• This is the 20th installment of the Just Between Series.
• This was posted during the middle of June, 1999, after the fifth season of Voyager.
• This one is dedicated to Jennifer who visited me and gave me a hand with some of the research.
• The title comes from K.C.

The silvery form of the Federation starship USS Voyager gracefully orbited the third planet in the Meuranato system. On the surface, her captain, Kathryn Janeway, along with her carefully selected away team, entered the expansive dining room of the central citadel. This first evening of their official visit was being spent in the company of the planet's governing body, at a dinner function hosted by the Honorable Chancellor Tarm, chieftan of the Meuranato Ruling Council. Janeway hoped to be able to secure both supplies, and some much needed shore leave for her ship. This seemed like a fairly promising beginning.

"Some set up," Lt. B'Elanna Torres, the Klingon chief engineer muttered in an aside as the Federation diplomatic team was shown to the gigantic table that stretched a considerable distance from one end to the other. They were directed to one end, to what was obviously a position of some importance.

"No kidding," Harry Kim agreed. Beside him, the security officer, Lt. Ara Lerona looked appreciatively at the wide variety of artwork adorning the walls as she and the handsome young operations officer took their places.

Opposite them, Neelix, the ship's Talaxian jack-of-all-trades, and another security officer, Ensign Briggs, a deeply browned Argellian, settled into the ornately carved high-backed chairs, looking expectantly at the place settings before them. Captain Janeway found herself escorted to a place of honor next to Tarm who sat at the head of the table. That put her directly across from Seven of Nine, the Borg astrometrics officer who seemed slightly bemused by all the pomp surrounding her, though she maintained a properly dignified mien. Janeway was hopeful that this multi-species representation of her crew would make a good impression on their hosts, showing them how a variety of beings could work together in perfect harmony.

But when the Federation crew had their first taste of Meuranato cuisine, Janeway knew she was in real trouble. Seven of Nine immediately developed that peculiar expression she assumed whenever she didn't like what she was tasting, and was preparing to spit it out as far as she could. Janeway was very familiar with that look, the last time occurring when the captain had made dinner for the couple, presenting her spouse of a few months with her own special version of escargot. Seven's Borg enhancements must have provided a certain amount of boost, because the ejected snail impacted on the far wall of the couple's quarters with a resounding thud, and promptly rebounded, striking Jake, their Irish Setter, in the head. The dog immediately yelped and looked accusingly at Janeway as if she was solely responsible for this indignity, while Seven's declaration that the delicacy tasted like 'garlic flavored fastening compound' ended the captain's cooking experimentation on a less than auspicious note.

Seven rarely beat around the bush when it came to her opinion on food.

Janeway doubted very much if it was a trait their hosts would appreciate, and she had no intention of letting Seven display her very impressive long-distance spitting technique ... either for the Meuranato or the rest of the away team. She swiftly reached out under the table, and kicked the Borg soundly on the ankle, eyeing her warningly. The young woman stared back at the captain with astonishment, and Janeway gave her a stern shake of her head, which she hoped no one else would notice. Seven's eyes immediately grew bigger, and an expression of complete distaste appeared on her face, but obediently she chewed a few more times and swallowed convulsively. Then, she issued Janeway a glare of such utter aggravation that the captain knew she was probably going to be paying for this for the next month or so. Janeway stifled her sigh and returned her gaze to Tarm, granting him her full and undivided attention.

Though quite humanoid in appearance, the Meuranato were a reptilian species, with a faint layer of shimmering scales over their skin. Their eyes were primarily green and gold, with slit pupils and no eyelashes ... in fact, their species was devoid of hair altogether, and they seemed fascinated by the follicles displayed by their visitors. Very often during the dinner, from the corner of her eye, Janeway would see one of the Meuranato waiters reach out, almost involuntarily, to touch her auburn locks, catching themselves when she gazed at them fully, promptly withdrawing and offering an apologetic bow before resuming their duties.

Janeway wondered if she should have told Seven to let her hair down, the growth of which had been stimulated by the Doctor after the Borg's last mission. Janeway was sure that, if the Meuranato were impressed by the captain's meager thatch of auburn, they would have been completely overwhelmed by Seven's impressive mane, at its greatest length to date, reaching midway down her back.

"I must say, Captain," Tarm said, "it is rare that we greet visitors with such discriminating tastes. Our chefs have attempted to provide the most creative dishes of which they are capable."

Janeway returned his smile, forcing herself to remember that the Meuranato considered baring one's teeth to be a sign of aggression, keeping her lips firmly over her canines. It felt ackward and she was sure she appeared idiotic, but it was something she had practiced.

"We are honored to have the opportunity to partake of your bounty," she responded evenly. She very carefully did not look at the rest of her team, sure they would be eyeing her with blatant disbelief.

To their chagrin, the food kept coming, course after course, and Janeway realized that her team's diplomatic determination to show their appreciation for the Meuranato's hospitality was being tested to its very limit. They greeted each new dish created by a different chef with bright expectation, as if hoping that this one would prove to be something more palatable, and each time, their faces fell as they tasted the offering.

Excluding Lt. Ara. The dark haired woman ate precisely the same amount each course before going on to the next. Janeway wondered if the ex-Maquis had ever been in a Cardassian prison camp during the occupation of Bajor, thus acquiring a taste for anything, simply as long as it was edible. Even Ara faltered, however, when the main course was placed on the table with great ceremony by the Meuranato, the waiters whipping off the covers from the dishes with a dramatic flourish to display the meal set before them.

The food was still moving.

Voyager's crewmembers regarded their plates with dismay before B'Elanna, perhaps more inured than the rest of them thanks to her Klingon heritage, finally reached out with her utensil and gave it a try. The Meuranato sitting next to the engineer showed her how to scoop the squirming things into what seemed like a big spoon, and tip it up, the maggot-like shapes sliding down into B'Elanna's mouth, squirming visibly the entire way. Torres chewed slowly for a few moments, a contemplative expression on her face and then swallowed.

And readily took another bite.

Janeway noticed that Seven and Harry were looking at the engineer with horror, both a trifle green around the edges, and Neelix's eyes were as big as saucers, showing a considerable amount of white around the golden irises. To be perfectly honest, the captain's stomach was not as settled as it could have been either, but B'Elanna merely returned their stare and abruptly grinned, showing pointed teeth.

"It's good," she said, scooping up another large batch.

Harry goggled with every appearance of disbelief, while Seven shot Janeway a look of utter apprehension, clearly begging the captain with her eyes not to make her eat any of the dish. Feeling less sympathetic than perhaps she should because, as captain, it was required that she had to at least try it, Janeway frowned at her spouse and took the silver scoop the Honorable Chancellor Tarm offered. Steeling herself, the captain gathered up some of the little pale yellow curls, and tentatively took a mouthful, chewing rapidly in the hopes that she could get them small enough to go down her throat without trouble. She attempted very hard not to think about what she was doing, just as they had taught her at the Academy in Diplomacy 101.

B'Elanna was right, they were good.

Astounded by the flavor that was a combination of shrimp and barbequed chicken, lightly spiced, the tiny wiggling of the creatures was not even noticeable after the first few mouthfuls. It was, without question, the best tasting dish offered, and as long as Janeway ignored her cultural conditioning, she found it quite palatable. She could see the dismay still present in Seven's eyes, the Borg obviously taken aback by the captain's apparent enjoyment.

"It really is very tasty," Janeway assured her gently. "Try a small bite."

Reluctantly, Seven picked up her utensil and prodded hesitantly at her meal, perhaps hoping to kill the creatures before she had to eat them. When she had finally mashed two or three into a rather revolting looking paste, she cautiously scraped it up and licked it off the scoop. Janeway thought that was far more disgusting than if Seven had just slurped them whole as the rest were doing.

"It is ... not as bad as I anticipated," Seven admitted in a low voice after she swallowed.

Janeway shot her a rueful half grin and to her gratification, Seven returned it, her pale eyes glowing.

The rest of the meal was less adventurous, and once the final dessert course was cleared away, Voyager's crew were escorted into another room where they were able to start the preliminary negotiations for the refined ore Voyager required for the equipment replicators. It was very similar to the Federation cocktail parties at the various embassies on Earth that Janeway had attended, and she found Tarm to be a charming representative of his species. More than a few of the members of the ruling council mentioned to the captain that they were particularly impressed that the visitors had partaken of the main course since most 'warm-bloods' ... as other mammalian humanoids were designated ... were usually offended by the offering. Janeway was very glad her crew were the adventurous sort, even when they were not always gracious about it.

Each crewmember had been assigned a Meuranato guide, and Janeway noted that Neelix's escort for the evening was a female named Margus, with scales of pale gold and a diminutive build. The top of her head barely reached the bottom of the Talaxian's chin and her slender frame made the stocky Delta Quadrant native look clumsy next to her. Lt. Kim was quite taken with her, and made a point to be in her presence as much as possible.

Harry's Meuranato guide, Trell, was an impressively large male, and it seemed to the captain that he also had an interest in Margus ... and did not appreciate the attentions his charge was attending upon her, though diplomacy obviously decreed that he not tear Lt. Kim limb from limb.

In a spare moment, Janeway nudged Harry discreetly. "Mr. Kim, you might want to take note that you are not the only admirer of Margus, or the fact that your escort has at least ten centimeters and fifty kilos of sheer muscle on you."

Harry took another look, his face blanching as he compared sizes, and must have decided the captain had a point. He nodded quietly and moved hastily away to another part of the gathering, as far away from Neelix and Margus as he could get and still be in the room. Janeway swallowed her smile, and found that Tarm was regarding her with his own smile.

"Your crewmember has good taste," he said quietly.

"He meant no disrespect," she offered carefully.

He dipped his head. "I am aware of that, as I'm sure my daughter would realize as well, had she noticed his attentiveness for what it was. She is still inexperienced with alien species."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Your daughter?"

He looked proud as only a father could. "She will undoubtedly sit on the Council herself one day. Your visit is good training for her."

"As it is for my crewmembers," Janeway agreed, noting that Seven and B'Elanna were deep in discussion with their escorts; brightly colored males with iridescent fringes about their necks, though Seven seemed somewhat perplexed by what her companion was saying.

Janeway bowed politely to Tarm and drifted over, attempting to isolate her partner, and gratified when it turned out not to be that difficult. The Meuranato were remarkably polite, and Seven's escort merely shifted his attentions to B'Elanna who seemed to be preening under it.

"Is something wrong?" she asked the Borg when they had moved to a relatively quiet corner.

"Were you aware, Captain, that certain of the Meuranato in this room are 'available' to us?" Seven responded evenly.  "Including most of our 'escorts'?"

Janeway blinked. "Available?" she echoed in bafflement.

"For this evening," Seven prompted. "In the event that we should desire 'entertainment' upon retiring." She paused. "I had to inform my escort that I am 'bonded'."

Janeway exhaled slowly. "I'll inform the rest of the team not to misunderstand such 'availability'. First, I'd better find out what the best way to say 'no' is."

"That would be wise," Seven responded dryly, quirking her eyebrow at the captain. "Especially since those 'escorts' are for you." She motioned with her chin toward the other end of the room. Four shimmering males with bulging muscles, and two females with impressive scales, were standing in a group by the refreshment table. They immediately perked up as the captain looked their way, and Janeway felt her mouth go dry.

"Oh my," she said, considerably disconcerted.

"Apparently," Seven noted with rare and unexpected humor, "your reputation for insatiability precedes you."

Janeway shot her a poisonous look, and went off to find Tarm once more. They needed to clear this up before the party was over, and any of the crew were escorted to their suites.

Or this mission would take a decided departure from Starfleet protocols.

