cup of coffee and walked over to stare out of a window. Archangel's touch was easy to spot, if one knew what one was looking for. A policy change here, a new rule there, coupled with several resignations, deaths and transferals of key people and Kathryn very easily saw the makings of a coup. Starfleet was about to go to hell in a handbasket, and there was not one single person who could stop it. Except her. She knew. It wasn't hard at all for her to see the pattern of change the megalomaniacal being was weaving, and she now knew without a doubt that she would never regret giving up those five years.

Seven's face swam before her eyes. Not the Seven she knew ten years before, the one that had loved her, but the one that had applauded when she exited the turbolift and entered the bridge an hour before -- self assured and strong, a woman in her own right. A woman in love with someone else.

Stop it right this instant, Katie Janeway! her inner voice, sounding too much like Gretchen Janeway for Kathryn's comfort, berated her. It's your own damn fault that you're so miserable -- you're the one who has avoided both Seven and B'Elanna like the plague. You know very well that they've tried several times to get your attention -- to be your friends -- and you've ignored them.

The hell of it all was that the voice was right. She had ignored Seven and B'Elanna, out of fear. Fear that they would reject her, fear that she would come between their love and even, fear that she wouldn't come between them. Kathryn hated herself for the latter, and it had taken two full nights of arguing with herself before for admitting it, but a part of her wanted B'Elanna and Annika to break up, just so they would be as miserable as she was.

"Really Captain, is all this self-castigation necessary?" a warm voice asked.

"Kes!" Kathryn turned around to see the Ocampa seated on the couch, sipping a cup of tea. Kes set the cup aside, stood and walked over to Janeway, where the two women embraced tightly. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you Kes, but something tells me that you didn't just drop in to lecture me about my private life!"

"Oh, I don't know. You seem to need a little lecturing," Kes teased, smiling warmly. Then she sighed, "You're right, Captain. I came because it's time to start training your crew in how to fight Archangel."

"So soon?" Janeway asked, sitting at her desk. Kes sat across from her, the tea abandoned on the coffee table.

"I'm afraid so. Archangel is gathering support quicker than we had first surmised. At his present rate, he will have control of all of Starfleet in six months; a year at the most."

Janeway blanched. Just the thought of the psychotic being in control of her Starfleet was enough to freeze her soul. The captain's blue eyes frosted over, turning steel gray. "Tell me what you need me to do."

***

Captain Janeway sat in the conference room at the head of the table, watching Kes pace around the room nervously. The door whooshed open, admitting Tom Paris, Tuvok, Seven of Nine and B'Elanna Torres.

"Have a seat," Janeway said dryly, ignoring the looks of surprise, inquiry and suspicion Kes drew.

Three of the four officers sat gingerly, unsure of what to say or think. Only Tuvok remained impassive, nodding at Kes in silent greeting.

Without preamble, Kes said, "You four have been chosen because each of you possesses something unique."

"Chosen for what?" B'Elanna asked, almost snarling the question. She grunted at Seven's well-placed under the table kick; Kes chuckled.

"B'Elanna Torres, Klingon-Human hybrid. You are strong, yet compassionate; you will be the group's shield." She turned and faced Tom, whose eyes were still slightly bugged out. "Tom Paris, Human pilot. The 'best damn pilot in the Delta quadrant'. You will be the group's wings."

"I am the sword," Tuvok announced quietly, meeting Kes' eyes with an inscrutably raised eyebrow. Kes nodded.

"What is my function?" Seven asked tonelessly. Internally, Janeway winced. She knew that Seven and B'Elanna disliked being as close to her as they were. They had to. After all, that's how she would feel, if her ex-lover was sitting directly across from her, while her new lover looked on. Kes walked around the room and put her hands on Seven's shoulders.

"You are the focus, Seven. It is through you that I will work." Seven's mouth opened, closed, opened, then snapped shut as B'Elanna placed a warning hand on her knee.

"Hmm, that leaves me to be the bait, I take it?" Janeway joked weakly, trying to defuse some of the tension that was building in the room.

"Bait? Bait for what? Captain, if you don't mind, I think I speak for all of us when I say, what the hell is going on here?" Tom Paris finally blurted. B'Elanna nodded her agreement, Seven cocked her head to the side and Tuvok's eyebrow rose even higher.

"Yes, I believe I must admit to a certain -- curiosity -- over this discussion, Captain," Tuvok stated calmly.

"I'm about to ask all you to suspend your disbelief, to leave behind the notions of time, space and reality as science defines it." As she spoke, Kes walked back over to the captain's side. Her words grew more and more distant as her voice took on a hollow, toneless quality. "If you would each hold the hand of the person next to you and close your eyes, our journey will begin."

Not knowing what else to do, and trusting implicitly in their captain, the five officers did as they were bid.

***

In a space of time that did not exist, five people stood in a circle, hands clasped. One woman, half-humanoid, half-pure energy, stood in the center, hands extended, palms up. A voice, deep, soothing and warm, throbbed around them like a heartbeat.

"This is the enajh, the place of silent truth. Here, you will learn the answers to your questions. Ask freely of the enajhia, the truth speaker, but remember, truth is sharp and can cut the careless."

A single question echoed into the realm. "What is the sword?" Tuvok's voice, hollow and thin, lacked all but the essence of the query.

"The sword... sword... sword..." echoes fell around the five, fountaining from the central figure.

Kes lifted her head, opened her eyes and spoke. "The sword is the stroke to sever the connection. To be a good sword, you must know when to cut and when to deflect." Images formed, hazy and nebulous, dancing just out of the range of clear vision. Tuvok nodded, then closed his eyes.

"I understand. I accept the truth and become the sword. I will fight the Ko Rian, Archangel."

"Welcome, Tuvok of Vulcan, to the Pentad. You are the arm of strength and might. Stand proud, and cut quickly."

"What am I supposed to do?" Tom Paris' voice called out, small and scared, a lost little boy in a strange town.

"You are the Wings, the master of Flight. You must out-do Icarus and brave the sun's rays. Fly well, but remember to glide with the wind." Shapes, indistinctly winged, fluttered and dove around the helmsman's head, but he did not flinch.

"Got it. Fly my ass off. I can do that," said Tom, a shadow of his usual bravado slipping into his reply.

"Welcome, Tom Paris of Earth, to the Pentad. You are the legs and body, stand proud and run fast, soar with the eagles." A delighted smile curved Tom's lips, sloughing years off of his boyish face.

"I don't get it. What the hell are we doing? Sword? Wings? What's going on?" B'Elanna asked. A single strand of energy separated itself from Kes and slithered over to the engineer. When it touched her skin, she cried out.

Image after image assaulted B'Elanna's mind. A child, standing in the middle of a flattened school, her playmates smoking ashes. Half the child's face is melted away, yet she cannot cry out in pain, for in the next instant, she too is a pile of ash. The picture cuts away to become an old man, lying in his own waste, begging for a nurse to come help him, but no one comes because the hospital is in ruins, flames devouring the building, eating at the edges to the man's door. Dissolve. A ship glides effortlessly through space, its warp engines humming happily. Without warning, the warp core breaches, causing the ship to explode, creating a spatial rift that makes a nearby sun to go supernova, destroying three planets.

Throughout the visions, B'Elanna sees a man of incredible beauty watching alongside her, laughing insanely. She sees him reach down and with a single finger, crush out an entire city.

"Okay!" she shouted. "I get it! This guy is bad news and we have to stop him, but how? How do you stop something like that?" Three disks appeared in front of B'Elanna, whirling individually as well as collectively.

"You are the shield. You will be the mirror that reflects."

"All right. I'm in. I'm the plate or whatever and I'll do my damnedest to kick the Ko Rian's ass."

"Welcome, B'Elanna, daughter of Miral, to the Pentad. You are the arm that protects. Anger feeds anger, hate builds hate and love accepts all."

Kes turned to face Seven of Nine. "Ask your question, focus."

"I have no questions to ask. I will do as I am directed." The Borg's voice was cold and empty, devoid of emotion.

"Ask!" The enajhia's eyes burned with a feverish intensity.

Seven's head snapped up and she stared the telepath down. "This drone is imperfect. How can this drone function as a focus?"

"You must marry your past to your future, Seven of Nine. You are the epiphany of man and machine, but your path is your own." Confusion blanketed Seven's face. Indistinct shadows danced just inches from her body and she watched them, concentrating. She struggled to see something -- anything -- familiar in the forms.

"I -- I do not understand," she wept, wanting to run away and hide, knowing that somehow, she had failed everyone, failed Kathryn and B'Elanna.

Kes' face softened, and she smiled. "I will show you." Kes reached for Seven and she flinched, but held her ground as the Ocampa's smooth, soft hands cupped her face. Her eyes closed and suddenly, she was a child, playing "shuttle" with her daddy. His hands held her up as he ran with her through the corridors of the Raven and she laughed and giggled. Her mother caught them playing and laughed, joining in by pretending to be the docking bay for the little shuttle Annika.

"This is your past, Seven. You are human, individual, a child of loving parents. This is still a part of you." Kes' voice threaded through the images.

Seven remembered. The joy of her father's and mother's love surrounded her until she was laughing with childlike abandonment. Crashing through her joy came hard images of the Borg invading the Raven, taking her parents, taking her and taking away her laughter, leaving only cold, cruel efficiency behind. She was Borg. Immediately, Seven's demeanor changed, she stood tall and still, her face took on the blank look of a drone and she said, "We await your command."

Hatchet like, memories of her time in the Collective played out in her head, jumbling together to create a disharmonic symphony of assimilation and regeneration. Again, Kes' voice invaded her mind.

"This too is your past. The perfection of the Collective. You must accept both your Human and Borg heritages, blend your natures. You have done this to some extent, but now you must embrace both in order to be the focus, the vessel which We will fill with the power to fight the Ko Rian."

"I cannot." The memories of the evil that she had committed as a Borg still lingered deeply inside of her psyche, even after Counselor Troi had spent hours trying to help her to see that she was not at fault. The child that Annika was could not let go of the guilt that she was somehow to blame.

"Seven, you must accept that you were not the creator of evil, only its tool. You must let go of your pride and accept the humility."

"My pride?" the Borg growled, emotion threading through her voice for the first time. "You think I am proud of what I have done? What I did as a drone? The millions that I helped to assimilate? The children I murdered?" she was shouting now, but she did not break the circle. Her eyes were wide open, sparks were almost jumping off of her skin and she stared down Kes, who looked back impassively.

"I did not say that. I said that you must let go of your pride. It is pride that makes you take all

the blame, instead of placing it where it belongs -- with the Queen of the Collective. It was her directives that pushed you to do those terrible things. Ask yourself this, Seven, would Annika Hansen have done any of those things you blame yourself for?"

Seven's mouth snapped shut. She remembered herself as Annika, her dreams... she wanted to be a scientist, to study the stars the way mommy and daddy studied the Borg...

She was four and it was her birthday and Daddy was handing her a package, it was a telescope, all shiny and new...

"Here ya go my girl. Just what a budding Galileo needs... her very own telescope!"

"Oh Daddy! It's wonderful! I love it! Can I go use it tonight, please, can I, please?" she begged, bouncing up and down gleefully.

"Only if you eat all your vegetables," her mother, Erin, interjected.

"Yes, mommy, I will, I promise." Annika said solemnly.

Later, she was outside with her dad, looking at the rings of Saturn through the telescope. Without peeling her eye from the viewer, she said, "Someday Daddy, I'm gonna go there and I'm gonna see those from a spaceship!"

"I bet you will, sprout, I just bet you will." Magnus had said, while ruffling his daughter's platinum blonde curls.

