• This is the 29th installment of the Just Between series.
• It was posted on Novemeber 19th, 1999.
• The title is provided by Wendy.
• There is a Wonder Wand Warning up for this installment.
• Many thanks go to my beta readers who get hit with these stories way ahead of everyone else and have to button their lips on mailing lists and in message boards when future JB plots are speculated on. Know that I couldn't write this without their very valuable input.

Seven of Nine, USS Voyager's astrometrics officer, returned to the captain's quarters after the traditional, post-class discussion in the messhall, her arms full of padds. It was late, almost midnight and the onset of the gamma shift. As she dropped the stack on her workstation, she became aware that, aside from the Irish Setter, Jake, there were no other lifeforms in the quarters. Frowning, she checked the bedroom and the ensuite, and then lifted her chin slightly.

"Computer, locate Captain Janeway."

"Captain Janeway is in her ready room."

Seven frowned, wondering why her spouse was working so late since the ship was traveling through a relatively quiet area of space. Then, the Borg realized that Kathryn had probably just chosen to spend time in her ready room while Seven had been in class. Though Janeway had always been very encouraging to the young woman in pursuing her studies of Starfleet, Seven thought that perhaps her spouse was finding it difficult to be by herself during those long hours in the evening when the Borg was gone. After all, Janeway was the sort that needed to fill every moment with activity and it was only at Seven's urging that she had learned to slow down a little. With Seven staying even longer in the messhall after class as she became a full participant in the discussions with her classmates, it was possible that Janeway was actually a bit lonely and was trying to channel it into work.

Seven wished she could speak to her friend, Lt. B'Elanna Torres, about it, but the chief engineer had not been available recently. The Klingon had originally attended the classes with Seven, but she had switched over to the beta shift and was now on duty when the classes were held. Seven missed her friend, but she appreciated why the engineer had switched shifts ... that B'Elanna wanted to spend more time with her new lover, Lt. Ro Laren, who also worked the beta shift.

Seven stripped off her biometric suit, showered, brushed out her hair and returned to the bedroom where the empty expanse of the bed waited. She found it unappealing and took a deep breath as a sudden thought struck her.

"Computer, is the captain still in her ready room?"

"Captain Janeway remains in her ready room."

"Is she alone?"

"There are no lifesigns other than Captain Janeway present in the ready room."

Seven considered it for a moment. Could she? Did she dare?

"Computer, seal the door to the ready room, Borg encryption code 75349," she said, reaching over to the night stand by the bed and opening the top drawer where she removed a plain, wooden box. The door command would not hold up to the captain's override of course, but it would keep anyone out of the ready room for the time being and hopefully, no one would question why it was suddenly sealed.

"Door to ready room is secure."

The ship of course, did not require explanations about why something was demanded of it. It would simply do whatever was asked unless it was a request that was directly countermanded by something else in its programming. Apparently, there was nothing that would keep it from sealing the ready room door at the request of the ship's astrometric officer. Seven pulled a brief, black robe on over her nude form and tucked the wooden box under her arm.

"Computer, site to site transport," Seven instructed. "Authorization, Seven, alpha nine. One to beam into the ready room. Place me directly behind the captain's chair."

She felt the mildly disconcerting sensation of dematerialization, and then the silver and teal decor of the captain's inner sanctum appeared around her. Janeway's back was to her, half risen out of her chair, her hands flat on the desk surface. Seven could not see her face, but by the set of the woman's shoulders, she was aware that she had surprised the captain, though whether that was a good thing, remained to be seen.

"I can't believe you did this," Janeway said in a low, dangerous voice, not turning her head.

Seven hesitated, judging which way this would go. Not long ago, the captain had related a fantasy to her spouse, which included the Borg suddenly showing up naked in the ready room, along with the couple's accessory, and involved a sexual encounter on the ready room desk. But fantasies turned into reality were not always appreciated and carefully, Seven reached out to run her fingertips down the back of Janeway's neck, just above the collar of her uniform, stroking lightly.

"Sit," she commanded quietly.

If the captain was prepared to accept this particular foray of Seven's, she would comply with the request. Otherwise, she would turn around to face the Borg and Seven was not completely sure how it would go in that event, but she suspected it wouldn't be pleasant. There was a pause, all the possibilities of how the next few moments would go, poised keenly on a knife's edge for what seemed like an eternity. Then exhaling audibly, Janeway sank back into her chair, her hands still resting limply on the desktop.

"Computer," Janeway said in a voice that was not entirely steady. "Seal the ready room, authorization, Janeway delta blue, three, three, red, seven."

Seven heaved a silent sigh of relief and relaxed marginally. She slipped off her robe and tossed it over the nearby console, before placing the box gently on top of it. Then she leaned over the chair and placed her hands on the captain's shoulders, massaging lightly.

"Seven, we can't---" Janeway began.

"Be silent," Seven said, her eidetic memory replaying the details of the captain's fantasy, determined to make the scenario work even if it was not exactly as Janeway had described. She did know that the captain had envisioned Seven as being very authoritative in her description, demanding rather than requesting.

The young woman heard Janeway swallow then, a convulsive sort of gulp, but the captain did not speak anymore. Seven discovered the emotions flashing through her were quite intriguing. There was something quite thrilling about being able to command the commander, to make demands of the captain and know that she would follow them. She wondered if Janeway was feeling the same way, that no longer being in charge of the situation was providing a sort of illicit pleasure for her?

Seven moved around the chair, finding that the high back made it difficult to access her partner easily. Janeway's smoky blue-grey eyes widened as she finally caught sight of the nude, six-foot form of her partner, but she still did not speak and Seven found that was also exciting in some strange way. She pushed Janeway back from the desk slightly, enough so that she could get between the captain and the furniture, slipping her long leg over her spouse's knees until she was half straddling her. She leaned back against the desk and looked imperiously down at her spouse, who was languidly looking Seven up and down with obvious interest. Deliberately, Seven spread her legs as her buttocks rested on the edge of the desk.

"Use your mouth," she demanded arrogantly. She had heard the same words used in a provocative manner recently while eavesdropping on something that she perhaps should not have been. She had been impressed with the power implied in them and wondered if they would affect Janeway the same way that they had affected her.

Startled, Janeway's eyes rose to meet hers, then, with a quirk of her eyebrow, the captain obligingly leaned forward. Seven jerked involuntarily as she felt the warm breath of her spouse wash over her, but Janeway did not touch her right away, proving that there was still a measure of control in her hands. Seven's grip tightened on the lip of the desk as she waited. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt Janeway's tongue dart out to delicately flick the little bundle of nerves situated at the top of her crease. The Borg closed her eyes, her head going back as she moaned softly, her weight shifting more to her buttocks and off her heels.

Janeway moved closer, hooking her arms under Seven's thighs and lifting them so that the young woman was better angled for the attention she was paying to her. However, this forced the young woman to fall back onto the desktop, barely catching herself on her elbows. Several small items were brushed aside, skidding off the desktop to fall to the carpeted deck with muffled thumps. Fortunately, it did not sound like there was any form of breakage, though Janeway's computer did give an offended chirp as the Borg's hip knocked it over without shutting it down or logging off.

The flat, smooth surface of the desk was hard and cold beneath the small of Seven's back, but the probing tongue of her spouse was so marvelously soft and hot against her intimate region that the Borg did not really notice any discomfort. The caress felt amazingly good, exciting in a way that it normally did not and Seven wondered if it was the location that was providing an additional stimulation. She felt the tip of the captain's tongue swirl firmly around the tender nub which was swollen and achingly sensitive, then arched as Janeway's mouth slipped lower, penetrating her as far as she could manage. Seven shuddered as Janeway then returned to her previous caress, capturing the tiny pearl between her lips and sucking on it gently. Breathing was quickly growing difficult for the Borg and tremors began to make themselves felt as she pressed herself up against the maddening sensations.

"Kathryn," she moaned. "Oh, Kathryn."

Janeway intensified her oral caress, becoming more localized, more deliberate and Seven felt herself reach a peak, spasming beneath the lips of her beloved. Janeway continued to pleasure the Borg, gradually becoming slower, gentler before finally withdrawing, kissing along the tender skin of Seven's inner thigh. Seven took a moment to slow her pounding heart after her partner had released her, and then sat up on the desk to regard Janeway who was looking entirely too smug as she leaned back against her chair, arms crossed, a crooked grin on her softly smeared lips.

Seven shifted her weight to her feet and reached out, grasping the front of Janeway's tunic, pulling her up into her arms. "You," she noted against the lips which still held the young woman's own flavor, "are incorrigible."

Janeway wrapped her arms around the naked Borg, and kissed her back, hard.

"And you my dear, are far too presumptuous to come in here like this," Janeway murmured as soon as they parted. "But I love it. And I love you." She kissed her again, more gently. "Go home. I'll see you in a few minutes."

"No," Seven objected immediately. "I came here with a purpose, and I have yet to carry it out."

"Seven," Janeway began, hesitated, then tried again, in a softer, more amused tone. "Darling, you didn't---"

"Yes," Seven interrupted, reaching past the captain to retrieve the box lying on her robe. "I did bring it."

Janeway stared at it, than at her, a muscle twitching briefly in her jaw. "Annika," she began warningly, "I don't think..."

"Be silent," Seven repeated, leaning forward to punctuate it with as intense a kiss as she could manage while placing the box on the nearby console.

Janeway melted into the Borg's arms and Seven thought that she had won this argument rather handily ... even as she suspected that some of the captain's protests were more for show than anything else. She began to unfasten the captain's tunic, peeling it off Janeway's shoulders and dropping it onto the desk behind her. Then, with a few, quick tugs, she freed Janeway's sweater from where it was tucked into the black trousers, running her hands underneath it and touching warm, soft flesh which made the captain gasp. Seven captured the sound in her throat as they kissed again, exploring her partner's warm mouth with passionate intent, her hands slipping up to cover the soft swells of the captain's breasts, feeling the nipples poking hard against her palms through the thin material of Janeway's undergarment. Carefully, the Borg squeezed the soft handfuls, chafing the little protrusions teasingly, feeling them grow even harder against her skin. Wanting suddenly to taste the firm little points, she pushed the restrictive garments up over Janeway's head and dropped them behind her next to the tunic. Then she fell upon the firm little breasts, covering the near nipple with her lips as she rolled the other between her forefinger and thumb.

"Oh, god, Annika," Janeway moaned, wrapping her arms warmly about the Borg's head, holding her close to her. "Do you know what you do to me?"

Seven was sure she did, and happily continued to do so, alternating back and forth between the velvet-soft nipples with her mouth before she finally trailed up the captain's chest, to her throat and finally to her lips.