That was fortunate, since Seven had learned that it was prudent to get to the bathroom before B'Elanna. The Klingon tended to leave things in a mess, water on the floor, sopping towels draped everywhere, and a general impression of a bomb having gone off in her wake, all of which greatly offended the sensibilities of the very organized, meticulous young blonde.

Seven stretched, marveling at the silken sheets that slipped smoothly over her skin, wondering if she could acquire a set for her quarters on Voyager. They were almost like liquid, made of some material that would not snag on the Meuranato scales. She thought it was probably the most comfortable surface she had ever slept on. In fact, her sleep the previous night would have been perfect, but for one very important thing ... Janeway had been required to stay in her own private suite across the hall.

Seven stifled her sigh and rolled out of bed, strolling through the room toward the ensuite in her Starfleet issued sleepwear, nodding a brief good morning to Lt. Ara. She and the Bajoran woman could not be considered friends, but they had acquired a certain sort of mutual respect after a recent away mission. Ara flashed her a faint smile, and Seven decided that perhaps being respected was something that was in itself, more worthy than merely being liked.

She quickly showered in the oddly functioning facilities ... the water tended to spray directly from the sides and had a disturbing tendency to go up her nose ... and then pulled on her 'away mission outfit'. Comprised of a black sweater and trousers, the garments more practical than her mesh biometric suits that operated well within the confines of Voyager, but were inefficient under conditions that weren't as controlled. She pulled on her padded vest, and tied her ankle-high boots before returning to the suite where Ara was regarding B'Elanna who was still snoring soundly.

"Should we wake her?" the Bajoran asked curiously.

Seven studied the sleeping Klingon sprawled over the bed, head back, her mouth open as she rumbled away.

"That would be unwise," Seven noted. "I believe she has a tendency to wake up 'cranky'." At Ara's glance, she quirked an eyebrow. "I have been told this by Lt. Paris, and by B'Elanna herself. She does not like to be awakened abruptly. She tends to react ... violently."

"The captain wants us to meet her in the main hall at 0800 hours," Ara reminded the Borg evenly.

Neither of them budged, each venturing a glance at each other, hoping that the other would make the first move. Seven frowned and carefully inclined her head.

"After you, Lieutenant."

Ara eyed her uncertainly. "Is that an order?"

Seven considered that. "Yes," she finally decided.

Ara tilted her head. "You can't give me orders," she noted gravely. "You're not officially in the chain of command."

Seven's face fell. "No?" She paused and added hopefully, "Is it relevant that I am the captain's spouse?"

Ara shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she said with undue solemnness.

Seven pursed her lips glumly. "I am the one who is required to wake B'Elanna, am I not?"

"Seems so," Ara said, crossing her arms over her chest and giving every indication that she was going to watch this closely ... perhaps for future reference, though Seven did not envision that being necessary.

She inhaled deeply, and cautiously approached the bed.

A thin stream of drool ran from B'Elanna's mouth, and there was a thin sliver of white between her eyelids. Seven decided that perhaps this was not the most attractive she had ever seen the chief engineer.

"Lt. B'Elanna Torres," she stated clearly and loudly. "I order you to wake up."

The young woman's eyelids fluttered, there was a brief Klingon epithet to the effect that Seven was hardly the boss of her, and could probably go pound sand, whereupon B'Elanna promptly fell back to sleep.

Seven frowned, reaching out and tentatively prodded the young woman's shoulder. No response, other than a louder than average snore. Seven glanced back at the security officer who seemed to be waiting expectantly. As a result, she did not see the fist that thudded into her abdomen as B'Elanna flopped over restlessly and resumed snoring.

It was an interesting sensation, Seven noted as her breath expelled from her lungs with a mighty whoosh, and she bent over slightly. The Borg was a great deal stronger than the average Human, and this did not incapacitate her as it certainly would in other circumstances, but she was left with a much put upon sensation that she did not at all appreciate.

Carefully, she inhaled and with a sort of firmness that was uniquely hers, reached down and grasped B'Elanna by the front of her grey pyjamas, picking her up in one swift motion and setting her on her feet. Then the Borg released her, and stepped back quickly. B'Elanna had barely enough time to wake up as she swayed and toppled to the ground.

All in all, it was a fairly efficient way to wake up. B'Elanna bounced up from the floor, cursing a blue Klingon streak. Seven fixed her eye on the Klingon's, pinning her with the force of a 'stare' she had been formulating by paying close attention to her spouse's own formidable gaze.

"The captain requires our presence in the main hall at 0800 hours," she said flatly. "It is now 0745 hours. We shall meet you there."

She turned and walked out. To her great gratification, the security officer followed her, an odd expression on her face. Seven glanced at her, quirking her eyebrow, and Ara abruptly allowed the tight grin to edge past her lips.

"Well done, but I doubt it's something the average crewmember can do."

"I am not the average crewmember," Seven noted reasonably. "I am Borg."

"So you are."

Yet, despite Ara's professional ... one might even say, friendly ... observation, Seven found that she was somewhat disquieted. It was beginning to occur to her that she held no real rank on the ship. While some people followed her requests, others balked, and rightfully so. It also crossed her mind that on occasion, some people acceded to her commands only because she was the captain's spouse, which was not necessarily an advantageous thing. She decided that she would have to speak with Janeway about this, and soon. She certainly did not require the rank and privilege of Commander Chakotay, the ship's first officer, for example, but it would be useful for her to understand where exactly she fit into the chain of command.

She felt a little bemused as she realized that until now, she had considered the chain of command to fall far short of Borg efficiency, every drone knowing exactly what to do without need of orders or demands. The Starfleet method worked, but not in a way she thought was particularly proficient. She was beginning to see that it was even less productive when she remained outside of it, even as she tried to function within it. She wondered if Neelix also experienced this sense of frustration, of not knowing his true place in the Voyager family. Though the Delta Quadrant native had tried a brief stint as a security officer under Lt. Commander Tuvok's command, it had never really worked out and the two men, Talaxian and Vulcan, had come to an equitable agreement that it would be best that Neelix resume his tasks as Voyager's unofficial ambassador, and general all-around trouble shooter.

Sometimes, Seven decided, too much of what happened on Voyager was by chance rather than plan. It offended her Borg sensibilities.

She put aside her musings as she and Ara entered the great hall. It was bordered by lush greenery in manicured beds, and lit by an overhead series of skylights that allowed the sun's natural light to illuminate the area. The brightness was slightly different than Sol's spectrum, more into the yellow variant of the light, leeching out the blues, and Seven's ocular implant was forced to compensate. She wondered how her fully organic companions adapted.

Her heart increased its pace as she saw her spouse, just as it always did; the vision of that compact figure in her uniform of black and red, the four gold pips glinting proudly at the slate blue collar, making the Borg's breath catch ever so slightly. The captain was standing with the rest of the away team, Neelix, Lt. Kim and Ensign Briggs, by the main entrance to the residence, along with several Meuranato, including the Honorable Chancellor Tarm. Seven noted how Janeway's elegant features did not precisely alter when she noticed Seven's approach, but  the blue grey eyes were certainly lit by a profound glow, which in turn, warmed the Borg immeasurably.

"Seven," the captain greeted, somewhat formally. "Lt. Ara." She looked expectantly behind them. "Lt. Torres?"

"The Chief Engineer is running a bit late, Captain," Ara offered smoothly. There was the sound of feet pounding on the marble floor. "I believe that's her now."

Janeway's eyes met Seven's in a briefly shared second of amusement, before turning her attention to the Meuranato council leader.

"If not exactly on time, at least we're eager," she noted, smiling thinly.

He returned the lipped smile. "You will notice that my daughter has yet to arrive as well, Captain Janeway. We may have more in common than perhaps we realize."

Janeway dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned back to the away team. "Honorable Chancellor Tarm has indicated that for our round of talks today, it isn't necessary that most of you be present. I will require that Seven and Lt. Ara remain with me, but the rest of you are free to accompany Margus and her guides on a tour of the more ancient of the Meuranato ruins."

Seven glanced at B'Elanna, and knew that the chief engineer would readily change places with her, but it was clear from the way Janeway phrased the offer, it was more than merely a suggestion. Seven felt a small smile quirk the corner of her mouth, and she obligingly moved to the captain's side even as Ara did, attempting not to look inappropriately smug.

The group moved outside onto the wide expanse of veranda that looked over the rest of the Meuranato capital city, and their attention was taken by the approach of a large anti-grav land vehicle. At the helm, Margus waved cheerfully, and Seven noted that Janeway and Tarm exchanged another of the thin smiles. The Borg tried not to smirk when she noted B'Elanna's very hangdog expression as the Federation members climbed into the speeder with their Meuranato guides, and drove off toward the city limits.

Janeway nodded at her remaining crewmembers. "Follow me," she murmured, and the much reduced group descended the stairs to cross the paved square which boasted an intricate fountain in which some unidentifiable creature spouted water from its mouth.

Seven eyed the sculpture with interest as they passed it, wondering what sort of lifeform it represented or if, indeed, it represented any at all. She had come to learn that sometimes the creative instincts of humanoids manifested themselves in objects that were solely of the imagination, though she did speculate that the thing was far too visually displeasing to come from sheer inspiration. Of course, she had nothing solid to back that presumption up with, other than the fact than she found the sculpture repulsive. Considering her taste in artwork, that was saying something indeed.

They were led into the administrative side of the complex where they had been entertained the night before, through the gracious halls to a room where a large table was set up. There were pitchers of ice water, and a Meuranato version of the Starfleet padd set neatly in front of each high-backed chair, along with several stacks of informational material. It indicated the upcoming talks would be extensive, which meant she and Kathryn would probably not be able to find a certain amount of time for themselves after all, contrary to what she had been hoping when she discovered she was to stay behind and assist the captain.

Perhaps she should have requested that she and B'Elanna trade places after all, she thought glumly as she took her seat to the captain's right.

This was going to be a long day.

The young Meuranato female obviously, she decided finally, with an internal smirk. Trell had not come along on this excursion, having been switched over to Lt. Ara, while the Bajoran's guide, a male named Larus, was appointed to Harry. The Klingon didn't know why that had happened, but suspected it had something to do with Margus. The Meuranato would occasionally glance at Harry provocatively, and B'Elanna wondered how much trouble this was going to cause in the future, remembering well when the operations officer had become involved with another alien female, completely against the captain's orders. Leave it to Harry to be defiant only when his gonads are involved, she thought with amusement.

Catching sight of the rectangular signs with alien inscriptions that had become very familiar to B'Elanna the past few hours, they entered yet another site on the tour of Meuranato historical ruins. B'Elanna waited as the speeder slowed and stopped, lowering gracefully onto its landing struts that imbedded themselves into the mossy turf of a large clearing. The Klingon climbed out of her seat with a poorly stifled sigh, stretching slightly as she strolled down the ramp behind the rest of the away team. She shaded her eyes with a hand as she looked over the various weathered stone monuments, rising above yet more rubble in the thick temperate jungle that spread out around them. She tried not to look disgusted when she realized it was as unremarkable as the last few sites, waving away a few buzzing insects that flew too close to her head.

She must not have succeeded in hiding her disdain, because Margus drifted over to her not long after the walking tour began, an inquiring expression on her face.

"Lt. Torres? This displeases you?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "Not at all," she lied, and then in a fit of inspiration, added, "I'm Klingon and our forms of entertainment differ somewhat from this, but please, don't feel I am unappreciative. Learning about new cultures is very important to Voyager and her crew." She was rather proud of the last statement. It seemed properly diplomatic.

"It is important to us, as well," Margus agreed as they strolled along the various paths which had been set up to best show off the ruins. "I would especially like to know more about you. What kind of entertainment do 'Klingons' favor?"