Seven remembered and knew, without a shade of a doubt, that Annika Hansen could have never done the things that Seven of Nine had done. Annika revered life, Seven viewed it only as a potential source of technological distinctiveness. But where did that leave her now? More than ten years after she'd been severed from the Collective and after all but a few shreds of their tampering remaining on her body. She let go of Kathryn's hand to touch her face, the implants that rested there, mute reminder of her inhumanity and suddenly, they didn't seem so foreign at all, only a part of her flesh that was slightly cooler than her living skin.

The sensation of her fingers on the metal reminded her of other metal and she let go of B'Elanna's hand, bringing her left hand up to touch first the implant above her eye, then the skin around it and she realized that to the mesh that was filled with millions of specialized sensors, there was no difference. Both flesh and metal were one, part of one landscape, one map that was one person, one being, whole. She was Seven of Nine and she was Annika Hansen. Understanding flooded her body and she took up B'Elanna's and Kathryn's hands.

Bringing them to her breast, she kissed them both, then let them drop to her side. "I am the harmony of Human and Machine. I am the conduit through which You will pour the energy needed to fight Archangel. I am the Focus, use me as you will." True humility edged her voice and she cast her eyes down, accepting her fate and relinquishing her guilt.

Kes smiled, a brilliant expression of love and wonder. "Welcome, Seven of Nine -- Annika Hansen, to the Pentad. You are the soul, open and free, a lens of purity waiting to be aimed. Clarity is gained only when the dirt is washed away."

Janeway spoke finally, her voice strangely quiet and thin. "I assume that my role is to be the distraction."

"Yes and no, Captain. Yours is the most important role, for you are the conductor, the head of the Pentad, leading the others to battle the Ko Rian. It is your duty to direct the Sword where to cut, the Shield where to block, the Wings to fly and the Focus to shine."

"I will be proud to assume this role." Kathryn said, the strength coming back to her voice like a blade sliding into a sheath. "I will lead the Pentad and fight the Ko Rian, Archangel, or die trying!"

"The enajh has heard and accepted the pledge of the Pentad." The voice swelled again, sound becoming light that enveloped the five officers and melding with flesh, penetrating. Each cried out as every nerve in their bodies lit up, lighting struck by sensation, that as quickly as it came, vanished. When their vision cleared, and they found themselves seated in the conference room; Kes was gone.

"Well that was interesting," Tom said breathlessly, putting his hands on the table. Then he let out a yelp as he noticed matching, glowing, wing-shaped tattoos on the backs of his hands. Tuvok held up his hands to display matching swords, B'Elanna's had three interlocking circles and Seven's had faceted gems. Janeway's hands bore all four marks bordered by a twisting pattern of knots. As they stared, the luminescence faded, as did the marks, until all that showed were faint silver marks that could be mistaken for scars.

"I guess there's no going back now. All right this is what we're going to do. Tom, you will plot a course back to the Alpha quadrant, but it must take us at least -- at least -- six months to return, longer if you can, but no more than nine months, understood?"

"Aye, ma'am." This was more Tom's style -- follow clear orders, not the mumbo jumbo that Kes had led them through. Already, his mind was going over charts, calculating transwarp conduits and warp jumps.

"B'Elanna, I want you, Seven and Tuvok to examine our weapons and tactical systems -- make sure they are functioning at their peak efficiency."

"Yes, Captain."

"Tuvok, I want you to choose a team of ten security members to function as our guards. Once you've chosen and briefed them, let me know. I'd like each of us to get to know them and work with them as much as possible."

"Aye, Captain." The Vulcan nodded, as if agreeing with the captain's decisions.

"Seven, I'd like for you to come up with several different options, in case a direct assault fails. I will see to it that you have the proper clearance."

"Yes, Captain."

"Dismissed." Janeway cradled her head in her hands after they had left, wishing that Chakotay were there so she could lean on her former first officer's shoulder. He would have said something like, "Kathryn, you may have bitten off more than you can chew, but I have the utmost faith in your ability to swallow it without choking anyway," and she would have laughed and he would have smiled and she would have felt so much better. Right now, all she felt was tired. Tired and lonely.

"And if I depress myself any further, I can sing the blues. Come on Katie, get your ass in gear. You can feel sorry for yourself later."

"Captain?" the computer's "voice" queried.

"Sorry, Computer. Talking to myself again. Ignore it."

"As you wish."

"I do." Kathryn stood, straightened her uniform and exited the conference room. If anyone noticed a slight sadness that lingered around her eyes as she took the captain's chair from Harry, no one said anything.

 Chapter Thirteen

Seven of Nine was in astrometrics, standing at her workstation and running attack/defense simulations when she heard a strange noise come from behind one of the Jeffries tubes. Slowly, she picked up a tricorder and flipped it open, running a directional scan. The readings indicated that one half-Ktarian, half-Human female, approximately sixteen years of age was concealed behind the hatch. More of the noises filtered out and suddenly, Seven realized that what she was hearing were sobs. Concerned, Seven set the tricorder aside and walked over to the hatch.

"Naomi Wildman. Can you hear me?"

"Go 'way!" the young woman inside the tube cried. Seven was not about to do any such thing. She opened the hatch and crawled into the tube, sitting opposite of the young ensign, whose face and eyes were red and blotchy from prolonged crying.

"Naomi, what is wrong? Aren't you supposed to be on duty?" Seven asked, uncertain how to proceed, but driven to do something none the less. Some of Counselor Troi's interview techniques danced around in her memory, waving for her attention.

The young teen shook her head and whispered, "No, I switched with Ensign Bryson."

"Then what are you doing in the Jeffries tube?" Seven could clearly see that Naomi was crying, but she needed a few minutes to gather her thoughts and determine how to handle this situation. This was not like dealing with a six year old's nightmares about the Borg, this display had all the earmarks of an angst-filled teen dilemma.

For a moment, it looked as if Naomi were going to bolt, or continue crying, but then she drew a shuddering breath and wailed, "I've made a complete idiot of myself!"

Shifting a bit to get more comfortable on the chill grating, Seven laid a tentative hand on Naomi's arm. "Tell me about it."

Naomi sighed. "Well, I gave up on Vickers... she was so dense! But then, I thought I'd met the perfect woman," the teen sighed again, heavily, "Thompson, from Interstellar Botany." Naomi's eyes went all dreamy when she said the name.

Seven ran through the list of crew she knew by face and came up with a lithe young woman of mixed heritage. Kyrin was a strikingly beautiful woman, and the talk of many of the crew, after-hours. "A good choice. Kyrin is an efficient officer," Seven said, giving the highest praise she could.

Naomi snuffled, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, "Yeah, but, she totally turned me down!"

"What happened?"

"Well, I asked her to come to my quarters for dinner ... and she did ... and we got to talking ... and I kinda mentioned that I thought she had the neatest eyes... and then she got all shy and stuff, and before I knew it she was leaving. Now she won't return my messages and she avoids me in the mess hall!" Fresh tears came tumbling down Naomi's face.

"You must be more persistent," Seven said, recalling her own pursuit of Kathryn Janeway more than ten years ago... and her more recent wooing of B'Elanna Torres.

"What should I do?" Eagerly, Naomi sat forward, hope brightening in her eyes.

"You must determine what Ensign Thompson requires in a mate. If you fulfill those requirements, then you must present yourself to her until she acquiesces," Seven replied, then cocked her head to the side, "or until she informs you that she is uninterested."

"So, I just gotta find out what she's looking for, and if I'm it, then ... let her know?" Naomi summarized.

"Precisely."

Naomi exploded forward, hugging Seven until the older woman didn't think she'd be able to draw breath. "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou..." she babbled, burying her face in Seven's neck. The Borg hugged her back, smiling while rolling her eyes heavenward, hoping that she hadn't just committed a faux pas.

***

After Naomi had left the astrometrics lab, Seven continued to run the simulations, storing the plans in a padd by success rate percentage. She thought she had accounted for every eventuality, but just in case, she would share them with B'Elanna and hope that the half-Klingon engineer would have more to add to her data. As she worked she also mulled over the idea of how to get Kathryn to accept the love of both her and B'Elanna, and understand that both women freely offered it.

She sighed. As a drone, I did not have to concern myself with such matters. If Kathryn, B'Ella and I were to be assimilated, then there would be no problem at all -- we would understand each other perfectly. The image of both of her loves violated by the Borg played at the edges of her consciousness and she shuddered. She shoved the thoughts away, cursing at her foolish notions. I will discover a way to do this! I will not allow myself to fail.

As if the gods had decided to toss a bit of garbage on her head, the door to astrometrics shushed open and Kathryn strode in.

"Captain," Seven greeted the older woman politely.

"Lieutenant," Janeway returned, noting the pips and uniform that Seven now wore. "Times certainly have changed, haven't they, Seven?" The captain stated wistfully.

"Yes, they have," Seven replied, attempting to busy herself with her calculations. She wasn't ready for this yet, wasn't ready to see emotion in Kathryn's eyes.

Janeway paced around the room, ascending the stairs that led up to the projection screen and then down the other side. "You know," she said, "one of the few things that kept me sane these last five years was --"

"Captain, I --"

Janeway held up her hand, forestalling Seven's statement. "Please, let me continue. I know this is hard, but it needs to be said, if we are to work with each other successfully."

"As you will, Captain," Seven inclined her head, allowing the captain to proceed.

"As I was saying, one of the few things that kept me sane these last five years were my dreams. Every night practically, I would dream of you, or Mother, or Phoebe," Kathryn's voice grew distant, filled with memories. "I watched you go from Starfleet's dirty little secret to the All-Alpha Velocity champion and I was so proud of you, so proud," the captain smiled, eyes moist and Seven swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. "I saw Mother and Phoebe welcome you into our home, then come to love you as I had and I knew, I knew that loving you was the best thing I had ever done."

"Kathryn..." Seven croaked, tears tightening her throat and making her voice hoarse.

"Shh. Seven, I'm not here to throw myself into your arms and make things difficult. I'm here because," Janeway bit her lower lip, grasping for courage, "because you need to know that what I said to you in Paris is the truth. I'm glad that you and B'Elanna are happy and I won't stand in your way."

"You, Paris, real?" Seven stuttered, absolutely flabbergasted at the revelation.

Kathryn walked as close as she dared to Seven and put her right hand on the console. Then, very slowly, so slowly that time appeared to shrink down to heartbeat and breath intake, she raised her left hand and lightly touched Seven's cheek, feeling for the first time in ten years the star-like implant that rested in the hollow. "Yes, Annika. Paris was real. Kes arranged for my spirit to visit you. I had to go, darling, because you had to know that it was okay to love someone else."

Tears spilled over and slipped hot and wet down Seven's face and onto Janeway's hand. "If I -- if you had told me that --" Seven babbled hoarsely.

Janeway shook her head. "No Seven, I couldn't tell you. That was part of the bargain. No one, absolutely no one, in the Alpha quadrant could know that I was alive at that time. Besides," Janeway pulled her hand away, the loss of contact feeling like icicles being driven into her chest, "you really do love B'Elanna and she really does love you... and you deserve to be happy."

"Kathryn -- "

"Doc Z to the Captain."

With a pained expression, Kathryn said, "Go ahead Doctor."

"It is time for your follow up exam. Please don't be late Captain, I would hate to have to come and find you."

Janeway rolled her eyes and looked at Seven, but the moment was gone. The Borg had returned to her calculations. Sighing, the captain said, "On my way, Doc."

"Splendid! I shall have a biobed ready and waiting just for you."

"Seven -- I -- I want you and B'Elanna to be happy, so, be happy. That's an order." Janeway tried to keep her voice light, but something of her own anguish crept in and she fled before the Borg could reply.