"Lay down on the desk," she instructed, once she was able to free her mouth from the captain's hungry kisses.

Janeway hesitated a moment, breathing harshly, then uttered a startled gasp when her partner did not wait. Gently, but firmly Seven positioned Janeway face down on the desktop where, unlike the Borg, the captain's body was protected from the cold surface by the pile of clothing placed there earlier. Because of that, Seven decided that the noise her partner made next was purely from surprise rather than any complaint about the surface she was on. Certainly, the captain did not give voice to any further protests when Seven dropped her hands to the captain's waist, slipping beneath the elasticized band and pushing the uniform trousers down over her hips, leaving Janeway's buttocks hiked high and exposed in the cool air. Seven regarded this tableau for a long moment, intrigued by how appealing it looked, then placed her hands on the full cheeks, massaging each of the soft swells playfully.

The captain groaned loudly, though she was obviously trying to remain quiet, and was forced to bury her face in her arms to muffle any further noise. Seven blinked, realizing that her partner was truly caught up in the fantasy now, completely accepting what her partner was attempting to do. Carefully, the Borg dipped her fingers in the heat and moisture waiting for her ... so much moisture that it was actually spreading down the inside of Kathryn's thighs ... and the captain quivered at her touch. Seven fondled the region thoroughly, impressed by how hard the little nub was beneath her fingertips, Janeway jerking spastically every time she brushed over it. Then Seven's fingers slipped inside the captain with amazing ease and there was another subdued cry from Janeway, a sound of demand and impatience.

The captain swallowed and tried to speak.

"Yes, Kathryn?" Seven inquired, bending over her to hear the hoarse whisper.

"Now," the captain urged. "Please, do it now, Annika. I don't want to wait any longer."

Seven kissed the captain's ear. "Yes, my Kathryn," she promised and Janeway shuddered once more, this time with anticipation. Seven quickly opened the box next to her and withdrew the artificial penile device, using the small remote to adjust the wand's settings so that it resembled the shape, size and coloration approximating the genitalia of the average Terran male. Then she attached it to herself firmly before moving to a position directly behind Janeway.

She wrapped her fingers around the wand in order to guide it to the right place and slowly ran the fat, mushroom head up and down the swollen crease, lubricating it liberally with the copious moisture even as the action further stimulated the captain. Seven never felt in a hurry to do this, always wanting to prolong the actual penetration for as long as possible. The device, when activated, was not merely an inanimate extension of the Borg; it had sensors which returned signals back to where it was attached to Seven's body, making it seem as if the young woman's natural little erection was actually extended to a length of approximately 15 centimeters. The sensation of entering Kathryn was a unique and provocative experience for Seven, the sensation of the warm, wet walls drawing her in served to excite her in a way she did not entirely understand, but always appreciated. She lingered over the process, stroking the captain's intimate flesh with the head lingeringly, making Janeway cry out more than once in her desire and need. Occasionally, Seven wondered if Human males performed in this manner or if they had an entirely different approach to the process.

Finally, the young woman found Janeway's opening and she pressed the tip of her simulated penis against it. There was always a faint resistance at this point, no matter how ready the captain was and Seven had learned to penetrate past it in a way that pleasured Kathryn rather than caused her any discomfort. Then slowly, very slowly, she eased into her partner, the heat and wetness seeming to surround her, squeezing with familiar intimacy. She moaned softly, echoed by Janeway who arched back to meet the slow, steady thrust until finally, Seven was completely buried inside her.

"Oh, Annika," Janeway mumbled, "Oh, darling, can you ... I want to make it a bit larger."

Surprised, Seven quirked an eyebrow and obligingly pressed the tiny remote control into Janeway's hand when she reached back for it.  The captain fumbled with the controls for a moment as Seven remained still within her, then finally returned it to the Borg.  Astounded at the new settings, Seven slowly withdrew, noting that the parameters were significantly larger than what had been used previously, but she accepted that the captain knew what she was doing and what she could accommodate comfortably. It was a bit ... disconcerting however.

"Now, Annika," Janeway demanded.  "Do it."

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven responded obediently, running her hands over the captain's back, down over her buttocks and up her ribs as she pressed into Janeway carefully, then just as slowly, withdrew. She had never made love with the accessory in this position before. It was fascinating to be able to look down and see the artificial penis reappear, particularly in its increased dimensions, glistening from Janeway's moisture, before disappearing again into her partner's body as the Borg thrust her hips forward. Seven found this arousing in some strange way, particularly how Kathryn's buttocks felt against her groin and she leaned over the captain, pressing down on her, her breasts flattening against Janeway's back, the skin velvet against the hard points of her nipples.

"Oh, yes, Annika," Janeway cried softly, huskily, rocking beneath her. "Oh, god ... yes, take me, darling ... faster ... it's so good..."

Seven gradually increased the speed of her motion, tempering it to a steady rhythm as she reached down to the front of her partner, her fingers finding that hard little organ and fondling it as she thrust, making Janeway lurch back against her. Their coupling continued for several delicious moments, encouraged by the increasingly profane, intense urging of the captain, and then abruptly, Janeway was bucking beneath the Borg in that amazing spasm of pleasure and delight that squeezed Seven, milking around her hardness. In that brief instant of her partner's climax, Seven was able to forget that it was a device attached to her, able to believe that it was indeed a natural extension of herself which felt Kathryn drawing her in deeper, triggering the Borg's own spasm of ecstasy.

"Kathryn, oh, Kathryn," Seven breathed, shuddering as the climax overwhelmed her before finally letting her go. She remained over Janeway, her body warming her as they both caught their breath, the Borg nuzzling her spouse lovingly on her neck and cheek.

After a moment or so, she sensed Janeway shifting uncomfortably beneath her and she quickly, but gently withdrew, knowing that Kathryn did not wish the device inside her past a certain point. She used the remote control to detach it and placed both items on the desk before wrapping her arms around Kathryn, gathering her up and pulling her back into the chair where she could curl up on the Borg's lap. Janeway seemed unusually vulnerable at the moment, snuggling in her arms as if seeking comfort, obviously needing to be held and the young woman draped her robe around them, both for warmth and the implied protection, hugging her tightly.

"That was incredible," Janeway said finally, her face pressed against Seven's throat. "But now I have to clean up a bit and get dressed."

"Yes," Seven agreed wryly. "So that you may leave the ready room and return to our quarters for the night where you shall undress again for bed."

The captain chuckled softly. "I don't have a choice, I'm afraid," she said. "People know I'm in here. You can always beam back without anyone being the wiser ... at least, I hope no one finds out you were here."

"I masked the initial transport using Borg encryption codes which I set up some time ago," Seven admitted. "So no one will be aware of it unless they check the transporter record sub-routines. The only person who would do that is Tuvok," Seven noted. She kissed Janeway's temple. "He would be extremely indifferent about the purpose of this even if he speculated about the reasoning behind it."

"Yes," Janeway agreed. "Thank god for Vulcan disinterest in Human romance."

"Did you find this romantic, Kathryn?" Seven asked curiously and, she admitted to herself, somewhat anxiously. "Was it all you anticipated it to be?"

Janeway raised her face, finding Seven's lips and kissing her lovingly. "I'm not sure 'romantic' is the word," she allowed slowly. "But it was incredibly provocative, darling, and amazingly stimulating. I didn't know if the reality of such a fantasy would be as ... acceptable as it was in my imagination, but I find I'm able to trust you in a way I've never trusted anyone else, Annika. I can surrender to you and know that you will never take advantage of it, or me. Thank you for making yet another of my fantasies come true."

"You are welcome," Seven remarked, even as she realized she didn't quite understand all that the captain was referring to. She took a breath. "I should return to our quarters now," she added, releasing her partner reluctantly.

"I think that's probably wise," Janeway agreed as she stood up. "Hmm, I don't think I've ever done anything like this with my boots still on." She started to pull up her pants, colored faintly and glanced at Seven. "Uh..."

Seven was already on her way to the ensuite where she found a few clean cloths, wet them with warm water and returned to the ready room where she handed one to her spouse. As Janeway utilized it, Seven discreetly turned away and straightened out Janeway's sweater and bra, instinctively understanding that the captain would be uncomfortable with Seven watching her wipe away the excess moisture generated by their encounter, though why that was, she wasn't entirely sure. Kathryn being 'Human' again, the Borg decided indulgently.

After drawing on her robe, Seven retrieved the wonder wand, wiping it down with the cloth and replacing it in the box. The device looked a bit forlorn in its velvet cradle now that its task was complete and Seven smiled faintly as she shut the lid. With a certain amount of dismay, she suddenly realized that she had left her communicator in her quarters. Though she could access the computer there without it because the comm system in that area was attuned to her, she could not request transport in the ready room which was set to accept commands of this sort only in the captain's voice.

"Kathryn?" she asked shyly and Janeway who was pulling on her tunic, paused to smile at her.

"Yes, darling?" she asked quizzically.

Seven gestured to her left breast.  "I ... uh, forgot..." she said hesitantly.

The captain laughed. "And I thought you were always prepared," she teased as she came over and attached her own comm badge to Seven's robe. She kissed the Borg sweetly, then tapped the insignia lightly. "Computer, site to site transport, one to beam directly from ready room to the captain's quarters."

The last thing Seven saw was Kathryn's face observing her fondly before being replaced by the familiar bulkheads of their home. Smiling with satisfied contentment, the Borg carried the wonder wand into the ensuite to clean it completely, hoping that the captain would not be very long. She was tired and she could think of nothing better than to wrap herself around Kathryn's warm body as she drifted off to sleep.

Janeway picked it up, pausing as she regarded the screen, then gingerly touched the replay. The visual display of the log had continued to record even when Seven had knocked it over to the side and from the sideways angle of where it had fallen, it had captured quite a good image of the couple as they made love on the desk. Janeway stared, drymouthed, at the image of her partner's nude form covering her supine partner from behind as she thrust into her with authority, the artificial genitalia clearly visible as it was utilized with tender and efficient skill. The audio was full of the most inelegant, profane remarks from the captain. Janeway was only able to watch and listen to the playback for so long before she had to stop it, profoundly shocked at the sheer vulgarity of her language. Blushing furiously, she carefully removed the log entry past the point Seven had materialized in her ready room and hid the selected cut away in a high-level, classified, for her-eyes-only, high security folder before replacing the computer console on her desk. She should probably erase the file entirely, she thought, but there was a part of her that was titillated at the aspect of having a permanent record of their encounter. She just had to be sure no one else would ever be able to access it. It also made her realize that she and Seven had taken this particular fantasy as absolutely far as it was possible to take it for both their comfort levels. She suspected that she would not need to fantasize about a similiar situation ever again and once more, she gave thanks for finding such a wonderful, adaptable, loving and giving spouse with which to share her life.