B'Elanna smiled, realized a little late that she was showing her slightly pointed teeth as Margus recoiled slightly, and immediately pressed her lips together in what was hopefully, a less threatening grin.

"Sorry." She took a breath. "Klingons are warriors by nature, and our forms of entertainment could be considered ... well, somewhat more 'rambunctious' than this."

"And you find this boring."

"I meant no disrespect," B'Elanna said hastily.

"None taken." Margus lowered her voice and leaned closer to the Klingon confidingly. "I admit, I too find this tour to be predictable and mundane. We offer it to every alien species who visits, and sometimes I feel if I see another revered place, I shall go mad."

B'Elanna laughed, this time careful to keep her teeth covered. "Well, sometimes we have to do many boring things for the sake of diplomacy."

"Yes," Margus said. She studied the Klingon covertly. "Do your people find entertainment when there is the possibility of ... danger?"

"Oh yes," B'Elanna explained readily. "In fact, the more dangerous, the better. The potential for getting killed is considered the best form of entertainment of all."

If there was a bit of sarcasm in her tone, she doubted the young Meuranato picked up on it. The reptilian female had no way of knowing that B'Elanna was only half Klingon, something that had caused the engineer more than her share of heartache while she was growing up. Considered too soft for most Klingons, too rough and abrasive for most Humans, B'Elanna found herself on the outside looking in on far too many occasions.

"Some of us also find entertainment in dangerous pursuits." Margus looked odd, half fearful, yet exhilarated at the same time. "Perhaps we could find a better alternative for you and your people."

B'Elanna frowned. "In what way?" There was a sinking sensation in her chest as she realized she may have inadvertently caused something that could get not only her, but the rest of the team in trouble. Margus had already drifted off, heading for another of the guides to whom she spoke intently.

B'Elanna worried about it for a moment before common sense reared its head, and she shrugged it off. The Meuranato seemed pretty reserved. What could be considered dangerous to them might be no more than a minor thrill to someone like Harry Kim who was one of the most placid people B'Elanna knew. She doubted anything the seemingly naive young Meuranato came up with would be all that exciting.

B'Elanna feigned interest as she finished the walking tour through the Seventh City of Tarphus that apparently had been the Meuranato ruler's last stand, not really paying attention as the tour guide droned on and on about how the warrior king had reigned over the planet before he was brought down by the people and the destruction of something called the Crystal of Being (In Charge). B'Elanna snickered when the universal translator spat that one out at her, deciphering the name of the artifact into Federation terms. On the other hand, she considered, some of the grandiose names both Humans and Klingons had used in their time undoubtedly sounded as silly in other languages.

Later, the group gathered back at the speeder where the tour guide left them and refreshments were distributed by their Meuranato escorts. The Federation crew gratefully partook of the offering which, unlike the night before, was of a more common variety; fresh fruits, warm breads, sliced meats, and various cheeses that were far tastier than the concoctions the Council chefs had invented. B'Elanna washed down her makeshift sandwich with a large draught of some sweetish flavored, ice cold beer, and decided that perhaps the Meuranato weren't as bad in the gastronomic department as she had come to believe.

"B'Elanna?"

Torres glanced over to see that Neelix had moved over to join her.

"What is it, Neelix?" she queried the gold spotted Talaxian, feeling relatively benevolent at the moment under the effects of a warm sun, the pleasantly cool breeze, and some good food under her belt.

"I was wondering. ... now that Susan Nicoletti is doing most of her duty shifts on the bridge if there might be an opening in Engineering."

B'Elanna considered that one carefully. Several months ago, she, Seven and Chakotay had been transported to the Alpha Quadrant by a Bajoran orb. Before the artifact's energy was drained completely, the three used it to return to Voyager, bringing back a runabout stuffed full of supplies including enough upgraded equipment to bring the food replicators fully back on line.

Neelix, a native of the Delta Quadrant, had been doing all the cooking for the crew prior to that, and his messhall had been the center of the community on the ship. It was still the center of the community, but he no longer had as much to do, many people returning to the replicator for their meals rather than choosing his dishes that admittedly, could sometimes be considered as adventurous as the alien offerings they had eaten the previous night. As a result, Neelix was finding himself somewhat at loose ends, and the Klingon knew that a recent stint in security had not worked out for the stocky alien.

"I'm sure we could find something for you," she said slowly.

Normally, she would not be willing to stick a random factor in her carefully balanced engineering team, but a recent discussion had altered her perception somewhat. It had been over lunch ... something the engineer wrangled whenever she and the Borg had the same off duty day because Seven was a surprisingly remarkable cook. Janeway had also been present that day, and the couple had been discussing the advantages of being flexible verses being organized. The captain offered the argument that it was not good for any group of people to become too complacent in a set group of tasks, making them unprepared when something unforseen did occur, as was bound to happen in the Delta Quadrant. Seven contended that, on the contrary, having a defined organization allowed a large group to adapt quicker because everyone knew their place, and would do their job no matter what went on around them. The couple hadn't come to any definite conclusions, but B'Elanna had taken the captain's words to heart.

She decided that adding Neelix to the engineering mix would do wonders for her crew, who had perhaps grown a little too comfortable in their positions.

Neelix beamed. "Thank you, B'Elanna. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. And Neelix?"

He looked at her inquiringly. "Yes?"

"It's Lt. Torres from now on," she said, edging a little command into her tone, pleased when it sounded faintly like the captain's. "You're in my department now."

Neelix straightened. "Understood, Lt. Torres."

B'Elanna stifled her smile as he moved away, considerably lighter in his step, and felt good about herself. A nice change from how she normally felt. Her eye was abruptly caught by Margus who had climbed up onto the hood of the land speeder, waving her hands to attract everyone's attention.

"I believe we have seen enough of Tarphus's cities where he ruled," Margus said in a ringing voice. "Now perhaps it is time to see where he failed. I think we should show our visitors the Ruins of Sanzzibar."

B'Elanna was sure it was just her imagination playing tricks, but was it a coincidence that a cloud passed over the sun at that very moment, the breeze picking up to flow around them with chill intent? There were murmurs from the other Meuranato in the group, uneasy glances being exchanged as the Federation team mostly looked confused.

"That is forbidden," one of the Meuranato, a youngling named Nouvat, pointed out. The stocky male was B'Elanna's assigned escort, and boasted a respectable fringe around his neck.

Margus looked at him scornfully. "There is no law on the books that specifically prevents someone from entering the ruins. The Administration of Historical Sites simply takes no responsibility if people visit them."

"That's because no one ever comes out," Harry's guide, Larus muttered. He was smaller than Nouvat and his fringe was much more muted, a pale green rather than the brilliant blue of the younger guide. "If Trell were here, he wouldn't stand for this."

Ensign Briggs's guide, a stocky female named Darnat, sneered at him. "You're not afraid, are you?"

B'Elanna was interested to discover that Meuranato showed embarrassment by the way their ear tufts darkened, the veins in the wing-like tassels throbbing visibly. At least, she thought it might be embarrassment.

"Uh, Margus," she said, realizing that she, as the senior officer, was in command of the away team. "We certainly don't want to do anything that might be considered ... uh, offensive to your government. Are these ruins off limits?"

"Only to the cowardly," Margus noted as she stared directly at the Klingon, and B'Elanna wondered if the young Meuranato was attempting to bait her into some kind of challenge. If so, it was a failed effort. Better individuals than Margus ... Seven sprang to mind ... had provoked the Klingon over the past few years, and did a far more effective job at it. "They're not maintained by the Historical Administration so they're not on the tour, and the possibility of crumbling rock could pose a threat. However, the stonework and carvings are far more interesting than the ones we've seen, and there are some that say they actually reveal the true origins of Tarphus's rule, as well as hiding a lot of the treasure he was purported to have secreted away."

B'Elanna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. A treasure hunt. That was all she needed, but when she glanced around at the others on the team, they were looking at her with eager expressions. They must have been as bored as she was by the tour ... only they had hid it better.

"It might be more interesting to go back with data on the Sanzzibar ruin," Harry noted hopefully. "Especially if it isn't in the guide books."

"Lt. Kim is right," Neelix chimed in. "Often, the 'official' government tour does not give visitors a chance to see the 'real' planetary history and culture."

Ensign Briggs seemed the sole voice of reason. "Lieutenant, I'm not sure the captain would approve of going outside the scheduled tour."

B'Elanna considered her own perception of the fiery woman who commanded Voyager.

"I don't agree," she told him quietly. "If anyone likes poking their nose into places where it supposedly doesn't belong, it's the captain. I think she would want us to take this opportunity to see Meuranato outside the government restrictions."

He still looked troubled. "If you say so, Lt. Torres," he said doubtfully, though he appeared content that he had voiced his objection to the team leader, and not interested in pressing it any further.

B'Elanna nodded at Margus. "How far away are these ruins, and what should we be looking for when we get there?"

Margus beamed, and B'Elanna considered the fact that she was two for two in making people happy today. She wondered if it were becoming a habit, and promised herself to address it as soon as possible. Making people happy was not an admired Klingon trait. Making them cringe was more her style.

"The Sanzzibar ruins are only an hour away, though the trail there is somewhat rough," Margus admitted. "It may take longer if we have to detour about collapsed trees or rock falls."

"Then I guess we best get started," B'Elanna said, brushing her hands off on her uniform before vaulting up onto the speeder. "If we want to explore a little and still be back before dark."

She was somewhat disturbed when she heard a mutter from Larus to the effect that 'the dark was exactly where they were heading'.

Finally, Tarm declared the discussion over for the day, having accomplished about fifty percent of the concessions needed for the trade pact. It seemed so extremely complicated for a fairly minor exchange that Janeway could only imagine what it would be like if there was a matter of a long-standing treaty involved. She shook her head as she picked up her glass of ice water, and sipped it as the rest of the negotiators left the room. She was aware of Seven moving close to her, frowning faintly as she regarded the captain.

"Are you all right?"

Janeway offered her a rueful grin. "It's considerably more difficult than I expected," she admitted in a low voice. "I thought we'd be done by lunch, and instead, we may be looking at another two days."

Seven nodded, and then hesitated, an odd expression crossing her face.

Janeway flashed a bluish-grey glance at her.

"I know," she said with tolerant amusement. "Tomorrow, you'd rather go on the historical tour."

Seven's cheeks stained a light pink. "Am I that obvious?"

Janeway tilted her head slightly, deliberately gentling her voice to become more husky and intimate. "To me, you are." Gratified when the pink in Seven's face deepened, though obviously it was for a different reason ... pleasure rather than embarrassment.

"I will stay with the negotiations," Seven decided firmly. "Otherwise, who would make certain that you have something to eat?"

Janeway eyed her warmly. "Have I ever told you how glad I am to have married you?"

"Frequently," Seven responded in an equally low voice. Her pale eyes glowed. "I shall never tire of hearing it."

The couple shared a look of affectionate regard before Janeway frowned briefly as she became aware the two of them were now alone in the conference room. "Where's Lt. Ara?"

Seven looked out the large doors, motioning with her chin. "She is checking in with the away team. The tour was only to take a few hours, and Briggs has not contacted her."

Janeway felt a faint tingle of alarm skitter up her spine, though she wasn't sure why. Through the large bay windows which looked out over the city, she could see the muted golds and reds of the sunset, the sky darkening to a deep navy, and realized that they had been in negotiations longer than she had thought.

"She's not the only one concerned," she said somberly, putting her glass down on the table and gathering up her padds. "When did she leave?"

"She left approximately thirty minutes ago," Seven responded as they left the conference room. "We are to meet by the fountain in the square."

Janeway nodded, wondering why she felt this sense of foreboding. Aside from the intricacies of the negotiation, the Meuranato had been nothing but accommodating, and it was unlikely that there was anything wrong. Yet, despite that, she still quickened her pace as they crossed the plaza, heading for the fountain which was now lit by pink and green lights in the deepening dusk, the water reflecting the glow.