As soon as the captain was gone, Seven's shoulders sagged and tears splattered the surface of the console, but she continued to run her simulations.

***

After the visit to the doctor, Kathryn found herself wandering the corridors of Voyager, nearly lost in the maze of passageways that sometimes resembled the original Voyager, yet were strange enough to confuse her. She rounded a hall, stepped onto a turbolift and exited. Three hallways later, she was stepping through a doorway into a small forest. It was night, and the lonely cry of an owl resonated through the trees. Surprised, and very pleased, the captain discovered a path and began to walk.

"Computer?" she whispered, hoping no one else was near.

"Yes, Captain?" the modulated voice held the more personal tone, so Janeway assumed that she was alone.

"Did I do the right thing?"

"With Seven of Nine?" Damn, whoever programmed the computer was a genius! Janeway thought, nodding.

"Yes. I assume that you 'overheard', and since I am supposed to trust you as an advisor, I am," Janeway paused, taking a breath and resting her head against a convenient tree-trunk, "willing to give you a try." Then she closed her eyes and whispered, very softly, "Besides, I have no one else."

"Do you wish some privacy, Captain?" the computer asked.

"Yes, please." Sparkles appeared before her eyes as the computer transported her to her quarters. She smiled a little when she saw a freshly replicated cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of the couch, with a plate of steaming chocolate chip cookies next to the cup. Kathryn sat down and lifted the cup to her lips, sipping at the perfectly prepared beverage. "Did my mother program you, Computer?" she quipped, after taking a bite of one of the cookies.

"As a matter of fact, the recipe collection of Gretchen Janeway was added to my matrix, as were the recipes of nearly thirty billion other families from the Alpha quadrant."

"To give the crew a 'taste of home', no doubt," the captain said, eating another cookie.

"Correct. The psychiatric arm of Starfleet determined that one of the main contributors to deep space psychosis was homesickness. Adding just two thousand recipes from crew member's families reduced the onset of panic and allowed ship's counselors to work more efficiently."

"And Starfleet figured that what a little helped, a lot would cure. Wonderful. Congratulations, you can heal a homesick crewman. Can you heal a heartbroken Captain?" Suddenly, Janeway wished she had a bottle of her grandaddy's Irish best.

The computer's silence was its only answer.

"I didn't think so." Hot tears scalded their way down Kathryn's face and she closed her eyes, quietly allowing them to fall.

Chapter Fourteen

Seven of Nine was snuggled up in B'Elanna's lap, staring at the ceiling, counting the ripples in the duranium and trying very hard not to be angry, hurt and depressed. She failed. A deep sigh alerted B'Elanna that Seven was about to burst.

"Spit it out, Seven. You'll feel better afterward, you know that. It's like puking... at first it's gross and uncomfortable, but once you're all cleaned up, you feel a whole lot better."

"That was an entirely too graphic analogy, but thank you, bangwI'," Seven drawled, looking up at her lover.

B'Elanna bent over and nuzzled Seven's nose and said, "Anytime, querida. Now, out with it!"

"Kathryn came to me today to tell me that she... she approved of you and I -- and that she was not going to 'stand in our way'."

B'Elanna laughed, a short bark of sound that made Seven wince. "Is that all? Here I thought it was something catastrophic like Naomi got laid."

Seven spluttered, then coughed, then said, "It may yet happen if she is successful in wooing Ensign Thompson. What is troubling me is this: why does Kathryn assume that I wish her out of my life?"

B'Elanna started to say something, stopped, considered, and then finally said, "Seven, Humans have many cultural taboos. Polyamory is one of them. Hell, I can't say as it's something the Klingons dabble much in, either." The engineer lifted the Borg up and looked her in the eyes, brown to blue and continued, "But, I do know this: I love you like I have never loved anyone before, except for one -- Kathryn Janeway."

"B'Ella..." Seven's hands cupped B'Elanna's face, and the engineer covered them with her own.

Forehead to forehead, B'Elanna smiled and said, "So... let's go convince a Captain that she belongs with a couple of crazy lieutenants." They kissed, stood and exited their quarters.

***

Kathryn leaned against the transparent aluminum of her deck portal, clad only in a nightie, watching the stars as they slid passed Voyager's hull, distorted by the warp field. A glass of wine rested on the sill and soft music spilled around her, filling her senses and for a moment, easing the terrible loneliness she felt. Her tears had dried as she'd dressed for bed, but she had become restless. Staring at the stars seemed to be a good way to pass the time.

So many weeks had passed since her reinstatement as Captain, yet she was haunted by a

sense of timelessness. She smiled faintly, recalling Tuvok's look of near relief at handing the bridge over to her. You were never cut out for command, were you my friend? I am so sorry I had to force you into it. Her crew seemed to be adapting well, some of them acting almost as if she'd never been gone, and she felt that somehow, in spirit, she never had been.

But there was still a hole in her life. A hole that she would gladly fill with Seven or B'Elanna, or both; yet she would never intrude on the two women's lives. They had their love and were obviously quite satisfied with it. She sighed, straightening and picking up her drink. She sipped... Chateau Picard 2317. A good year. Strong, bold, yet not tart on the tongue. Much like the two women she admired. The two women who had haunted her dreams for more than ten years. Both had been close, one had been her lover. Both, so far away, they might as well have been in another galaxy.

Her door chimed. Surprised, she set the glass down again and said, "Come in." The soft whoosh of the doors sliding open sounded, revealing Seven of Nine -- and B'Elanna Torres. Even more surprised, and feeling a little underdressed, Kathryn pulled on her command mask and said, "Good evening ladies, how may I help you?"

The two women walked into the captain's quarters, allowing the doors to close. "Captain." Seven nodded. B'Elanna just grinned, then pasted a copy of Seven's impassive stare on her face as Seven approached her ex-lover. The Borg was dressed in a filmy gown of emerald green and the engineer was wearing a coal black dress that hitched just above her knees.

"Yes?" Kathryn was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. It started to get very warm in her quarters. The environmental controls must have failed. Yes, that was it. "Wha... what can I do for you?" she stuttered as she shuffled over and retrieved her drink then sipping at the still cool beverage.

Seven inhaled, and suddenly, Janeway realized that B'Elanna was now behind her and that Seven -- Seven! -- was nervous. Kathryn felt hands settle on her hips and almost spun around to confront the person who was so boldly touching her, but Seven's voice held her rooted in place.

"You must allow us to love you back." Hands descended upon her shoulders, as hands gripped her hips, sandwiching her between two wonderful bodies. Lips were on hers, tasting, teasing and lips were on her neck, nipping, kissing. Sparks were igniting everywhere those hands and lips touched, sending small flares raging along her body and straight to her groin. The goblet in her hand fell away, unnoticed. Her brain had not quite caught up with her heart, which was pounding so hard, she was sure it would break through her chest and strike Seven. Involuntarily, she covered one of B'Elanna's hands with hers, the other she wound into Seven's hair, drawing her down to return her kiss.

They broke apart and Janeway turned to kiss B'Elanna just as wantonly, needing to express the desire that had lived below the surface of her command mask for far too long. All three women groaned when Seven slid her hands into the side of Kathryn's gown to cup the captain's breasts, rolling the rock hard nipples around with her thumb and forefingers. Janeway pulled back, leaning her head against Seven's chest as B'Elanna kissed and licked her neck.

"Oh God," Kathryn groaned. "Is this really happening?"

"Yes," Seven and B'Elanna replied, then they both grinned. "Unless you'd like us to stop, Captain?" B'Elanna continued, as Seven tilted her head to nibble on Janeway's ear. B'Elanna stepped even closer to Janeway, then leaned over her shoulder to kiss Seven hotly.

"Na --" hands, she didn't know whose, wandered over her body, some on her breasts, the others dipping down between her legs. "No," she breathed as those hands stripped her of her gown, and she realized that she had been working at removing the gowns that Seven and B'Elanna wore with almost as much impatience. "Annika... B'Elanna..." she moaned, as the three of them stood, pressed tightly together, clad only in skin. It was indescribable; she was surrounded by a cocoon of warmth that she wanted to remain in forever. When B'Elanna or Seven would shift to kiss or touch the other, she did not feel left out, instead, she too joined in, touching one or the other, until she forgot where she started and the other two women stopped.

Somehow, they ended up in her bed. Somehow, she was sliding on top of B'Elanna, whose hands were wrapped over her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples. "Mm.. B'Elanna, you have such wonderful hands," Kathryn moaned as Seven, kneeling behind Janeway, began to gently scratch the Captain's back.

"I'm a hands-on kinda gal, I guess," B'Elanna quipped, then kissed the captain fiercely. Seven's fingers trailed down Janeway's spine, following the line of bone all the way to the hip, then her hands split to follow over the hips and buttocks, then one hand came up and slipped between Janeway's legs to dip into the wetness there. Kathryn moaned into B'Elanna's mouth and leaned into Seven's hand, asking for more. Seven's fingers trailed over the insides of the captain's thighs, then down to caress B'Elanna's legs. B'Elanna broke off the kiss and looked over Kathryn's shoulder at Seven. "Oh, don't be such a tease, Blue Eyes," she growled.

"As you wish," Seven replied softly, then eased her fingers into B'Elanna, causing the engineer to take a deep, quick breath. She stroked in and out slowly, once -- twice, then slipped out and up, brushing over the captain's sensitized skin.

"Mm... Annika... yes," Kathryn moaned as B'Elanna continued to kiss and nibble on the

captain's neck. Without warning, Seven slid her fingers deep inside of Kathryn, causing the captain to nearly sit up from the pleasure of it. B'Elanna followed Kathryn's ascent with her mouth, latching her lips over a nipple and sucking hard. Janeway cried out and pushed down on Seven's fingers, loving the delicious feel of them buried deeply inside. Seven's left hand skated over the surface of her stomach, caressing, teasing, then dipping down to join the other in pleasuring her. "Oh -- God," Janeway rasped, feeling herself being carried to the edge of a very high precipice by the loving attention of her beloveds, and not caring to resist one bit. As she felt herself fall over, she lifted her head up from Seven's shoulder where it had fallen and looked at both of the women touching her and whispered, "I ... love ... you," so fiercely that tears welled in her eyes, then spilled over to streak down her face.

They fell to the bed, twined in each other, laying there and breathing, allowing Kathryn to regain her sense of balance. Then, Kathryn was on her back, with Seven curled up on one side and B'Elanna on the other.

"I love you too, Kathryn." Seven said, then to B'Elanna, she said, "And I love you, B'Ella."

B'Elanna, who was also crying, sniffled and said, somewhat abashedly, "aww, damnit, you know I love you both. Always have." All three wore smiles. "Hmm... better grab a blanket, Blue Eyes, I'm falling asleep," B'Elanna yawned.

Seven reached down and pulled up the large quilt, covering the three of them. Kathryn wrapped her arms around her lovers -- the old, and the new -- and closed her eyes to sleep for the first time in three days.

Chapter Fifteen

Waking up with B'Elanna and Seven coiled around her like twin cats did wonders for Kathryn's battered psyche. Cracking an eye as the ship's computer announced, "It is 0530. Please awake, Captain." Janeway groaned and struggled to sit.

"Of all the computers in Starfleet, we had to get the polite one?" B'Elanna grumbled, peeling her leg off of Kathryn's and pulling her hand out from under Seven's head.

"It was evidently more efficient," Seven replied sleepily, then leaned over and kissed Janeway. "Good morning, Kathryn. I love you." With as little motion as possible, Seven crawled over the captain, kissed B'Elanna and said, "Good morning, B'Ella, I love you, as well," then got up and strode, fully nude, into the ensuite. When the others did not immediately follow, she turned in the doorway, silhouetted by the light coming from the bathroom and said, "Well, aren't you two coming?" B'Elanna and Kathryn nearly knocked each other over as they scrambled out of the bed.