There were a few padds that had fallen beneath the desk and she dug those out, and then found a pip embedded in the carpet that she hadn't even realized she was missing. She gingerly picked up the cloths which the couple had used earlier and carried them into the bathroom where she disposed of both before washing her hands and face. Her hair was still slightly disarrayed, but a quick pass with her brush did a presentable job. She reattached her pip and returned to her ready room. After logging off and shutting down her board, she took another quick glance around to make sure she hadn't missed anything. There was a faint aroma in the air which she hoped would dissipate quickly, and a wet spot from the vase still marred the carpet, but otherwise, there was no indication that Voyager's astrometrics officer had so completely and thoroughly ravished the captain on her ready room desk.

Janeway felt the heat rise in her cheeks once more, knowing her color was unnaturally high, so she waited a few more moments, trying to compose herself. The flashbacks of how it had felt to be taken from behind so forcefully continued to dance across her mind and she wondered how long it would be before she would be able to work at her desk with any sort of equanimity at all. Remembering the way the young woman had filled her so deeply, thrusting with firm ability even as her hand played so tenderly with the ridge of flesh between the captain's legs, Janeway felt a responsive throb from the body parts in question. She forced herself to breathe slowly, putting her fingers to her neck where she felt the flutter of a pulse that was going far too fast. It had been tremendously exciting, the Borg so commanding, powerful, and there was a part of Janeway that was wildly attracted to that, even as she knew another part of her would resist strongly if exposed to it for very long.

"Enough," she mumbled out loud, forcing the memories back to where they belonged. She hoped Seven would be still awake when she returned to her quarters. That was the only problem with using the wonder wand, she thought ... it always left her wanting more. She suspected that neither woman would be getting much sleep for the rest of the night. It was just a matter of composing herself enough to walk out through the bridge and into the turbolift without anyone noticing how ... aroused she was.

She took a few more deep breaths, and then unsealed the ready room door, surprised when she also had to get by a Borg encryption code before strolling briskly out onto the bridge.

"Captain," Tuvok said, forestalling her exit as he got to his feet. The Vulcan security chief was manning the conn at the moment and he looked at her expectantly. "May I see you privately?"

Janeway hesitated. "Of course," she said smoothly. "In my re--- in the conference room."

The door slid shut behind them and she turned. For a moment she was shocked, getting her first really good look at the Vulcan under lights which tended to be brighter than the evening watch illumination on the bridge. Tuvok actually looked a bit haggard, weary beyond measure, and there were lines in his face that she had never noticed before.

"My god," she blurted.

He quirked an eyebrow, a faint ghost of his normal, impassive demeanor.

"I was unaware my appearance required the invocation of a deity," he remarked.

"Talk to me, Tuvok," she said seriously. "What's this about?"

He inhaled slowly and she realized just how unusual that was. Then, it came to her in a burst of enlightenment and fear. "It's time, isn't it?" she said, mouth drying. "We need to contact the Doctor."

"No," he said strongly, reaching out to forestall her hand which had raised to touch the comm badge she had forgotten she no longer had. He raised his head, seeking a dignity that he needed more now, than at any other time in his dealings with her. "He can do nothing. We both know it." His eyes demanded her compliance in this and despite the emotion roiling through her, she lowered her hand slowly. "It would be prudent for you to promote Lt. Ro Laren to the alpha shift by the end of the week, and install her as your new chief of security."

She stared at him, then drew away to pace about the room in agitation. "Damn it, Tuvok," she said quietly, almost angrily. "There must be something we can do."

"There is not," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "Captain, we both knew this day would come."

"What about drugs or meditation..." she tried, her mind whirling furiously.

"I have already delayed the onset for almost a year," he explained softly. "I can hold it off no longer. I am formally requesting that I be relieved of my duties. I will brief Lt. Ro and explain her new responsibilities to her as soon as possible."

"Tuvok," she said, stopping to look at him, spreading her hands out in intense plea. "You can't just expect me to accept this without a fight."

He opened his mouth, stopped, then started again. "Captain," he said, in a voice far gentler than she had ever heard from him before. "You may not wish to accept this, you are certainly entitled not to like it, but you must respect this. Not only because of our long friendship, but because it is what it is." His dark gaze pinned her in place. "Not even you can alter nature."

She felt tears sting her eyes and she blinked them back, not wanting them to fall where he could see them.

"There must be another option," she said huskily.

He looked bleak. "Not for me," he said quietly. "Unlike Vorik, who's biological drive could be channeled into an encounter of violence, I am bonded, Captain. The time of Pon farr is upon me and can no longer be denied. I must mate or die, and since my wife remains in the Alpha Quadrant, I must die. Now I will retire to my quarters and seal them in preparation for the inevitable outcome. There is no other choice." He took a step closer, his angular features softening with uncharacteristic affection. "I have, and always shall be your friend, Kathryn Janeway. I have been proud to serve with you. Allow me to meet my end with some semblance of dignity and honor. Do not put me on display in sickbay in a failed attempt to delay the inevitable, do not allow others in the crew to know how ... illogical and emotional the end shall be. Grant me the right to die in peace and isolation."

"Oh, Tuvok," she said. She put her hands on his forearms, knowing he could pick up her emotion through his psychic sensitivity but simply not caring. Now, at least, she wanted him to know how much she loved him. "I'm going to miss you, so much."

He dipped his head in acknowledgment of her statement, the implication that although she hated this with every fiber of her being, she was going to respect his choice. "Thank you, Kathryn," he said. He swallowed. "Regarding my katra..."

"I'll do it," she said immediately, knowing he referred to the Vulcan concept of the soul, his living spirit. Just before death, it was his people's custom to mind-meld with a friend who would be entrusted with the duty of returning it to Vulcan. Janeway felt that it would be the final gesture she could do for him, her heart aching as she contemplated this final act of an honored demise.

Impossibly, he smiled faintly. "You cannot, Kathryn. A Human, without the proper preparation, would be driven mad by the synaptic pattern displacement," he said. "Vorik has agreed to return it to our home. He will monitor my last hours so that he knows when it is ... time. You must arrange to allow his release from his duties at the proper time, as discretely as possible."

"Consider it done," she said. Her eyes searched his face. "Tuvok ... my friend ... how am I going to do this without you?" she whispered.

"You will return to the Alpha Quadrant," he said with surety. "One day. And when my katra is released, know that I will be there with you."

"I have to do something, Tuvok," she insisted weakly.

"You will," he assured her. "You will see that this is handled with respect and decency, just as you have conducted yourself for as long as I have known you. I am relying on you for this."

She stared at him, imprinting his face in her mind. "I ... there's so much I want to say to you," she husked. "Tell you what your friendship has meant to me all these years."

"There is no need," he assured her. "I know. I have always known."

She swallowed. "Seven will be devastated," she said. "She loves you, too."

He nodded. "She is like a daughter to me," he allowed. "I call on you, as her chosen one, to guide her through this difficult time."

She closed her eyes, bending her head. "Damn, Tuvok," she said.

He quirked an eyebrow. "I believe that is a succinct summation of the situation," he noted dryly. He paused. "Captain, it would be wise to restrict your site-to-site transports once I am gone," he added. "Ro Laren may not be as ... understanding or as discrete as I am."

His dry humor made her laugh, and then cry because he had always make her laugh so easily. Despite the fact he was Vulcan, and all the protocols which had been established over two centuries between their peoples, she hugged him tightly. He allowed it and even put his arms gingerly around her, hugging her back.

"Good night, Captain," he said softly.

Janeway nodded, biting her bottom lip as he carefully released her and left the conference room. Once he was gone, she covered her face with her hands and made a concentrated effort to center herself, even as her mind darted desperately from one idea to another, trying to find a way around this, attempting to come up with a way to fix it.

Except she couldn't. This was not something she could conquer or defeat. And if she tried, the chances were that not only would she fail miserably, she would end up denying Tuvok his final wish of dying with dignity. She owed him far better than that.

She took a breath and straightened, bringing the command mask down over her features through sheer willpower. As she left the conference room and moved quickly through the bridge, she noticed that Tuvok had already left, turning over command to his replacement, Lt. Harry Kim. The young man nodded at the captain, a bit of surprise in his eyes that she was still on duty, but he did not speak to her as she entered the turbolift and instructed it to take her to deck three. As it descended, she tried to come up with a way to tell Seven in a way that would not hurt the young woman any more than she absolutely had to. It was futile, however.

This is such a difficult thing to have to break to her, the captain thought, her heart hurting in her chest. How can I possibly tell her that the man she considers her surrogate father is going to die? She took a deep breath as she exited the lift, walking purposefully down the corridor to her quarters.

Inside, she patted Jake who greeted her with a sloppy swipe of his tongue, and then went into the bedroom where she found her partner curled up in the bed, apparently asleep. She looked like a rather self-satisfied angel with her hands tucked neatly in a prayer position beneath her cheek. Janeway knew she was not about to disturb such peace with her news so she went into the ensuite, moving as quietly as she could as she stripped off her uniform, removed her pips and insignia, and then tossed the clothing in the recycler. The fresh uniform was placed carefully on the sink counter for morning.

She cleaned her teeth, ran the brush through her hair, and left the bathroom. The slender arms that automatically went around her as soon as she crawled into bed were like a shelter in the coldest of nights, and gratefully, Janeway turned into the embrace, pressing her face against her partner's throat. She should tell her now, she thought.

She couldn't.

"Hold me," she whispered urgently. "Please, hold me tight, darling."

Seven obligingly hugged her spouse close, somehow understanding in that mysterious way of hers that Janeway was upset, but sensing that now was simply not the time to ask why. And because of that, Janeway was able to bury her tears in the crook of her spouse's neck and feel some measure of comfort in the loving embrace, though she knew it was only a temporary haven.

Instead, she grinned, lips drawing back over her slightly pointed teeth, eyes fixated on the other woman as she strived for her climax. Ro cried out, arching abruptly as her head went back and her hands squeezed B'Elanna's full breasts almost painfully, the sudden rush of moisture dampening the Klingon's groin and sending a pleasant chill through her. B'Elanna had peaked earlier, of course, but watching her lover reach orgasm served to arouse her once more. As Ro slumped onto her, B'Elanna took the Bajoran's hand and guided it down between her legs.

Ro laughed and kissed her passionately, obligingly rubbing hard with her fingers over B'Elanna's dual clitori, moving back and forth between them, quickly bringing the Klingon to a lusty, and loud climax, her fourth in the past hour. Finally, both women lay in a sated tangle, arms and legs entwined, the Bajoran's head resting on B'Elanna's shoulder.

The chief engineer swallowed and reached up, stroking the short dark hair of her companion lovingly.

