Commander P'Tuk drifted through the corridors of his vessel, the Bles'Kil, on his way to the holding cell where his latest trophies were on display. He was a remarkably fine male, rising to two meters in height with slender bones and deceptively strong musculature, his eyes glowing golden in dark features, which appeared to blur if any species other than the Spurnge regarded them. But then, the opinion of any species other than the Spurnge was of little consequence. It was enough for him to go through life knowing that the females under his command considered him worthy mating material, allowing his spawn to be passed on liberally as the Book of T'Varnis commanded.
He wondered how much v'har this newest acquisition would bestow upon him. The destruction of the Spurnge's finest triad had not gone unnoticed and the transmitted images of the Federation starship Voyager just before the K'Narani was destroyed, had been passed on to every commander in the fleet. The High Circle had made it clear that any triad which could bring them the head of Voyager's commander ... or proof otherwise of the destruction of the vessel itself ... would receive great v'har. But the vessel had disappeared, leaving Spurnge space and the belief that the insult would forever go unavenged. Then P'Tuk had the good fortune to come across a nebula that required that his vessel receive its own healing at Balleyport Station. Of course, it hadn't seemed like good fortune at the time, but subsequently discovering the cursed Voyager docked to the station where it was receiving repairs, no doubt for wounds sustained in its cowardly attack from behind which had killed the K'Narani, came like a gift from the gods.
He, of course, would have engaged them immediately, but the prime of the Bles'K triad was alone, the other two thirds still on their patrol routes in Spurnge space. Nor did he know how to take advantage of his opportunity while operating under the truce of Balleyport. The station was too valuable a resource to all the species in the sector to cut ties with it, so he was forced into a position of passivity, keeping an eye on Voyager and wondering how he could somehow hurry his repairs and return with the rest of his triad to engage the Federation vessel once it left the sphere of Balleyport's influence.
Then, the two aliens had come on to the Bles'Kil's loading bay, a trespassing of the most grievous kind, and it had been dealt with in the accustomed manner. A docking menial discovered during their entertainment of tormenting the weaklings, that one of them was actually Voyager's Pilot. It had sent the lowly laborer running to the Commander as if his tail were on fire, where his intelligence was duly noted and rewarded with a promotion to cargo supervision. To P'Tuk, it was like receiving a blessing from the P'Karna herself.
He could not imagine the motivation behind such a foolish move on the part of Voyager's commander as to allow such a vital part of his vessel to wander around on a docking bay. It made him slightly uneasy, but it didn't stop P'Tuk from taking full advantage of the opportunity. With Voyager thus crippled, unable to fly without its Pilot, he would easily be able to return to his triad, and with them, triumphantly to the High Circle, bearing their prize.
The throb of his vessel's warp drive was a comforting feel through his legs as each moment that passed brought him that much closer to achieving what would probably be the greatest success in his existence. Such anticipation put him in a fairly genial mood as he entered the holding area and stopped before the cell containing his trophies.
They were indeed repulsive, he thought, regarding the stocky, slow-moving beings, all pinkish and gold, like jeweled displays of the royal harem, with sparse hair like pets ... or food. It was hard to believe such creatures had achieved intelligence, let alone be able to act as the guiding force of such a formidable vessel as Voyager. Yet that was what the taller one had claimed and it was a well-known fact, one could not lie under the application of a burn-stick. The pain was too exquisite and even the strongest of Spurnge warriors would tell any secret just to make it stop.
They were lying on the hard benches, either sleeping or unconscious. P'Tuk noticed that their food was left uneaten and he frowned. He did not want these two to expire before he brought them home. The food seemed all right, fresh killed with the vital organs and juices still leaking, but apparently, it was not suitable. A thought struck him and it occurred to him that certain aliens preferred their meals irradiated by energy waves in order to 'cook' them. It was a disgusting contemplation but then, this was a disgusting species. Or was it two?
They all looked alike to him.
"Take their food," he told the guard. "Remove the vital organs and pass the remains through a biofilter burn. Maybe they'll eat that."
The guard gaped at him, but nodded obediently.
P'Tuk spared his prizes a final, possessive glance before returning to his control center.
If only they weren't so ugly.
She glanced at the time, frowning when she saw it was 0216 hours, late night ... or in another view, very early morning. She knew her beloved had spent a restless evening, but she had not even felt the woman's departure from their bed, her sleep continuing unabated. It bothered Seven and she rose, reaching out to a nearby hook that supported a black robe. She pulled it around her, tying the cord at her waist, the air cool around her legs, left bare almost to the apex of her thighs.
Exiting the bedroom, she stepped briefly in a wet patch on the carpet where Jake had spilled his water dish. She hesitated, made a quick mental note to alter the positioning of the dog's dining area, then went on to where her partner was busy at the workstation closest to the bedroom.
Captain Kathryn Janeway was a compact woman, smaller than her formidable personality and command presence made her appear. Her rich, auburn hair was let down from its customary bun, falling freely over her shoulders and down her back which was all Seven could see at the moment. Dressed in a blue, terry cloth robe, the captain huddled in her chair, illuminated only by the light emanating from the viewscreen that was flickering as she studied the data. Curled up in a furry, rust ball around her feet like oversized slippers, Jake slumbered peacefully under the desk.
Seven came up behind Janeway, resting her hands on the woman's shoulders, feeling her warmth through the fluffy material.
"You should be asleep," she said quietly.
Janeway shook her head briefly. "I couldn't," she said absently. "So I came out here where I wouldn't disturb you. And to go over the library files that Balleyport downloaded for us before we left."
Seven did not like seeing her partner this fretful, but she knew the kidnapping of her crewmembers rankled at Janeway in a way that it did not affect others on the ship, particularly by this species. The Collective had never assimilated any representatives of the Spurnge, but both Seven and the captain had encountered them before, in a prison where Janeway had almost died at their hands. That alone made Seven regard them with more than merely ambivalent feelings. The fact that Lt. Tom Paris, Voyager's helmsman, and the Talaxian, Neelix, had been captured for some unfathomable purpose was merely the reason the ship was now hurtling through space in pursuit of the aliens.
"Have you considered..." Seven began, trailed off uncertainly.
"That they might already be dead?" Janeway inhaled deeply. "Yes, I did but unless I have some kind of proof, I still have to go after them."
"I understand," Seven said, and did, quite profoundly.
The young woman herself, had been the recipient of such single-minded allegiance from the captain. Twice, Janeway had faced down the Borg Collective to retrieve Seven from their possession ... and the first time, the captain and Seven hadn't even been romantically involved. Janeway would never allow anything to happen to one of her crew without doing everything in her power to rescue them, even if it meant risking the entire ship in the process. Some might think it illogical, but Seven was also aware that the knowledge of the lengths the captain would go to for every crewmember was what kept many of them at their posts when it seemed like the entire ship was flying apart around them, or enabled them to carry out what seemed like insane orders when common sense would say such things should never work. Loyalty beget loyalty and it was a lesson Seven took to heart.
Still, Janeway would do Paris or Neelix little good by exhausting herself. Yet Seven also knew how difficult it was to convince the captain of this.
"Have you discovered anything new?" She began to rub her fingers lightly over the muscles of her partner's neck and shoulders, using the subtle massage to ease the knots she found there.
"Not new, but perhaps something that is disturbing."
"Indeed?" Seven said, inviting her partner to continue.
"The Spurnge are a predatory species, very territorial. It's very possible that we trespassed on the outskirts of their space on our journey here."
"That grants them leave to attack without provocation? To refuse to communicate?"
"It may make it understandable," Janeway returned, granting the point but still trying to see the other side of it. "I don't like it, but perhaps they felt entirely justified in attacking us. They were defending their space from our intrusion. And subsequently, their docking bay from Tom and Neelix's entry."
"That may explain why they would attack us, but why did they simply not kill Lt. Paris and Neelix when given the opportunity? They had them at their mercy ... why spare them?"
Seven felt Janeway's shoulders tense once more, and she realized that perhaps it was not a question she should have asked.
"Apparently, the Spurnge have reasons to do what they do," Janeway said tonelessly. "And they're not always apparent."
"Ah," Seven said. She let her hands slide around to Janeway's upper chest, hugging her. "There still remains the possibility of their being dead then."
"I'm not going to risk the ship unnecessarily, Seven," Janeway allowed huskily, finally understanding the point Seven was trying to make. "I know we don't have the freedom we once did to go after those who bring us harm, even if it means that this time, I'd have to sacrifice my crewmembers ... my friends ... for the good of the vessel. If we can't catch this ship before it reaches Spurnge space, if we can't find a way to get Tom and Neelix back before they get to their own territory ... then, I'll turn back."
Seven knew how hard that was for Janeway, both to acknowledge and to say, and she lowered herself until her head was beside the captain's, her cheek against her spouse's.
"My understanding is that they are still several weeks from the outermost border of their space and Voyager is a formidable vessel once more. We do have a tactical advantage in both speed and weapons."
"But I'll still have to convince them to give up their 'prey' once we catch them." Janeway shook her head fretfully. "I don't know what diplomatic trick I can haul out to accomplish that, especially since their idea of communication is shooting first and talking to the survivors afterward."
"You will, when the time comes," Seven told her with complete certainty. "I believe in you, Kathryn."
She glanced over and saw her partner smile briefly, the blue-grey eyes lowering as her body relaxed marginally in the Borg's arms. The captain reached up and put her hand on Seven's forearm, squeezing gently.
"Go back to bed, darling," she requested. "It's late."
"Only if you accompany me. Kathryn, we are back to regular shifts but you still require rest. You need to be thinking clearly in this situation and you cannot do that if you are tired." She turned her head and kissed the elegant cheek so close to her. "I know you do not wish to be reminded of this," she added gently. "It irritates you when I do, but that does not change the reality of it."
Janeway sighed and relaxed even more.
"No, it doesn't," she agreed reluctantly. "You're right, Annika. I'll come to bed."
"And, if you cannot sleep," Seven offered, sweetening the deal. "I shall rub your back."
A half smile curled her mouth. "Are you trying to bribe me?"
"Do you object?"
"Not at all. I like it when you pamper me, even if I show it by being cranky at times."
Seven didn't really understand, but decided that she didn't need to. It was enough that Janeway was shutting down her station and rising from her chair. The Borg wrapped her arm firmly around the smaller woman's waist as they returned to the bedroom where Seven helpfully relieved the captain of the terrycloth robe, revealing the pale skin, dusted lightly with freckles in the most adorable places. She then stripped off her own robe and after Janeway had positioned herself on her stomach in the middle of the bed ... indicating she had every intention of taking Seven up on her earlier offer ... the young woman retrieved a small bottle of oil from the drawer of her night stand. She straddled the captain's buttocks and poured a little of the oil into her palm, rubbing both hands together briskly to warm them, and the oil, before putting them to Janeway's smooth back.
Janeway, her face resting on the pillow of her forearms, groaned in appreciation and Seven smiled briefly as she carefully massaged the knots from her partner's shoulders and back, her fingers digging in deliciously.
"Have I ever told you that you're far too good for me?" Janeway murmured.
"Frequently. It is always an incorrect statement."
"No, it's not incorrect at all. By the way, when did you learn to do this? It's wonderful."
Seven bent down and gently kissed Janeway's left shoulder blade. "I researched it not long after we were married. It is a fairly simple procedure of applying pressure to various parts of your Human anatomy."
"Well, the various parts of my Human anatomy are very grateful." Janeway luxuriated beneath the Borg's soothing hands, her eyes closed, the lashes casting soft shadows on her cheeks.