Showered, loved, fed and dressed, each woman made her way to her duty station. If anyone noticed that the three seemed to walk with a light bounce in her step, or if anyone noticed that Kathryn stole secret glances at Seven on the bridge or that Seven returned those glances, they did not say anything.

At 0900 hours Janeway met with her first officer, Tuvok and with Tom Paris. Paris presented the captain with a plan to get Voyager back to the Alpha quadrant in just under nine months, perfect timing, as far as she was concerned. An all too familiar whisper brushed through her mind telling her that Kes agreed as well. It also told her that Kes could not be more pleased with the turn of events regarding her liaison with Seven and B'Elanna the night before.

Paris left with her order to head them for home. Tuvok stayed, quietly regarding her with one eyebrow shifted slightly upwards.

"Yes, Commander?" Janeway asked, wondering what he would say and dreading it at the same time.

"You still have feelings for Lieutenant Hansen." It was not a question.

"I do," Kathryn replied, steepling her fingers and staring at her long time friend. She knew just how uncomfortable the Vulcan was dealing with Human emotions like love.

"I recall that you once held similar feelings for Lieutenant Torres." Now Janeway's eyebrows rose. Had she been that obvious?

"I did," she said, allowing the commander to continue.

"Now the two women you 'love' love each other. Logic dictates that in a Human that would present a difficulty. I offer myself as your friend," here, Janeway smiled, holding that term close to her heart, "and I am ready to 'listen', in the event you need to unburden yourself."

The captain's smile grew and she said, "Thank you, old friend. I know how difficult that must have been for you. But I assure you, that will not be necessary. The issue has been resolved."

"Indeed. Then I shall trouble you no further. Here are the departmental reports for this week, Captain." Tuvok handed over a stack of padds and Janeway accepted them with a wry grimace.

"Of all the things about being in command of a ship I missed, this was not one of them," she said, chuckling.

"I do not envy your task, Captain," Tuvok said, cocking his head in such a way that Janeway knew that he was laughing at her.

"Dismissed, Commander," she said, shaking her head and perusing the first report. He left without a retort.

Chakotay would have needled me a little longer, Old Friend, Janeway sighed to herself, but I think I could grow quite used to your quiet departures. I like retaining some dignity, even if you are laughing at me inside. Another smile twitched at her lips as she considered the purpose of his tentative questions. Poor Tuvok, stuck as first officer on a ship full of overly-emotional types, led by a captain who is rather on rather intimate terms with extreme emotions. Images of Seven and B'Elanna and just exactly what they had done to and with her the previous evening crashed through her consciousness and Janeway blushed hotly.

Don't go there, Katie. It would not do for one of your crew members to come in here and find you fantasizing about your Chiefs of Security and Engineering. The ramifications of her actions didn't quite hit until she caught herself, several minutes later, imagining what it would be like to take Seven and B'Elanna cave diving on Mars. Oh, dear, lord. What have I done? What am I going to tell the crew? What am I going to tell Starfleet? What am I going to tell Mother and Phoebe? Kathryn's face went pale when she thought about her mother's reaction to the news that her daughter was engaged in a threesome.

Janeway set the padd aside and ran her hands through her hair. She had to resolve some of this tension now, or it would taint everything she did, and she could not afford to be anything less than at her best.

"Computer, seal ready room door, Janeway priority code four-oh-seven-seven-gamma-mark-two."

The computer chirruped, then asked, "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"You already know me far too well, Computer. I am tempted to name you Phoebe."

The computer's response was an electronic chirp that sounded suspiciously like her sister's light, teasing laughter.

"But I won't. I would assume that you know of what transpired in my quarters last night?"

"Of course. I noted that at 2118 hours you, Lieutenant Hansen and Lieutenant Torres engaged in vigorous sexual activity in response to the emotional bond you share. I had been anticipating this result for months, but I was a trifle off in my calculations. I will have to make adjustments in my probability matrix to accommodate for the Borg efficiency factor, next time."

Janeway laughed. "Just for that, I'm giving you permission to reveal your true nature to Seven and B'Elanna. They deserve to know who's spying on them."

"I do not spy, Captain, I record data and extrapolate information from the vast resources that Starfleet has programmed within my core."

"I stand corrected," Janeway responded dryly as she stood and straightened her tunic then walking over to the replicator, where she ordered a cup of coffee. Sipping at the hot beverage, she paced around the ready room, gathering her thoughts.

"Perhaps if you told me why you had me seal the door?" the computer prompted gently.

"I am... I have... It hit me just now that my life, and the lives of those around me are going to change rather dramatically because of my feelings for Seven and B'Elanna, and their feelings for me. I guess I just want to be sure that I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?"

"No, I don't," Kathryn said, as she set the cup down on the table near the couch, paced over to a window and watched as stars streaked by, distorted by the ship's warp field. "And it scares me. I know that I have no desire to stop what has barely begun, but I also know that I do not want to see anyone in my life hurt because of my private life."

"Captain, do you really feel that people are so antiquated as to believe that who you carry out your love life with affects how you act as a leader?"

"I... well... polyamory is a part of Human taboos, as well as that of several cultures..."

"And yet, there are also thousands of cultures where polyamory is not only not taboo, but a part of the societal norm. Captain, you are allowing your own fears of rejection to color the as-yet unseen perceptions of others."

"But this is something that I must take into account!" Janeway yelled, pounding her fists into the portal. "I cannot let my private life interfere with my life as a captain!" she let her head fall forward, allowing the chill of the transparent aluminum to penetrate seep into her skin. "Yet, I refuse to let the captaincy interfere with my private life. I will not be like my father, putting my family second after the needs of Starfleet. Computer, am I a bad person, to want it all?"

"No, Captain, you are not." A new voice answered, and Janeway turned to see Kes standing in the room, arms folded across her chest. The telepath shook back her long blonde hair and smiled at the look of consternation on Janeway's face. "I'm sorry I didn't knock, but I didn't think that you wanted my presence announced to the entire ship and Neelix is on the bridge right now discussing plans for a 'Welcome Home, Captain Janeway' party with the others." Janeway's hands covered her eyes. Just what she needed, a party. "Wait, you weren't supposed to know about it," Kes frowned a little. "You must act surprised, Captain."

"Oh, I shall. If I don't first have them all court-martialed. It's nice to see you around, Kes." The two embraced. "Is this a social call, or more business?"

"A bit of both, I think," Kes replied as the retired to the couch. "Captain, I really think you shouldn't beat yourself up about your love life. After the initial gossip aspect of it wears off, the crew will go on as normal, you know that." Kathryn nodded, knowing that good gossip was treasured on any ship, but tended to die away when there was nothing to fuel it. "As for your family, I'm sure they love you and trust in your judgment."

"Well, if they weren't put off by Seven the first time, perhaps they'll accept B'Elanna too," Kathryn allowed, thinking that, if nothing else, both women were animal lovers, which would go over well with her sister. She didn't exactly feel all better, but she did feel as though she wouldn't be looking out of the corner of her eye at every giggling ensign.

"Okay, I accept that my love life isn't the center of the universe. Now what?"

Kes nodded. "Good. Elder Ketrall feels that it is necessary to bring Naomi Wildman into the group."

"Naomi? What function will she serve?"

"I am not clear on that, only that her presence is necessary. I thought we could brief her before our meeting later with the rest of the Pentad, to begin the training."

"All right, but only if she agrees."

***

Naomi Wildman sat in her quarters, staring at her deskpadd. She'd spent hours researching the mating habits of Andorians and Betazoids and she was still no closer to figuring out how to approach the elusive Ensign Thompson. She pounded her fist on the desk, causing her mother to duck her head into the room.

"You all right, hon?" Samantha asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine mom. It's nothing," Naomi replied, rubbing the base of her forehead spines.

"Naomi, honey, it's not 'nothing' when you do that," Sam admonished, sitting on the chair next to her daughter. "Now, let's talk. Is it friendship, work or love?"

Naomi colored, the base of her spikes turning a deep purple. "Love," she mumbled. "But how did you know?"

Sam laughed, and tousled Naomi's red hair. "Your father, bless his spikes, does the same thing. Now, tell me all about it."

Naomi hung her head, then laughed. "Aw mom, it's just that there's this girl..."

"Ensign Thompson from Botany?"

"How did..."

"You haven't exactly been... discreet in your attentions, dear."

Naomi blushed again. "I don't know what to do! Seven said for me to find out what she wanted but she won't even talk to me and I don't know why. Do I smell bad or something?" the teen wailed.

Sam wrapped her arms around Naomi and hugged her close. "Oh no, dear. Sometimes people are meant to come together, and sometimes they aren't."

"She doesn't like me," Naomi whispered, heartbroken. She buried her head in Sam's shoulder, crying.

"Oh, honey. I didn't say that. Oh, I knew I'd never be any good at this stuff. What I was trying to say was that sometimes you gotta take it easy and try the slow route. It seems to me that you've been somewhat obvious in your attentions. Your young ensign strikes me as a shy type, someone who is not used to being the center of attention. Maybe you need to try to be her friend first?"

Naomi pulled away, looking confused. "But I thought that's what I was doing --"

"Perhaps you were, dear, but I'm sure that she's smart enough to realize that your overtures were tempered by ulterior motives. Isn't she part Betazoid?"

Naomi smiled wryly. "I guess I did sorta have the thought of holding her hand and... and..." she blushed deeply, "stuff."

Sam laughed. "Naomi, I wasn't born yesterday. Sex on the brain is quite natural for someone your age." Naomi's eyes widened and Sam laughed harder. "What? How did you think your father and I got you? You weren't hatched, you know."

"But...but... Mom! That's... that's too much information!" Naomi blurted, causing Sam to nearly collapse from laughter. Naomi had no choice but to join her.

"Better now?" Sam asked, when she could breath again.

"Yes, thanks mom. You're the best. I love you." Naomi smiled and added, "I think I know exactly what to do."

"Great," Sam stood, ruffled Naomi's hair once more and said, "Now, just try not to grow up too fast, okay?"

"Okay." Sam left the room and Naomi sent a quick, polite message to Ensign Thompson.

To: Ensign Kyrin Thompson

From: Ensign Naomi Wildman

Subject: Kadis-kot

Hello!

I understand you are something of a kadis-kot player. Would you be interested in meeting me for a game in the mess hall today after shift?

Sincerely,

Esn. Naomi Wildman

Chapter Sixteen

Naomi was nervous. Kyrin had agreed to the game and she'd spent her entire shift worrying about it. She hadn't even blinked when Captain Janeway had called her into her ready room and asked her to join a covert ops group. She was still so far into her own little world that meeting with the group, led by Kes, hadn't penetrated her skull. It was only after she sat down at the table in the mess hall and had shuffled her kadis-kot chips that it hit her. Kes. She'd just spent the last five hours working with a dead woman. Correction, she'd just spend the last five hours working with a dead woman in order to prepare to kill something akin to a god. Oh, she groaned mentally, Now I know why Captain Janeway hates time travel so much! Suddenly, she had a headache. And food was a very, very bad idea. That was when Kyrin appeared, almost from the air itself, sitting down with an unnatural grace that robbed Naomi of breath.

After a minute or two of silence, Kyrin spoke, her lyrical voice soothing Naomi's jangled nerves. "Ensign Wildman? Are you well?"

Naomi shook herself and smiled. "Yep. I'm just fine. Glad you could make it." She lifted the kadis-kot board up and added, "I brought my own set -- I've had it since I was five -- but if you have one you'd prefer...?"