"Anyone ever tell you how damned good you are at this?" she murmured huskily.

Ro nuzzled the Klingon's jaw. "I've had no complaints," she responded dryly. "You're pretty terrific yourself, you know."

"I want to do this every day," B'Elanna said, smiling.

"We already do it everyday," Ro pointed out. "Several times a day, as a matter of fact."

"I thought..." B'Elanna began, hesitated and trailed off.

"What?" Ro rose up on her elbow, looking down at the Klingon with a faint smile.

"I thought," B'Elanna tried again, slowly. "That it would start getting ... repetitive by now. It's not. I want you now more than ever."

"You just haven't had the right lover before," Ro told her, rubbing her hand over B'Elanna's muscular stomach. The Bajoran eyed her. "Besides, I'm making up for lost time so I have a lot of ... variety to offer at the moment."

B'Elanna laughed. "I suppose you do," she said, remembering that the Bajoran had not allowed anyone close to her for the past six years, and possibly even longer than that. In fact, Ro Laren had not even revealed herself as a prior Starfleet officer off the USS Enterprise until only a few months earlier. B'Elanna wondered if Ro's status had really made so much of a difference, and then decided it must. Even though Ro had been in the Maquis with the engineer and they had served on the same ship for years, she hadn't really taken notice of the Bajoran until her true identity was revealed. B'Elanna now knew she was completely in love with her.

She reached up, touching the Bajoran's cheek, feeling a sudden rush of tenderness. "I am so crazy about you," she said softly.

Ro quirked an eyebrow. "I'm glad," she said. "Because I'm pretty crazy about you, too." She bent down and covered the Klingon's mouth with her own, kissing her deeply. "Now, however, I need to slip back to my quarters and get ready for my shift," she added quietly against the other woman's lips.

B'Elanna slipped her arms around the Bajoran. "No," she whispered. "Stay here."

Ro bit lightly at the Klingon's lower lip. "I can't," she said with regret. "All my work padds are there." She grinned. "You know I would never be able to get any work done when I'm visiting you."

B'Elanna took a breath. "You would if you lived here," she said. She looked directly into the Bajoran's dark eyes. "Move in with me. These are far better quarters than the ones you have and frankly, I think I'm a little better roommate than Dorado is."

Ro pulled back a little, her face sobering. "That's a pretty big step, Lanna," she said softly, leaning back against the pillows. "This wouldn't be a matter of just changing roommates." She paused. "I'm not in love with Dorado, after all."

B'Elanna took a breath, feeling quite vulnerable at the moment though she tried to cover it up with humor. "I should hope not," she said. She rested her head on her hand, propped up by her elbow as she rolled to face the other woman. "We already spend as much off duty time together as we can. By sharing quarters, you won't have to keep going back to change or pick up personal items." She paused. "I guess I don't see what the difference would be other than it would be more convenient."

Ro brought her hand up to her face, rubbing the ridges at the bridge of her nose. "I think you know better than that," she said in a low voice. "It means making a real commitment between us."

B'Elanna felt her heart twinge. "And you're not ready for a commitment," she said evenly, hiding her hurt.

"No, I'm not," Ro said honestly. She brought her hand down and looked at B'Elanna, her eyes softening perceptibly. "And frankly, I don't think you are, either. We've been together such a short time and I think you're getting caught up in the whole 'new love' stage of things. Yes, I want to be with you, all the time. But I don't want to move in here, if three months down the road, I only have to move out. That's not good for you, that's not good for me, and it doesn't do the ship much good either. You know what it's like when things don't work out, B'Elanna. The ship's community is so small, we're in such close quarters here on the lower decks, that any little thing can disrupt the whole atmosphere."

B'Elanna controlled her temper with an effort. "This is not spur of the moment for me," she responded coolly. "I've thought about it a lot. And it's not something I just ask anyone. Kahless, you didn't see Tom or Chakotay moving in here, or me with them, did you?"

Ro stared at her. "No," she said softly, after a moment's consideration. "I didn't. I'm sorry if I thought you were taking it lightly, B'Elanna. That was an assumption I shouldn't have made. But I also know that I'm not ready for this step." She paused, sighing softly. " I'm not trying to hurt you," she added gently. "I'm just trying to be as honest as I can with you. I don't want to lie to you, even if I think telling you the truth might not be what you want to hear."

B'Elanna nodded, not happy, but acknowledging the Bajoran's words. "Okay," she said, trying for a casual tone she didn't feel. "I respect that and I appreciate your honesty. The offer's on the table. You know where I live."

Ro studied her for a few minutes more, then leaned over and kissed her. "I have to go," she said. "I'm sorry."

B'Elanna forced a smile. "Will you come by after your duty shift?" she asked.

"I'll try," Ro promised, rolling out of bed and bending over to scoop up her clothes which had been hastily discarded the night before. She dressed quickly as B'Elanna watched, and then favored the Klingon with a parting smile before exiting.

The engineer lay in bed a while longer, feeling abandoned and annoyed even as she realized that Ro was doing her best to be completely honest in the relationship. But what happened when they didn't agree on what the next step for the couple was? B'Elanna wanted Ro to be there every evening when she went to sleep, be there every day when she got up, and most certainly to be there when she reached out in the night, at anytime in between. Obviously, Ro didn't feel that way, or if she did, she wasn't yet ready to act on it.

B'Elanna guessed she was just going to have to live with that fact.

Sighing softly, she got up and gathered up the clothes she had left on the floor from the night before, tossing them into the recycler. She quickly made up the bed, then padded naked into the ensuite where she took a quick sonic shower. She took a few moments more to brush out her hair, which she had allowed to go back to a natural Klingon waviness rather than the curled, smooth bob that she had forced it into most of her time on Voyager, and returned to the main living area where she moved over to the replicator.

She materialized a new uniform, dressed quickly and left her quarters, supposing that she should stop by the messhall and have something to eat before her shift, even though she didn't feel particularly hungry. She discovered that the messhall was crowded this time of afternoon, with other people preparing for the beta shift by grabbing an early meal while some of the alpha shift crew who were working extra duty, were having a dinner break.

She nodded at the people she knew well, grabbed some alien fruit from the counter and keyed the large replicator to make herself some soup. She found an empty table off in the corner and started to eat, intending to finish her meal quickly and get to engineering. A shadow fell over her table ten minutes later and she glanced up, annoyance seeping through her as the fair-haired helmsman, Tom Paris dropped into the chair opposite her, placing his tray on the table.

"You don't mind, do you?" he said, picking up his fork and poking at his casserole. "It's pretty crowded."

She took a breath. "Not at all," she said, lying through her teeth. She reminded herself that they were both professionals and even if they had once shared a romantic alliance which had ended badly, there was no point in creating a scene over it. And she allowed that the messhall was very busy at the moment, with seats being in short supply.

They ate in silence for a few moments before Tom looked at her from beneath lowered eyes.

"Uh, B'Elanna," he said. "Can I tell you something?"

"If you must," the Klingon said shortly, concentrating on her soup.

His smile was bittersweet. "I just wanted to say that, I hope you and Ro ... well, work out a lot better than you and I did," he said quietly. "I wish you all the best."

She stopped her motion, her spoon midway between her soup and her mouth, staring at him in astonishment. "What?"

He flushed, his fair skin glowing ruddy. "I know that we had a lot of problems," he said, his pale blue eyes intent and sincere. "And that I caused a lot of them ... I wanted to you to know that I feel badly about that. I think you and Ro make a really good couple and I suspect you'll be a lot happier with her than you ever were with me. No matter what else has gone on, I do want you to be happy, B'Elanna."

She took a deep breath, trying to absorb this as she lowered her utensil back to the bowl. "Well, maybe it wasn't all your fault," she allowed grudgingly after a few moments. She toyed with her spoon uncomfortably. "The truth is, I'm not the easiest person to be with." She paused. "I know that when I was with you, I tried too hard to be something I wasn't. That wasn't fair to either of us."

He sighed. "I never meant to make you into something you weren't, B'Elanna," he said sadly. "I'm sorry if you felt you couldn't be yourself with me."

She reached over and covered his hand with her own. "Tom, it was my choice," she said seriously. "I wanted to blame you at the time, but honestly, it was my own doing. It's up to me to find my own path ... not let myself think other people have better ones for me to follow." She sighed. "It wasn't all bad times, you know. There were some good ones, too and maybe in the end, it was just a matter of it being a relationship that happened at the wrong time in our lives."

He nodded. "Maybe you're right." He hesitated. "Yet, I look at Harry and I see all he has now, with Megan and his son, and I think, you and I could have had that. If only I had tried harder, had been a little more attentive, had known what really mattered the most." He paused, obviously looking for the right words. "I know that what I did with Jennifer hurt you deeply and I regret that. But I've also come to understand that you might have been able to forgive it if only I hadn't done so many other stupid things in our relationship. All those obsessions with cars and ships, the way I always took you for granted, the times when you needed me and I wasn't there for you ... all that gave you nothing to believe in when I screwed up for the last time. You had nothing to fall back on when you searched for a reason to give me a second chance. You could only find that I had used up countless second chances already." His eyes met hers. "I'm sorry," he added simply.

She nodded, not knowing if she entirely agreed with his assessment of the situation, but not prepared to argue about it, either. "I am, too," she said. She took a breath. "I wish you all the best, too, Tom. I really hope you find someone who can love all the things you love, so maybe the two of you can share in them rather than feel left out by them."

"Maybe I'll get that lucky," he said, regarding her with an expression of mingled regret and tenderness. "Take care of yourself, B'Elanna. Be happy. And maybe one day, we'll even be able to be friends again."

She smiled faintly. "Maybe," she allowed. She looked down at her unfinished soup. "I have to go. I have duty now."

She scooped up her tray and carried it over to the disposal slot, dumping it all into the recycling unit where everything would be broken down into its component elements and reused as needed. Then she exited the messhall, feeling a trifle confused by the conversation and wondering what had possessed the helmsman to approach her like that. Of course, she allowed to herself, maybe she was finally at a place where he could, and somehow he recognized that. After all, before there would have been a good chance of his getting a slap across the head if he said something that triggered her contrary nature.

Shaking her head, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for the turbolift to carry her down to engineering, interrupting the descent when a call came in for her from the bridge.

Seven did not know why, either, but she had an uncomfortable feeling that Janeway was preparing to steal another warp coil from the Borg. Considering how their first attempt went, she was surprised the captain would try it again, and could not come to a conclusion on what might be motivating this sudden initiative. However, Seven had obediently spent most of the alpha shift, seeking traces of transwarp conduits and was now working into the beta shift, attempting to enhance the sensors through the navigational array.