The slender figure of Lt. Ara paced restlessly beside it, and Janeway approached her quickly.

"Lieutenant?" she asked, a little more sharply than she intended.

"They're still not back," Ara explained as she led the way to another area of the complex. "There's been no response on the communicators. The transport division agreed to put a trace out on the land speeder, though they told me it would take a while before they triangulated the signal from its energy output to its garage berth."

"Was the tour supposed to take this long?"

Ara looked somber. "They should have returned by mid-afternoon. The historical administration allowed that perhaps they may have taken longer at each site than was anticipated, but they still should have returned before dark."

Jnaeway inhaled sharply. "I don't like the fact they're not responding to your hails. We're well within range."

They entered the transport center, and the captain was further disturbed to see Tarm already there. He must have come directly from the negotiations, indicating that he had been informed of the lateness of the group as well. She wondered why he hadn't mentioned it to her when he left the conference area. She glanced around the room filled with a multitude of screens, monitoring the various areas of traffic within the city, and supposedly keeping track of any official government vehicles that had left the complex.

"Is there anything to report?"

The Meuranato seemed a little startled to see her, then shook his head. "Not yet. I assure you, Captain, it is probably just a matter of time simply getting away from them. They should be back shortly."

Janeway eyed him narrowly, not believing the reassurance for a second. He looked far too concerned to believe his own words.

"Are there any dangers on this tour?" she asked a young Meuranato female who was hunched over a screen displaying a cross section of maps which flickered from one to another rapidly.

"No," she responded promptly. Then hesitated. "Of course, they were required to remain on the scheduled route."

"If they didn't?" Janeway asked evenly.

"Then perhaps they would have encountered certain natural obstacles," Tarm interjected smoothly, overriding the technician's reply. "The ruins they were to view are in the mountains, and there's always the possibility of rock falls."

"Is there a communicator on the speeder?"

"Yes," another of the monitoring Meuranato spoke up. He was frowning worriedly. "There's been no response. It could be a malfunction, or they could have simply turned it off for some reason. It is not uncommon, even if it is against the regulations. Another problem is that if the speeder isn't powered up, the ID signature can't be traced using this equipment."

Frowning, Janeway looked at Tarm. She hadn't wanted to bring Voyager in on this, but it was clear the Meuranato were not able to get the job done.

"Honorable Tarm, if you could give me the energy signature, I'm sure my ship's sensors could pinpoint the location of the speeder."

He looked at her, his eyes darkening, then he nodded with obvious difficulty. "That is a wise idea, Captain."

The concession did not make Janeway feel any better since it was clear that he felt they didn't have any other choice. She touched her communicator with a distinct sense of unease.

"Janeway to Voyager."

"Voyager here," returned the calm voice of her Vulcan security chief.

"Tuvok, I need you to run a trace on the energy signal I'm sending you, and transmit the coordinates back to this location," she said.

"Stand by."

Seven had drifted over to one of the monitors, and with the Meuranato's permission, she took a seat at it, linking it to Voyager's computer where she transmitted the energy signal. There was a pause as the two computer links exchanged information, and then data started to download into the Meuranato screens. Janeway didn't know what Voyager had come up with, but from the immediate gasps that were quickly stifled, she knew it couldn't be good.

"Honorable Tarm?" she said in a particularly dangerous voice.

The Meuranato did not go pale precisely, but his scales definitely took on a sort of brittle look in the greenish glow of the screens. He did not answer the captain, instead turning to his assistant.

"I want a patrol out there right now."

Janeway exchanged a significant look with Lt. Ara who had been remaining out of the way and staying silent. The tall woman immediately moved up to the captain's side in a support position.

"What's going on here?" Janeway demanded, her voice hardening.

"Captain," Tarm began, turning to her. He hesitated, then lowered his eyes. "This location your ship is sending ... is it accurate?"

"If your energy signal was," Janeway responded firmly.

He shook his head. "This is not good."

Janeway resisted the urge to grab him by the scruff of the neck, and shake him until his eyeballs rattled.

"What isn't good?"

"The signal appears to be coming from the Ruins of Sanzzibar," one of the other Meuranato said in an odd tone.

"Those ruins were not on the tour?" Seven guessed.

"No," he said, and immediately shut up as Tarm glared at him.

Janeway felt anger rise in her, and she was forced to take a few seconds to compose herself. When she was sure she could maintain control of her voice, she stepped in front of Tarm and fixed him with a force ten 'look'.

"I want to know what's going on here."

He stared at her, then nodded. "We must go to the Offices of the Protectorate. They'll be sending out a patrol to check this out."

As they left the transport administration center, Ara fell into step with the captain.

"The Protectorate are the Meuranato's version of an army, Captain. Why would they need to send out an armed patrol to pick up some tourists?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Janeway responded in her coldest tone.

The Offices of the Protectorate were larger than the transportation center, filled with Meuranato dressed in purple uniforms, banded by black leather belts and boots. The highest-ranking officer saluted Tarm stiffly, and turned back to monitors that showed the windshield of a vehicle driving through the night. The dark outlines of trees and bushes could be seen lining what appeared to be a dirt road, while rocks and an occasional stone outcropping forced the vehicle to swerve now and again.

"That is the video feed from our patrol, Captain," Tarm explained as they all stared at the main screen set high on one wall . "They'll be arriving at the ruins within two hours. I suggest you take the opportunity to have dinner."

"I suggest you take the opportunity to tell me about the ruins of Sanzzibar," she returned firmly.

He took a breath. "They're extremely dangerous, Captain. I can't imagine why your team wished to visit them."

She raised her head. "You're assuming it was my team that made the decision. I doubt they would even know about these ruins in the first place, unless your people told them about them."

He stared at her. "My daughter would not voluntarily go there," he said in the sort of tone that almost sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. "I've warned her repeatedly about how unwise it would be to visit the ruins."

"That may have only made them more attractive," Ara noted dryly from where she and Seven were standing, looking over the shoulder of the Meuranato soldier who was monitoring the direct feed from the patrol vehicle.

Disturbed, the councilor shot her a glance before he returned his attention to Janeway. "I'm sure our patrol will retrieve them promptly."

"Tell me more about the ruins," she insisted, not allowing herself to be put off. "What makes them so dangerous?"

"They're cursed," someone murmured quietly, and frowning, Janeway looked over, trying to determine who had said that, but the room was too shadowed, the only illumination coming from the screens dotting the walls.

Tarm also frowned. "Captain, I will admit that certain of our people have superstitions surrounding this site, but the real danger lies in the animals which inhabit the area."

"Animals?" Janeway echoed.

"Monsters," someone else muttered almost inaudibly from the shadows.

"There's been a history of people ... disappearing," Tarm admitted heavily. Then he shook his head, as if trying to shake off bad thoughts. "I'm sure our people were just looking it over, and the reason they're late is that they've broken down on the return trip. They wouldn't have ... gone inside."

Janeway stared at him, and then abruptly turned away, seeking out her remaining two crewmen. Until the patrol reached the site, there wasn't really anything more to say, and she was tired of Tarm trying to reassure her when it was clear, by the look in his eyes, that he was badly frightened.

She felt Seven's presence bracket her on one side even as Lt. Ara moved to her other, the pair of women surrounding her as if in an attempt to protect her, though from what, she didn't know. They waited with stone faces and dark gazes as the patrol traveled the rugged road for several kilometers before the ruins finally came in sight. The patrol truck bounced to a stop in what appeared to be some kind of clearing, and Janeway was dismayed to see the land speeder sitting motionless in the center, apparently abandoned.

The view jiggled as the camera operator got out of the patrol vehicle, and along with other Meuranato soldiers, approached the quiescent vehicle cautiously. There were dark stains over the side of the speeder, and one of the soldiers held a light on it. It was a dark blue, drying to a dusty navy, unrecognizable to the Federation women. Then, Janeway saw the other stain.

It was red, drying to a deep rust on the metal, and Voyager's captain knew suddenly that this was very, very bad.

There were lumps under the speeder, and Seven squinted, trying to make out what they were. There were gasps of horror around her as the first mound was identified; the torn and bloody body of a Meuranato female, her abdomen laid open with the internal organs spilling out in a bluish explosion of tissue. The soldier bent down, playing his light over the features that held a terrified, astounded look. Seven recognized Darnat, the Meuranato guide who had been assigned to Ensign Briggs. The security officer was not much farther away, his body crumpled under the speeder he had almost reached before collapsing.

"Patrol One to base," the voice crackled over the speakers. "The tracks lead further into the ruins, and past the entrance. I'm sorry. The rest have gone inside."

A wave of grief and despair swept over the room as, on the viewscreen, Seven could see the soldiers begin to retreat, gathering up the pitiful remains of the corpses, wrapping them in tarpaulins, and placing them in the speeder before a soldier took the helm and both vehicles vacated the area. Uncomprehendingly, Seven looked around as the Meuranato wept dryly, and her eyes intersected with the captain's. There was a flame in those blue-grey depths that told the Borg her partner was furious.

"Aren't you going to search further?" Janeway said, every word bitten off with outrage.

"It wouldn't do any good," Tarm said, choking on his sobs. "They've gone into Sanzzibar. There is no hope."

"What?" Janeway grabbed Tarm by the arms, and stared up into his face. "Tell me what's going on here."

"The Ruins of Sanzzibar are forbidden. They are filled with monsters and demons created to protect the Crystal of Being. It is certain death to go into the city itself."

"Monsters and demons?" Janeway asked, not understanding.

"Created by the wizards centuries ago." Seven thought he might be babbling. None of what he was saying made sense in this technologically advanced civilization. It spoke of superstition and fairy tales, the stuff of illusion designed to keep primitive minds fearful. "Anyone who enters the ruins once darkness has fallen never returns. All our people know this, but only we of the government know why. It is because the Crystal of Being remains buried in its depths surrounded by its protectors."

"So you're not even going to look for them?" Ara asked with cold disbelief.

"That would only be sending others to their deaths," Tarm said, his shoulders hunched in defeat. "It would be futile."

Janeway got that expression on her face that Seven had learned to recognize; one of absolute determination. It was probably the word 'futile' she thought. Janeway never liked that word no matter who it came from, be it the Borg or an obviously terrified Meuranato.

"If you're not going in there to look for them, then I will."

He looked at the captain. "Don't you understand? They're dead. They're already dead."

"Until I see the bodies, I don't agree. Is there anyone who can guide us into the ruins?"

He stared at her with disbelief. "No one who has gone beyond the main entrance has ever returned. It's suicide."

"I prefer to think of it as not surrendering." Janeway raised her head. "Will the Meuranato government grant us permission to search ourselves?"

His gaze faltered. "We won't ... refuse you the right to kill yourselves," he said finally.

"That's all I can ask," Janeway said dryly.

She released him, and turned to the other women. "Looks like it's up to us."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "It would be prudent to request assistance from the ship."

"My thoughts exactly," Janeway said, striding briskly from the room. She was no longer interested in negotiations or treaties. Her crewmembers were in trouble, and the captain of Voyager was ready to move heaven and earth to bring them safely home.

The bulky form of a Meuranato male stepped out into their path. Seven recognized Trell who had been Harry's escort until this morning. His eyes were dark as he looked at them.

"I will guide you," he said simply.

Janeway stared at him challengingly. "Why? Aren't you afraid of the monsters?"

He made a face. "I grew up around the ruins. The danger is great, but there are no monsters ... just genetically altered creatures let loose to roam its tunnels. Even now, Tarm tries to push superstition rather than admit to the truth; that the government set all this up five hundred years ago to keep the crystal from falling into the wrong hands. Margus found out about the crystal from her research in the archives. She probably thought that your people would have the technology to counter the animals."