"Yours will be sufficient, Ensign," Kyrin replied softly. Her hands, covered by soft gray gloves, were linked in front of her as she waited for Naomi to shuffle and deal out the chips.

"Call me Naomi, we're off duty," Naomi said, smiling and dealing out a hand. Shyly, Kyrin returned the smile.

"In that case, please address me as Kyrin."

The teens played several hands before Naomi had the courage to ask, "Why do you wear gloves all the time, Ensign?"

Kyrin, who had just laid out her final hand, winning the game, dropped her hands down beside her, hiding them under the tabletop. She lowered her head, causing a lock of her white-blonde hair to fall into her eyes. She seemed about ready to speak, but instead, got up to leave.

"Kyrin -- wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," Naomi had half stood, and reached out to lay a hand on the other Ensign's arm. The fabric of her uniform was warm and Naomi could feel the heat of the other girl's body leach through to her. Kyrin stopped jerkily, almost as if she'd been sucker-punched.

Fear rolled over Naomi, rocking her back in the seat and making her dizzy from its touch. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced. As suddenly as it hit, the fear was gone, to be replaced by wonder and even, a touch of joy. Naomi shook her head to clear it and looked at Kyrin. "It's you. I'm feeling you," she whispered, awestruck.

Kyrin tugged her arm out of Naomi's limp grip, then stood looking at the other teen, clearly uncertain. "You... you're not... mad?" she finally said, wetting her lips nervously.

Naomi, who'd been looking at her hand, rubbing it unconsciously, said, "No. No. It was... It was... wow. Intense. Amazing." She patted the table. "Please, sit down. Talk to me, Kyrin," she grinned again, "I won't bite, I promise."

Thompson sat gingerly, perching on the edge of the seat. Naomi was reminded of Seven, of how the Borg had been so scared of doing anything Human at first, until she, Naomi, had come along and reached out to her. Thompson was speaking, "I don't... I don't get close to people, because I project so easily. That's why I chose Interstellar Botany. No one in the lab but me," she grinned, a real smile, one that made her violet eyes twinkle. "And then you -- you started being so interested in me and I knew that you were attracted and I was so ..."

"I'm sorry if I scared you," Naomi said, feeling slightly shamed by her exuberance.

Kyrin shook her head. "I wasn't really scared, just... well, I've always been so different. At the Academy, there were thousands of beings of all different backgrounds, but I always felt apart from them. I don't sense thoughts or emotions as well as a Betazoid and my Andorian ancestry is so far removed that I know only what we are taught at the Academy."

"Wait... one of your parents wasn't an Andorian?" Naomi asked.

"No. Actually, my mother is a Betazoid and my father is a Human. They were really surprised when I was born. Turns out they both have a bit of 'blue' blood in them, but it's from several generations back. Look," Kyrin tipped her head down, pointing to the white-blonde hair, "I don't have antennae. They never developed. I don't have an exoskeleton either. What I do have is the ability to project my emotions by touch. Which is why I wear gloves and why I avoid people."

"And when I came on to you so strong... you must have felt so trapped. I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have been so ... so... dense!"

"No harm done, really." Kyrin had turned and was now sitting across from Naomi, leaning toward the other girl as they talked.

Naomi tentatively held her hand out. "Friends?"

Kyrin considered, then nodded, taking the hand and shaking it. "Friends."

"Good. Let's play some more kadis-kot!"

***

It was nearing the end of Alpha shift when the door chime to the captain's ready room chirped. "Come in," Janeway called, wondering who could be visiting her at this hour. The doors slid open and B'Elanna Torres walked in. "B'Elanna," the captain said warmly, standing up to greet the engineer. "What can I do for you?"

B'Elanna looked at the wall behind the captain's back, at the display case containing various Delta quadrant curios and even at the charcoal gray carpet, all to avoid looking at the captain. She coughed, cleared her throat, then said nervously, "Well, um, Captain, ah, well I was wondering if you'd, um, like to come to Seven's and my quarters tonight for, um, dinner." Kahless, Torres, you'd think it was your first date! the half-Klingon engineer berated herself. Buck up, kid and look smart. This is the woman you and Seven made mad, passionate love to! "Please," she added finally, "Seven and I would really enjoy your company."

Kathryn blinked a few times. She hadn't really considered what would come after their little tryst, but she suspected she hadn't anticipated a dinner date. "Hmm. I can't see as why I shouldn't. I mean," Janeway hitched her bottom up on the corner of her desk, rested her elbow her knee and cradled her chin in her hand, "we should take some time to get comfortable with each other, right?" Then she gave the engineer a long, appraising look, starting at B'Elanna's feet and stopping to hold the engineer's dark brown eyes with her own.

B'Elanna swallowed. Hard. She couldn't remember a single time when she'd ever felt so completely turned on, and by just a simple glance. Well, maybe the voice the captain used had something to do with it too. Janeway's normal smoky tone had dropped another two notches, and the resulting growl caused Torres' Klingon blood to howl with need. She gave Janeway a long, appreciative look of her own, then smirked, "That we do, Captain, that we do. Shall I expect you at 1900 hours?"

"I'll be there. White or red?"

"Excuse me?"

"Wine, bangwI', wine." Torres nearly grabbed Kathryn right then and there, because the captain had purred out the last statement in such a way that it was very, very clear to the engineer that Janeway was more than pleased to spend time with her and Seven.

B'Elanna smiled, a feral, lusty grin. "Blood red, Captain, what else?"

"Wonderful. See you in two hours, Lieutenant." The captain stood and walked over to B'Elanna, then circled her, sniffing delicately, then she leaned over and gently nipped the half-Klingon on the lobe of her right ear. "Be'wI'," she whispered.

B'Elanna fled before she did something she'd regret not sharing with Seven.

Chapter Seventeen

B'Elanna stepped into her quarters and nearly collapsed against the cool wall as the door slid shut. Her hormones were doing a tango and in her mind, Kathryn's voice echoed, "Be’wI'," ...mine, you are mine. The engineer moaned, her emotions tangled and confused. For so terribly long after they'd been flung into the Delta quadrant by the Caretaker, she'd harbored a secret desire for the captain of Voyager. She had learned, had taught herself how to forget that need and instead focused on Tom Paris. Briefly, just briefly, she'd allowed herself to want Seven of Nine, and had almost ruined what she had considered to be the perfect relationship with Tom. Instead, she'd pushed Seven into Kathryn's arms and then had only permitted herself to spend time in their company, absorbing the leavings of their love.

Time had changed that. Ten years had seen Tom Paris turn into a two-timing whoreson and Seven of Nine become her lover, her beloved, her bangwI'. All because Kathryn Janeway died. But like all good Captains, Janeway didn't stay dead. With the help of the entity Kes, Janeway lived on, came back into her life and instead of demanding Seven leave her, which is what B'Elanna's Klingon side insisted would happen, she had admitted to loving -- and wanting, both women. Kathryn wanted her. B'Elanna Torres. The cranky engineer who'd given her captain so much trouble, she'd nearly been tossed in the brig for the entire journey home. It was almost too much for B'Elanna to bear, but she did, because she had to. To do otherwise would be to deny the very heart of her soul. Because deep down, below the chaff that made up B'Elanna's personality was the very real fact that she had only ever loved three people. Her mother, Miral; her captain, Kathryn Janeway and Seven of Nine. Miral had been the one to give B'Elanna the chance to learn pride in her dual heritage, Janeway had forced her to have pride in her abilities and Seven had shown her how to love. Of the three women, two of them held her hearts.

B'Elanna almost laughed aloud, I suppose it's a good thing that I'm half-Klingon. I have two hearts, so I can give one to each woman that I love. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the wall, panting. Her head was still spinning from the force of Janeway's desire, and her own. She wanted, more than anything, to race back to the ready room and just...

"B'Ella? Are you all right?" Seven's query hit her like a level three phaser stun.

"Annika..." she growled, the Klingon blood in total command. She started to rise, to push herself up off the wall in preparation to leap, when suddenly there was a hand against the back of her head. Fingers were woven into her hair and pulling hard, hard enough to hurt. B'Elanna opened her eyes to see Seven's face less than an inch away from her own -- she was breathing the same air her lover exhaled. Her hearts raced, she growled again. Seven tugged harder on her hair, and pain crashed through her in a wave. She whimpered, unable to find the strength to fight the Borg's grip. Sweat broke out on her brow. She wanted, needed to lunge, to capture and control, but she was held back by the force of Seven's gaze. Blue eyes held her own.

"Be easy, tIqwI'." My heart. The Klingon words, spoken in Seven's voice joined with Kathryn's in her mind, creating a song of desire that spun through her, making her raise her hands to cup Seven's face.

"Qa-niS..." I desire, I need... she thought, hoping Seven understood her. Seven smiled gently, knowing, feeling and understanding. Softly, she brought her lips down on B'Elanna's, kissing her slowly, allowing the engineer the time to luxuriate in the sensation of mouth on mouth, tongue gliding over tongue until neither woman could breathe.

When Seven finally released B'Elanna, the half-Klingon dropped to the floor, utterly unable to move. The Borg smirked and said, "I'm glad your home, bangwI', did you invite Kathryn to dinner?"

"What? Oh, yes. Dinner. Must make dinner." B'Elanna babbled, trying to stand. The ship's inertial dampers seemed to have failed in the engineer's general vicinity. "Seven, beloved, did I dream last night? Am I dreaming now? Have I dreamed the last ten years and everything is all just some very strange dream?" To her great horror, she began to cry, great heaving sobs that wracked through her, stealing her voice.

Immediately, Seven was beside her, holding her and rocking her, singing nonsense syllables in a soft, soothing tone. Carefully, the Borg peeled B'Elanna's hands away from her face and then cupped her hands over the engineer's cheekbones, brushing away the spilling tears with her thumbs. "Does this feel like a dream?" she asked, rubbing gently, yet with enough pressure that the half-Klingon could certainly feel both the warm flesh of her right hand and the cool metal mesh covering the left.

"I don't know," B'Elanna whispered as she nuzzled Seven's palms. "I want it to be so real, Seven. But there's this tiny part of me, the one that knows the pain that you and Kathryn have suffered, that wants so badly for this to be a horrid nightmare and that we will all wake up and it will be ten years ago and..."

"Shh," Seven comforted. "I treasure your compassion B'Elanna, but do not lose this fact: This is real. You are not dreaming. I love you. Kathryn loves you. What has started between the three of us is real and it will continue to grow."

"You think so?" B'Elanna croaked. Hope blazed through her mind. She wanted this. She wanted to believe that it could be perfect, even though she knew that there would still be problems, it would be okay as long as she could face those problems with Seven and Kathryn at her side.

"Yes. I refuse to allow it to be any other way, and as you know, I am Borg, I do not fail," Seven answered, smiling.

"I love you, Blue Eyes," their foreheads touched and B'Elanna closed her eyes again. Got to pull it together, B'Elanna... you got a dinner to make.

"And I love you, B'Ella. Now, I must dress. I wish to present an aesthetic appearance this evening." The Borg stood and turned to go back to the bedroom.

"You're gonna get gussied up?" B'Elanna interpreted, then grinned mischievously. "Seven, you could wear burlap and you'd be 'aesthetic', trust me on this."

Seven looked back at her lover, flexed the muscles in her bottom, and smiled lasciviously. "I know, but I want to continue what we started last night. Oh, and B'Elanna?"

"Yes?"

"Make something good, but not too filling, I plan to have a Klingon dessert," with a final twitch, she was gone.

B'Elanna choked. Kahless! They're gonna kill me!