She glanced up as B'Elanna entered the bridge, the engineer having been summoned to report there once her duty shift began. The Klingon shot a glance at Seven, an inquiring look, but the Borg shook her head slightly to indicate her ignorance. B'Elanna narrowed her eyes and moved over to where the captain was, leaning over Susan Nicoletti at the engineering station. Nicoletti obligingly got out of the way, relinquishing her post to the chief engineer and headed for the turbolift to serve out the rest of her duties in engineering.

Seven tilted her head, carefully tuning her Borg-enhanced hearing to the soft conversation between her spouse and her friend.

"B'Elanna, I need you on the alpha shift beginning tomorrow morning," Janeway told the engineer. "We'll all be working double shifts for the foreseeable future."

"Aye, captain," B'Elanna responded, though Seven thought she didn't look particularly pleased about it. The Klingon hesitated. "What's up?"

Janeway paused, a muscle in her jaw twitching briefly and Seven frowned.

"I need to know exactly, how long it would take us to return to the Alpha Quadrant using a Borg transwarp coil," the captain said finally.

B'Elanna stared at the captain for a moment, her eyes dark, and took a deep breath, no doubt forcibly holding back all the objections she wanted to make. "Assuming it can be installed properly, and run at tolerable levels so that it doesn't burn out, it'll take us about six months," she responded quietly.

Janeway shook her head. "That's not good enough," she said, surprising both the engineer and the eavesdropping Borg. "What if, instead of merely adapting the warp coil to Voyager, we overhaul it completely, using the specs given us by Commodore Johnson and Dr. Hansen? Then, we run our entire warp propulsion system through it rather than just using it to create a transwarp conduit."

"The alternate universe specs?" B'Elanna echoed with surprise. She considered it. "It would be a more efficient system for Voyager to use than the other way." She paused, her face distant in the way that Seven knew meant that she was thinking furiously. "I'd say we'd get back to the Federation in less than a week. But captain," she added in a warning tone. "This is an all or nothing sort of deal. The odds of being able to get the traditional warp engines back online if this doesn't work would be pretty low. It's quite a risk."

Janeway nodded, a look of satisfaction coming over her face. "I know, but it might have to be done."

"In either case, Captain, would you mind telling me why you're so interested?" B'Elanna was forward enough to point out. "We don't exactly have too many Borg warp coils lying around."

"You let me worry about that, Lieutenant," the captain responded calmly, and left the engineer to her station.

The Klingon looked after the captain in consternation for a moment, and then over at Seven, raising an eyebrow. Seven took a deep breath, not able to conceal her concern any longer.

"Captain, may I see you in your ready room for a moment?"

Janeway looked back at her, eyeing her narrowly, and nodded briefly, rising smoothly from the captain chair where she had just taken a seat. Seven swallowed, following the captain down the short flight of stairs into the inner sanctum of Voyager's commanding officer.

"Captain," she began, once they were inside but Janeway turned, holding up a hand to forestall her words.

"You were listening to my conversation with Lt. Torres," she said flatly.

Seven hesitated, then dipped her head. "Yes."

Janeway stared at her a moment, her eyes more grey than blue. "One day," she said coolly, in a voice that sent a shiver up the Borg's spine, "we shall have to discuss the inappropriateness of your eavesdropping just because you have the capability to do so."

"Yes, Captain," Seven said faintly.

Janeway seemed to sigh a little. "You have some comment to make about this?"

Seven inhaled deeply. "Captain, it is tactically inadvisable to attempt to steal another transwarp coil," she pointed out. "It was my understanding that the last incident placed the ship and its crew in such danger that another foray of this nature would not be undertaken. It is, I believe as B'Elanna has deemed it, 'an all or nothing sort of deal'. If we are able to acquire a transwarp coil and adapt it, then yes, we may be able to return to the Alpha Quadrant immediately. However, should we fail in the attempt to secure one, Voyager's crew will be assimilated." She paused, swallowing. "You and I both know that is a fate not wished upon anyone. The risk does not justify the possible outcome. What is prompting you to attempt it now?"

Janeway crossed her arms over her chest, regarding the Borg closely as she leaned back against her desk. "I've already had this discussion with Chakotay," she said firmly. As Seven opened her mouth to respond, the captain quickly added, "I'm not prepared to discuss this with you, not as your captain, or as your spouse."

Stymied, Seven breathed slowly. "When will you?"

Janeway shook her head. "I don't know." She pursed her lips. "When it's time."

Seven had to accept that. It was part of being involved with a starship captain, she knew, even as she didn't like it very much. She considered her options. "I would advise, in that case then, that we look for a shuttle rather than a sphere, or certainly a cube," she said. "Similar to the one that my Collective grouping crashed in a few years ago."

Janeway considered that, her face thoughtful.

"What are the chances of finding any Borg signature within the next week, let along being fortunate enough to choose the sort of contact we make?" she asked slowly.

Seven thought hard. "In this sector?" she said slowly. "It is actually quite possible, Captain. There is a species located here that has yet to be assimilated, though I am not sure why. As a result, however, the Borg maintain a minimum amount of presence in order to periodically test their defenses. That would mean a certain amount of small vessel traffic. The Collective does not consider it efficient to waste resources which would kill more potential drones than would be assimilated, so it bides its time and waits for the proper opportunity to launch a full attack."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't know the Borg were so ... patient."

"The Borg assimilate when it is time, not simply because they have encountered a new species. In fact, there are many species listed which have yet to be assimilated. For example, do you remember species 116? They were assimilated only a short time prior to our encounter with Arturis, yet the low numerical designation indicated that the species had been known to the Collective for a significant period of time."

"And the species in this sector?" Janeway asked.

"Species 343," Seven replied. She frowned, searching her memories. "Little is known about them. Their organic makeup defies successful long-term assimilation though the Collective shall eventually find a way to overcome such limitations."

"I'm sure they will," Janeway said dryly and Seven blushed a little, realizing after the fact that her tone had fallen back into the arrogant superiority of absolute confidence in the Borg's ability to overcome all resistance. The captain considered her partner's words. "Could this species help us find the Borg?"

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "I suspect they do all they can to try to avoid such contact."

"Of course," Janeway said and smiled briefly. She nodded. "I would rather do this with a Borg shuttle craft rather than anything larger, Seven. I can promise you that I have no intention of risking the ship or my crew unduly. Concentrate your scans for that form of conduit signature or even that of a sphere."

"Yes, Captain."

"And, Seven?"

"Yes?"

"Find it quick," Janeway said firmly. "There are time constraints on this."

Seven frowned. "I understand," she said, even though she wasn't entirely sure that she did. She did recognize the definite note of dismissal in the captain's tone, however, so she dipped her head and left the ready room.

She made a few more data inquiries at the tactical station, and then left the bridge to return to astrometrics. Now that she had something a little more specific to look for, she would be able to refine her long-range sensors to detect a Borg shuttle. However, the odds of finding one were so much lower than finding a cube conduit signature or even that of a sphere, that she suspected this plan of Janeway's to steal a transwarp coil was doomed to failure.

So she was considerably surprised a few hours later when a minor signature, which hadn't even read as Borg initially, turned out to be a distinct shuttle trail, leading to a nearby system. There were also some indications of a battle of some sort, debris, traces of Borg weapons fire and some unidentified energy discharge. Obviously, whatever had ambushed the Borg shuttle, had subsequently damaged it enough to send it on a crash course to the fourth planet in the star system.

She immediately contacted the bridge, informing them of her discovery.

"Good work, Seven," Janeway responded. "Report to transporter room one as a member of the coil recovery team."

The young woman quirked an eyebrow at the obvious elation in the captain's voice and felt compelled to add a note of caution to the proceedings.

"Captain, it is unknown if the shuttle was able to land intact. There may be no warp coil to recover."

"Our luck's been running hot so far, Seven," Janeway told her. "It just has to hold a little while longer."

Seven did not think her spouse liked to rely on 'luck' and for Janeway to be so pleased with it now indicated that whatever was pushing the captain was desperate indeed. The young woman took a deep breath and changed into her away mission outfit before she left astrometrics, heading for the transporter room. She decided that she could only hope that her spouse would confide in her soon. She really did not like operating without sufficient data.

Commander Chakotay, Lt. Ayala and Lt. Torres were already prepared to beam down when she arrived. She accepted the phaser rifle that Chakotay handed her and took her place on the transporter dais next to the first officer. The sensation of dematerialization surrounded her and the familiar confines of transporter room one disappeared, to be replaced by the misty night of the planet's surface.

It was a swamp, the ground spongy beneath their feet while moss dripped heavy from oddly shaped trees. The soft cries of nocturnal creatures echoed through the forest, the subtle lap of water against a bank sounding nearby, though lost in the depths of the night. The air smelled musty, cool and damp, quite unpleasant and Seven decided that it was not the sort of place in which she wished to spend a protracted amount of time.

"The crash site is twenty meters in that direction," Chakotay said softly, raising his tricorder. "Let's be careful here, people. Seven, any indication of survivors?"

Seven discovered that there must have been something in the atmosphere that was distorting her tricorder's sensors. Odd readings chased each other across the tiny screen before they solidified into definite information. "Sensors indicate that there were five Borg on the vessel, but only one surviving drone," she reported. "It appears to be severely injured. It is not moving."

B'Elanna hefted her rifle. "Do we take care of that?" she said, eyeing Chakotay significantly.

Chakotay started to speak, glanced at Seven and took a breath. "This isn't a rescue mission. However, I have a problem with arbitrarily terminating a lifeform simply because it is Borg." He touched his comm badge. "Away team to Voyager. There is one survivor. How would you like us to proceed?"

Janeway did not hesitate. "Beam it directly to sickbay. We'll prepare for its arrival."

"Captain, you must be sure to remove the cranial transceiver," Seven reminded her, even as she felt tenderness rush through her. She knew that the crew of Voyager, and the captain in particular, had no love for the Borg in general, but whoever lay in the wreckage had once been an individual. One could not simply discard that as irrelevant and she was pleased that her spouse had not. But then, Janeway was a most compassionate woman ... it was one of the reasons Seven loved her so much. "I also suggest that the Doctor inject the drone immediately with the anti-assimilation nanoprobes he has on file, as well."

"Already on it," Janeway responded. "Proceed."

The away team cautiously pushed their way through the underbrush, approaching the crash site slowly. Debris was scattered for some distance and the main body of the shuttle had torn through the foliage of the swamp, leaving a dark, ugly streak which would take some time to heal. As Seven picked her way through the soggy ground, she was reminded of another crash, one she had been involved with as a drone, and the shameful actions she had subsequently taken to return herself and the other survivors of her group to the Collective. She froze as she saw the first body amid the wreckage and despite herself, she found she was unable to tear her eyes away from the mangled remains, feeling a definite sense of what Humans called 'deja vu'.