Seven regarded her affectionately, moving her hands gently over her partner's back even as she resisted the urge to turn her touch into a sensual caress. Desire was rising within her as she felt the soft swells of her partner's buttocks beneath her and she tried to put more weight on her knees, attempting to avoid the provocative touch of smooth skin against her most intimate region. Kathryn needs sleep, she told herself firmly, not lovemaking. Why does she keep moving like that? It took a few moments before Seven realized her partner was doing it deliberately, pressing up against the juncture of the Borg's legs, though from casual appearance, she seemed almost asleep.
"Kathryn," Seven said warningly.
"What?" Janeway muttered innocently, opening her eyes to look back over her shoulder.
Seven leaned down, her breasts falling onto the captain's back where the nipples dragged tantalizingly along the skin, slick with oil, tingling delightfully at the sensation ... which the Borg tried hard to ignore. "The purpose of this massage is to put you to sleep. You require rest."
"And what does my darling require, since she's so aroused?"
Seven's breath caught at the words, knowing she could not deny the claim.
"It is irrelevant what I require," she said, trying anyway.
The captain over. Obligingly, Seven lifted herself up to grant the smaller woman the freedom to move. Once Janeway had settled back against the mattress, Seven resumed her position, looking down into level eyes, which were shaded a soft blue. "Oh, darling, what you require is very relevant to me."
Seven inhaled slowly and resumed her massage, rubbing the captain's upper chest and breastbone gently, then up to the shoulders, her fingers sliding easily with the oil still clinging to them. Janeway placed her hands lightly on the Borg's upper thighs, her thumbs falling against the tender inner leg, which she stroked softly, lingeringly, almost driving the young woman to distraction.
"Tell me," the captain insisted quietly, her gaze electric as she captured Seven with it. "What do you require?"
Seven hesitated. "I require you to relax."
"Oh, I'm relaxed," Janeway said, leering elegantly. "In fact, if I get any more relaxed, I might just have to lie here while you sit on my face."
Seven felt the heat rush to her cheeks. "You are incorrigible."
"Always."
"And occasionally profane," Seven remarked sternly.
Janeway lifted a brow. "I prefer to think of it as ... straightforward." She tilted her head and smiled. "You've taught me that ... how to cut through the extraneous and get to the heart of the matter."
"And positioning myself over your face is 'the heart' of this matter?"
Janeway regarded her fondly. "The heart of the matter is that you have needs, too. Maybe I haven't always been as attentive to them in the past as I should have been, but I certainly hope I'm improving. I believe we've talked about this before, in fact. That even if I didn't seem interested, you should at least tell me that you want to make love."
"If you are not interested," Seven pointed out rationally. "Then it would give me no pleasure to make love with you."
"I understand that, but you have to give me the opportunity to become interested. Otherwise, I'm not always going to be able to guess what you're feeling. I don't always have the ability to notice how wet you've become, for example." She touched her lightly, a fleeting caress to punctuate her words.
Startled, Seven blushed and quivered at the touch.
"I had not realized that I was.
Janeway arched her hips slightly, so that she was pressing her pelvis against Seven's heat and all the moisture there.
"Oh, you most definitely are," the captain assured her huskily. "I admit, the signs of arousal aren't as apparent as they would be if you were male, but I can arrive at conclusions based on collected data. Especially if it's collecting in one special spot at the moment."
Seven was momentarily diverted. "What would be the signs if I were male?"
"You'd have an erection for one thing. Believe me, it's hard to miss that particular signal."
Seven considered it. "It must be inconvenient. There are times when I wish to make love to you when it is entirely inappropriate ... but no one ever knows because I can conceal it. Males must find such deception far more difficult."
"They do," Janeway said with a laugh. "Believe me, they do." She ran her hands restlessly up and down her partner's legs, sobering slightly though a half-grin remained on her lips. "You should be aware that just knowing that you're aroused is usually more than enough to arouse me in return. Like tonight. When I felt your wetness on me, it was like someone lit a fire in me. Don't try to hide how much you want me, darling. Not here, in our quarters ... in our home."
"Very well," Seven said, leaning down so that her face was close to the captain's, close enough that their lips were a mere whisper apart. "I shall not attempt to conceal how much you mean to me. Or what you do to me."
And she kissed her deeply, no longer hiding anything, needing her spouse so much it was almost frightening to the young woman.
"Report."
Her first officer, the tall, burly Chakotay, got up from where he had been holding the command chair. Over his left eye, a tribal tattoo spread from the middle of his forehead down to his temple. It was distorted by the furrows in his brow as he frowned, his dark eyes serious.
"We're unquestionably gaining," he said. "They started out about eighteen hours ahead of us. We've brought that down to twelve. With any luck, we'll be in transporter range in another day."
She nodded approvingly. "Good work." She glanced around the bridge, noting that the full alpha shift was on, her best people at their stations ... with one notable exception, of course. The helm was being covered in Paris's absence by Lt. Ro Laren, a Bajoran who was well-qualified but certainly not possessing the talent and skills that Tom did. Even Ro would admit that if asked and Janeway wondered if anyone had.
At tactical, the Vulcan security chief, Tuvok, glanced up. "Captain, they are still out of range of our sensors. If a probe were to be launched ahead of us, it would provide us with some preliminary readings that may make a difference in any future encounters."
Lt. Harry Kim, covering operations, nodded in agreement. "If we use the multi-phasic shielding, it might even blind their sensors somewhat, allowing it to get really close before they detect it."
Janeway nodded. "Do it."
She stepped closer to the helm, looking over the shoulder of Ro who was guiding the ship. She took note that they were running at warp 9.1 ... not the fastest the vessel could go but certainly as fast as it could sustain indefinitely. Any faster risked overloading the engines after a set period of time, causing them to shut down for repairs. The ship had just been overhauled. She didn't want to damage it again, not unless it was absolutely necessary for rescuing Neelix and Tom.
She glanced at Chakotay. "We need a plan of action. I want a brainstorming session scheduled in the conference room with the senior staff. Make sure they're all familiar with the library files on the Spurnge. I want it for 1100 hours and until then, I'll be in my ready room."
He nodded and she left the ship in his hands as she descended the next group of stairs, entering her ready room. The thermos tucked neatly under her arm was placed on her desk as she retrieved her lucky cup. She unscrewed the silver container and poured out the rich, aromatic brew, filling it to the brim. Sipping Seven's special blend of coffee gratefully, she sat down, and activated her computer, bringing up the files she had been perusing the previous night ... before Seven had interrupted her in such a pleasant way. For a moment, she allowed her thoughts to dwell on her beloved spouse, on how it felt to be with her, before she forcibly brought her mind back to the matter at hand.
The Spurnge, according to what little Balleyport Station had discovered about them, were very aggressive in defending what they considered theirs. They were not conquerors, but they were also not in the habit of officially claiming territory before they began to protect it. Their culture was shrouded in mystery, with status granted accordingly by something called v'har. It was honor, wealth and privilege, but it was more than that, intertwined by many other things like personal accomplishment and how it was applied to others of lesser or higher v'har.
Their space fleet was comprised of several squads called triads, groupings of three ships each, which patrolled their space and challenged all those who violated what they believed to be theirs. To have run across a solitary vessel was unusual indeed and it was perhaps the reason why the vessel ... which was named Bles'Kil in the docking manifest ... had kidnapped the two Federation members. Had the entire triad been in port, they might have arbitrarily attacked Voyager ... or politely escorted the two crewmembers back to the Starfleet vessel with the implication inherent that Janeway was an incompetent commander to have lost track of what was hers, thus claiming significant v'har over her. It was also what gave her hope that her people were still alive. Live and controlled opponents granted far more v'har than mere corpses. Particularly in any future striving for yet more acclaim.
It did interest her to know that, although she was no doubt hated for Voyager destroying an entire triad in battle, she would have also gained much v'har herself. To have taken on a superior force and won so decisively was to be respected. She wondered how she could use that in the upcoming encounter ... or if she could use it at all.
She took another sip of coffee, knowing she had to be very careful if she wanted to get her people back intact. From what she learned, it was possible that the agreement would be made, but a loophole would allow the Spurnge to send over only corpses, thus achieving the ultimate v'har over her. She had to figure out a way to set it up so that there would be no loss of v'har on the part of the other commander, yet retain her own while retrieving her people. It would be tricky.
Of course, she could always choose a purely military position, go in with phasers blazing and photon torpedoes loaded. Unfortunately, not only might that guarantee the deaths of her people, it also went against everything she believed in, both as a person and as a Starfleet captain. All possible diplomatic efforts had to be exhausted before she resorted to blasting away. Indeed, it bothered her considerably that she had not managed to find such a solution in the original encounter with the triad. Destroying those ships may have elevated her position in the eyes of the Spurnge, but it lowered her in her own. Yet, at the same time, diplomacy had to be balanced with the fact that Voyager was alone out here. Diplomacy worked best when it was a velvet glove covering a steel fist ... to ignore that could have deadly consequences as well.
She leaned back in her chair, her gaze distant as she struggled not to be overly affected by the memories of her very first encounter with the Spurnge. It had been in a prison where all the inmates fought for survival in the most brutal conditions. She had been battered, beaten, and deathly ill, completely on her last legs when five members of the Spurnge had demanded her boots with her offering only the most pitiful of defense. If it had not been for the sudden appearance of her partner who absolutely destroyed the grouping, Janeway undoubtedly would have died.
She breathed shallowly. It was unlikely the Spurnge knew of that, or of her weakness against them, but she knew and she was forced to shove her fear down into the darkest part of her. She remembered how she had felt when she viewed the recording of Tom and Neelix's kidnapping, how it took everything she had to control her reaction to the appearance of the beings which had haunted her nightmares for months after the incident, to cover her shock and terror with the impassive mask of command.
She could not afford to have that fear influence her decisions in this situation.
She glanced at her console's screen and at the small chronological readout in the lower corner ... opposite the small image of Seven. She had no idea where the morning went and realized it would soon be time for the staff meeting that she had requested. She downloaded the files into a padd and slowly finished her coffee, using the time until the meeting to refine the tentative plan she had conceived. She knew she was going to have to be on her toes for this mission, just as Seven had pointed out. It behooved her to take her moments to rest and relax when she could. It was not something she was particularly good at, but it was something she was trying to improve every day ... if not for herself, then certainly for the sake of the woman she loved.
Commander Chakotay, Lt. Kim, Lt. Ro and Lt. Commander Tuvok were already in the conference room when she entered. She took a seat at the head of the table, beneath the large viewport, which looked out onto the starfield, and rested her elbows casually on the table. They were quiet as they waited for the rest of the senior staff to arrive from the rest of the ship, not wanting to fill the time with small talk that would, in some way, lessen the seriousness of the meeting. Before long, Seven, the Doctor and Lt. Torres entered and took their respective places, B'Elanna, next to Ro, and Seven at the far end of the table, directly opposite Janeway. The Doctor just found an empty seat.
"You all know the mission," the captain said quietly. "And what we must accomplish. I also assume you've perused the files we have on the Spurnge. I need to have any ideas, thoughts, possible tactical suggestions on how to proceed in the event I've overlooked something."
"The Spurnge are aggressive," Chakotay, naturally, began. His burly form lounged in his chair but that was somewhat deceptive. He was certainly as worried as the rest were. "From what I can understand of their culture, they counted it as a coup against Voyager by taking our Pilot."
"If they are indeed, aware that is who they have," Tuvok noted logically. "If Mr. Paris revealed who he was, it's possible they are not fearing our pursuit at all."
Janeway regarded him with interest. She had missed that. "Go on."
He glanced at Ro and with that bit of encouragement, the Bajoran spoke up. "It seems that their pilot, their helmsman, is directly tied into the ship's systems, both mentally and physically. It's as if that being becomes one with the vessel and thus, is certainly not supposed to be walking around outside of the ship. They're far too valuable to risk losing. To have captured one would be considered a devastating blow to an opponent ... or rather it would with a Spurnge opponent. Most Spurnge ships do not carry a replacement for their pilot."