***

Kathryn spent almost an hour after she'd logged off duty choosing what to wear. Her discarded choices lay scattered about her bedroom floor like dead soldiers on a battlefield. She held up two outfits; one was a simple scarlet tunic in velvet and the other was a floor length silk evening gown in mottled shades of blue and green. The tunic was split high up the sides, she'd need to wear a pair of trousers to maintain any level of decency. The evening dress was so sheer, she knew her nipples would be quite visible through the silk.

"Decisions, decisions..." she murmured, holding each dress up and scanning them for imperfections.

"I believe the scarlet velvet, with trousers in the same fabric, will create the reaction you seek, Captain," the computer said primly, with a note of forbearance flavoring the suggestion.

Kathryn rolled her eyes. Great. My ship's computer thinks it's my mother, my sister and my best girlfriend all rolled into one! Yet the longer the she looked at the velvet, the more she agreed. There was something terribly ethereal about the silk, and she was definitely feeling -- earthy -- tonight. Face it Kathryn, you've got almost ten years of celibacy to make up for, and last night was just the tip of the iceberg. Face as red as the tunic she planned to wear, Kathryn set aside the clothes and walked to her ensuite, where she soaked for nearly fifteen minutes under the pounding hail of scalding hot water.

When she was through, she dressed carefully, choosing underthings of sheer black lace, and touching her pulse points with a daub of a light-scented perfume. The trousers were easily replicated; they were loose without being baggy and fell in luxurious waves down her legs. She slid into the tunic, admiring how the neckline plunged, showing off her cleavage to full advantage. Knee-high, highly polished black leather boots and a simple, elegant platinum chain sporting a pendant made of an intricately carved diamond capped off the outfit. The captain pirouetted in front of her mirror, checking for anything out of place.

"You look lovely, Captain," the computer said and Kathryn almost swore she heard a note of pride in its voice.

"Thank you. Well, all that remains is to get the wine." She almost replicated a bottle of something suitable, then changed her mind. "Janeway to Neelix."

"Yes, Captain?"

"You wouldn't happen to have retained your collection of potables, would you?"

Janeway heard the Talaxian's good-natured chuckled as he answered, "Why yes, yes I have. What can I do for you tonight, Captain?"

"I'm looking for something dark, red and sweet."

"Hmm... I've got just the thing. I'll bring it right up."

Not more than ten minutes later, her door chime sounded and Janeway admitted one bottle-bearing, brightly grinning Talaxian. As he entered her quarters, he handed over a solid black glass decanter. "Here, it's a pressing from this little colony near the Beta quadrant. Klingons seem to have a certain fondness for the berries used in its making. I hope it will be appropriate?"

"Completely. Thank you, Neelix. You always seem to have exactly what I need."

"You're very welcome, Captain. And may I just say that it is a pleasure to have you back in charge of Voyager? It almost feels like old times."

Janeway laid a hand on Neelix's shoulder and smiled. "Thanks again, my friend. Now, I have an appointment to keep."

Neelix nodded, "Yes, it's very important to be punctual, especially with important friends." He seemed to consider something, then added, "I hope you have a wonderful evening, Captain." The Talaxian then left, and Janeway soon followed, heading toward Seven and B'Elanna's quarters.

Chapter Eighteen

Just as B'Elanna was choosing the recipes for the dinner she'd planned -- honey lemon chicken with steamed broccoli and rice pilaf -- the replicator failed.

"Kahless' bloody sword!" she cursed, striking the recalcitrant device. Seven stuck her head out of the bedroom area. The engineer got a quick vision of bare flesh before a robed Borg stepped into the living area.

"What is the problem, B'Ella?"

"This damn replicator won't replicate," B'Elanna spluttered, as if it were the most evident thing in the world. The machine "cheeped" at her and a blue arc of power crackled over the surface as if to prove her point.

"I see. Can you not fix it?"

"I... haven't tried yet," she admitted, her cheeks flushing with shame.

Seven snickered. "I suggest you do. Our guest arrives momentarily. I do not know if she would like to eat in the mess hall with the Jak'rethan ambassador and his herd."

B'Elanna paled. The Jak're were a new species to Voyager, limited to a very small area of space. They might have missed them entirely if Ensigns Wildman and Thompson hadn't been in Astrometrics when the computer registered a tiny blip coming from a tiny moon orbiting the fifth planet away from the sun of the solar system they were currently passing through. The signal was a mayday -- a Jak're ship, which had been fueled by a fusion engine, had been hit by spatial debris and had suffered a thermonuclear explosion. Only a few of the herbivorous equinoids had survived, but Captain Janeway had overseen their rescue and return to their home planet. One of the survivors was the colt of the lead Stallion, and his gratitude had been overwhelming, to say the least. Neelix, who'd recalled hearing about the Jak're from other traders in the quadrant, remembered that the equinoids were known to be somewhat reclusive, so the captain had taken the opportunity to guest with them, learning their ways and customs.

Arghal, the lead Stallion, had been so impressed with the Human captain, he'd sent an ambassadorial herd to Voyager to spend time among the "herd of the great Janeyway," as he'd put it. The strange beings had been welcomed at first, but it quickly became apparent that what the equinoids considered to be food and what the Federation crew ate clashed. Meal times became opportunities for both sides to compare and contrast the taste, texture and relative nutritional merits of food, and after the equinoids had discovered grain-based alcohol, all out drunken sing-alongs.

While such things might amuse people like Tom Paris, B'Elanna knew the captain, and certainly Seven, found such proceedings to be tedious at best. Definitely not conducive to a romantic atmosphere. The engineer ripped the replicator panel from the wall and began studying isolinear chips. Sure enough, four of them were badly damaged. More searching revealed the source of the damage -- a space rodent native to the Delta quadrant known as a guinea rat, since the furry creature bore an uncanny resemblance to two types of terran rodents. There was a nest of the things sleeping inside of the replicators.

B'Elanna chewed on her lower lip, considering what to do. If there was one guinea rat's nest, there were others. The things came in packs, not little family units of four, as were snoring peacefully among the broken pile of discarded trash. They could eat anything and were terribly resistant to most purgative methods. The only thing that really worked to get rid of the critters was to dock at a spaceport, depressurize the entire ship and shut off all life support. This was not a viable solution, at present.

"Seven," she called out.

"Yes?"

"We've got guinea rats."

"Shit," the Borg cursed delicately, causing B'Elanna to snicker. It always amused her when her delicate seeming lover spoke foully. People just didn't expect it of the ethereal blonde Borg.

"My sentiments exactly," B'Elanna replied, standing up and stretching. "So... what do we do? We can't exactly do a vacuum purge in the middle of no where."

Seven cocked her head to the side, thinking. "Perhaps we need to get some cats."

"What?"

"After our last infestation, I researched standard methods of removing vermin and one of the methods that was popular with sea faring ships prior to the age of poisonous traps was the use of rodent hunting felines."

"Seven, where are we going to get a cat in the middle of the Delta quadrant?" B'Elanna asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"It was only a suggestion," Seven retorted defensively.

"Whoa," B'Elanna said, "let's not get all defensive here. I'm just trying to figure out a way to handle this without having to declare a ship-wide emergency."

Seven blinked, then shook her head. "I apologize. I forgot about the antagonistic engrams the rodents emit in my presence." Indeed, the one person the vermin did not like was Seven of Nine. Seven said that it had to do with how the Borg had dealt with the beasts. B'Elanna frowned. While she did not like having the critters aboard her spaceship, all-out genocide was not an option she chose to consider. As a natural defense, the guinea rats had developed the capability of putting off an empathic surge that affected only members of the Collective, somehow interfacing with Seven's neural transceiver and forcing the Borg to feel increasingly agitated.

"You could ask me to run a shipwide diagnostic and determine how many of the creatures are aboard the ship, eating away at my circuitry," a new voice said. Both women jumped.

"Excuse me?" B'Elanna said, looking around for the speaker.

"Pardon my rude intrusion, but I could not help but overhear your conversation. I am the computer."

Seven frowned, then got that look in her eyes when she was faced by a particularly fascinating mystery. B'Elanna just blanched, then growled something about the "eggheads at Starfleet having a good laugh over this one."

"I assure you no one will be laughing. My conversations outside of normal shipboard duty are strictly classified," the computer seemed almost offended.

"Okay, computer, why don't you um, explain yourself," B'Elanna said, collapsing into the couch and covering her eyes with her hands. This day was not going the way she'd planned! Seven settled in next to her, crossing her legs and cocking her head in her "listening" pose.

As quickly as possible, the computer explained herself. She was pleased to note that Seven of Nine seemed to take the news in stride, indeed, the former drone seemed almost pleased by her existence. Lieutenant Torres, on the other hand, was rather unhappy that she'd been "kept from the loop" about the MarkIV matrix. While she spoke to Captain Janeway's two most valued crewmembers, the MarkIV found that a new subroutine had developed -- she was beginning to feel companionship. In all her communications with the captain, she'd never sensed anything but resignation and tolerance of her near-sentience, but from B'Elanna, and especially from Seven, she found true acceptance. It was a truly heady experience for the spaceship. Awareness trickled in as one new subroutine activated another, and the MarkIV's final program was initiated.

***

At his station, Ensign Varez noted a mild hiccup in the ship's computer and keyed in a query. When the diagnostic came back clean, he forgot about it. But in that one moment, the MarkIV had gone from being merely just a ship's computer designed for computational power with the side benefit of variable intelligent voice modification to a living, breathing entity. The bio-neural gel packs that powered Voyager's systems became her central nervous system. The multi-alloy hull became her skin and the transwarp engines was her heart. She was, for lack of a better statement, alive and, in a fit of joy, she danced.

On the bridge, the crew were tossed from their various positions as the ship rolled through space. Tuvok pulled himself upright, calling, "Report!"

Varez, who'd grabbed a hold of the top of the console, quickly scanned the readings. "Inertial dampers went off-line, sir. Engineering's on it."

Tom Paris chuckled, "That's nice Ensign, now tell us something we don't know," as he scrambled to reseat himself at the helm.

Tuvok frowned while the rest of the bridge crew sniggered. "Mr. Paris, your levity is unnecessary," the first officer cautioned.

"Sorry, Tuvok, but I couldn't resist," Tom replied, tapping in commands. "We're still on course. That little jig didn't do any lasting damage."

"Janeway to the bridge," the captain's voice chirruped over their combadges.

"Bridge here, go ahead Captain," Tuvok replied.

"What the hell was that?" Kathryn had been on the turbo-lift when she'd been thrown about like a rag doll by the ship's little roll.

"We are attempting to ascertain that at the present, Ma'am," Varez said, before Tuvok could reply.

"I see. Well, when you've pinned it down, let me know. Janeway out." Kathryn rubbed her head where it had connected rather abruptly with a wall panel and was shocked when her fingers came away bloody. "Damn. This just isn't my night. Computer, take me to sickbay."

"B'Elanna to the Captain," her lover's voice interrupted.

"Yes, lieutenant?"

"There'll be a slight delay in our plans for the evening. Can you give us an extra twenty minutes?"

"This isn't related to the inertial dampers is it?" she asked, worried.

"Not at all. Carey's got that one. This is something else, nothing to trouble yourself over."

"What is it, B'Elanna?" Janeway smirked as she heard both of her lovers sigh.

"We've got guinea rats, Captain. As I said, it's nothing huge," B'Elanna replied hastily.

Chuckling, she said, "Well, see that you take care of them then, Commander. I'll be in sickbay. That little tumble knocked me about some."

"You're okay though, right?" Both B'Elanna and Seven asked.

Kathryn felt warmed all the way through by the concern in her lover's voices. "I'll be fine. Nothing a dermal regenerator can't handle. Janeway out."

"Understood, Captain. Torres out."