"Seven, are you all right?" B'Elanna asked softly, a few feet away.

Seven's face tightened. "I am functioning," she returned shortly, rejecting the Klingon's show of concern. Steeling herself, she moved forward toward the main bulk of the shuttle. She was gratified to find it mostly in one piece. She hadn't dared hope for such good fortune and realized it could mean that the warp coil would be intact.

"The survivor is inside," Chakotay said, from his position on the young woman's left. "Seven, you and Ayala should go in and secure the injured for transport. Lt. Torres and I will start to work on removing the warp coil."

"Understood," Seven said. She glanced at the dark-haired security officer and indicated that he should follow. The two carefully forced their way through the twisted metal into the shuttle's main compartment as Seven felt more of a sense of eerie familiarity with every passing second. Of course, that was only logical, she consoled herself. All Borg vessels were constructed exactly the same and for this crash site to resemble the one she had been in years earlier, was only to be expected.

She was able to find her way to where the lifesign transmitted steadily. Stray thoughts crossed the young woman's mind as she avoided a particularly sharp protrusion of hull ... would this drone appreciate being freed of the Collective once the implants were removed? Or would whomever it turned out to be resent and hate those who freed it from all it had known, just as Seven had three years earlier? Of course, Seven had been assimilated as a child and not an adult. Perhaps if her parents had been able to raise her as a Human, she would have embraced her freedom immediately rather than fearing it so much. However, her parents ... dedicated exobiologists who followed the Borg into the Delta Quadrant to study them, long before the rest of the Federation had even acknowledged the existence of the Collective ... had not considered the consequences of that single-minded pursuit of knowledge. It had cost them dearly, and Seven tried not to think about her family unit's eventual fate very often. Yet, every time she came in contact with the Borg, the memories were forced to the forefront of her mind.

Ayala reached out a hand to touch her elbow. "There, Seven," the young man said quietly. "Under the console."

He seemed uneasy being inside the ship and Seven tried to move quickly, knowing that they needed to do what they had to do and be long gone from this area of space before any other Borg showed up. Certainly, a distress beacon would have been sent as soon as the shuttle went down and for all their faults, the Borg did take care of their own with swift efficiency.

"Help me," she said, tugging gently at the still drone, dragging it from beneath the console. He knelt beside her and together, they rolled over the cybernetic form, various fluids staining the area. Seven froze as the bloodied features were revealed. Altered and changed as they were through assimilation and time, the shocking familiarity remained.

"Seven?" Ayala said, staring at her with an odd expression. "What's wrong?"

"This drone," Seven said, feeling faint, surprised that she could speak at all. "I know this drone."

His eyes widened, clearly not liking this. "Who is it?"

"It was once the Human designated as Erin Hansen," Seven responded, her voice strangely devoid of inflection.

"It is my mother."

"Will ... she survive?" she asked huskily, when there seemed to be a break in the activity. The medical team had removed the most intrusive implants, replacing them, where they could, with regenerated organic tissue replicated from the woman's own genetic pattern. Now they were monitoring the gradual dissolution of the Borg nanoprobes from the woman's system.

The Doctor looked up at her and nodded gravely. "Yes," he responded, coming over to her. His holographic form diffused through the security field without pause. "The cranial transceiver has been destroyed and the internal de-assimilation is coming along quite nicely. She should be free of most of it in a day or so, though, without these altered nanoprobes of Seven's, it wouldn't be nearly that simple. And unlike Seven, who essentially 'grew up' around her implants, preventing certain of them from being removed, we can extract her mother's implants completely."

"She is definitely who Seven thinks she is?" Janeway asked, feeling the pulse throb in her temple.

The Doctor frowned. "There were discrepancies originally, which were most likely due to the effects of the nanoprobes and the implants, but yes, the gene pattern did eventually match those in the computer. She was ... or is, Erin Hansen."

Janeway closed her eyes. "God," she said softly.

"Amazing, isn't it?" the Doctor remarked cheerfully. "Of all the shuttles and all the Borg drones, what are the odds of Seven's mother being here at this place, right now?"

"I couldn't even begin to calculate them," Janeway said dryly. "It was astounding that we came across a transwarp coil so quickly in the first place. For it to have come from a shuttle that had crashed, carrying the drone who had been Erin Hansen, only goes to show that, just when we think we know what to expect, the universe likes to throw us a curve."

"Seven must be ... surprised," Sek said, drawing the sheet up over the whitened and scarred form. Her dark eyes raised to meet Janeway's inquiringly. "I did expect to see her here, however."

A muscle twitched in Janeway's jaw. "I sent her down to help B'Elanna work on the transwarp coil," she said. She hesitated. "She's pretty shaken up by all this."

"I can imagine," the Doctor noted. He looked down at the still form. "What are you going to do, Captain?"

Janeway hesitated at the question, wondering what her options really were, after all. She would never return a Federation citizen back to the Borg, even if she hadn't known who the woman was. In truth, the only way Janeway functioned at all when dealing with the Borg, was to consider them an alien species rather than what they truly were; a conglomerate of many individuals ... including several Federation members ... taken against their will over the years and absorbed into a single hive mind. Only when something like this happened was she forced to acknowledge the true horror of the Borg. What was it that Jean Luc Picard had called them? 'True evil'. Janeway looked at the vulnerable individual lying on the biobed and realized how accurate that was ... and how helpless it made her feel to know that there must be so many others doomed to a life in the Collective as a drone, with no hope of rescue. With no hope of anything, at all.

"I am going to welcome her to Voyager as the newest member of our family, of course," she told the Doctor calmly. She quirked an eyebrow at him. "I would like to have an idea of what her mental state is going to be after so long, however."

"It's hard to say, Captain," he replied quietly. "Others who have been severed from the Collective, had their memories and previous individuality return quickly. They were horrified, and traumatized by what had happened, of course, but they were not like Seven who wished only to return to the Borg. Erin Hansen was assimilated as an adult and thus, will likely be grateful for her rescue even as she tries to deal with it." He paused, and a hint of humor appeared in his eyes. "Including the knowledge that she now has a Starfleet captain as a daughter-in-law."

Janeway flinched internally. The Doctor was correct. This wasn't just any Human lying there, this was family of sorts. She took a closer look at the face, still pale even as color was starting to return to the bald features, and noted that being assimilated seemed to have slowed the woman's aging process a little. Erin appeared even younger than Janeway, even though the woman should be six years older. Janeway knew that Erin had given birth to Annika at age 24 and had been 30 when she was assimilated. That made her 50 years old now compared to the captain who had just turned 44 ... a contemporary rather than an elder. What would Erin think of her little girl being involved with a woman technically old enough to be her mother?

Sighing, Janeway checked her train of thought. After all, that would hardly be the most important issue involved in this whole situation. How much shock was the woman ... the scientist ... going to be in once she regained her senses? Would her previous existence as an exobiologist help her adapt to twenty lost years as a Borg drone? How much of that experience would affect who she was now or, would she simply go back to who she had been? And who had Erin Hansen been, after all?

Too many questions, she told herself, and they could only be answered by what happened in the future. But, added on to her concern about Tuvok and what he was going through, she could not help being reminded of the old adage ... 'when it rains, it pours'.

"Keep me informed," she told the medical holograms stiffly and left sickbay. She did not go back to the bridge however, instructing the turbolift to take her to deck ten where B'Elanna's team was working on the warp coil in one of the engineering labs.

The main test area was fairly spacious and the captain's arrival went unnoticed by the team as she walked across the deck. Her eyes fixed on her partner who was working quietly at a workstation opposite the chief engineer. Perhaps only Janeway could recognize how off-balance the young woman was, how her motion, normally abrupt and efficient, was a little hesitant, infinitesimal pauses that indicated her thought processes were not moving in the smooth progression they usually did. The captain glanced at B'Elanna as she approached and the Klingon raised her head and moved away casually, leaving the two women in relative privacy.

"Seven," Janeway said quietly. "Report."

"The warp coil has some minor fluctuations in the energy output," Seven related, not looking up from her screen where data streamed by unceasingly. "But I think that we will be able to adapt it to function as the Hansen notes specify."

Janeway felt a sweet sense of relief seep through her. Perhaps this would work after all and she would be able to get Tuvok home in time. Was it possible that after six years, the deities of all the various species she had met were finally looking with favor upon the lost Federation vessel and were going to accord them some good fortune for a change? That included finding Seven's mother, she reminded herself sternly. She should be happy for her partner. Even if Seven didn't seem particularly happy about it herself. Janeway studied her for a moment and decided a more personal intervention was required here.

"Seven, I would like to speak to you privately," she said, nodding with her head toward a small room that was used for storage.

Seven regarded her uncertainly, and nodded, the pair of them drifting over to the room, sealing the door behind them. "What is it you wish to speak with me about?" the Borg asked, once they were inside.

"Annika, I need to know how you really are," Janeway said, putting her hands on her partner's biceps, looking up into her narrow features. "Your mother is in sickbay and from what the Doctor says, she'll be able to make a full recovery. Have you thought about what will happen now?"

Seven looked distressed. "I have thought of little else," she admitted. She looked at the captain with a mix of confusion and fear in her eyes. "I do not know what it is like to have a mother. What will I do? How must I act? What will she expect of me?"

"Shh," Janeway said, squeezing lightly, soothingly. "Slow down, darling and take a few deep breaths. I only wanted to know how you were doing ... I certainly didn't mean to add to your uncertainty. As for your questions, first of all, you'll adapt. You are the most adaptable person I know. Secondly, you will act the way you have always acted and she will be so impressed with you for it, because it would be impossible for her not to be. And thirdly, whatever she expects of you is no more important than what you expect of her. So please, let's look at this as a good thing, not something to be apprehensive about." She managed to say the last with absolute sincerity even though she was feeling as apprehensive as it was possible for any spouse to feel about interacting with her mother-in-law.

Seven tried to do as the captain suggested, taking several deep breaths, keeping her eyes fixed on Janeway's. The older woman did her best to show her absolute confidence in her.

"I am frightened, Kathryn," the young woman said in a small voice.

Janeway wrapped her arms around the slender woman and held her tight. "I'm right here, darling," she reassured. "You don't have to go through this alone. I'll be with you every step of the way."

She could feel Seven shivering in her arms and she tightened her embrace. It was disturbing. Seven had faced down Hirogen, and Species 8472, and practically anything else the captain could think of, yet she was obviously terrified at the thought of interacting with her mother.

"Easy, darling," she said softly. "Tell me why you're so scared."

Seven hesitated, resting her cheek against the captain's. "What if," she said very softly, after a few moments, "she does not love me."