"So, taking away a pilot essentially stops that ship dead." Janeway nodded approvingly. "That may increase the chances for them to leave Tom alive and hopefully, Neelix by proxy."
"And make them think we would be unable to mount a pursuit," Tuvok added. "We would hopefully have a certain amount of surprise on our side that we could use to our advantage."
"Possibly, but it's not anything we should count on." Janeway glanced down the table. "Doctor, our sensors detected no organic remains in the destruction of the triad. Nor did they detect any on the recording we observed. Can you elaborate on that, at all?"
"I ran the recording through several enhancements," the Emergency Medical Hologram related. A sparse, trim man whose matrix was acerbic in nature, he had gradually developed sentience as a result of being activated on a continuous basis for six years. "It seems that the Spurnge are actually .0003 out of the temporal phase variance with ourselves."
Janeway blinked, startled. "What?"
Seven regarded the Doctor with keen interest. "Fascinating. That means they actually exist .0003 seconds in the future. That would explain why they move so quickly and why it is difficult to observe them with the naked eye."
His face lit up with enthusiasm at the biological anomaly. "It's as if they're always blurred when in fact, what one is actually seeing is the afterimage of where they've been a split second earlier. They have time to counter moves which to them, happened earlier, in the past. Their reactions are possibly no faster than our own on a one-to-one basis."
"And this is why we didn't pick up any organic material in the debris?"
The Doctor looked at her. "After death, the material returns to real time, but at an accelerated rate that disintegrates it, making it impossible for traditional settings to detect the resulting, inorganic dust. All that's left is basically just the chemical makeup of the being."
Janeway frowned. "But I saw dead bodies in the prison."
"Not entirely dead," Seven noted dispassionately. "Even decapitation leaves organic tissue alive for a certain period of time. We would have left the area before the DNA components would have broken down completely. The warp core breach that destroyed their ships emits an antimatter radiation that kills all living tissue immediately. There were no remains to be detected in the debris field."
"This is all very interesting," B'Elanna spoke up. "But does it help us beyond being able to adjust our sensors to detect them in the future?"
Janeway exhaled audibly. "B'Elanna's right. We need a concrete plan for when we actually come in contact with them. There's something called v'harsen that I think we can use. This is what I intend to do."
She watched their faces tighten as she laid out what she wanted to do and from the look in her partner's eyes, she knew that Seven would be speaking to her later on this.
Possibly in a very loud voice.
She exchanged a glance with Ro as the Bajoran resumed her place at the helm. Recently, the engineer had become quite enamored with the quietly deadly woman, and it seemed that Ro returned her interest. Varied interruptions had prevented them from fully carrying out the natural progression of such interest, but the Klingon knew it was only delayed, not prevented entirely. That thought made her tingle all over and some of that must have translated in the glance because Ro looked away. There was the slightest hint of pink to her cheeks though the Bajoran was hardly the sort to embarrass easily.
Smiling to herself, B'Elanna headed for the turbolift, aware of Harry Kim intersecting her path from the upper level, entering the lift with her.
"Harry?"
"Chakotay wants me to get a report on the restraining field experiments. I think he wants to see if we can get them in place before we go into action against the Spurnge."
B'Elanna frowned briefly.
"You know, it's not likely to ever work on the bridge," she said as the doors slid shut and the lift began to descend. "People need more freedom of movement, particularly in a crisis, than the fields provide. It's one thing to pin the captain in her chair, for example, where she can still move her hand to release the field once the maneuvers are complete. But how do you restrain her if she's up and moving around the bridge or still in her ready room when the attack comes? And how would you restrain crewmembers at stations where they have to stand up? Like you on ops or Tuvok at tactical?"
Harry nodded. "We constructed pallets where people can lay down and be held immobile while the ship gets bounced around. But actually, those people are the most protected in a crisis anyway, even without a restraining field. The real question is how to protect those who have to stay at their posts."
"What about making them personal force fields?" B'Elanna suggested, stepping off the lift as it deposited them on deck twelve.
"It's been tried. There's no way to get the power source small enough to carry around individually. When it's tied into the ship systems, they tend to falter when the ship is under attack, at the very time the crew needs them most."
The Klingon thought about it as the two walked to her office which was on the main engineering level.
"What if we slap restraining fields on individual areas of the vessel? Like the bridge, activating when the integrity field breaks down and turning off when the integrity field resumes?"
"Trapping the crew like flies in amber?" Harry said, his dark eyes questioning. "But that still runs into the problem of movement when it's needed. How much fluctuation of the integrity emitters would trigger it? And how little would release the field?"
"Maybe we can use a test area," B'Elanna offered thoughtfully. "An auxiliary room or ... I know, the turbolift!" she concluded, snapping her fingers. "People are always getting hurt in them when the integrity emitters fail. But if we can slap a field on it and prove that it can work, then we can think about doing it with other areas."
Harry looked doubtful. "When we would have time to take the turbolift out of service to perform the experiment?"
B'Elanna ceded the point. "Not until after we're done with this mission." She hesitated, regarding him quietly. "What did you think of the captain's plan?"
He exhaled slowly. "It'll be dangerous for both teams."
"But it should work," the engineer offered thoughtfully. "Though I wish she had put me on team one rather than two."
"That's just because you want to be with Ro."
She shot him a sharp look. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He snorted. "C'mon, B'Elanna, everyone knows about you and the Bajoran. Hell, there's a pool on it."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. There was a pool on everything that went on in the ship, from whether Janeway and Chakotay had ever done the deed ... apparently they hadn't ... to what year Voyager would actually return to the Alpha Quadrant. They were usually initiated by Tom Paris who was notorious for winning more than his share. It did not surprise the Klingon that there would be one regarding her and Ro, though that didn't make her like it any better.
"Do you have replicator rations down on it?" she asked, her voice dangerously silky.
He glanced at her uneasily. "Megan doesn't like me to gamble." Which didn't actually answer the question, the Klingon noted, but she granted that it really wasn't Harry she was annoyed with, it was Tom. Or was it that she couldn't be annoyed at him at the moment because his life was in dreadful peril which was really annoying her?
"Well, it's a good thing Megan likes you to do other things," B'Elanna said finally, changing the subject and causing the young man to blush. "Hasn't she had your kid yet?"
"No," he said, sighing. "And she's worried about being overdue."
"Funny, she was the one with all the premature labor, wasn't she?" B'Elanna noted as she keyed her console, checking on the current status of her engine room. "Now, everyone else has delivered and she's still holding on."
"She doesn't find it amusing," he said glumly, leaning against the station. He looked weary all of a sudden and B'Elanna resisted a smirk. "The Doctor told me that if she lasts to the end of this week, he'll induce labor."
"Sounds like fun," B'Elanna said dryly.
"I'm just glad it's not me," he admitted, and then looked guilty for voicing that thought out loud.
B'Elanna shook her head, snickering. "I bet you haven't shared that with her."
He shook his head and suddenly, she realized he was really concerned. With an effort, she curbed her sense of humor and patted him on the shoulder. "It'll be fine, Starfleet," she said, utilizing the pet name she had bestowed upon him when she first met him all those years ago. "Pretty soon your son will be here and you'll be a dad. Then you won't have any time for your single friends at all."
He took a breath. "I already don't. Tom and I don't get to ... well, hang out like we used to. I wonder if we did, if I had been with him on the station, maybe he wouldn't have gotten captured."
"Or maybe you'd be the one on the Spurnge ship instead of Neelix," B'Elanna pointed out. "Which wouldn't do Megan or your kid any good. Harry, don't blame yourself for the messes Tom gets into. Or for that matter, anyone could have gotten into. No one knew how protective the Spurnge were with their loading bay. Hell, why didn't the station warn us to steer clear in the first place?"
"Probably for the same reason people aren't formally told to steer clear of Breen docking bays in the Alpha Quadrant. It's just assumed that we knew going near them was trouble ... everyone else in the sector does." He inhaled deeply. "Sometimes I get really tired of us always being the strangers in a strange land. Never knowing the protocols of whoever we're dealing with, always being in unfamiliar territory ... it just gets hard sometimes."
She patted him on the arm sympathetically. "I know." She wondered how many of the crew felt like this. Though she had found a place here on Voyager that she had never had in the Alpha Quadrant, she was aware that others missed their families and homes terribly. She was surprised that more discontent didn't come out at times. "We'll get back someday, Harry."
"I think about it a lot now, especially when it comes to my son. Will he ever see Earth? Will he ever get to meet his grandparents? Even if I could just let them know somehow that I'm going to be a father, that they're going to have a grandchild ... it would make all the difference. Then, maybe I wouldn't feel so bad."
"Harry, we all feel that way from time to time. Unfortunately, the bottom line is that it doesn't help you in the long run to dwell on it. We'll get home when we get home and until then, we just have to keep going. After all, we could easily all be dead a hundred times over, or stranded on a dead planet or assimilated by the Borg or turned into seaweed by Species 8472. Let's be glad we're still here to complain about it."
He considered that. "You know, your Harry didn't make it back."
Startled, B'Elanna looked at him. She had forgotten that the Harry in this reality had died, as had the newborn Naomi Wildman during an encounter with a parallel universe. Of course, the man here, as well as the oldest child on the ship, were still the same people they would have been in any event, but she realized that certainly, he would think of that from time to time. She doubted that Naomi even knew, or would ever be told by her mother.
"Hey, just remember, no one else in that universe's Voyager made it either," she said, a chill rippling through her spine at the thought. "That Janeway implemented a self-destruct rather than have her crew harvested by the Vidiians." She paused, trying to think of the right thing to say. "We're all here, and we're all together, Harry. Keep that in mind."
"Tom isn't."
"He will be. He wouldn't dare die before Janeway finds him.".
Blinking, he looked at her, then his face relaxed.
"I'm sure that thought is keeping his hopes intact, wherever he is."
"Now you're just being sarcastic."
He flashed her a grin. "Who me?"
She frowned broodingly and he relented, returning to the original subject and why he was there in the first place.
"All right, let me present it this way to Chakotay. We can't install restraining fields until they're tested. And we can't test them until we're clear of this mess with the Spurnge. He'll understand. The last thing he would want is to go into battle with an untried, untested system that may or may not work when it's needed most. It's better to deal with what we have."
"But as soon as we've got our people back and have resumed course, you and I will try to rig a field for the turbolift."
They discussed the particulars for a few moments more, then he inclined his head, and left. She stared after him for a few moments, lost in thought about all the changes Voyager had gone through so recently, and how it was altering everyone's perspective on the ship. Hell, she had been downright empathetic to the young operations officer just now ... like a counselor or something. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not, but who knew? Maybe by the time Voyager returned to Earth, she'd be positively mellow.
She finished up her shift and logged off, heading for her quarters. She was very glad that things had settled down somewhat from the ongoing crisis they had experienced for months. Now the crew was back to a routine and even with the problem of Tom and Neelix's abduction looming over them, people were still considerably more cheerful and enthusiastic than they had been. She supposed that came from the fact that they were no longer afraid of the ship flying apart at any moment. Not that it would have, of course but they had been fairly vulnerable to another attack. Finding Balleyport Station had been an unexpected, but direly needed happenstance and she wondered if they'd ever have a chance to stop back there again.
She blinked as she spotted Ro Laren in the corridor on deck nine and realized that the Bajoran must have been lingering in order to run into the engineer. It gave her a warm feeling inside and she discovered she was grinning somewhat foolishly, trying to cover it. The Bajoran quirked an eyebrow as other crewmembers walked past them.
"Lt. Torres," she said formally.