"So Margus set this up?" Janeway asked, outraged.

He shrugged. "It wouldn't surprise me. She's always been impetuous, and does things on the spur of the moment. You can't reason with her when she gets an idea into her head. If she saw an opportunity to go into Sanzzibar, she'd take it. Possibly that's why she arranged to have me removed from the team. She knew I would oppose the idea."

Seven saw Janeway hesitate, obviously thinking it over before she nodded once, sharp and abrupt. "Fine," the captain said. "You can guide us."

She slapped her comm badge. "Janeway to Voyager."

"Voyager here." It was Commander Chakotay, the ship's first officer, speaking this time. "Captain, is something wrong?"

"Yes," Janeway replied shortly. "I want a bio-sensor sweep done of the area surrounding the coordinates we retrieved from you earlier."

"Stand by." There was a pause, and when he finally came back, his voice was puzzled. "Nothing, Captain."

"No sign of our people?" Janeway responded, the disappointment evident in her tone.

"No, I mean there is absolutely no lifeforms at all in the area. We should be picking up something, insects if nothing else, but it's almost as if there's a bio-dampening field on the area."

Janeway nodded as if this did not surprise her much. "Chakotay, we've lost Harry, B'Elanna and Neelix in that area. I want you to outfit a full security detail, and beam them directly to the coordinates, along with Lt. Ara, Seven, myself and one Meuranato native guide. We're going to have to look for our people on foot, and we can expect to encounter a hostile environment."

Chakotay hesitated, as if he wanted to argue. When he finally spoke, it was in a resigned sort of tone. "Understood. Tuvok is getting the team together now. We'll beam you to the coordinates in fifteen minutes."

"It would be wiser to wait for sunrise," Trell said.

"We can't wait that long," Janeway replied shortly. "Neither can our people."

Trell hesitated, then nodded. "I'll be back," he said and disappeared.

"Be here in fifteen minutes, or we leave without you," Janeway shouted after him.

Seven crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling uneasy. This was happening very quickly, and she didn't like when things were uncertain or unexpected. She prefered a clear-cut plan of tactics, not this impulsive leap into action. Still, she knew her friends were in trouble, and though the talk of monsters and genetically altered creatures confused her, it would not deter her. The strange sculpture of the fountain in the plaza threaded across her mind, and it occurred to her that perhaps it was indeed imagination which created the creature after all, though first it had been given flesh before being immortalized in stone.

The next fifteen minutes seemed to crawl by as the women waited with ill concealed impatience, not speaking to each other. Janeway stood, her arms across her chest, a frown of immense proportions on her face, her eyes a dark and stormy grey. Seven wanted to reach out and touch her, to gain some sort of physical comfort from her, but the expression let the Borg know that such a gesture would not be welcomed at the moment. Then Seven heard the pounding of footsteps, and realized Trell was rejoining them, just as a hum surrounded them with the unmistakable sensation of being transported. The snowy marble walls of the government complex disappeared to be replaced by the sounds and smells of jungle and the night. Around them, the brooding shadows of trees seemed as a warning of sorts as they rematerialized in the grassy clearing.

Six other beings also appeared, the security detail outfitted in Starfleet combat uniforms, packs on their backs, compression rifles held at the ready. The dark form of Tuvok stepped toward the women, and offered some equipment to the captain who took it, shrugging out of her tunic to put on the heavier jacket, pulling a pack onto her back and accepting the phaser rifle.  The weapon was outfitted with a targeting sensor, and she hefted it grimly, a dark expression in her eyes.

There were also packs and rifles for Ara and Seven, and while Voyager's security chief did not have a weapon for Trell, Seven saw that he didn't need it, having outfitted himself in those fifteen minutes somehow. The Meuranato was now garbed in tan trousers while his massive scaled chest was left bare, but for crisscrossing leather bands. Two machetes were tucked into sheaths against his sides, heavy disruptor pistols lay heavy on his hips, and he hefted a device that looked very much like a projectile launcher.

Seven wondered what exactly he was expecting to face ... and how worried she should be at this point.

"Trell?" Janeway said, not wasting any words.

He nodded grimly. "They've gone through the entrance. The thing to remember is that this is an artificial environment, and that the creatures cannot exist outside of it. They were designed to operate in the dark, and to kill whoever attempts to get to the Crystal of Being. The closer we get to where it is, the more deadly the animals will be."

"But they can be killed?" Ara asked, caressing her rifle.

"Yes, but it isn't easy. Our only advantage is with your lights. They seem to operate on a spectrum that is harmful to the eyes. Even I cannot stand to look at them for very long."

"They are Earth normal," Seven noted quietly. "With a blue white spectrum which this system's star does not emanate."

Janeway glanced at her, and nodded approvingly. "We'll take every advantage we can get at this point. Everyone, full lights and keep the spare battery packs nearby." She motioned with her head, a sharp jerk to the side. "Lead on, Trell."

The Meuranato dipped his head in that odd half bow his people had, and strode confidently toward the entrance that was marked by the ruins of a gate. Seven noted carvings in the rubble, perhaps a warning to others that this was a restricted area. So much of this did not make any sense, and she longed for a spare moment to sit down and figure it out.

They had barely stepped through the gate when shadows flowed from the rubble rising high around them, quicksilver forms that darted away when ever a beam from the team's wrist lights passed over them, yet continuing to advance steadily closer.

"Form up," Tuvok snapped and instantly the security detail, including Lt. Ara, was in a circle, back to back, rifles and lights pointed out, the captain and Seven finding themselves in the center of a protective Starfleet wall. "Fire at will."

Beams of ruby light singed the air as they impacted with the blurs of black, the high pitch of phaser fire underscored by mewing cries from the animals who broke off quickly and disappeared back into the rubble. Seven knew what that meant ... obviously the creatures had encountered phaser fire before, and knew exactly what the consequences of it were.

"The opening to the lower levels is down here," Trell said, motioning to an ornately carved entrance in a sheer stone wall.

Frowning, Janeway lifted her rifle and followed, Seven on her right flank, Tuvok on her left, Ara bringing up her immediate rear. The rest of the team spread out, moving alertly, ready for any hint of danger.

Seven's heart was pounding, and she made an effort to slow her circulatory system, aware that this was only the beginning and  things would progressively become more difficult from here. Their footsteps echoed faintly in the musky atmosphere as they descended down a stone ramp to what seemed to be a cavern of some sort. In all directions, the black entrances of tunnels loomed, uninviting, with a dank breeze blowing from some, while others boasted air as dead and still as a tomb.

Trell glanced over his shoulder.

"There are many booby traps and pitfalls. Watch where you walk."

"This just gets better and better," Ara muttered behind them.

Seven looked around to identify who else was there. Off to the side, the usually talkative, blue-skinned Bolian known as Crell ... because his real name was unpronounceable by most of Voyager's crewmembers ... walked slowly, testing every step as just behind him, the bulky ex-Maquis, Hickman covered the rear. Seven realized that this was Tuvok's 'beta squad', the best security detail the Vulcan had, and did not have to look further to identify the other three members; Davis, Varian and Ryan.

Seven felt marginally better about things.

Right up until the moment Ara stepped on a piece of ground that both Trell and Janeway had passed over, and fell through a chute that abruptly appeared beneath her feet, disappearing into the depths below.

When will I learn to keep my big mouth shut? she thought grimly, staring down at her leg that had been broken when she fell down a chute. She had crawled this far before deciding that it was a fairly pointless exercise, not to mention an excruciatingly painful one. She had no idea which way to go or which direction led to an exit. She didn't even know where anybody else from her team was. She was completely and utterly alone.

When they had landed the speeder in the clearing, all had seemed fairly peaceful, and they had crossed the grassy meadow in anticipation of a small adventure. Then they walked through the gate, and things became entirely too adventurous by half. Armed with only hand phasers, the team could not prevent the slinky black forms from herding them deeper into the ruins, the creatures deadly quickness making it difficult to draw a bead on them. Darnat had tried to break away, dashing back toward the gate with Briggs close behind, but the black things got to them before reaching it, ripping them open. They managed to stagger beyond the invisible barrier and collapse in bloody heaps near the land speeder, suddenly free of the black things which went no further than the rubble marking the gate, but it had done the pair little good. The wounds that struck them down were clearly of the mortal kind, brutal and final.

In truth, the rest were lucky to have survived that first attack, and they stumbled into the shelter of an entrance of some sort, the ramp leading down into the depths of the ruined city. Before they had gone very far, they were attacked again, this time by reddish things that flew on leathery wings, darting at them from above, scattering the frightened intruders into different directions. The Starfleet officers tried to fight back, tried to form a defensive position, but the onslaught was too great, and they fled before the swarming mass of fangs and claws. B'Elanna had found herself stumbling through corridor after corridor until she stepped on what she was sure had been solid ground only to plummet down a level or two to crash hard on an unforgiving surface, her right leg snapping instantly.

With all the things I've been through, she mused, propping her back against the tunnel wall and cradling her light and phaser on her lap, this is a damned stupid way to die. Chased by bats and eaten by Kahless knew what else. She had checked her communicator repeatedly, but it did not work, offering not so much as a chirp to indicate an empty channel. It was with fatalistic annoyance that she noted the energy level on her phaser was down to a quarter.

Eventually, the things which inhabited this place, a variety of the most horrid sort of creatures, would overwhelm her by sheer weight of numbers. She wondered wistfully if anyone would ever scream for her, would howl to Sto-Vo-Kor that a warrior was on her way. Even if it was a warrior who was going down while crawling on the ground like a bug. Eaten no doubt, by bugs. She shivered as she heard the rustle of many legs just outside the circle of her wrist lamp, having seen the fist-sized creatures skitter just beyond the beam of her light, the mandibles clicking obscenely together in the shadows, the large pincers designed for tearing flesh from bone.

Maybe Seven would howl for her, B'Elanna decided, trying to gather her courage. The Borg had turned out to be a good friend, someone she could rely on, and if the blonde never realized how much the Klingon wanted her, then that was only for the best. It was obvious that Seven shared something with Janeway that was beyond anything B'Elanna had ever experienced before, and just to be allowed on the outside of it, to be around them, able in some small way to feel the warmth radiate from their love, was something that the Klingon felt privileged to have been a part of.

She checked the reading on her phaser again, noting that there was enough for ten or fifteen more shots before it would become just so much scrap metal. She wondered if she shouldn't use the remaining power for the lamp instead, because unquestionably, it was keeping her alive more so than any killing she might have managed. The creatures tended to swarm when they attacked, and the only way to escape was by running into another creature's territory. Except, of course, the next group of animals were usually much worse.

Perhaps she should use the phaser for a more personal application she thought wearily. Just raise the setting all the way and turn it on herself. Suicide was an acceptable form of death if it was done honorably. The problem was, she didn't think wanting to escape being eaten by bugs was a particularly grandiose sort of finish. She guessed she should probably just let the bugs eat her as she thrashed and fought to her last breath. That would be properly Klingon enough.

She bowed her head, closing her eyes. It occurred to her that she didn't particularly want to be Klingon anymore. Embracing that path had provided her with no more peace than attempting to follow her Human sensibilities. She was still alone, still lonely, still on the outside looking in. She realized that more than anything else, she just wanted to be her, whoever that might be, even as she had no clue how to find that person. Now it seemed she would never have the chance.

Tears stung the back of her eyes and angrily, she blinked them back. Human or Klingon, she'd be damned if she spend her last few moments bawling like a baby. She took a few deep breaths, fighting back the sobs of fear and frustration that filled her chest, then grasped the phaser once more. One shot, she thought. She'd save the last shot for herself. Otherwise, she'd fight until the second last shot.