Janeway nuzzled her partner's ear, reaching up to stroke the back of the woman's neck gently.

"I don't think that's possible," she said quietly. "And even if it were, it would be completely her loss and not yours. Remember that."

Seven was silent for a moment, then she brushed her lips over the captain's forehead. "I shall try."

Janeway cupped the Borg's cheek in her hand and drew her down, kissing her softly on the mouth. "It'll be all right," she murmured against the full lips. "Trust me, my love."

"I do, Kathryn," Seven responded seriously. "Always."

Janeway knew that to be true, aware that Seven was tremendously curious about why the captain had been driving them so hard to complete this warp coil project as fast as possible, but respecting the request that she not ask. And she hadn't, beyond that initial query in the ready room two days earlier. Janeway knew such faith was rare and precious ... she was determined not to take advantage of it any more than she had to.

"Darling," she said softly. "I'll help you through this, I promise."

"I know, Kathryn," Seven said and managed to show the faintest of optimism in her eyes. "I am sure that my mother and I shall find some kind of accommodation."

"I know you will," Janeway assured her quietly. She hesitated, gently releasing her partner and putting a little distance between them. "Seven, I do need you on this warp coil project, but if you want to go see your mother and be there when she wakes, then do so. The engineering team will have to manage without your expertise for those times."

Seven nodded slowly. "Thank you ... Captain," she said, obviously recognizing the switch of modes in her partner.

Sometimes, Janeway wished there was not such a distinct difference between the captain and the woman in love, but for now, it was necessary. Certainly, it seemed that it was becoming easier for both women to deal with it as their marriage progressed. Perhaps one day, she wouldn't even feel the twinge of guilt, that little needle of regret that stabbed into her every time she had to toe the line and require that Seven step back a pace.

The two women returned to the engineering lab and Janeway nodded at B'Elanna, drawing her aside as Seven returned to her workstation.

"I need to tell you something about the drone that's in sickbay," the captain said to the chief engineer.

"That it's Seven's mother?" B'Elanna nodded, not dissembling. "I heard."

The captain forced herself not to roll her eyes. "It may require that Seven be absent on occasion." Janeway tried not to be disgruntled. Honestly, the chief of engineering had a knack for finding out things quicker than anyone Janeway knew ... except for perhaps Tuvok. The difference was, of course, that one never discovered what Tuvok knew, while everyone eventually found out what B'Elanna knew. "I'm sure that she will want to help her mother adjust to life as a Human again and I can't honestly keep her from that. But I need to know how this will affect the project."

B'Elanna quirked an eyebrow. "Seven does know the most about the warp coil," she noted professionally, not trying to slide over the facts. "She also can interpret Dr. Hansen's specs faster than I can. Depending upon how much time she needs to be away, it could delay us for up to a week."

Janeway winced, wondering how to balance this with the very real threat of Tuvok's impending Pon farr. Yet, how could she deny her partner the opportunity to be with her mother as Erin Hansen regained her life again? It wasn't as simple as saying there would be plenty of time for it later ... these first days of Erin's adaptation could be crucial, not only for the Federation scientist who had lost eighteen years of her life, but for Seven's emotional well-being.

"Keep an eye on it," she told the engineer finally. "I don't want any delay beyond one day. If that happens, Seven will just have to be brought back full time on the project. And B'Elanna, don't be afraid to call me in if you need me, either to reinforce such a directive or if I can offer any observations from my own expertise. This operation is an absolute priority and I want you to call on any resource you have to. Is that understood?"

"Aye, Captain," B'Elanna responded, suitably impressed by such blanket authority being accorded to her.

Janeway left the engineering lab, and headed for the bridge, hoping that word of what they were doing would get to Tuvok and give him enough strength to hold on a little longer. She hated to be pinning all her hopes on such a risky procedure, but at this point, she had few options left.

Of course, she realized that Vulcans were not the most forthcoming species, and he had every right to privacy but of all the people on the ship, he was the only one who had known her true identity from the beginning. Because of that odd sort of intimacy, he was the one person she had been able to talk with during those years when she had to keep everyone else at a distance. She believed that she had gotten to know him quite well in return. At least, she thought she had. Now, she wasn't quite so sure.

Taking a deep breath, she touched the admittance chime, hearing it echo softly inside. There was a pause, then a quiet 'enter' was issued from within. The door slid open with a subtle hiss and she stepped into darkness, alleviated only by the flame of a flickering lamp and the starlight streaming in through the viewports lining the hull. The air was surprisingly dry and as she stepped over the threshold, it was as if she had descended a step, wrenching her knee a little as she entered the heavier gravitational field. She realized that the environmental controls were set to Vulcan normal, and she felt a light perspiration break out over her forehead in the increased temperature as she moved gingerly across the room. She also took note that all the furniture in the room had been removed completely, but for a single, simple, sleeping pad, resting quietly beneath the windows. The dark figure sitting on the carpeted deck in the shadows, lifted his head at her appearance, conveying a sense of anticipation, as if he had been waiting for something. For some reason, Ro didn't think it was her.

Mightily disturbed, she sat down across from him, cross-legged on the carpeted deck, studying him as best she could in the dim illumination. The angular lines of his face seemed even sharper and his eyes burned in a way she had never seen before.

"Sir?" she asked softly, speaking first after a few moments, when it seemed he was disinclined to.

"You wonder why I have called you here," he noted and she was shocked by the voice. It was rusty, ragged, barely kept in control and she felt a shiver skitter down her spine.

"Yes," she said uncertainly, wanting to say more, yet afraid at what she might discover.

"I have been relived of my duties, at my own request. You will be promoted to chief of security, effective immediately. I wish you to know that I and the captain have every confidence in your ability to fill this role."

Ro stared at him, absolutely rocked. "You can't be serious."

There was a lift to the eyebrow, the slightest hint of an upturn to the corner of his mouth.

"I assure you, Lieutenant, I am completely serious."

She took a moment to compose herself, embarrassed over her outburst. Her mind worked furiously, trying to figure out what was going on.

"May I ask what is prompting such a drastic action?" she requested with difficulty.

He lifted his head. "I would rather you did not. It is enough to know that I will no longer be able to carry out my duties and that you are the best choice to replace me."

A suspicion crossed her mind. "Have you been planning this long, sir?"

He seemed surprised by the question, as if he had expected her to say something else. She was once again aware of how odd he was acting, how much ... emotion he was allowing himself to show. Vulcan society was centered around the basis of controlling one's emotions, to the point of being emotionless. For Tuvok, it was as significant to her as if he had stripped away his uniform and ran naked about the ship. The vulnerability it showed was as comparable and just as shocking.

"Why do you believe I have been planning this?" he responded and she got the sense he was dissembling.

"Because, it was only a few months ago that you started encouraging me to accept more away missions, which would naturally attract the attention of the captain," she said slowly, working it out as she went. "In fact, you've been pushing me hard in the last year, insisting I utilize more and more of my Starfleet training and experience. It was inevitable that who I truly was would come to light. I thought I was the one who made the decision to come clean, but now I wonder if you were the one who placed me in the position of having no other choice."

"It was time," he said quietly. "You needed to return to who you were." He paused, then dipped his head, apparently in confession. "And I ... needed to prepare."

"Prepare for what?" she asked sharply. "Are you ill?"

Again, the half smile. "Not in the sense that you might define it. However, the fact remains that I am dying and shall be dead within the next two to three weeks, if not sooner."

Ro was struck to her very core, finding it hard to breathe suddenly, her pulse pounding in her temples. "I ... the Doctor can..."

"No," he said firmly. "The Doctor can do nothing." He paused, and added in a gentler voice. "I know that this is ... distressing for you, and I appreciate the emotion that inspires such dismay. But it is my time and unfortunately, the end shall not be ... peaceful. I wish to meet my death in private. I shall achieve a measure of satisfaction in knowing that I do not leave my captain without a capable security chief."

"But Tuvok," she started helplessly, then stopped, not knowing how to finish. This was just so much to take in all at once, especially considering all the rumors floating about that the captain was working on a new way home, that they had actually found a Borg warp coil which could allow the ship to travel at transwarp speed and take them back to the Federation in a week. Engineering was working double and triple shifts while a sense of excitement and enthusiasm swept through the ship ... even as it was tempered judiciously by all the previous disappointments. No one really dared to get their hopes up only to see them dashed again, but yet, there was a distinct sense of anticipation.

She blinked. "This is why the captain is so desperate to get us back to the Alpha Quadrant," she said in sudden enlightenment. "Somehow she thinks if she can get you back home soon, they can save you. Is there something Vulcan physicians can do for you that the Doctor can't, Tuvok?"

"It is not a treatable condition any longer," he said calmly, yet for some reason, she thought he was still being evasive. And finally ... finally ... the studies on exobiology she had taken at Starfleet Academy regarding an aspect of Vulcan culture, rose to nudge her mind from the sea of information she had received on all the various species in the Federation.

"It's Pon farr, isn't it?" she said huskily.

The 'time of mating' was the most secretive and intensely private aspect of Vulcan culture there was, and her studies had just covered the barest mention of it, leaving her with only the knowledge that Vulcans had to mate every seven years ... or die. She was abruptly aware of how long they had been in the Delta Quadrant, six years, and certainly, she had known of his presence in the Maquis at least six months before that. Add on to the fact that most undercover operations took another six or seven months to prepare and it was easy for her to do the math.

"I would prefer not to discuss it," he said stiffly, before softening. "But you are correct and you must know that it is inevitable. I wish only to live my remaining time with as much dignity as is possible. Please, respect that."

"Oh, Prophets, of course I do," she said, wanting to reach out and touch him, somehow suspecting that would be more inappropriate now than ever before. She drew back the hand she had raised, dropping it limply on her lap, taking a slow, deep breath. "But the captain has found a way to return to the Alpha Quadrant," she added somewhat desperately. "If the warp coil can be adapted in time, then we can get you back to Vulcan ... back to your wife."

He inhaled slowly, shadows dancing over his face. "Perhaps," he said, a hint of strain to his voice. "But it is nothing I can count on, particularly after so many other futile attempts. I can only prepare for what I know will happen ... not for what might, Lieutenant."

She dipped her head, her face stricken, fighting back the tears. It had been so long since she had cried, so long before she had allowed anyone to see her hurt. And she could not this time either, not in front of this man who was attempting to hold himself together with everything he was. It would lessen, somehow, his struggle to retain all that he was in the face of what he was about to lose.

"I will ... miss you, Tuvok," she said finally, once she was sure she could control her voice. "I have been proud to serve under you."

He inclined his head. "Thank you," he said softly. "You have been a more than adequate officer, Lieutenant." A pause. "It is best if you leave now."