"Lt. Ro." B'Elanna wondered if she should let the other woman know that it was common knowledge that the two were edging toward an ongoing relationship before deciding that would only cloud the issue. She led the way into her quarters, feeling her heart increase its rhythm perceptively as Ro followed her without needing to be asked.
Would this be the evening?
Suddenly, it seemed that she was having difficulty breathing.
"I wanted to apologize in person," Ro said as B'Elanna turned around.
"Damn," B'Elanna said, dismay sharp within her as she realized what the other woman really meant. "We're not having dinner together tonight, are we?"
"I'm sorry, B'Elanna," Ro said, looking honestly regretful. "Tuvok has an extra training session scheduled this evening before he teaches the Starfleet class. For some reason, he's been a real stickler lately ... maybe because of the Kunntarie invasion."
"I can skip class," B'Elanna said immediately. "We can have dinner after your session."
Ro smiled and moved closer, linking her fingers behind the Klingon's neck with unusual familiarity and looked at her very fondly.
"I don't want you to do that. Honestly, I had no intention of ... well, doing anything before you needed to go to class, anyway." At B'Elanna's expression of disappointment, she added in a huskier tone; "When we're together, I want it to be all night, with no interruptions for anything. Just you and me for hours on end."
B'Elanna's breath caught at that image, and she slipped her arms around Ro's waist.
"Do you know how much ... how I feel about you?"
"I think I know," Ro admitted. "I ... care a lot about you, B'Elanna."
B'Elanna leaned forward, hesitated, then kissed her, holding her tightly. When they parted, the Klingon rested her proud ridges against the Bajoran's forehead.
"Are we ever going to get the chance to be together?" she asked wistfully.
"We will. Sometimes, it's just a matter of letting things happen in their own time." She brushed her lips over B'Elanna's brow, the engineer feeling her kiss along each bump lovingly. "I have to go."
B'Elanna tightened her embrace in protest, then reluctantly released her.
"Damn, sometimes I think someone out there doesn't want us to be together."
Ro flashed her a grin as she left the quarters.
"It just seems that way."
B'Elanna wondered how much longer she could stand this.
"All right, I know you don't like this. Let me have it."
"I do not believe this plan is tactically sound," Seven said sternly.
Janeway raised an eyebrow. "I explained about v'harsen. You have to agree that it's the best possible way to negotiate with them. Their culture indicates that it has to be me who does the negotiation. So what's tactically unsound?"
"Going there without me," Seven said promptly. "I should be the one to accompany you in the negotiations."
Janeway sighed. "Annika, your internal transporter node is the only thing that will allow you and the second team to get through the shields to where Tom and Neelix are," she said in a patient tone. "Ro is completely capable of backing me up. That's why I chose her to be my second."
Seven looked away. The captain was correct, it was a tactically sound plan. So why was she so unhappy with this? Janeway rose from the couch and wrapped her arms around the Borg's stiff body, pressing up against her in an effort to get her to unbend a little.
"Darling, I think the real reason you don't like this is that we'll be separated. But weren't you the one who became angry with me when I insisted on accompanying you while we infiltrated the pirate band? And you were right, I was probably out of line. We each have a job to do and we have to trust each other to do it. I'm relying on your team to get Tom and Neelix out of there while I keep the Spurnge commander occupied."
"And how will you and Ro get out of there?" Seven grumbled, refusing to look at Janeway who was obviously attempting to distract the Borg with her proximity. She could feel the captain's hands rub her back soothingly ... but Seven did not wish to be soothed.
"Oh, I'm not going to go into a v'harsen on the Spurnge ship. I couldn't. That wouldn't be the neutral territory this tradition demands, nor would we be able to bring the commander and the chosen second over here. We'll have to find a place we both agree is secure, so that we can meet under a flag of truce." She smiled, and it was slightly predatory. "Then you, Tuvok, Harry and B'Elanna will beam over to where Tom and Neelix are and bring them home."
"Won't the Spurnge react badly to such deception?" Seven asked, softening slightly as she unfolded her arms, slipping them around the smaller woman's compact form.
Janeway took the opportunity to snuggle closer. "Voyager will keep a transporter lock on me and Ro the entire time. The Spurnge don't know about our transporter capability, Annika. It's a technology that they simply did not develop, perhaps because of that .0003 phase variance that would make it impossible for any traditional transporter beam to work on them. We have to use that to our advantage." She looked thoughtful. "From what I can understand about their culture, they wouldn't consider being defeated by a superior technology as a loss of v'har. In fact, by surviving it to bring back knowledge of its existence to their leaders, it might even grant them a certain amount of v'har."
Seven frowned again. "I am not comfortable with the fact that a great deal of this is based on speculation about their culture. The data Balleyport Station provided was sketchy at best and could have significant gaps. Such lack of information could lead to disaster."
"That's why we'll cover all the angles, Annika," Janeway assured her. She hugged Seven closer and rested her forehead against the Borg's chin. "You know, darling, I'm not in the habit of having to explain my reasoning to a crewmember."
Seven was unmoved by the implied rebuke. "I am aware of that, which is why I did not object in the staff meeting. But in these quarters, I am not your crewmember, I am your spouse. You are required to explain to me."
Janeway opened her mouth, no doubt to further object, hesitated and shut it instead. Her eyes lowered and she nuzzled into Seven's throat. "All right," she mumbled. "Maybe you have a point. But have I eased your misgivings?"
"Not at all." Seven dropped her cheek to press against Janeway's temple, gentling her tone. "But I accept that you must do this, and I promise to carry out my duty as you direct. But you cannot demand that I like it."
"No," Janeway agreed softly. "I can't demand that."
They stood in silence for a few moments, holding on to each other. Seven understood that Kathryn disliked it when the Borg displayed her protectiveness toward her, particularly lately and perhaps, she admitted to herself, she had become a little extreme in recent months. But didn't Janeway understand how much she meant to her? How much Seven wanted her to remain safe, free from harm and danger?
Of course she did, Seven responded to herself. But Janeway was who she was, stubborn, headstrong, determined to lead the way no matter what the cost, and those traits were part of why Seven was so attracted to her. She could not make her spouse into something she wasn't and she shouldn't try. Yet, that didn't make it easier for the Borg to stand by when she knew her partner was about to do something that could possibly endanger her.
She tightened her embrace.
"Please, be careful, Kathryn," she whispered. "I could not go on without you."
Janeway kissed her sweetly. "Trust in me," she said, her eyes level and sincere. "Trust in my abilities. Trust in your own. I do."
"I worry about you when I am not with you." Seven tried to put her unease in words. "I think that we have experienced so much that I have learned how quickly things can change and not for the better. I do not ever want our relationship to change."
Janeway considered that. "If you mean, you never want us to stop loving each other, then yes, I fully agree. But change is part of growing, Annika. Our relationship will change over the years ... but that doesn't mean it will be a bad thing."
Seven shook her head sadly. "Sometimes I wish that time would stop and we would always be as we are right now."
Janeway lowered her head, looking at her from beneath her lashes. "Annika, if time stopped right now, I would still be in your arms but I wouldn't be able to do this in the next moment."
She kissed her, her lips lingering on the Borg's mouth and Seven felt her partner's love and devotion translate through the tender touch. Seven smiled briefly when they parted.
"I accept your point," she said and kissed her back.
There was a nudge at their sides, and they broke away briefly to discover their dog pushing his muzzle between their legs.
"I think someone's jealous," Janeway said dryly.
"I believe someone has not been walked today," Seven noted more accurately.
Janeway released her spouse, leaning down to pat Jake, scratching behind his ears. "I've been woefully neglectful. I'll walk him." She went over to where his leash hung and retrieved it. She glanced back at Seven. "Come with me. We'll go for a stroll through the park."
Seven quirked an eyebrow, understanding that this was something new. Generally, Janeway walked Jake by herself, no doubt taking the time to be alone with her thoughts as she made a circuit of the ship. It was never stated that way, of course, but the Borg did try to understand and respect the unspoken habit. Certainly, not being able to do it in recent months may have contributed to why Janeway had felt a need to 'break out' while Voyager was docked at Balleyport Station, an attempt which had ended somewhat disastrously. For Janeway to want her spouse to accompany her now indicated a change of some sort in the captain's attitude.
"Why?"
Janeway smiled and reached out her hand invitingly. "Because I want to be with you. I've missed you so much over the past few months. Come with me."
Seven hesitated, then accepted the captain's hand, linking her fingers in Janeway's. The dog trotted happily after them as the two women exited their quarters, passing them as he forged on ahead toward the turbolift although he didn't dash away. He was too well trained for that, maintaining it even when the captain and Seven had not had a lot of time to spend with him lately.
Seven was surprised that Janeway kept their hands linked but she was certainly not going to complain. Her spouse's fingers were warm, and she could feel the captain's thumb stroking idly over the back of her hand as they walked. They got on the turbolift and as it descended to deck eight, the Borg decided she rather liked walking the dog. She wondered if this would be a regular thing or if Janeway merely wished to be accompanied this night only.
"Your classes have resumed, haven't they?" Janeway asked as the couple stood in the lift.
A shadow crossed her face. "It will not be the same without Neelix. He is an active participant and without his input, I believe the class shall be lessened for it."
"We'll get him back, darling," Janeway murmured. "We'll get them both back."
Seven glanced at her, seeing the steely flash in the eyes, the way the jaw set itself so determinedly. She found it charming, knowing that Janeway was probably unaware that she was displaying such an expression.
"I know we will," she agreed and squeezed Janeway's hand lightly.
The captain flashed her a bit of a crooked grin as the turbolift doors slid open. Jake bounded ahead eagerly, his senses no doubt determining where on the ship he was. He skidded to a stop in front of the large doors that led to cargo bay two, his tail wagging hard, a small whine of excitement and anticipation issuing from his throat as he waited impatiently for his mistresses. There was a time when he could have opened the door himself though Seven had put a stop to that when the couple realized he was making unauthorized excursions on his own.
"He really likes the park," Janeway noted as the door sensors detected the approach of the two Humanoids, opening automatically. Jake darted through as soon as the opening was large enough to squeeze between and Seven smiled faintly.
"I believe that there are aromas in here that he can find nowhere else on the ship," she said as they entered the transformed cargo bay.
Where once there had been stark metal walls and deck, filled with shipping containers, now the floor was covered with a thick, emerald lawn, bordered by colorful flower beds and small trees. Bushes lined the park, helping to disguise the bulkheads which had been painted in a brick pattern, below a mosaic of green and blue to imply sky and forest beyond. The illumination in the ceiling two decks above was bright, drawing far more power than most ships would deem expendable, approximating sunshine. Of course, a holodeck could easily reproduce this on a much grander scale, but the crew of Voyager still seemed to enjoy this tiny space of real park more. Perhaps it was a subconscious thing, reacting to the very real smells of earth and growing things that simply did not exist in a holodeck, no matter how good the programming. For Humans, the difference meant a lightening of the heart that they did not receive in an illusion. For Jake, with his far more acute senses, it was all the difference in the universe and he dashed happily back and forth over the lawn, finally finding a stick in the underbrush that he bore proudly back to the captain.
Obligingly, Janeway tossed it for him, sending it as far across the park as she could manage. As he bolted after it, she and Seven found a wooden bench and sat down, the Borg sliding her arm around the captain's shoulders, pleased when she did not object in the slightest even though there were other crewmembers strolling around the circumference of the area on pebbled paths. Not far away, the burble of a small fountain made a delicate counterpoint to the hum of the warp drive while above their heads, leaves rustled gently in the breeze of the air recirculating unit.
"The biometrics team did a really good job on this," Janeway noted as she looked around, inhaling deeply. The fragrance from a nearby rose bush filled the air around them and she looked over at her partner, her face soft. "You did a really good job on this."
Seven inclined her head. "Thank you." She tilted her head. "It is quiet. Biometrics has suggested that we add birds and genetically altered bees for pollination purposes. Perhaps even earthworms in the ground."