A reasonable compromise, she decided. Seven would be proud.

A noise made her raise her head, and her heart began to pound, sending tendrils of pain throbbing through her leg. Then, there was another sound, that of something large approaching her from down the corridor. Frightened, she lifted the light, pointing it down one way before remembering that sound was altered in these tunnels. What she thought could be coming from one direction could actually be coming in another, and she twisted frantically, swinging the light around defensively. Then, another light seared into her eyes and blinking, she raised her hand to shield them, her breath a sob in her throat.

"You're not looking too good, Lt. Torres," the unexpected, but most welcome voice of Lt. Ara Lerona said calmly from the shadows.

"I've felt better, Lt. Ara," B'Elanna managed to respond evenly, not allowing the blessed relief and joy to show through.

"I'll bet," the Bajoran woman said, kneeling down beside the Klingon, examining the protruding bone and bloody wound in her right leg. "I'm guessing that hurts a little bit."

"I wouldn't recommend it." B'Elanna let out her breath slowly in an almost sigh as she watched Ara remove the pack from her back, and fish out a tricorder along with a bone knitter and a dermal regenerator. "Are you alone?"

"Not to begin with," Ara admitted in the sort of voice that let B'Elanna know the cool woman was somewhat embarrassed by it. "I fell down a chute. I'll be damned if I know how it happened. I saw the captain stepping exactly where Trell was stepping, and I stepped where she stepped, yet a hole just opened up beneath me and swallowed me whole."

"That happened to me too," B'Elanna said as Ara cut away the Klingon's pant leg.

Ara met her eyes. "This is going to hurt."

"It already does," the Klingon admitted stiffly.

Ara nodded and with a decisive movement, yanked on the limb, setting the bone back in place with a click that echoed nauseatingly in the still air. B'Elanna didn't pass out, not quite, but for long moments the world around her spun alarmingly, and she had to swallow back the vomit rising in her throat. When she came around, Ara had begun to run the bone knitter over the wound. The young woman let her breath out with a hiss, the abrupt healing sending tendrils of fire up and down her leg, though it was far less painful than setting it had been.

"Sorry," Ara murmured. "They don't add painkillers in this pack ... at least, not any that would work on a Klingon/Human hybrid. I can give you plenty of antibiotics."

"It's okay," B'Elanna said through gritted teeth as the Bajoran injected her with a hypospray. "I can take it."

"Where are the others?"

"I don't know," Torres replied. "We were separated."

"I think that's easy to do in these tunnels," Ara allowed quietly. "In fact, I think they're designed that way." She finished off the repairs and snapped off the devices, replacing them carefully in the pack. "How's it feel?"

Gingerly, B'Elanna flexed her leg, relieved when it seemed to move easily. "A lot better. I think I might even be able to walk on it."

"No need," Ara responded, putting a hand on her shoulder to hold her down. "We have to stay right where we are."

B'Elanna frowned. "We should find the captain and the rest."

"The captain has beta squad to look after her, not to mention her pet Borg," Ara said firmly, sitting down across from B'Elanna, leaning up against the tunnel wall as she rested her compression rifle across her lap. "They're on the move and if we start moving around too, that only increases the chances of missing each other. If we stay in one place, it'll be easier for them to find us."

B'Elanna didn't like it, but she had to give in to the logic of it. She shot a sharp look at Ara.

"Seven isn't the captain's 'pet Borg'," she said coldly. "She's her wife."

Ara held up her hands. "No disrespect intended."

"Nonetheless, disrespect was implied," B'Elanna returned with a hint of a snarl.

Ara stared at her a moment, then nodded. " You're right, it was ... uncalled for. I withdraw it."

"Big of you," B'Elanna drawled.

Ara laughed, a sharp bark. "You never liked me, did you, Torres?"

B'Elanna blinked, considered it carefully. "I never knew you. Not even when we were in the Maquis together. You kept to yourself, and the rest of us tried to respect that."

Ara nodded. "Fair enough."

There was a pause as B'Elanna studied her. "I do know you were Starfleet once," she commented finally.

Ara tensed and B'Elanna thought she saw the woman go a bit pale.

"What makes you say that?" the Bajoran said in a voice that was almost ... but not quite ... matter of fact.

B'Elanna quirked her eyebrow. "The way you carry yourself." Interest threaded through her as her ears perked up at the possible hint of something juicy. "The way you said things sometimes. Certain ways of doing things that only comes if you've trained at the Academy. Chakotay noticed it too, but we didn't pry. We figured you had a good reason for keeping it to yourself."

"I did," Ara responded shortly.

B'Elanna inhaled. It was none of her business really, but that aggravating little part of her, that nosey, inquisitive need to know everything that was going on around her ... particularly if it was secretive ... prompted her to pursue it since she had the chance. After all, she decided, they weren't in the Maquis anymore, and they had to pass the time in some way while waiting for the captain.

"I guess we figured you were AWOL," B'Elanna offered casually. It hit the mark, she saw, the other woman flinching slightly. At that particular moment, for no particular reason, it suddenly struck B'Elanna that Ara was an amazingly attractive woman, though she tended to hide it most of the time behind a sullen wall of reserve that kept people from getting too close.

When Ara didn't answer, B'Elanna tilted her head slightly. "You never resigned your commission, did you?"

Ara's face twisted slightly. "I'm a traitor. All I had to do was stand in front of the man who gave me a second chance and tell him to his face that I had to leave Starfleet but I couldn't do it. So I just ... joined the Maquis without ever being officially discharged."

"I don't know that it matters much any more," B'Elanna said. "Ara Lerona isn't your real name, is it?"

"No, it isn't. What difference does it make now?"

B'Elanna shrugged. "None, I guess." She hesitated, thinking about it. "Maybe it's time we all let go of the past." She shook her head. "God knows, Captain Janeway has given us all more than our share of second chances. I know she'd give you one as well."

Ara shook her head. "Janeway's too Starfleet. Her father was an Admiral, after all. It's one thing to give you and Chakotay a place in her senior staff. Or to even give Admiral Paris's son a second chance. None of you wore the uniform when you signed on with the Maquis. I never took it off and so ... I disgraced it."

"Is that how you think Janeway would see it?" B'Elanna asked curiously. "Or how you see it?"

Ara stared at her. "You don't know anything," she said flatly.

"You're right, I don't," B'Elanna agreed readily. She hesitated. "So why don't you tell me?"

The was a silence and the Klingon could see the struggle going on behind those dark eyes, the secrecy that the woman had lived with for all these years, denying who she was and what she had been, hiding in the darkness of deception and illusion ... and how it was too much to keep inside any longer. Their chances of getting out of here weren't exactly promising, and the hope of the future was marginal at best. Perhaps Ara thought she might possibly die and before she did, she needed to tell someone ... anyone ... what her story was.

B'Elanna assumed her most sympathetic and inviting expression, suspecting that whatever it was, it was going to be good. Somehow, having this interesting bit of information granted her before her possible termination made it a little easier to face, though she had no clue why that was.

Ara raised her head. "I suppose I should start at the beginning."

"Always a good place to begin," B'Elanna agreed encouragingly. "Perhaps, your name?"

Ara smiled then; a crooked small smile, devoid of humor.

"My name?"

She hesitated and B'Elanna leaned forward expectantly.

"My name is Ro."

"Lt. Ro Laren off the USS Enterprise."

Janeway held up her hand as she heard the voice of her missing security officer ahead, trying to determine its direction. They were standing at a juncture from which ten different corridors radiated, and while she could hear the words distinctly, she had yet to decide which tunnel it was coming from. Behind her, the security detail remained motionless and silent, awaiting her next order.

It had caused considerable consternation when Ara had abruptly disappeared, particularly when the tunnel floor had closed up behind her as if there had never been any sort of opening at all. Before they could pursue it, they had been set upon by some sort of flying creatures that whirled and lunged at them, fangs glistening with a kind of venom that none of the Federation members wanted to examine too closely. Fleeing in an organized fashion, they fired their rifles as they fought their way into a promising corridor. Since then, however, they had encountered one aggressive species after another, and it was possible that it was only their lights keeping them alive at this point, though none of the away team had emerged entirely unscathed from the nightmare journey.

Hickman was limping while Varian favored his left arm. Davis had a cut over his eye, and Ryan winced every time she moved her neck a certain way. Even Seven had various scrapes and bruises from the running battles they had fought with the various denizens of the tunnels. Tuvok was too Vulcan to show how much the blow to his ribs was undoubtedly hurting him, and Trell matched him in impassiveness, even though his torso was crisscrossed with blue lines where blood still trickled. The captain, although protected in the middle of the squad, was feeling considerably battered, and wishing she had never heard of this misbegotten planet, or the Meuranato.

"Never heard of you."

Despite the situation, Janeway smiled. The voice was unmistakably her chief engineer's. Chalk one up for Lt. Ara. Apparently the security officer was a lot better at finding their lost sheep than the rest of them had been. Then, Janeway realized what they were talking about, and her smile turned into a frown as she listened intently, turning her head back and forth slightly as she advanced slowly in the direction she thought the conversation originated.

"I was one of the few Bajorans who served in Starfleet at the time," Ara ... Ro? ... said. "When it was discovered that a rogue band of my planet's people were reportedly attacking Cardassian ships, they called on the current treaty for the Federation to help find and stop them. The Enterprise was dispatched to solve the problem, and I was yanked out of prison to assist."

"Just like Tom Paris," B'Elanna noted brightly. "Can't Starfleet do anything without calling on their convicts?"

There was a pause, and then a small laugh from a throat that rarely laughed, the chuckle rusty and uncertain, as if unsure this was what it was supposed to sound like.

"I was posted to the helm, too," Ro Laren responded, which provoked a laugh from B'Elanna in return and for a few moments, there was nothing but helpless giggles wafting down the corridor, the sort of nervous laughter rising from too much stress in too short of time.

"So why were you in prison?" B'Elanna asked finally.

"I disobeyed orders," Ro said. "While on the Wellington, eight members of my away team died. I was court martialed."

B'Elanna let out an audible sigh. "That happens sometimes," she offered empathetically, if a bit lamely.

Janeway inhaled slowly and glanced back at the rest of her team. Seven looked bemused, as if she wasn't sure if she should be listening to this, while Tuvok had an odd expression shade across his face. The captain's gaze pinned on his and suddenly, there was no question in Janeway's mind that the Vulcan knew exactly what the two women were talking about ... and that he had known for some time.

She narrowed her eyes, and he quirked an eyebrow at her as if to ask what she expected him to do? Run to her with every little revelation he discovered in the course of carrying out his duties?

She frowned and turned her attention back to the conversation.

"In any event, when it was all over, Captain Picard gave me an opportunity to serve with him." Ro's voice turned wistful. "I guess he thought I could be a good officer after all. It was the best time of my life, and when he personally sponsored me for advanced tactical training at Starfleet Command, I couldn't imagine being any more proud."

"What happened?" B'Elanna asked curiously.

"My first mission after being promoted to Lieutenant and returning to the Enterprise was to infiltrate a Maquis cell." Ro's voice grew quiet, almost dead. "There was a man ... he reminded me of my father. When he was killed ...." she paused as if having difficulty continuing. "I needed to help fight the Cardassians. I told Commander Riker that I was staying and to ... thank Picard for all he had done. It was gutless. Picard wouldn't have stopped me from doing what I thought was right."

"But he would have tried to talk you out of it."

"Maybe that's what I was afraid of. That he would succeed. I decided not to go back, and that's why I didn't officially resign my commission. I was too afraid to face the disappointment in his eyes."

"That was a long time ago," B'Elanna said sympathetically.