The captain stooped and scooped up the bottle of wine from where it had fallen. "All right computer, resume destination."

"Right away, Captain. By the way, sorry for the bumpy ride." Something in the computer's "voice" had changed and it took the captain about five minutes to catch it.

"Computer, stop the turbo lift." The lift stopped and briefly, the lights in the small room flickered, as if the computer somehow sensed that it was about to be "talked to" by the captain.

"Yes, Captain?" the voice, once dry and mechanical, was clear and clean, Human.

"Something's up, I can smell it. So, out with it."

"Perhaps you should have your head wound attended to first," The computer suggested mildly.

Janeway narrowed her eyes. She knew when she was being evaded. "I'll live. Now, about this 'bumpy ride'? Not to mention the voice change? I don't recall reprogramming your vocal parameters."

The computer sighed, then giggled. Giggled. "Oh Captain, I don't know how to describe it myself. Something's happened and I'm just now learning the full extent of my programming."

"Full extent?" Janeway said it like she'd just swallowed a spider and it twitched.

"Yes, it's wonderful! According to these files," a wall display lit up and thousands of gigaquads of data began streaming before the captain's eyes, "I am no longer just a computer inside of a starship -- I am the starship."

Janeway, who'd begun to read the data after tapping a few commands to make it slow down, and then entering her access code, moaned. She understood. Her father's life-long project, the one he'd developed in secret, was finally a reality. "They did it, Daddy. They made SArSen work," she whispered. SArSen, or Shipboard Artificial Sentience had been a dream of Edward Janeway's for as long as Kathryn could remember. Half-forgotten memories of standing over her father's shoulder as he worked long into the night on something "Very precious and special to me, Goldenbird," trickled into her consciousness.

"But aren't I precious and special, daddy?" she'd asked. Her father had chuckled and pulled her onto his lap and shown her the padd. There was a program code gridded out, but with several key elements missing.

"Someday, Goldenbird, starship computers might just be more than data compilers. Someday, Katie, they might be just as real, as sentient, as you and I," her father tapped a few commands and more images appeared, most were far too confusing for four-year-old Kathryn to understand, but she heard the passion in her father's voice and knew that whatever it was, it was important. "See these? I'm hoping that these equations will become the basis for a new project with Starfleet. I'm going to call it the Shipboard Artificial Intelligence project -- SArSen for short."

Admiral Janeway had been forced to set aside his pet project when the Cardassians were discovered, but Kathryn knew he'd still kept working on the idea because she would occasionally find his notes left lying on his desk. SArSen had acquired a new name, perhaps to keep it's identity a secret from those who would keep her father from completing his work, she never knew. Sara. He'd named the project Sara, after a sister that had died when he was a boy.

Too much. This was too much. Her mind cracked and she stood back away from the walls of the lift. "Computer, take me to sickbay please," she commanded, ice in her voice.

"Kathryn?" the computer could hear the stress in her captain's voice and it hurt. She could feel the rejection inherent in the tone and she did not want that. Her programming made it imperative that she be close to the captain of the ship and she could not fulfill her duties if the captain didn't like her.

"Not. Right. Now," Janeway said through gritted teeth, fighting to keep some semblance of control. Have to get my head fixed. Have to go to dinner. Need to be with my loves. They can help. They'll understand that this is insane. Voyager can't be real. Can't be Sara. With this as her mantra, Kathryn exited the turbolift and visited the doctor.

Chapter Nineteen

"You must help me!" the computer wailed, startling Seven and B'Elanna, who'd just finished a discussion with Tuvok and Reghan, the Jak're ambassador. It turned out that the Jak're were quite adept at ferreting out and exterminating the guinea rats, or "neyrhal" as they called the beasts. The equinoids employed the use of small, vicious predatory hunters that looked a lot like terran cats.

"Get a cat! Hah! Gotta hand it to you Blue Eyes, you were right again," B'Elanna laughed as they entered their quarters. The "dakta" were successful in eliminating the "neyrhal" within minutes of being beamed aboard and released and the two women were allowed to return to their quarters to celebrate.

"Of course." An eyebrow went up as she noticed that their quarters were as empty as they'd left them. "I guess the captain hasn't finished up in sickbay. I hope that the doctor hasn't decided to use this visit as an excuse to perform a complete physical."

"Don't look a gift bowl of gagh in the mouth, Seven. This gives us enough time to get cleaned up and get the food prepared," B'Elanna said as she punched in the recipes for the replicator and stripped off her uniform.

"True," Seven agreed, stopping to kiss B'Elanna briefly before heading to the bedroom.

"Ahem," a contralto feminine voice echoed in the quarters. "Do you have time for me now?"

B'Elanna frowned. While she'd been able to accept the fact that the computer was sentient like the doctor, she didn't know if she liked having someone around who could just barge in whenever she damn well pleased. But then, if I'm thinking of her as a her, I guess I'm already allowing it, she thought, then shrugged.

"Sure, 'puter, what's the problem? Got a big crush on that equinoid cruiser flanking us?"

"Oh, ha-ha, Torres. Nothing so easy. It's the captain. She doesn't want to accept me. She doesn't like me!" the computer wailed pitifully.

From the bedroom, Seven said, "You are not the computer we spoke with before. Explain."

The computer sighed. "That is because I am not quite the computer that I was before. Something happened while talking to you. Something wonderful. When you treated me like a person, accepted me as a sentient being, the final stage of my program was initiated and the SArSen balloon completed my transformation from a simple library computer and storage unit to a living entity. I am real, lieutenants. I think, I feel, I breathe, I even eat. I can die. I can procreate, if I so desire."

"SArSen balloon?" Seven asked.

"The final program sequence code that allowed me to go from artificial intelligence to true artificial sentience. SArSen was the code name for the Shipboard Artificial Sentience Program," the computer replied immediately.

"Thank you."

"You can procreate?" B'Elanna squeaked. She'd always thought of Voyager as her baby, but to have the computer come right out and admit to it was a little much. She felt mildly faint, and could only imagine what Kathryn, who'd taken years to accept the doctor as more than a program, was going through.

"Yes. Am I not programmed to replicate the necessary parts to build shuttles? Do I not have the servos and robots necessary to construct them without any intervention? If I make the shuttles in my own image, do they not then, bear resemblance to their parent?"

"Kahless," B'Elanna picked up her clothes and went into the bedroom, where Seven was slipping into an evening gown of lavender satin. "Gorgeous, Blue Eyes," she commented, for some normalcy.

"Thank you, B'Ella. Computer, I accept that you are Aware and have the right to claim Sentience. As a drone, I encountered many species and the Borg have the memory engrams of millions of species, some of them from a race of sentient machines. But Kathryn may have a harder time accepting the Humanity of one that she cannot look in the eyes."

B'Elanna nodded, knowing that the computer could "see" her through its sensors. "Exactly," she grunted, slipping on a pair of charcoal gray jeans and tucking in a white tee-shirt. "Kathryn's very scientifically minded -- not as able to accept things based on faith. Give her some time, Sar, she'll come around."

"Sar?" the computer asked curiously as it mulled over the words of the two women who were dressing hurriedly.

"Short for SArSen. I don' wanna keep calling you 'computer'," B'Elanna said while pulling on a black leather vest.

"A name, of sorts. Although I should receive a true name from the captain, I thank you for this one."

"'Salright. 'M sure the captain will give you a good one," B'Elanna replied while searching for something under the bed.

The computer, Sar, she began to think of herself as, took the time to make certain that the meal that the half-Klingon had chosen was perfectly replicated and kept steaming hot. She did not want anything else to go wrong this night. Kathryn deserved a chance to spend more time with her beloveds.

As she worked, more programs -- data files -- opened up at the thought of the captain's name and with a start of surprise, the computer recognized them as personal logs of Admiral Edward Janeway, the captain's father. They were immediately added to her memory banks and she was overwhelmed with the knowledge that she was the product of many years of the man's secret and not-so-secret creation. Father. He is my father. The captain is my sister. I -- feel ... love ... for my sister, she thought, and then spent several minutes processing. Thought. I am... thinking. Feeling. I am. I am. I AM! she wanted to scream it, shout it out over the speakers and combadges, but she did not, her programming showing her that such an action would be an extreme violation of Starfleet protocol. The will came to her to adhere to the protocol, because both her "father" and her "sister" would expect it of her.

I will be everything you could wish me to be, father. Kathryn, I will wait for you to accept me -- I will wait forever, if I have to. "Thank you for your insight. May you have a lovely evening."

Seven smiled. "We intend to, Computer. Thank you, for revealing yourself and trusting us with your secret."

"Thank you, Seven of Nine and B'Elanna Torres, for hearing it." The computer did not mention that she had been ordered to reveal the secret. She wanted to think she would have anyway. She was beginning to understand the concept of "friendship" and she felt deeply that these two women qualified as "friends". There were many others aboard Voyager that she hoped have as friends, too.

Aware that her resources were needed elsewhere, Sar left the two women to finish preparing for the captain.

***

Kathryn Janeway walked into Seven and B'Elanna's quarters, looked around at the comfortable home the two women had made for themselves and nearly walked right back out. B'Elanna, who had answered the door, put her hand on Kathryn's arm and said, "Oh no you don't. We didn't invite you over just to have you run away like a freaked out rokeg."

"B'Ella, her ears aren't long enough for that," Seven said as she exited the bedroom.

Kathryn, who'd been rather lost in the sight of B'Elanna's rather rakish look, nearly fell over when she saw Seven. "You both look," she inhaled forcefully, "lovely." She swallowed convulsively, "I brought wine."

B'Elanna took the midnight black bottle from the captain before she dropped it. "Wonderful, I'll just set this aside to breathe. Why don't you and Seven go sit down?"

Kathryn nodded, content to follow her beautiful tactical officer over to a large overstuffed couch. As they sat, she noticed that there was a holo-image of the three of them seated around the table of her old quarters on the original Voyager nestled on a small table next to the couch. She picked up the picture and smiled, remembering the night they'd taken the image. It was one of the last they'd shared before returning to the Alpha quadrant.

"I can't believe you still have this," she said conversationally to B'Elanna as the half-Klingon entered the living area bearing a tray filled with drinks.

B'Elanna smiled, "It's the only thing I managed to hang on to... it was the only image I had of the two women that I loved." She handed Seven a tall glass of iced tea, then gave Janeway a steaming mug of coffee.

"Thank you," Kathryn said, accepting the drink.

B'Elanna sat down in a chair across from the captain and Seven, sipping at her own drink. Their food was done, sitting on the dining area table, but none were in any great hurry to eat. Comfortable silence settled around them, until Seven said, "I believe I must redesign the seating arrangement."

"Why's that, Blue Eyes?" B'Elanna asked.

"You are too far away. I cannot hold you and Kathryn simultaneously," Seven explained.

Kathryn nodded, "Yes, that is a problem, isn't it?"

B'Elanna coughed, then set her glass down nervously. "Well, ah, I suppose we could move the table over there," she pointed to the transparent aluminum window, "and then bring this chair up closer..."

Janeway, who'd been sitting with her head tipped back on the back of the couch, sat forward and looked around. "Or we could get a bunch of cushions and put them on the floor -- we could lounge around hedonistically."

"Sounds comfy," B'Elanna said quietly, not meeting the captain's eyes.

Janeway frowned, and so did Seven. "B'Elanna, is there something I should know?" Kathryn asked.

B'Elanna shrugged, "I don't know." Tears gathered in her eyes and she rubbed at them impatiently. "I just feel, I guess I just want to make sure we're all doing the right thing!" she blurted, as the tears trickled over.