"Genetically altered?"
"No stingers," Seven elaborated. "It would save the crew from manual pollination and make this a more healthy environment, particularly for the children."
Janeway nodded. "I remember the report that came across my desk. I just haven't had time to get back to them on it." She took the stick Jake had retrieved from between the dog's jaws and threw it again. "It would be a really delicate balance to maintain. It's such a limited area."
Seven nodded as Jake streaked away. "I have been going over the projections with Ensign Wildman and I do believe it can be done."
Janeway regarded her, a gentle smile touching her lips. "You really find this fascinating, don't you? Shall I be expecting a request for transfer from you in the near future?"
Seven quirked her eyebrow. "I believe I am best suited for astrometrics, but I do find biometrics intriguing ... perhaps because the Borg did not actively explore that field as they did other areas. It is a completely new group of sciences for me and while I was uninterested in such things when I was first separated from the Collective, I now find it worthy of further pursuit."
"Well, there's no harm in having more than one interest," Janeway allowed. "Particularly in the sciences." She settled closer to her partner, pressing up against her side and Seven unobtrusively squeezed her shoulders. "We all find our own bliss, darling. Or it finds us, somehow."
"Yes," Seven responded, resting her cheek against the auburn hair, having found her bliss contained in the compact form seated next to her. "It does."
"Honored Commander?"
The voice was tinged with sarcasm, the traditional tone of Pilot P'Murn, as was the voice inflection of every individual accorded the ability to meld with the organic center of the vessel. The corpulent, naked Spurnge was situated in a depression in the center of the bridge, surrounded by varied cables and tubes that fed into his body. A significant amount of black hair had rubbed off over the years, leaving smooth, pinkish patches where the restraints held him in place, protecting him. On either side of him, his t'burnie, two females selected to constantly monitor his vital signs, sat at their posts quietly, not lifting their eyes, as was proper.
P'Tuk found the whole thing positively repulsive even as he understood this was the way things were.
The only other Spurnge allowed in the command center, was of course P'Varn, the protectorate, waiting for orders to go intimidate someone, which was his regular function on the ship. He was bulky for a Spurnge warrior, solid rather than slender ... and not particularly bright. But then, he didn't have to be. That's what the Commander was for.
P'Tuk waited the requisite amount of time, long enough to show his distaste for the pilot, but not so long as to upset him unduly inciting unpleasant consequences. Pilots controlled all the ship's systems and tended to be aware of their importance in the overall scheme of things. Not to mention petty, which meant that certain of the ship's systems might not function for anyone who insulted a Pilot ... like the waste recycle unit. But P'Tuk was still in ultimate command of the vessel and today he as in a good mood so he did not preface his response with the traditional insult that he was accorded as the superior.
"Speak."
"Sensors have detected a probe," P'Murn noted.
"Where?"
"20 serk off our port stern."
P'Tuk bolted out of his seat. "What?" He knew he was providing the pilot with a certain amusement but didn't care. "How could it get so close without our knowing it? How long has it been transmitting data?"
"It uses some form of rotating shielding that clouds our sensors." P'Murn could not turn his head of course, to look back at the commander, but P'Tuk suspected he would be grinning with that sickly display of dulled fangs that was his version of a smirk. "Since we just detected it, there's no way of knowing how long it's been there, or what it's transmitted."
"Where is it from?" P'Tuk asked, gliding up onto the pilot's dais so that he could look into the screen displaying the backdrop of stars and a silvery shape moving purposely in the Bles'Kil's wake. To a Human, the image would be blurred, as if everything was vibrating slightly. To the Spurnge, it was perfectly clear.
"The technology is consistent with that of the Voyager ship," P'Murn said.
P'Tuk frowned. "They sent a probe after us until they could find a replacement pilot?"
"Or what we have is not their pilot at all," P'Murn suggested. "And this was merely sent ahead of their vessel which is now in pursuit."
"Impossible!" P'Tuk dismissed that out of hand. "The creature admitted his pilot status under a burn stick. He could not lie."
P'Murn was clearly skeptical. "My suggestion is that we destroy this probe and lay in a course of evasive maneuvers in order to mask our trail."
P'Tuk thought about it. "No," he decided. "That would take time from our journey and I wish to rejoin our triad immediately. Destroy the annoying probe, but do not deviate. I want to convince them to return to Balleyport as quickly as possible." He tilted his head in sly amusement. "You are not afraid of our upcoming battle, are you, P'Murn?"
"I am cautious. It is your decision. The foolish bravado shall be on you."
"The triumph as well, pilot," P'Tuk reminded him savagely. "I will return the head of Voyager's commander to the High Circle and be treated accordingly. Perhaps even with our own separate triad where the Bles'Kil is center and I am First Father. You would appreciate being Prime Pilot in that case, so just carry out what is required to accomplish it."
"As you wish." P'Murn's eyes glowed briefly and from the stern, two shots were fired. The silvery probe exploded with satisfying rapidness, an expanding ball of metal and gases that disappeared almost immediately as the Bles'Kil's warp drive carried her forward.
"You know, P'Murn," P'Tuk said jovially. "I almost wish this Voyager had access to a spare pilot and could pursue us. I would gladly swap v'har with its commander. Or better yet, take it all for myself. That would accord us our own triad for certain."
"P'Karna has said often," P'Murn responded coldly, referring to the current Spurnge spiritual leader. "Those who wish for prey, occasionally encounter a predator instead. Voyager destroyed an entire triad with one decisive blow. Do not believe a single vessel could handle such a predator. Particularly since we are only a third caste vessel."
P'Tuk regarded his pilot, contemptuous of his obvious fear. Calling it 'caution' did not alter the fact that P'Murn was at heart, a coward. But that was the way of his class of Spurnge. They were always far more concerned with the well-being of the ship ... and by proxy, themselves ... than they were about the beings who actually accomplished things, who decided when and where the vessel must go to acquire the greatest v'har that could be bestowed. Knowing one's place was one thing ... being afraid to reach beyond for greater things, was another. V'har went to those who could seize it. P'Karna had said that quite often as well. It was a pity that Spurnge only accepted the word of the great Book when it fit their particular universe viewpoint. The far-seeing ones were frequently held back by the v'har impaired ... but P'Tuk would not allow himself to be held back.
Pilots were mere vassals to those that commanded, he decided, and he needed to remember to treat them accordingly.
"Continue our course," he demanded. "I go to see our trophies. I wish them to know that their last hope of retrieval has just been destroyed. They react so ... entertainingly."
He turned on his heel and left the command center, glad to be out of the presence of such shortsightedness.
The call came over her comm badge and Janeway raised her free hand, touching the golden metal on her uniform tunic. With her other, she flung the stick again for the rapidly tiring Jake who ran gamely after it.
"Janeway here."
"Captain, telemetry has stopped coming in from our probe," Chakotay informed her. "I suspect it was finally discovered but not before it was practically on board the Spurnge vessel. We picked up quite a lot of information from it that the various departments are going over now. The reports will be on your desk by 0600 tomorrow morning."
"Excellent. Time to intercept?"
"Projections have us in sensor range by 1100 tomorrow."
"Understood," she said and cut the channel. She reached down and resumed her hold on Seven's hand that was resting on the captain's lap. "So we wait," she added quietly.
Seven raised her head, the blonde features visible out of the corner of Janeway's eye, a glint coming from the young woman's cranial implant.
"I know this is difficult for you," the Borg said softly.
Janeway took another deep breath of rich air, delighting in the many fragrances even as she acknowledged Seven's point.
"They'll know we're coming after them, Seven. Tom and Neelix will have faith in that."
"Every crewmember has faith in that. Has faith in you."
Janeway inclined her head. "If my previous experience with the Spurnge is any indication, they'll need all the strength they can get." She resisted the urge to sigh, forcing the thoughts of her missing crewmembers from her mind. There was nothing she could do at the moment and obsessing over it would not help either her or the two men.
The light of the park dimmed suddenly and startled, Janeway looked up. She knew that there was a twelve-hour cycle on the illumination system, but she had never actually experienced the changeover. It was discomforting, going from bright sunshine to darkness in a matter of a minute. Elegant lampposts, designed from the Victorian era of England, glowed yellow in the dark, casting soft shadows among the bushes and trees, and the bulkheads seemed to disappear, granting a odd sort of spell to the park, making it seem much larger and a great deal spookier. The only thing that was missing was a mist rising from the lawn. The image made the captain smile.
"I wonder if that can be altered," she said quietly. "I rather like twilight."
"You mean a period of gradually dimming light rather than an abrupt shift?" Seven appeared thoughtful. "It could be instituted but we would have to research the impact on the plants. It was determined that twelve hours of light and twelve hours of darkness was the optimum cycle to be the most efficient."
"It's still my favorite part of the evening." Janeway stood up and used her grip on Seven's hand to assist the Borg to her feet, though certainly the younger woman hardly needed it.
"I shall look into it," Seven promised her spouse.
"Come, Jake," Janeway said as the two women left the park. Jake, who had finally just dropped the stick on the ground and curled up beneath the bench, lifted his head alertly, and followed quietly at their heels, tongue lolling happily. Obviously, his day had been absolutely perfect. The captain smiled and she squeezed her partner's hand.
"This is nice. We should walk together more often with Jake."
"I was under the impression that walking Jake was time you took for yourself."
"Oh, it is," Janeway admitted, "but I like walking with you, too. We can alternate." She paused until they had stepped onto the turbolift. "Deck three. Annika, do you ever take time to yourself?"
Seven considered it. "Being deliberately alone is still a difficult concept for me. Occasionally, I find myself going into my Borg alcoves to work on various projects. I believe the database is more extensive, but it is also due to the fact that in there, I am not interrupted by anyone."
Janeway nodded. "I didn't know that." She smiled slyly as a sudden thought struck her. "Would you mind me interrupting you there, one day?"
Seven hesitated before realizing what the captain was getting at. "It is a part of the vessel in which we have yet to make love, but it would be fairly uncomfortable. I know how little you appreciate 'rolling around on the deck'."
"We could improvise with the cubicles," Janeway said with assurance and was gratified when a faint blush colored her partner's cheek. Obviously, the mental images created were pleasant ones, and deeply personal. "I'll think about how."
Seven quirked an eyebrow. "So shall I, every time I am in there from now on."
Janeway laughed as they approached the door to their quarters. Then she paused as she remembered an earlier plan she had devised and she stepped back, intent on finding out if it were possible or not.
"Kathryn?"
"Darling, you know where our closet is. Where would be on the other side of that bulkhead?"
Seven considered it as she strolled down the hall to the door where the VIP quarters were. Chakotay's quarters were opposite it and Janeway was glad that the Borg was not accessing his door. It would have completely stymied her plan. The captain followed the Borg into the suite and looked around, wondering how much longer they could afford to keep this space open. It was necessary for diplomatic purposes but this was the last empty area they had on Voyager. With the new additions to the crew, Janeway wasn't sure how much longer she could justify not adapting these to crew quarters.
But not before I expand our closet.
Seven was in the small bedroom that was attached to the outer living quarters.
"Here," she said, pointing at the far wall. "Our closet is on the other side."
A smile spread over the captain's features. "Just as I hoped." She looked around. "What would you think about adding this space to our own?"
Seven glanced around. "We would assimilate this bedroom?"
"If you want to put it that way, yes, we would assimilate it for our own purposes. We could move the bed out into the outer living area. That would still make these fairly spacious guest quarters, but this space would be sealed off and accessed from our ensuite."
Seven regarded her, her face suddenly bright.
"A child's bedroom?"
That hit Janeway like a blow to the stomach. "Actually," she said, not enjoying this nearly as much now. "I was considering a walk-in closet."