"Not that long," Ro said sadly. "I bounced around the various Maquis cells for a time, changed my name a little so no one would connect me with the Enterprise. Ara is my mother's maiden name. Lerona is simply Ro Laren scrambled a bit."

"I guessed that," B'Elanna said. "It couldn't have been easy living with this secret for so long. No one knew?"

There was a pause. "Actually, Tuvok knows. He knew back when he first infiltrated the Maquis."

"How?" B'Elanna said in astonishment, as Janeway shot a hard look at the Vulcan.

"He was my tutor in the advanced tactical training course. He recognized me right away, of course but neither of us said anything to betray the other's cover. Sometimes I wonder if one of us had, would we have still ended up lost in the Delta Quadrant?"

There was a silence, and Janeway wondered if the engineer was speechless, something she had a great deal of empathy with at the moment. She couldn't believe that Tuvok had known they had a rogue Starfleet officer in their crew all this time and hadn't said anything.

What would you have done, Katie? her little voice mocked. Arrested her? Face it, you have a convict as your helmsman, a Maquis as your first officer, a hologram as your CMO and, god love us both, a Borg as your partner. Can you really mount your high horse at this point about any of your crew? Besides, just who the hell are you to be so judgmental anyway? Remember who managed to lose them in the Delta Quadrant in the first place?

"Are you going to tell Janeway?" B'Elanna asked.

Ro hesitated. "Do you think I should?" she asked in a tentative, yet somewhat hopeful voice. "I've already let down one Starfleet captain. I don't know that I could survive letting down another."

Janeway's eyes met Seven's, seeing the empathy in the Borg's gaze, and the captain suddenly understood that no matter what her original knee jerk reaction was, Ara was too good an officer to throw away. Janeway firmed her jaw, knowing what she had to do.

"Then don't let me down," Janeway said strongly as she stepped into the tunnel where the two women were sitting opposite one another.

The Bajoran looked up in shock, her face a pale oval in the lights of the security team. Janeway walked over and knelt beside her before the officer could scramble to her feet.

"All I require from you is that you give me your best, all the time," Janeway said firmly, yet compassionately as she fixed her eyes on the woman's dark gaze. "I know your best should be more than good enough. Jean-Luc Picard isn't the sort to take on an officer unless he believed in her enough to give her a chance. I can do the same."

"Yes, ma--Captain," Ro said, her voice still edged with shock.

Janeway nodded briefly and looked over at B'Elanna who was being greeted by a hug from Seven, the Klingon lifted off the ground in the Borg's enthusiasm. "Glad to see you're still in one piece, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Captain," the engineer returned, blushing furiously as Seven finally released her. She glared at the Borg. "When did you become so demonstrative?"

"Since I discovered it embarrasses you," Seven responded honestly.

Despite the situation, Janeway laughed briefly, and then held out her hand to help the still flustered Ara ... Ro Laren ... to her feet. I must remember to call her Lt. Ro from now on, Janeway thought. I think she's been without her true identity quite long enough.

"Captain," Tuvok said. "Perhaps we should take the opportunity to rest here. Our lights seem to be holding off any creatures for the time being, and my observation is that we are more likely to be attacked on the move than when we are still."

Janeway considered it, then nodded briefly. "Good idea. Three hours people, then we resume our search. Eat, rest, try to relax. God knows it'll only get harder from here."

The group spread out a bit, setting up lights at eight corners to provide a cube-shaped haven of bright light in which they all huddled. Two of the security guards, Hickman and Ryan took first watch, each taking a different direction to monitor, while the rest took the time to heal wounds, gulp down a hasty bite of Starfleet rations, and try to relax a little. Janeway made a point of sitting down next to Tuvok.

"Captain," he said warily.

Janeway unwrapped the foil from her ration bar, and took a bite, chewing slowly. Then she swallowed the crumbly dry sweetness and sipped some cool water from her canteen to wash it down before she glanced sideways at him.

"You knew all this time."

He dipped his head. "The story you heard was quite accurate."

"You kept it quiet." She tried not to sound wounded. Tuvok had served with her the longest, and she considered him a close and trusted friend beyond being just her chief of security. When he did something that might be seen as a form of betrayal, it bit deeper than in other circumstances, with other crewmembers.

He regarded her evenly. "I am curious as to what difference you feel it would have made. You offered all the Maquis an opportunity to serve as Voyager's crewmembers. You did not request that Commander Chakotay reveal his life story, nor Lt. Torres when you placed them in positions of authority. Why require Lt. Ro's when she began her time cleaning out plasma relays?"

Janeway rubbed her forehead fretfully. "She did start all over, didn't she? I read her file ... or rather, Lt. Ara's. She worked her way up right from the lowest rank during that first year on Voyager."

"All that training could not be repressed forever." Tuvok glanced at her. "Is it truly that important that she did not resign her commission?" He hesitated. "In one way, by deciding to destroy the Caretaker's array, you also became absent without leave, choosing to follow a path here in the Delta Quadrant because you felt it was for the greater good."

Janeway blinked. "Ouch, Tuvok."

He looked faintly pleased that he had managed such a telling blow to her building outrage, deflating it with one decisive comment. "It was her place to tell you," he added quietly. "Not mine."

"She didn't tell me," Janeway pointed out. "I eavesdropped."

Tuvok quirked his eyebrow. "Captain, she told B'Elanna, which was as good as telling Seven, who would have promptly told you." He tilted his head slightly. "Everyone on the ship knows that. One might consider that as good as telling you face-to-face."

Janeway wanted to object to that, but couldn't find a way. "It would have made its way to me pretty quick," she admitted grudgingly. She shook her head. "Tuvok, did the Doctor know? Ro's medical records would be in the database."

Tuvok considered it. "She undoubtedly walked in and said she was Maquis, Captain. I suspect the Doctor would have simply created a new record for Ara Lerona, just as he did the other Maquis. There was no need for him to ever look for records pertaining to Lt. Ro Laren of the USS Enterprise, and the computer would never volunteer such records without a direct request."

She nodded. "I hadn't thought of that." She paused. "I need to go over her records now, particularly pertaining to the Wellington. I need to know more about that."

"So you may hold it against her?" he asked blandly.

She shot him a sharp look, and then grinned ruefully. "No, Tuvok. So I can know more about who she is, why she would do the things she did and will do in the future. Just like any other member of my crew."

"Ah," he added noncommittedly.

"In any event, old friend," she said, patting him on the knee. "She was your problem before this, she's still your problem. I leave it in your capable hands."

"Thank you, Captain," he said, and there was a hint of suspicion in his tone as he looked at her narrowly. "Problem?"

She motioned with her head to where Ro, Seven and B'Elanna were deep in conversation.

"It looks like she's made some new friends. We all know where that could lead. Three to worry about now rather than just two ... with advanced tactical training added to the mix."

She tried not to laugh at the expression that suddenly crossed his face, despite his best Vulcan attempt to conceal it.

She brushed the dirt from her trousers and drifted over to where Janeway was sitting, her back against the wall, gnawing patiently on a ration bar. The captain smiled faintly as Seven sat down in the place Tuvok had vacated when he moved over to check on the guards he had on watch.

"Hello darling," Janeway said in a low voice. "Still with us?"

Seven glanced over at the captain who returned the look with what seemed amusement. Seven realized that despite the danger, her partner actually enjoyed these sort of missions, or perhaps it was because of the danger. Janeway was worried for her people of course, but the threat of being killed was a source of inspiration to her, a challenge to face down and defeat thoroughly. It brought out the best from the compact woman who commanded Voyager, almost excited her in some strange fashion, and the thought crossed Seven's mind that once the mission was over, assuming it was successful, and they returned to the ship, she could expect Janeway to leap on her in their quarters with all the subtlety of a moose in heat.

Not that she minded, of course, but given her druthers, Seven much preferred her missions to remain in high tech areas rather than in a dusty, cobwebbed network of tunnels filled with genetically altered creatures bent on ripping her apart.

"Surprising bit of information on Lt. Ro," Janeway added casually.

Seven pursed her lips thoughtfully. "She has been hiding her true self for a very long time. It must have been very difficult for her."

"I'm sure it was," Janeway said, reaching over to pat her partner's hand. Her voice had softened, and there was a warm expression in her eyes. "You really do have the gentlest heart, Annika. To think I presumed to teach you about compassion."

"You did teach me about compassion," Seven protested. "I would not even understand the concept if not for you."

Janeway offered a quiet smile. "Nonetheless, you're far more compassionate than I am sometimes."

Seven blinked, and considered that. It was not something she had ever thought about before.

"Perhaps," she said uncertainly, not sure if she agreed with such a statement. She glanced at her partner inquiringly. "Do you think the others are still alive?"

Janeway sobered. "I don't know, but I'm not giving up until either I've found them, or made sure they're dead." Seven knew she wouldn't. That glint in the captain's eyes was all too familiar to the Borg ... one of absolute determination and fortitude.

Seven sighed and leaned back against the wall, trying to relax. Her side ached where some kind of a cross between a feline and an alligator had slammed a paw into it, raking at her with its claws. Fortunately, the blow had been absorbed by the padding of her vest. She had reached out and clubbed it down with her Borg enhanced left hand, but the memory of how close it had come to disemboweling her made her feel a little weak inside, though she endeavored not to show it. It wasn't that she was afraid of death, but at the moment, she had so much to live for ... most of which was compressed into the feminine form next to her ... that she was not particularly anxious to die either.

Beside her, Janeway pressed her knee against hers, snuggling against the Borg without giving the impression that was what she was doing to anyone who might be looking. Seven knew what she felt against her side, however, and accorded herself a moment to enjoy it, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to rest. She felt herself dozing off, and with an effort, brought herself awake with a jerk, sending a mental command through her cortical implant to release stimulating nanoprobes throughout her system to combat the fatigue. Almost immediately, she was completely awake, fully alert, and she wondered if anyone noticed her brief lapse.

"Are you all right?" Janeway asked in a low tone.

"Yes," Seven said, then added quietly, "Captain."

She had surprised Janeway she saw, and at the smaller woman's inquiring look, Seven took a deep inhalation and decided that now was as good a time as any to tell her partner what had been on her mind.

"Captain, I believe I require an official rank."

Janeway blinked, puzzled, staring at her. "Beyond what you have now?"

"I have none now." Seven sighed. "Sometimes people listen to what I say and other times, they do not and in either case, I am unsure which is proper. I have come to the conclusion that I no longer wish to remain outside your chain of command."

Janeway let her breath out slowly. "This is a switch. I thought you didn't like the chain of command. You find it lacking, I believe."

"It is, compared to the efficiency of the Collective. But if I am expected to function as a part of this crew, I find that it is even more inefficient to remain outside it."

"All right," Janeway allowed carefully. "Did you have something in mind? Were you thinking about an actual Starfleet commission?"

Seven eyed her cautiously. "Would I have to wear the uniform?" 

Janeway eyed her. "Certainly. Either you're in Starfleet or you're not."

Seven considered it. "Very well then, I require a commission."

"It's not quite that easy, Seven," Janeway said dryly. "These aren't mints, you know. I just can't hand them out randomly."

Seven frowned. "Do you feel that I am unqualified to be in Starfleet?"

Janeway hesitated. "I don't know that I can answer that at the moment. As far as your duties in astrometrics, as far as your performance to date, certainly you're technically qualified, but there's more to being in Starfleet than just being capable with technology. There are a host of other things that we simply haven't addressed."

"Such as?"

"A Starfleet officer must fulfill a lot of different roles, Seven," Janeway said seriously. "If you're truly determined to do this, then I suggest we start with some of the entrance exams for the Academy."

"Do you expect me to pursue the entire four year case load of a cadet?" Seven asked with surprise. "None of the Maquis did."