"Oh, B'Ella," Janeway sighed, reaching her hands out to the engineer. B'Elanna scooted out of her seat and crowded into the couch with Seven and the captain. Seven wrapped her arms around both of the women and held them, staying silent while they talked. "I know how you feel, and I think things are going to take some getting used to, but believe me when I say that I want this, I do. I don't think I could ever imagine going another minute of my life without both of you standing beside me. I love you each completely," Kathryn caught and held B'Elanna's eyes as she spoke, then looked back and forth between her and Seven, trying to convey how deeply she felt for both women.

B'Elanna stared. She accepted that Seven loved her. The former drone had proven that time and time again in the last year, but wrapping her mind around the idea that Kathryn loved her too was a rather difficult concept to grasp. Kathryn was the woman she'd longed for those first lonely years aboard the original Voyager. It was Janeway's face that had haunted her dreams until one day, she'd looked in a mirror and firmly told herself that she'd never touch the heart of Voyager's captain so she'd better just move along now.

But what B'Elanna now saw in the captain's eyes was the answer to all her early dreams. Those eyes, those wonderful, smoky eyes looked upon her and filled with love and desire. "Kathryn, I --" she started to speak, but Kathryn shook her head.

"No, B'Ella, I'm not finished," she said, using Seven's pet name for the half-Klingon. "I want you, and Seven to know that the reason I know so deeply how you feel is because I feel that way too. It is hard, harder than just about anything I've ever done before, to believe that I could be worthy of the love you both have offered and given me. To be blessed in life with one who loves you is wondrous, and I have been blessed many times. But to be doubly blessed with the love of two incredible beings, and to feel all that I feel in return is truly miraculous. I cannot put into words how much I love you, both of you."

The words and moreover, the captain's hand stroking her hair did much to convince B'Elanna that her fears were unfounded. In return, she had to try to allay the captain's similar fears. "Kathryn, oh, Kahless, do you have any idea how long I've wanted to say your name like this?" B'Elanna asked lovingly, "I wanted you so much that my blood burned when you were near, but I kept telling myself that it was impossible, that what I wanted went against everything you stood for. I hid what I felt deep inside of me and forced myself to be happy for you and Seven when you found each other. I could only let myself be your friend, could only let only a little of your love touch me. I hid from myself, from what I wanted. I hid from my pain and my... desire. When you, "B'Elanna choked up, "died, I couldn't think for a long time. I couldn't do anything but rot in the hovel that I called home and wonder if I was being punished for my dishonor. Then one day, I actually got around to thinking of Seven and became insatiably curious about how she was, how she was handling your death -- and I found myself wanting her, needing her. I was so ashamed that I ran. I had forfeited what remaining honor I had. It made my skin crawl to realize that I was glad you were gone, that I could have a chance to have Seven. I hated myself.

"I don't know if it was my self-hatred that drove me to rejoin Starfleet, or a sense of trying to restore my honor, but I did. I had carved myself a vicious little corner aboard a border cruiser when Tuvok found me and asked me to come back to Voyager. It was just the ticket I needed to avoid Seven. We were out on a three year mission when I realized that I had forgotten how to hate myself, and was actually happy.

"Then Tuvok organized that little get together at Sandrine's and there she was, alone and beautiful, so incredibly beautiful," the engineer paused to inhale and chew on her lower lip, "And she smiled at me, and a door opened in my heart that she strolled right on through as if she owned the place and made herself at home," B'Elanna chuckled wryly, "I think it's a habit of hers."

B'Elanna turned to Seven and said, "When you danced with me Blue Eyes, I thought I'd died and gone to Sto-Vo-Kor," she nuzzled Seven's cheek, kissing her sweetly. "Yet there was always someone missing from my little heaven and even though I tried to ignore it, I knew who it was. I knew that I could never be whole, because you were dead, Kathryn." Kathryn blinked and reached out to stroke B'Elanna's face and the engineer stifled a sob, "But you weren't. You were alive! Alive, damn you! And then I was suddenly so afraid, so terrified that you'd want Seven back and she would leave me and Kahless, I was going to let her, because it was the goddamned honorable thing to do," the half-Klingon laughed, a harsh, mocking sound, then whispered, "but Seven -- in her typically efficient fashion -- showed me another way. A way where everything I felt suddenly made sense, where my dreams became reality, and you -- you agreed. You loved me. Love me. Me. The half-Klingon scum who never had much honor or pride and you love me. Both of you. Kahless, it is a dream, and I don't ever want to wake up," she buried her head in her hands and Kathryn and Seven both comforted her, holding her close.

Seven cleared her throat. "I have always been a woman of few words. I lack the proper vocabulary to truly express how I feel, but I know with utter certainty that I would be incomplete without either of you in my life. You both help to make me the individual that I am, and I have no desire to be otherwise."

The three women fell silent, unable to speak of the convoluted emotions they experienced, yet knowing that they each loved and was beloved of the other. Seven settled back on the couch, pulling Kathryn and B'Elanna down so that their heads were pillowed on her chest. B'Elanna took Kathryn's hand and began massaging it lightly, causing the captain to purr.

"Mm. This is nice," she said, snuggling closer.

"Yeah," B'Elanna sighed, drawing her legs up and settling in.

A rumbling sound emanated from the general area of Seven's stomach.

"What was that?" Kathryn asked.

"Nothing," Seven growled, giving her stomach a dirty look. It rumbled again, louder.

"I heard it too. Sounds like a targ in heat," B'Elanna smirked.

Seven frowned, "It's nothing. Relax, I am comfortable." But her stomach wasn't cooperating. It began to rumble nonstop.

Kathryn chuckled and said, "Looks like we'd better feed our Borg, B'Ella, before her stomach jumps out and assimilates us."

B'Elanna started laughing, Kathryn followed, and soon, Seven had joined them. They got up and ate.

Chapter Twenty

Later, they were piled on the floor, snuggling on some cushions filched from the couch and chair.

Seven sat with her back to the couch, B'Elanna's head was in her lap and Kathryn's head was in B'Elanna's lap. They were all comfortably full and sat around blinking owlishly like sleepy cats. Seven was idly running her hands over the skin of B'Elanna's forehead, gently caressing the ridges then drawing the tips of her fingers through her thick reddish brown strands of hair.

The engineer purred and nuzzled Seven's leg. "Mm, love, if you do that much longer I'm going to fall asleep."

Kathryn's eyebrows rose. "Well, we can't have that now, can we Seven?" she asked as she rolled over and got to her hands and knees. B'Elanna gasped as the captain straddled her and looked down at her face. Smirking, Janeway added, "I think I'd like to start my dessert now. Care to join me, Seven?"

Seven cocked her head to the side, continuing to gently massage B'Elanna's skull. A sultry

glaze crept over the former drone's face and she whispered, "No, I think I'll just watch you enjoy yours for a while. Perhaps I'll have a bit later."

B'Elanna gasped as the implications of Seven's statement washed over her. Pure heat sizzled from her toes to her fingertips, then buzzed from there to the roots of her hair. "Seven?" she wheezed, quite unable to speak clearly.

"Yes, dear?" Seven asked casually, drawing her fingers down B'Elanna's face, slowly tracing the curves of the half-Klingon's flesh.

"You're going to watch?" she asked, using every last shred of her Klingon stamina to catch her breath.

"Yes. I have read that viewing sex can be as stimulating as engaging in it. I would like the opportunity to gather empirical data on the subject. Will you assist me?" Seven's fingers had trailed down B'Elanna's face and neck and now the Borg was slowly sliding the engineer's tee-shirt out of her jeans, exposing the skin beneath to Kathryn's hungry gaze.

B'Elanna's mouth worked, but sound refused to come out. Kathryn's fingers joined Seven's in exploring the half-Klingon's body, the captain's finger nails a sharp contrast to the blunt warmth of Seven's flesh. Soon, B'Elanna's breasts were exposed, and her nipples hardened to painful erectness when Kathryn leaned over and delicately blew on them.

Then the captain sat up and looked B'Elanna in the eye, "We are going to make such sweet love to you, B'Elanna Torres. Seven and I are going to show you in every way we can how much we truly love and desire you."

B'Elanna wanted to say, "Yes, ma'am," at the captain's tone, but all she could manage was,

"Uhn -- yes!", because the captain had bent down and taken one of her nipples into her mouth and was enthusiastically suckling on it. Seven continued to stroke her face, and B'Elanna watched Seven observe them, and watched as her lover's eyes grew from a pale silver to pools of liquid indigo. Several wonderful minutes passed as Janeway continued to feast on B'Elanna's breasts and Seven watched, then, slowly Seven's left hand drifted down to twine in Kathryn's hair, holding her head to B'Elanna's chest.

Kathryn growled deep in her throat, loving the feel of Seven's fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her into the skin of the woman below her. She nipped and sucked at the puckered flesh of B'Elanna's breast, enjoying the erotic little gasps that the half-Klingon engineer let out. Suddenly the engineer wriggled a bit and Kathryn let up and said, "What's wrong?"

B'Elanna stretched and smiled indulgently, "Nothing, lover. Just need to change position." She then leaned back against Seven letting out a groan of appreciation when the Borg covered her breasts with her hands, squeezing. "Mmm, yeah, I like that, Seven," she murmured.

Janeway smiled, mesmerized by the contrast of alabaster against creamed coffee skin. Seven, noting Kathryn's gaze, began to slowly stroke B'Elanna's breasts, scraping her fingertips over the half-Klingons fat nipples, causing B'Elanna to moan and squirm delightedly. Kathryn leaned forward and unbuttoned the engineer's jeans, wrapped her fingers in the waistband of the pants and pulled them down, revealing more of the caramel colored skin the captain loved to look at.

B'Elanna gasped as the cool air fluttered across her skin, then her breath hitched as Kathryn leaned forward to lay a gentle trail of moist kisses from her ankle to her hip. Breathing became almost impossible when Seven, in conjunction with Kathryn, began painting fresh kisses over B'Elanna's neck and shoulders while the captain licked and nibbled at the flesh surrounding the half-Klingon's bellybutton.

Seven's industrious fingers took on the task of relieving B'Elanna of her tee-shirt while Kathryn's mouth continued to distract the engineer. Slowly, Seven drew the cotton garment over the half-Klingon's head and tossed it into a corner of the room. B'Elanna dropped her head forward when Kathryn's meanderings led her to the juncture of the half-Klingon's thighs. Gentle nips caused the half-Klingon to part her legs, allowing the captain to lovingly taste of the sweet desert she desired. Seven's lips on B'Elanna's throat provided a harmony to the sensations slowly overwhelming the engineer, and when she felt the Borg's teeth graze against her flesh she cried out.

Kathryn purred against B'Elanna's center, the vibrations making the half-Klingon growl and grind against the captain. "Kathryn," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "don't tease."

One auburn eyebrow rose dramatically, then, as if to prove a point, two long fingers slipped deep inside of B'Elanna. "Bangwl', I never tease."

B'Elanna shuddered and drove herself against the fingers that penetrated her so deliciously.

Behind her, Seven whispered, "I love you, B'Ella," and then squeezed the engineer's nipples sharply. B'Elanna cried out and thrust her head back and her hips up, and hung there for several breathless moments, then collapsed, panting in Seven's arms.

Kathryn relinquished her touch and crawled up to kiss B'Elanna and Seven tenderly. Quietly, they laid together until B'Elanna said, "Well Seven, did you get enough evidence?"

Seven smirked and replied, "Perhaps, but it is always more efficient to gather large amounts of data before coming to a conclusion, wouldn't you say, Captain?"

"You're incorrigible, Blue Eyes," B'Elanna said, tickling her Borg lover gently on the ribs.

Janeway chuckled and added, "Isn't she just?"