"Ah," Seven said, her face dimming as she looked away, a shadow crossing her eyes. "That would be acceptable."
Janeway stepped closer. "I'm sorry, Annika."
"No," Seven responded. "It is my fault. I made an erroneous assumption." She turned to the captain and smiled though it seemed the slightest bit forced. The Borg was not really adept at hiding her feelings. "I believe a walk-in closet would be a good addition since I have expanded my wardrobe."
Janeway wanted with all her heart to be able to say something that would make this better for her spouse, but she knew she couldn't. There wasn't anything that would unless it was a statement that Janeway was not, in any way, capable of making, nor would be, for as long as Voyager remained in the Delta Quadrant. That was the reality of her being captain. So instead, she wrapped her partner up in her arms and hugged her fiercely.
"I love you, Annika," she whispered. "I wish things could be different."
"I do, as well, Kathryn," Seven said, holding her tightly. Janeway heard her swallow and then felt the brush of her lips along her hairline. "I love you, my Kathryn ... my darling, beloved, wonderful, precious Kathryn."
Despite herself, the captain smiled. "Nice adjectives."
"Thank you," Seven said, seeming pleased. "I am trying."
Janeway drew back so that she could study the narrow features of her partner, gazing into the pale blue eyes intently, searching them somberly. "I wish I could express how much you mean to me," she elaborated huskily. "Sometimes, I wonder where I would be now without you, what sort of person I would have become if you hadn't loved me. I think I would have grown progressively colder, more obsessed with duty, more ruthless about how I went about carrying it out ... I think I would have lost a good part of my Humanity, darling. I would have lost the best part of me, and had only this shell of command left. Who knows what kind of a captain I would have been in that event ... without the compassion and kindness and caring that you bring to my life?"
Seven reached up, tangling her fingers in Janeway's hair, pulling her head closer to her, resting her lips against the smaller woman's forehead.
"You would have always cared," the Borg told her seriously. "Sometimes you care so much you get lost in it, but that caring desperately for others and your beliefs is very much who you are. I love who you are ... with all that I am."
Janeway felt tears stinging her eyes. "I am so blessed," she whispered, bending her head. Feeling an acute pang of pity for all those Janeways in all those universes who did not have what she did, who did not know the love of this amazing woman who was holding her.
Seven nuzzled her. "I will never tell anyone how 'mushy' you are."
Startled out of her tears, delighted with yet another unexpected display of Humanity from a woman many considered inhuman, Janeway laughed.
"'Mushy'?" she objected. "What kind of a word is that?"
Seven's eyes glowed, a smile curving her full lips. "It is the kind of word that describes you perfectly," she said teasingly. "You are 'soft and mushy' inside, though only I am aware of it."
Janeway prodded her in the ribs with her thumb. "As long as we keep it just between us."
"I promise," Seven said and Janeway knew the moment of darkness had passed, chased away by the light in her partner's eyes, and the emotion in their hearts. The Borg glanced around once more. "We should contact maintenance as soon as possible before someone else annexes this room."
"Next to the captain's quarters?" Janeway said, glad to move on to more cheerful things. "There are not many in the crew that brave, my love. I think even Chakotay would move off this deck if he could."
"Then we could have his quarters as well," Seven noted in a sudden burst of acquisition fever. "We could have the entire deck."
"Let's not get greedy." Janeway smiled as she released her partner and led the way out of the bedroom. "Even I haven't been that avaricious."
"But you have thought about it."
Janeway hesitated. "I don't think I should answer that," she said primly as they found their way to their own quarters.
There, they discovered that they had left Jake behind in their sudden desire to explore their expansion plans, the Irish Setter waiting patiently in the corridor, sitting in front of their door. Janeway patted him, praising him profusely for staying put.
God, she thought to herself. We couldn't have kids. We can't even keep track of a dog.
Inside, Seven slipped behind the counter of her kitchenette.
"What would you like for dinner?"
"You," Janeway said, following her into the workspace and slipping her arms around the Borg's waist.
Seven smiled. "You may have me for dessert," she offered, glancing back over her shoulder indulgently.
Janeway released her. "Well, since you put it that way, I'd like pasta tonight."
"Sauce?"
"Tomato," Janeway said, moving out of her partner's way and around the counter where she perched on a stool that was set there for just that purpose. "With cheese and mushrooms and meatballs and lots of garlic bread."
"Perhaps you may not want me for dessert," Seven said dryly. "After all that."
Unabashed, Janeway grinned and accepted the glass of red wine the Borg poured for her, sipping it as she watched her partner assemble the ingredients for her spaghetti. She felt a peace settle over her, despite the situation with the Spurnge and realized that finally, things were getting back to normal ... or as normal as it got on a starship alone in the middle of nowhere.
"Are you still writing letters to mother?" she asked, the sight of food preparation reminding her, as always, of Gretchen Janeway.
"Yes," Seven replied as she sliced the peppers. "Even though Naomi's project is complete, I continue to do so. I find it ... comforting."
Janeway nodded. "So do I. They're piling up in a file in my ready room workstation."
Seven raised an eyebrow. "You do not write them here."
"I find that last hour just before logging off duty is the best time. It helps me organize the day in my head." She paused. "I suspect my mother would either find them to be completely incoherent or far more than she ever wanted to know about me."
"I suspect she will adore reading them," Seven countered gently. She began to prepare the garlic bread as the sauce simmered in the heating unit, then abruptly looked up to meet Janeway's eyes. The captain quirked a brow, wondering if she would like what was coming next and trying to decide when it was that she had developed this trick of reading Seven so well. "Kathryn, have you considered what will happen if we must ... turn back without Tom and Neelix?"
Janeway took a swallow of her wine.
"No," the captain said evenly.
"Not until I have to."
Behind her, she heard the rest of the alpha shift relieve their gamma shift counterparts, taking over their respective stations, Harry Kim at ops, Tuvok at tactical, Chakotay at conn. To port, Ensign Samantha Wildman covered the science station while Susan Nicoletti manned the engineering console. Ro spared a moment of thought for B'Elanna, wondering what the chief engineer was doing. In a way, this period of time where the two women were unable to hook up for an evening might be good for them, serving to heighten their desire and anticipation for an intimate commitment as well as teach them appreciation for each other when they were finally together.
Ro just didn't know how long it would be before one or both of them went insane.
There was another hiss as the ready room door off to the side opened, surprising Ro who realized the captain had come on duty early. The Bajoran noted the sudden rise in awareness among the bridge crew, knowing that was why no one ever had to perform the 'captain on the bridge' announcement. Janeway tended to make her presence felt quite naturally, without making a sound. Picard had been like that, Ro remembered. Even when one didn't actually know he was there ... one understood that he was instinctively. It was a feeling that could not be described and a quality that could not be taught and ironically, not every captain had it so it wasn't a command requirement. It just defined who was merely a captain ... and who was a great captain.
She straightened under the band of red predominant on her uniform tunic, sensing Janeway's proximity.
"Time to intercept?" the wonderfully husky voice asked from just behind Ro's left shoulder.
"Projections have it at three hours, twenty-two minutes," Ro said promptly and professionally.
"At ease, Lieutenant," Janeway advised in a lower tone that only the Bajoran could hear. "There'll be plenty of time to be tense in three hours." Her hand came down on Ro's shoulder, warm through the material of the tunic as she patted it gently.
"Aye, sir." She kicked herself mentally as she remembered that Janeway preferred to be called 'captain'. She wished she were back in security, swapping lies with the rest of the beta squad as they did inventory in the armory.
But there was only a bit of a husky chuckle and the presence moved away. Ro exhaled slowly and focused her attention on the helm, determined to do a good job. Soon enough, she would have to accompany Janeway to wherever the Spurnge decided was acceptable territory to parlay in ... assuming they went for the offer in the first place. Ro was not looking forward to it. Janeway managed to complicate the simplest things ... such as going out for an innocent drink in a bar and getting in the middle of a brawl.
Ro still had the bruises from that one.
She could hear Chakotay and Janeway talking in low tones behind her and she tried not to eavesdrop but she found her security training wouldn't let her ignore it entirely. It was important that she knew what was going on, even if it didn't always involve her directly. She particularly wanted to know if it did involve her directly.
"I hear you're spreading out," Chakotay muttered.
"My, news travels fast," Janeway noted dryly. "I only contacted maintenance last night."
"The work order came through this morning in the daily logs. So you're grabbing an extra bedroom? Are you and Seven thinking about adding ...?"
"No," Janeway interrupted shortly, and there seemed to be a note in her tone warning Chakotay off. It certainly would have warned Ro off. "It's for a walk-in closet. Seven's been expanding her wardrobe and we're finding things a little cramped for two people and a dog in the captain's quarters."
There was a low chuckle, from Chakotay this time. "Have I ever pointed out how positively domestic Seven's making you?"
"All the time. You know, it would do you a world of good to try domestication yourself sometime ... provided you could actually find a woman who doesn't want to kill you after being in your presence for longer than six months."
A pause, then a rueful laugh. "That was a reference to Seska, wasn't it?"
"And Lt. James and B'Elanna ... tell me Chakotay, have you ever broken it off with a woman where your life was not threatened?"
"Ouch," Chakotay said.
Apparently, Ro decided, the first officer was not as good at being on the receiving end as he was at needling the captain. She wished she could glance back and see the look on his face. That had been a very good one and it seemed that finally, Janeway was starting to get back a little of her own from the burly man.
"Captain," came Harry Kim's voice suddenly from his position at ops. "Long range sensors are detecting a vessel."
"It's signal is consistent with the Spurnge vessel which was docked at the Balleyport Station," Tuvok added. "Apparently their engines were less powerful than we anticipated."
"I'm not complaining," Janeway said, standing up and moving to the front of the command level, just behind Ro. "On screen and magnify. Are we within hailing distance?"
"Not yet," Harry responded.
Janeway nodded. "Shields up, all hands to battle stations. Second Team, assemble in transporter room one"
Immediately, the bridge lights dimmed to a sickly red glare as the tension level in the atmosphere shot up like an arrow from a tightly strung bow.
"Weapons at full capacity," Tuvok noted calmly.
"Stand by," Janeway said, her eyes glued to the viewscreen. "Harry?"
"Hailing the Spurnge vessel. Adapting input to allow for phase variance."
Ro glanced up at the screen as it flickered and gave the Voyager crew their first clear look at the aliens. Their looks did not improve with matching the variance element. The Spurnge were covered with short, charcoal colored fur that blanketed a narrow face set with glowing golden eyes. Thin-lipped, wide spread mouths revealed the glint of sharply pointed teeth. Impossibly slender, the alien was dressed in a uniform of sorts, colored a deep red, the exact color of the blood of a great many Humanoid species, including Bajorans. Ro thought she heard a sip of air taken in by the captain, the first hint of unease the officer had ever seen in Janeway.
There was no such subtlety with the alien. He was obviously shocked and surprised.
"You have more than one pilot?"
The voice was a thin screech that even the translator could not filter completely, rasping unpleasantly along spines and nerves like a file.
"We're adaptable," Janeway said. "Any one of my crew could pilot in a pinch."
A bit of an exaggeration on the Federation captain's part but obviously the alien who was clearly taken aback by such a statement would not know that.
"You are Commander?" Janeway asked then, pressing the point.
"I am."
"I am also Commander. You have accepted v'har that belongs to me. I wish it back."
"I will not give it," he stated, and seemed to regain a little aplomb, grinning viciously.
"I demand v'harsen."
Again he was taken aback and strived to hide it. Ro was amazed how easily she was able to read these creatures, especially once she could see them clearly. She reminded herself that she would not have that advantage when she was actually in their presence. Her reflexes would be pressed to the limit if there turned out to be a problem and she needed to go against them one on one. She was glad she had added some extra supplies in her uniform before going on duty.