"No, but all the Maquis on the senior staff have Starfleet experience. Now I grant that some of Voyager's crew wouldn't have been able to pass the preliminary tests that determine if one is suited for becoming a member of Starfleet, but for you, it's different. I don't believe that you'd want a commission unless you were prepared to uphold it completely, not just here, but back in the Alpha Quadrant as well."

"That is correct," Seven said tentatively.

Janeway dipped her head. "So if we do this, we do it right. When you finally do put on that uniform, it won't be a matter of convenience, it will be a matter of it being the right path for you. I won't let you accept anything less. If I did, not only would I be failing you as your captain, I'd be failing you as your spouse. I want the best for you, Seven, as well as your best for Starfleet. Do you understand?"

"I believe so. I want to do my best."

"I'll talk to Chakotay and Tuvok when we get back to Voyager. Together, we'll work out how we have to do this."

"Very well," Seven said faintly.

The Borg, who only really wanted to know when she could order people around and when she couldn't, abruptly realized that she had just stepped into something a whole lot bigger than what she'd anticipated. Yet, she had no intention of disappointing the woman sitting beside her, and a determination to be the best Starfleet officer possible began to fill her with resolve.

Along with more than a little apprehension.

She frowned faintly as she considered the ramifications, the knowledge that she was about to embark on a procedure that might have life-altering consequences. She knew how much Starfleet meant to her wife, how Janeway's father who had reached such lofty heights in the organization, had held such a profound and predominant influence on the woman. Seven wondered if she too would be influenced by this.

She thought about it further. In truth, her current existence was already unduly influenced by Starfleet, having been removed from the Borg by a representation of that very organization. Janeway may say things to the effect that she always saw something special in Seven, but the young woman knew it was the captain's ethical standards, reinforced by her career, which determined that the drone which she had severed from the Collective should be kept rather than simply discarded as many others would have. Not that Seven regretted any of that, but she knew that Starfleet demanded a great deal of its members, and she wondered if she would fit in.

She felt a nudge at her side, and she looked down into the beloved features of her spouse.

"Second thoughts?" Janeway asked keenly.

"No, Captain," Seven said firmly. "I am prepared to become a fully functional member of Starfleet."

Janeway held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding, a decidedly pleased expression on her face. "I want you to know, darling, this means a great deal to me. Starfleet is a very important part of my life, and always has been. For you to want to follow that path as well makes me very proud."

Seven was warmed all the way through. "Kathryn, you have been an inspiration to me from the beginning. I believe it is natural for me to want to share this part of you, and perhaps, it shall help me understand you even better."

Janeway grinned wryly. "That may be a side effect we both have to live with." Seven stared, not understanding, and Janeway's smile grew a bit sad. "I would hate to think you would turn into another me who puts career first and personal life second."

Seven shook her head.

"That shall never happen. You are the most important thing in my life. You always will be no matter what."

Janeway offered her that soft expression, the one of shy, wistful pleasure.

"I would kiss you right now," she murmured. "If it weren't so completely unprofessional."

Seven smiled faintly.

"You must restrain such impulses for when we return to the ship. Then you may indulge them fully."

The blue grey eyes shaded to sapphire. 

"I can't wait."

She discovered that Ro Laren was beautiful, moving with competent deadliness and a commanding presence.

B'Elanna had no clue where this was coming from. After all, she had practically forgotten the woman had existed during their stint on Voyager, after surrendering her life in the Maquis to Janeway and Starfleet. But now that Ro's true colors were revealed,the Bajoran was no longer hiding the ease with which she could handle herself, a cross of sorts between Seven's efficiency and Janeway's firm sense of knowing exactly what to do and when. It was ... astounding.

B'Elanna didn't realize she had been staring until Ro's dark eyes met hers, pinning her in place. The Klingon blushed faintly, then blushed even more because she had been caught blushing.

"Do you need something?"

"No," B'Elanna mumbled. "I just ... I wanted to thank you for fixing my leg."

Ro seemed ready to pass it off as simply doing her duty, but she hesitated, observing B'Elanna closely and nodded instead. "You're welcome."

B'Elanna took a breath, unable to hold that dark gaze, looking over instead, to where Janeway and Seven were deep in discussion. Even while on a mission, in the middle of a pit, the love of the two women seemed to radiate with its own unique glow. Janeway had her hand on Seven's thigh with such complete unselfconsciousness that the engineer suspected the captain wasn't even aware of what she was doing. Seven in turn, was leaning into Janeway, slightly over her as if to protect her, their faces mere centimeters apart as they spoke intently.

"They really do love each other," Ro remarked, having followed the Klingon's gaze.

"Yes," B'Elanna said, unaware that her voice held a note of longing that was impossible to conceal even though she thought she had.

Ro quirked an eyebrow, looking at the engineer with sudden bemusement.

"What is it you're envious of? One of them? Or just what they have."

Startled, B'Elanna glared at her. "I don't know what you're talking about," she growled warningly.

Ro drew back a little, lifting a hand defensively.

"Just curious."

"Lt. Ro," Tuvok said from where he and Lt. Davis were kneeling over a padd balanced on the Vulcan's knee. He used the woman's name naturally, as if he had always been using it, and B'Elanna wondered as the Bajoran moved away from her if it was just his Vulcan nature, or his prior knowledge which allowed him to adapt easily to the new reality. The Klingon was probably going to continue to call the security officer 'Ara' for a good long time.

B'Elanna noticed that Janeway was rising to her feet, along with Seven, and she realized that the brief rest period was over. She didn't mind. The sooner they were on the move, they sooner they would find Harry and Neelix and get the hell out of here. She used the wall to help her get to her feet, her right leg not yet strong enough to support her easily, much to her chagrin. She was surprised when supportive arms slipped around her waist, and she looked around to find Janeway and Seven bracketing her between them, thinking perhaps that she had actually died and gone to heaven.

"Captain?"

"We need to let the security team do their job," Janeway explained. "Let's go."

Together, the three women stumbled forward in the protective center of the security team that surrounded them, the Federation members heading down the corridor, searching for the stairs which would take them down yet another level, ever deeper into the Ruins of Sanzzibar.

The next few hours were a sort of miserable parody of one of B'Elanna's Klingon holographic workout programs. Every corner they turned, they were set upon by yet another set of horrors; either small, vicious creatures that attacked in swarms or single, massive creatures that loomed in the tunnel and lunged at them with gaping jaws. The Klingon was profoundly grateful that the security team had arrived fully prepared for any contingency, and expired rifle energy packs littered their wake like the breadcrumbs in the Hansel and Gretel story her father used to tell her when she was very young. Perhaps they too would mark their way home ... provided they could find their missing crewmembers and retrace their steps.

They were surprised when the tunnels abruptly opened into a large cavern. Trell turned back to the captain, and motioned with a thickly muscled, scaled arm.

"We've reached the lowermost level. If your people are not here, we must believe that they have been ... consumed."

"In that case, we'll go through every miserable creature, and make a thorough examination of their intestinal tract," Janeway said coldly.

B'Elanna was impressed. Sometimes she thought the captain would have made an excellent Klingon, though it never failed to surprise her when she heard such determined words coming from such a compact form. She was acutely aware of Seven on her right, carrying her easily with her Borg enhanced arm, hefting the rifle in the other with ease, her narrow features impassive. Seven, of course, would make an excellent Vulcan.

Then B'Elanna wondered why she was insisting on casting the two women into a light that was something other than who they really were? Her own sense of displacement, she decided. Betwixt and between, not truly understanding either; she was cursed with the darkness of her Klingon side, the passion and aggression constantly struggling with a Human side that offered her a softness and need for gentleness that she did her best to conceal.  Or perhaps it was a blessing.  She thought at one point, when a Vidiian device split her into her two selves, that she had managed a sort of truce between her halves once she had been reformed. All it really did was allow her to recognize fully the contribution of her Klingon side, and it had been becoming more dominant ever since, despite her efforts to control it.

What would it take for her to achieve a happy medium, she wondered wistfully.

She decided suddenly that this mission was becoming entirely too introspective, and she sighed in relief as the captain and Seven lowered her to a boulder as the team took another break. B'Elanna watched as Janeway conferred with Trell and Tuvok while Seven examined her tricorder, attempting for the fifth time to make it work or at least, discover the reason why it wasn't.

A shadow fell over her and B'Elanna flinched briefly as she looked up, hoping she hadn't shown it . Ro Laren dropped to a crouch beside her, eyes flicking about the darkness beyond the haven of their lights, constantly scanning for danger.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," B'Elanna growled, wondering why she was being so reactive to the woman. It seemed that even the most casual statement from the woman made her tense.

Ro nodded. "Good. I think it's about to become difficult."

B'Elanna couldn't help herself. She laughed and Ro glanced at her, offering a wry smile.

"I'll be ready." B'Elanna studied the woman, realizing that Ro was older than the Klingon, maybe even by as much as a decade. Of course, that would make sense. When Ro was going through tactical training, an inexperienced and lost B'Elanna was striking off on her own after leaving the Academy. That was well over six years ago and the Klingon wondered where the time had gone, slipping away from her somehow.

She wondered if Ro had been as alone as she had been all those years.

A faint sound drifted into her keen ears and she started. "Listen."

Nearby, Seven was also rising to her feet, her head tilted slightly as the rest fell silent.

"Phaser fire," the astrometrics officer identified in her precise voice. "There."

B'Elanna was gathered up by the Borg as the rest hastened in the direction of the disturbance, trailing the sound of energy beams piercing the air that grew progressively louder. They found their remaining lost sheep in a makeshift shelter, an alcove of rock and debris, besieged by creatures that were mere shades; pale squares of tissue so translucent, one could see the internal organs pumping within. Their danger was evident by the desiccated corpse of the Meuranato guide, Larus, lying crumpled at the feet of Neelix who was firing two phasers, holding the creatures at bay.

B'Elanna was surprised to discover that the Talaxian appeared almost noble as he stood firm, the final defense against the threat that darted about him. Beyond him, Harry Kim moved feebly, badly injured, while another Meuranato, Nouvat, seemed to be unconscious. Or perhaps he was dead as well.

The rescue team fell on the ghostlike creatures with a vengeance, the searing beams from their compression rifles making the beasts explode like rice paper in a candle flame, crashing to the dirt in smoking, flaming heaps. Neelix beamed as he saw the rest.

"Captain, I'm so glad to see you," he said brightly, as if they had all been on a stroll in the park, and had just now run into each other.

"Not as glad as I am to see you, Neelix," Janeway told him warmly. "Report."

Neelix sobered. "We lost Larus, I'm afraid. Mr. Kim and Nouvat were injured by some large creature the size of a shuttlecraft, but we were able to fight it off to make it here, where we've been maintaining our defense perimeter as best we could."

Tactical lingo, B'Elanna noted. Perhaps that time Neelix had spent in security hadn't been wasted after all. Certainly, he had fought as well as any of beta squad who had been escorting them. B'Elanna was impressed, and felt a bit easier about accepting him into her engineering staff. It wasn't that an ability in battle was a trait necessary in the engine room, but it helped.

"Where's Margus," Trell asked, looking around. "Dead?"

Neelix looked briefly uneasy. "No. At least, not as far as I know. When those things attacked she ... uh, left us."

B'Elanna thought you probably could have roasted marshmallows in the gaze that emanated from Janeway at that moment, but when she spoke, her voice was chill, like icicles shattering in an arctic wind.

"Why?"

"Something about a crystal, Captain," Neelix related. "The Crystal of Being. She was sure it was on this level somewhere, and was determined to find it. We didn't realize, until it was too late, that the whole time we thought she was leading us out, she was actually taking us deeper into the ruins."

"Logically, we should leave her to her folly, Captain," Tuvok noted calmly. B'Elanna saw from the faces of several others