"Why?" he hissed. "You have said you have other pilots. You will not miss this one."
"I have my reasons. V'harsen is demanded. Respond."
"Where?" he asked finally.
"Captain, there is a class M planet two parsec from here," Tuvok noted quietly.
Janeway picked it up smoothly. "There is a neutral planet a mere two parsec from here. I will go there now. You will follow ... assuming you have the v'har to meet me."
She made a gesture behind her back and Harry cut the signal, the viewscreen flickering to a view of the Spurnge ship that Voyager had approached steadily during the captain's challenge.
"Set a course to the planet," Janeway told Chakotay. "We'll launch the shuttle as soon as we've reached orbit. If the Spurnge vessel refuses to accept the challenge, don't wait for us, go after them and initiate Operation Retrieval. Ro, you're with me."
Ro swallowed hard and gave up her post to the covering ensign, following the captain off the bridge though she actually felt much more comfortable now that they were going into action. Being on the bridge waiting for things to happen was hard on her nerves. Now, Ro felt herself slide easily into a state of heightened awareness, every sense alert and ready for what might occur. It was a sensation she was intimately familiar with after all her time in the Maquis and it was a state of mind, that if pressed, she would have to admit that she found a bit intoxicating.
They left the turbolift on deck ten, heading for the shuttle bay as Chakotay informed them that the Spurnge vessel was indeed following Voyager to the specified system. In the hangar, a shuttle was prepped and waiting for them and Ro launched immediately once the two women had strapped in. Janeway sat alertly in the co-pilot's chair, waiting patiently as they headed for the planet. They could have beamed down of course, but Voyager wanted to keep the technology of their transporter secret for as long as possible.
"If we have to beam back, they might decide a shuttle full of Federation technology is a fair exchange," Ro offered after a period of silence.
"That's why I want you to initiate a self-destruct when we disembark. Set it for a two hour countdown. Things will be settled one way or another by then. And if we do have to let it explode ... well, a shuttle is a reasonable payment for getting Tom and Neelix back."
"Aye, Captain," Ro said, impressed with the bold practicality of the woman that displayed itself at the most unexpected times.
"You're more comfortable here," Janeway noted quietly as the shuttle approached the green and brown bulk of the planet. "As opposed to the bridge."
Ro considered several answers to that before finally deciding on a simple, "Yes."
"Laren," Janeway said slowly, as the shuttle entered the planet's outer atmosphere and began its descent, "I think you have the potential of being a very accomplished Starfleet officer and I honestly thought we had settled things while we were in ... on Balleyport Station. But if you're truly against becoming a bridge officer, I won't push it. I need people who believe in their roles, not those who have been forced into them. I have enough of those now."
Ro concentrated hard on her board as the tiny vessel shuddered, careful to keep it on a level landing descent.
"Captain," she said finally. "I wasn't that great a Starfleet officer. I wanted to be, I tried to be, but in the end, it never seemed to work out. I sincerely doubt it will now ... but, if it does, Captain, you have to understand that I can't be satisfied with being your backup helmsman. It's not my nature to settle for second best even after all I've been through."
Janeway nodded slowly. "In truth, I expected that of you. You're the only one on Voyager who went from cleaning Jeffries tubes to a senior lieutenant in our time here in the Delta Quadrant. Tuvok covered your rise quite nicely, but I was still bound to notice sooner or later. Sometimes, I'm not sure if the revelation of your identity was as accidental as we like to think. Tuvok has a way of making things turn out the way he wants, when he wants."
Ro certainly could not argue with that since it was something she had suspected for years. She thought about it as she gently brought the shuttle down for a landing in a clearing next to the edge of a heavy forest. It was a large meadow, with more than enough room for several more ships of that size though it remained to be seen if the Spurnge would indeed, accept their challenge. The two women also had to be ready if any alien vessel came in with weapons firing so Ro kept the shuttle's shields up, the engines powered and the weapons on standby.
"So if you would not be content being my backup helmsman," Janeway asked idly, as they waited. "What role would you like to fill? I already have a security chief."
"You already have someone in every role."
Janeway glanced at her, eyebrow quirked. "How high are your ambitions?"
Ro was reminded again of how sharp the captain was. "When I graduated the Academy, I guess I saw myself one day wearing four pips on my collar, after spending time as a first officer, of course."
She dared to glance sideways to see how her joke went over. Janeway's eyes were distant, a small smile on her face. It was not the reaction Ro was expecting and she was slightly disgruntled.
"Captain?"
Janeway inhaled slowly. "Ro, you're not ready to take Chakotay's role," she said in all seriousness. "But if command is really what you want, then I am more than glad to help put you on that track so that by the time we return to the Alpha Quadrant, you will be."
Ro was speechless. She had been trying to show the captain how ridiculous it was to be putting her on the bridge and instead, Janeway had not only called her bluff, she had tripled the bet. She suddenly had a whole new respect for Chakotay who dared to tease this woman. He was a brave man indeed. Before the Bajoran could counter the captain's offer, there was a beep from the console and she had to turn her attention to that.
"Captain," she said urgently. "We have incoming."
The Borg was dressed in her self-designed away mission outfit; black trousers tucked into calf-high combat boots laced up the front, along with a black sweater beneath a padded, multi-purpose vest. Her blonde hair was tied back in its customary bun and she carried a compression rifle, hefting it easily. There was a slight quivering in her stomach as anticipation filtered through her and she tried not to think about Kathryn or how her part of the mission was going.
The captain is right, Seven decided silently. I must concentrate on my role. I must make sure I perform my duty properly. Two members of her Collective were counting on her and she was determined that she would assist in rescuing them while Janeway provided the distraction. She glanced around again and met B'Elanna's dark eyes. The Klingon narrowed them and inclined her head slightly.
"I've got your back, 'Nik," she promised softly.
"And I have yours," Seven responded, knowing what her friend was referring to, even though it was idiomatic.
"Bridge to Second Team. Go."
Tuvok was the first on the transporter pad and the rest followed hastily, taking up their positions.
"Energize," the Vulcan stated clearly.
Seven took a breath and touched the controls on her left wrist. The ship's transporter system had been tied into her internal Borg transporter node, allowing her to transport all four members of the team without having to be in physical contact with them. By utilizing the Borg signal as the primary pattern buffer, they were able to beam through the shields of both vessels easily.
The team materialized on board the Spurnge vessel, weapons raised, ready for anything. They had easily picked up the Human and Talaxian lifesigns over on Voyager, but the energy of the force shield surrounding the area where the two men were being held made it dicey for even Seven's Borg technology to beam directly there. Instead, they picked what they hoped would be an empty corridor not far from the holding cell. Their intent was to get to their crewmates, spring them from custody and beam back to the ship before anyone knew they were gone.
Unfortunately, the Spurnge did not seem to want to cooperate. The Federation members had barely finished materializing when a squad of aliens burst from a hatch at the far end of the corridor, weapons drawn.
"They have a most efficient security force," Tuvok noted, with what seemed approval.
Seven did not share his appreciation and she raised her rifle, aiming it at the first wave barreling toward her.
Tuvok targeted the lead attacker. "Fire at will."
Obediently, Voyager's away team fired the rifles that had been adapted to the .0003 variance. The charging Spurnge went down even as they attempted to return their fire, most of the golden blasts from the alien weapons splashing harmlessly on the deck or the ceiling. Two bolts hit their target. One slammed directly into Harry's chest, the Starfleet ops officer going down in a heap, while the other struck Seven glancingly on the left arm. Immediately the Borg lost control of her arm and she barely kept from dropping her rifle, hastily gripping it with her right hand. It was an interesting sensation, unpleasant really, as if there were a multitude of pins and needles being stabbed into her arm muscles at once. She couldn't feel her implant at all and knew that some damage had been done. She wondered if the fire of pinpricks was what Harry was feeling all over his entire body as the young man twitched uncontrollably on the deck. Unceremoniously, Tuvok and B'Elanna hauled the young man to his feet, supporting him between them.
"This way," Tuvok said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Quickly."
Seven followed, shaking her arm, trying to get the feeling back into it. The team stumbled down the corridor opposite where the Spurnge force had come from, finding themselves in a large room containing a line of cells. Two Spurnge standing outside of a cell seemed quite startled to see the new arrivals and they fumbled for their weapons. They were standing outside a force field that visibly sparkled along the opening of a holding cell, a bluish glow that undoubtedly delivered quite a jolt when brushed against, judging how the guards carefully avoided it.
B'Elanna didn't hesitate. One handed, she fired at them with one decisive motion, sweeping the muzzle around as two streaks of ruby light launched from her rifle so quickly that they didn't even have time to cry out. Then the Klingon went to the control panel, leaving Tuvok to bear the full weight of the still numb and partially paralyzed Harry Kim who's eyes were showing only white, saliva flowing freely from his mouth.
Neelix had rolled off the cot, staggering shakily over to the shield.
"You've come!"
"Was there any doubt?" B'Elanna replied smartly as she apparently grew frustrated at the controls that refused to yield to her manipulation. "Stand back."
Neelix hastily stumbled back beside the bunk containing Paris who had not stirred, imposing his body between the helmsman and the opening in an attempt to shield him. Seven hoped that the helmsman was merely unconscious, that his lack of motion was not indicative of anything else. B'Elanna flipped up her rifle and fired at the panel, a shower of sparks bursting from it as the force field came down with a screech.
"Everyone inside," Tuvok ordered. "With the shield down, we will be able to transport from here. Seven?"
Hastily, they gathered around the Borg and Seven slapped at the controls on her arm.
Nothing happened.
"B'Elanna?" Seven said urgently.
The Klingon bit off a curse. "The Spurnge shot must have shorted out the node." She slipped the rifle off her shoulder and handed it to Neelix who moved to the entrance. Tuvok had lowered Harry to the deck next to Tom and joined the Talaxian, the two men prepared to cover the women as they attempted to repair the transporter module.
"Damn, it's absolutely fused," B'Elanna said after opening the compartment in Seven's biogenic manipulative implant, examining the blackened and now useless 29th century node with angry disappointment. "Time for plan B."
Seven quirked an eyebrow. "What is plan B?"
"Voyager must beam us out," Tuvok noted with an edge to his tone. "However, that may take some doing since both vessels have their shields up." He shot a look at B'Elanna. "Are you sure it cannot be repaired, Lt. Torres?"
The chief engineer blinked uncertainly. "It's not like I would give up easily, Tuvok."
"A simple yes or no would suffice," he said coldly. B'Elanna and Seven exchanged a glance, neither knowing what was going on. The security chief touched his chest, accessing his comm badge. "Second Team to Voyager. We have Neelix and Mr. Paris but we have run into difficulties. Voyager must beam us out."
"Stand by," Chakotay's voice responded tersely.
Tuvok looked at the rest of the team. "The Spurnge are no doubt, gathering reinforcements. We must prepare to defend ourselves."
B'Elanna retrieved Harry's rifle and stepped out of the holding area. "I think Seven and I should take up a position in the cell opposite. It gives a clearer sight line to the entrance."
Tuvok started to speak, hesitated and seemed to collect himself. "A ... logical decision. Proceed."
Seven filed Tuvok's behavior away as something to discuss with Kathryn later. It seemed very strange to her. She joined B'Elanna and knelt down next to her, rifle ready. Fortunately, there was only one entrance to this holding area and the only occupied cell had been Tom and Neelix's. Tuvok took a moment to drag the two stunned guards into the cell at the farthest end, activating the force shield after a few moments examination of the controls. Apparently it was a great deal easier to turn it on than it was to turn off. Or Tuvok was merely better than the Klingon at deciphering security devices.
"I hear the approach of many beings," Seven noted calmly, her enhanced Borg senses easily picking up the sound of pounding footsteps.
The Federation crew readied themselves and when the group of Spurnge appeared, they fired, stunning the first wave attempting to enter the holding area. The pile of bodies helped clog up the entrance and though the others attempted to use them for cover ... a clear indication of their lack of reverence for their own people's lives ... they still were not able to pick off the Federation crew who were taking cover in the cells. For the moment, it was a stalemate, the Spurnge unable to enter, the Voyager crewmembers hoping that Chakotay would figure out a way to transport them off before the power ran out on their phasers.
There was a jolt and Seven fell in a heap, B'Elanna landing on top of her.
"What the hell--" the Klingon muttered as the two women untangled themselves.
"Prepare for transport," Chakotay's voice said urgently. "We've managed to temporarily put their weapon system off line and have dropped our shields."
Now, having moved across the corridor proved to be tactically unsound. Seven and B'Elanna had to rejoin the others but that meant putting themselves in the line of fire.
"Damn," B'Elanna muttered. "Well, nothing to do about it but what we have to. I'll go first. You cover me."
"We go together." B'Elanna shot her a look, and nodded.
"On three." B'Elanna took a breath. "One, two, THREE!"
They darted across the corridor as golden bolts streaked the air around them. One hit B'Elanna in the calf and she stumbled, falling to the floor. Without hesitation, Seven threw her rifle in the general direction of Tuvok, hoping he would catch it and scooped up B'Elanna with her right arm, dragging her along. Neelix tried to help them by firing steadily at the aliens and Seven lunged into the cell with her burden, a deep sense of relief filling her.
"Voyager," Tuvok said, slapping his comm badge. "Six to beam up."
Seven gasped for breath ... B'Elanna was no lightweight, her solid, Klingon musculature making her a great deal heavier than she appeared ... and felt the familiar sensation of Voyager's transporters grabbing her and beaming her back to her ship. The familiar confines of the transporter room materialized around her and she stumbled off the platform. The Doctor and Sek were there and they immediately went to Tom and Harry who were lying motionless where they had appeared.
Seven handed her rifle to a security guard who was there and followed Tuvok who was clearly on his way to the bridge. B'Elanna flatly refused all offers of medical assistance and limped gamely toward her engine room, followed by Neelix. As Seven stepped onto the turbolift, she wondered what Kathryn was doing, how the completion of the rescue mission would affect the captain's plan on the planet's surface. There was another jolt and she realized that the Spurnge vessel must have gotten their weapons back online.
"The captain will not be pleased that we had to resort to a direct attack," Tuvok noted.
"We have rescued our crewmates." Seven glanced at him. "She will be pleased by that."
The duo stepped out onto the bridge, awash with the crimson lights of a full red alert. Seven relieved the ensign at operations, much to his relief. The backup bridge crew was capable, but no one could deny that the members of alpha shift were chosen because they were the best and that was what was needed when they were in a situation like this.
But alpha shift was severely decimated at the moment. Tom and Harry were in sickbay and Ro was on the surface with the captain which left Ensign White at the helm. Fortunately, Tuvok was now at tactical and his talents were needed as the Spurnge vessel maneuvered to attack.
Chakotay sat in the command chair, a frown etching his strong, handsome features, furrowing his brow and distorting the tribal tattoo arching over his left eye. "Implement attack pattern beta."
Perspiration staining her hairline, White struggled to carry out his order, the gamma shift officer doing her very best and hopefully elevating her abilities.
Seven wondered if the young blonde woman was over the loss of her child or if that was a sort of loss that could ever be left in the past. Still, she was performing adequately and Seven turned her attention to her operations board. Her arm still was somewhat numb from the blast it took and she fumbled a bit at the controls, requiring her right hand to compensate.
Be careful, Kathryn, she thought, sending out a silent message to her partner. We have what we have pursued the Spurnge for. Now you must return home safely.
The meadow itself, was lush, golden, the leaves of the nearby forest multicolored reds and greens. It was cool, the onset of autumn in this northern area of the planet and for a second, Ro imagined herself back on Bajor, the scent of fall thick in her nostrils. The vegetation looked like stalks that had not been harvested, allowed instead to lie fallow for the next year.
"Captain?" She took up a position at the captain's left shoulder.
"At ease, Lieutenant," Janeway noted quietly. "Our guests have yet to appear."
"They can just shoot us down where we stand, can't they?"
"Yes," Janeway agreed with remarkable calm. "But there is little v'har in slaughtering unarmed beings."
"Do you know that for sure? Or are you just guessing?"
Janeway's lips quirked. "Do you really want me to answer that, Lieutenant?"
Ro considered it.
"No, Captain, I don't believe I do."
The dark vessel sat there for what seemed like forever before a hatch opened up on the side, a ramp descending and two slender streaks of black undulated toward the Federation members. Even moving in what must have been intended as a dignified and stately manner, Ro was impressed with their speed, how they seemed to flow across the ground effortlessly. Uneasily, she touched the phaser attached to her hip.
"Easy," Janeway murmured, not looking at her. Then she lifted her head and in a louder voice which carried in the crisp air; "Greetings, Commander of Bles'Kil. I am Janeway."
There was a pause as the two aliens stopped about three meters from the women.
"I am P'Tuk."
It was the smaller one that spoke, the other obviously being some sort of bodyguard, built more solidly than the first.
"I have granted you permission to speak with me," P'Tuk continued in a sibilant hiss.
"I have summoned you here to listen," Janeway countered evenly. "Even now, our vessels circle uneasily, but we both know what the outcome would be should we engage."
"You would lose your pilot."
"I have pilots," Janeway said carelessly. She inclined her head at Ro. "This is one."
Suddenly, Ro was aware of some intense scrutiny from the two aliens.
"And you bring this pilot to trade for the other?" P'Tuk offered with great interest.
Janeway quirked an eyebrow.
"No, I bring h--this pilot who is also my protectorate to show that my crew fulfill many roles and that it is not their status which makes them valuable to me. There are other reasons ... reasons of t'borna."
The Spurnge's head went back. "T'borna? They are family?"
"We are all family," Janeway replied firmly.
The two Spurnge looked at each other, clearly uneasy at this disclosure. It served to remind them that they were dealing with aliens, which obviously, the Federation captain wished to emphasize. Ro stood straighter and tried to look imposing.
"So you can see that if we engage in hostilities, I would lose both t'borna ... and the v'har of protecting them. That is not something you would want to incite."
"Yet, this will be only your loss, not mine," he returned with a triumphant smile, obviously not getting the point.
"Your loss would be greater," Janeway finished as if he had not spoken and indeed, it appeared that he wished he hadn't suddenly though it was hard to tell with the features so blurred. "You would lose your ship, your crew and your life. Your triad would lose a part of itself, leaving it incomplete and weakened. It would be as if the Bles'Kil never existed."
It was a phenomenal threat apparently, judging from their reaction, a disturbed sort of twitching, though Ro discovered that she had to keep shifting her eyes because when she looked directly at the Spurnge, her eyes started to ache as they sought to bring them into focus. Janeway's gaze, however, never wavered from the alien commander and once again, the Bajoran found cause to be impressed with the compact little captain.
"Yet," he said, struggling to recover some measure of advantage. "To hand them over for nothing would lose much v'har as well ... one might say too much. My life would be meaningless in any event."
Janeway nodded, considering this point carefully.
"It would grant me no v'har to destroy you. It grants you no v'har to give them back."
She paused.
"So I am left with only the choice of retrieving them on my own. I must take them from you without destroying the Bles'Kil."
"Impossible," the other Spurnge blurted, speaking for the first time.
Ro knew that was her cue. If Janeway responded to that, it would indicate an acknowledgment of a lesser being that the Federation captain simply could not afford to show.
"Not impossible," the Bajoran spoke clearly. "Merely ... difficult."
Both Janeway and P'Tuk ignored their seconds, maintaining their attention on each other as if no one else had spoken.
"You dare much, Commander of Voyager," P'Tuk said and was there the slightest bit of grudging respect in his tone? Or was it simply disbelief in the Federation captain's claim. "But it is a dare without substance."
Janeway tilted her head. "Consider carefully, P'Tuk. If I take them from you, I will have everything and you will be left with nothing. Is there anything that I could offer so that we both end up with v'har?"
"No," he said coldly, and it seemed his eyes glittered. "You are weak, Commander of Voyager. I see that now. Your attack on the K'Narani must have been an accidental success."
Janeway allowed a little anger to show, through though Ro suspected it was generated purely for effect.
"Not accidental. Designed and carried out when attacked without provocation. That is your error, P'Tuk. You think that we are weak because we do not fight for v'har. But in truth, we fight for t'borna. It makes us much more dangerous."
He stared at her. "You mew like a rurt," he said, contempt edging his tone and Ro began to worry slightly.
Janeway shook her head sorrowfully. "You must be young, P'Tuk. You think others are motivated always by what motivates you. It is a failing of the self-absorbed. I trust that you will one day grow into your triad."
The insult was clear and keenly felt and Ro realized that the captain must have summarized the other commander exactly, because he bristled in outrage even as his second looked as if he were in agreement.
"You shall not take back your pilot," P'Tuk snarled.
There was a sudden chirp on the captain's badge, a hail from her vessel.
"Captain," Chakotay said shortly. "Success."
"It is done," the captain said. "I wish you a good hunting, P'Tuk."
Janeway smiled briefly, showing as much teeth as possible, and Ro tensed. She understood that her captain had given P'Tuk fair warning about what she intended, thus, maintaining her own v'har. The other Spurnge, the commander's protectorate, was witness to it and the Bajoran realized that this was what Janeway had planned all along. Yet that did not alter the fact that suddenly, the two women were in more danger than ever. It seemed to Ro that a Spurnge would do just about anything to recover some measure of v'har from this and what better way than to kill the commander of the enemy vessel?
Janeway turned around, deliberately showing her back to the Spurnge commander as she walked back to her shuttle. Belatedly, Ro followed, though she kept facing the Spurnge who seemed quite confused, goggling after her in disbelief ... until a signal came over their communicators. From their body language, it was clear that whatever the message was, it was not good news, and abruptly, they were moving purposely toward her, drawing out what had to be weapons.
"Captain," Ro said urgently. "Run."
Janeway bolted immediately, not asking any questions and Ro drew her phaser. She fired it at the Spurnge who were shooting at the fleeing Federation captain and Ro turned, dashing after Janeway, trying to impose her body between her and the incoming fire. She must have succeeded because the next thing she knew, her body suddenly exploded with pain as she tripped and fell, plowing headlong into the grass and dirt.
"Ro," Janeway cried.
Agonizingly, using every bit of will and effort she still possessed, Ro managed to lift her head to see the captain reach the shelter of the shuttle. Janeway did not look back, disappearing into the interior and sealing the hatch behind her ... leaving Ro for the two Spurnge who were approaching rapidly, intent on capturing this unexpected treasure. Ro felt sick dismay fill her. Was Janeway trading her for Tom Paris? Was that her intention all along?
There was a sudden displacement, the sparkles of the transporter scooping her up and the interior of the shuttle appeared around the Bajoran. Ro felt shame at her own doubts, realizing that Janeway had thought quickly. Rather than dashing back in some grandiose display of heroism in an attempt to retrieve Ro as another might have done, resulting in getting them both captured or killed, Janeway instead used the Federation's superior technology to accomplish the rescue. Ro wondered what the Spurnge had thought when their anticipated prize abruptly disappeared before their eyes.
"That did not quite go as I wanted," Janeway noted from the pilot's chair as she quickly dashed through the pre-launch check, powering up the engines. "I thought they would accept the transfer of v'har and let us walk away."
Ro groaned, lying helpless on the deck as every nerve in her body alternated between numbness and an unpleasant pin-and-needle like