She felt that stab with the force of a dagger into her heart. "I understand," she said. Gracefully she uncoiled from her position and found the words with only the greatest of efforts. "I await your orders, sir."

He lifted his head and again she saw the burning eyes, full of what? ... pride? ... possibly even affection?

"Serve Captain Janeway with the same loyalty you have shown me, Security Chief Ro Laren. She is a worthy commander and you will do well under her. Keep her safe and protect your ship." He lifted his hand in the gap fingered 'V', staring at her intently and she saw that his face was pale, even in the deceptive illumination of the lamp light. "Live long, and prosper, my friend."

She swallowed hard. There was nothing more she could say and nothing else she could do. She most certainly could not respond in kind, considering they both knew he would do neither.

"Aye, sir," she said.

She turned and left, unsure how she had managed to do so without breaking down. Why did this have to happen? Why was it that everyone who meant something to her, had to leave her? Or if she were in a position to do something about it, why was she always letting them down when they needed her most? She wasn't ready to be Voyager's security chief ... the thought of it shot a sense of helpless panic through her. She knew that she would only fail miserably and disappoint Tuvok in death in a way she had barely been able to keep from doing in life.

She forced her thoughts into focus, realizing that her body, moving on automatic, had brought her to deck ten and engineering. She entered briefly, long enough to find out from a crewman where B'Elanna was, and headed for the lab. She didn't know why exactly, what B'Elanna could possibly do even if she could tell her anything. It was clear that Tuvok did not want anyone else to know until it was long over ... but she still needed to see the Klingon.

B'Elanna was standing next to Seven of Nine at a computer station, the Borg warp coil set in a transparent test chamber in front of them. The Klingon was intent on her work, her face set in that way she had whenever she was completely absorbed in a problem and Ro hesitated inside the door, watching her longingly, but deciding not to interrupt her. After all, the chief engineer was already working on the very thing that could save Tuvok and taking her away from it for empty reassurances would only be counterproductive.

"Lieutenant?" Ensign Vorik, the Vulcan engineer said, finally noticing her standing by the door. "Is there something I can help you with?"

She looked at the young Vulcan and wondered if he knew what Tuvok was going through. Then she realized that probably he would know better than anyone. Perhaps he even had some function to fulfill as the only other Vulcan on board.

"No," she said, turning to go. She hesitated and looked back at him. "Vorik, I don't want to disturb Lt. Torres, but can you tell me how close we are to adapting that warp coil?"

He raised an eyebrow. "The preliminary tests are very promising," he said. "If things go as planned, we possibly could complete the final stage within two weeks."

Ro's mind flashed on Tuvok's face, the way he had looked in the illumination which only showed a fraction of what he was probably going through inside and knew without a doubt that he did not have two weeks.

"Thank you," she said quietly. She shot a final look at B'Elanna who remain oblivious of the Bajoran's presence and left the lab. Aimlessly, she wandered the corridors for a few minutes, before realizing that she was not getting anywhere and found a small alcove to stand in. She remained there for long moments, ignoring the flow of traffic going by her as she thought furiously.

How can I find a way around this? she wondered desperately. There must be something she could do, some possibility that hadn't been tried. Yet there was the disturbing sensation that Tuvok ... and the captain who also obviously knew ... had already looked at all the available options. Since Tuvok had apparently accepted inevitable death and Janeway was determinedly driving her crew to adapt a Borg warp coil in order to return to the Alpha Quadrant immediately or destroy the ship in the process, Ro decided that perhaps there was no solution, that there simply was no way to solve this problem.

Yet, there was a part of her that demanded that she try. Tuvok was too important for her to settle for anything less. She just needed more information about the whole process and in that, perhaps she could find something that the others had overlooked. After all, Tuvok was suffering from all the physical and mental influences this condition caused so he probably wasn't thinking as clearly as he could. And the captain was the sort that tended to leap to the most challenging solution, rather than considering all the possibilities. Ro was also keenly aware that the whole warp coil idea might not work either, or might not work in time, which meant that it was absolutely crucial that she come up with a plan 'B'.

Her head rose, her dark eyes resolved and intent. She would find a way, even if she had to rip away every misconception and secret surrounding Pon farr there was. Even if it cost her the friendship of the Vulcan in the process.

But not enough, a cold acknowledgment shot crystal clear through the confused morass of her thoughts. Not enough to protect her child from the Borg. Not enough to know that her pursuit of scientific knowledge was foolhardy and potentially dangerous to them all. Small and selfish had been the individuals designated as the Hansens.

Seven forced the emotional-laden thought back to the deepest part of herself, assuming a demeanor of cool indifference, of infinite control as she took her place next to the captain. She knew her partner saw through it easily, however, the blue-grey eyes narrowing briefly as they appraised her measuringly. Then Janeway reached over and put her hand on the Borg's elbow, a brief touch, no more, but Seven discovered that it was possibly the only thing holding her together at the moment.

"She will wake now?" Seven asked finally, after making sure her voice would be completely even.

The Doctor nodded. "Yes," he said, lifting a hypospray to the woman's throat. He hesitated before administering the stimulant. "You have to know, Seven, she probably won't even know who she is right away, let alone who you are."

"I am aware of what it is like to no longer be a part of the Collective, Doctor," Seven reminded him, her tone somewhat harsh. She felt Janeway's hand squeeze her elbow gently and she took a breath. "Proceed."

He frowned briefly and pressed the hypospray against the pale, mottled skin, the hiss seeming loud in the quiet of sickbay. The woman's eyelids fluttered, eyes searching the ceiling above her. A touch of panic appeared in the pale blue eyes immediately.

"The voices," she said in a panicked whispered, possibly not even aware that she had spoken out loud. "The voices are gone."

Janeway stepped forward. "What is your designation?" she asked in a clear tone.

The woman's head moved jerkily, looking over at the Starfleet captain, her respiration clearly audible and quickening.

"You are not Borg," she identified. She sat up abruptly, staring at Janeway. "We are the Borg. You shall be assimilated. Resistance is futile."

She raised her hand, suddenly seemed to realize it was devoid of assimilation tubules and began to shake.

"What... we are Borg." But the voice was uncertain now, afraid.

Seven stepped forward involuntarily, reaching out. "We are Borg," she echoed. Surprised, both the Doctor and Janeway looked at her, frowning. "State your designation. Comply."

"We are Four of Ten," the woman responded automatically. "Tertiary sub-unit 4568 to Unimatrix 4537." She hesitated. "We have lost contact with the Collective. We have lost contact with each other."

"We have been severed from the Collective," Seven said firmly. "I am Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix 01."

The Borg seemed rocked. "I will comply," she said obediently, obviously recognizing that Seven's designation indicated that she had been attached close to the main core. There was no form of rank in the Collective, but there was an organization within the hive mind that defined which drone was considered a more 'influential' presence. Seven, thanks to the Queen's attention and intervention, had been positioned in quite a crucial section.

"What do you remember?" Seven asked in a quieter tone.

The woman stared at her, unblinking. "We were attacked by Species 343," she replied. "Our ship was damaged and forced to crash on the planet. This drone survived."

"Yes," Janeway said then, drawing the drone's attention to her. "We rescued you and brought you here to our ship. I am Captain Kathryn Janeway, of the USS Voyager."

"You will return us to the Collective," the drone said flatly, staring at the woman.

"No," Seven interjected firmly, bringing the focus of the drone's eyes back to her. She was somewhat chilled to find that they were familiar eyes ... similar to the ones that she saw in the mirror every day. "We will not return to the Collective. We are individuals now. We will adapt."

The drone had an expression of horror. "No," she said. "We must return to the Collective. We are Borg. We ... we ..." She hesitated, blinking suddenly, swaying. "We have a name."

"That was fast," Janeway murmured softly.

"For adult assimilants, it usually is," the Doctor responded in an equally low tone. "The memories of their previous existence return fairly quickly, particularly once most of the implants are removed."

Seven watched the myriad of emotion cross the drone's face, the fear and wonder of returning thoughts, of being able to think for one's own self again. It had terrified Seven three years earlier in this same sickbay even as she forced herself to do it. For one who had not been a child when assimilated, she anticipated that it would not be so difficult.

The drone suddenly looked at her. "Erin," she said hesitantly. "We are ... I am Erin Hansen." She looked at the others. "The Federation. I am on a Federation starship."

"Yes," Janeway said. She moved closer, her face compassionate. "What do you remember of Erin Hansen?"

The drone ignored her, looking at her hands, at the pale, parchment-like skin, then she reached up and touched her head, the bald skull, fingering the silvery metal still attached to her right temple. "I was ... a scientist," she said. "What did they do to me?"

"It's all right," Janeway said soothingly, and Seven watched, unable to move as her spouse gently put her hand on the woman's shoulder. Distantly, Seven wondered why she could not offer any comfort, as the captain managed so easily. Especially to this individual. "The Borg assimilated you some time ago. We were able to remove most of the implants."

Erin Hansen began to cry, helpless sobs, covering her face with her hands. "What did they do to me? What did they do to me?" She could not seem to stop repeating the words and the Doctor moved closer, wielding yet another hypospray.

"I think we've done enough for the moment," he said gently, pressing the device against her neck. "Rest now. We have plenty of time to carry on with this conversation in the future."

Janeway helped ease the woman down onto the biobed as Erin slipped into unconsciousness and looked at the CMO with concern. "Will she recover?"

"In time, Captain," he assured her. He looked over at Seven, studying her. "Are you all right, Seven?"

"I am functioning adequately," she said coldly. "If you no longer require my presence, I must return to the engineering lab."

"In a moment," Janeway said firmly, coming over to take her arm. Seven did not resist as the captain guided her into the office as the Doctor and Sek remained behind to monitor the drone. "Talk to me, Annika. This can't be easy for you."

"It is not easy," Seven agreed. She hesitated. "But I am unsure as to what you are expecting from me."

Janeway sighed softly, moving close to look up into the carefully controlled features of her spouse, her hands warm on Seven's arms. "I'm not expecting anything of you," she said intently. "How can I, when I can't even begin to guess what you're going through? This is a completely unimaginable, totally unique situation. But I also know that you're considerably upset because of the way you're acting. You only fall back on this 'Borg attitude' when you don't know what to do."

Seven bent her head, feeling her defenses fall as if they had never existed. "That is correct," she admitted softly, shakily. "I do not know what I feel. Or what I am supposed to feel."

"That's all right," the captain assured her. "You don't have to feel anything at all, darling. Just don't shut me out, or pretend to be unaffected by this. I want you to know that I'm here for you right now, to listen to whatever you want or need to say."

"What if I do not know what to say?" Seven asked plaintively.

"Then, I'm here for that, too," Janeway said, sliding her arms around her waist, ignoring the fact that the two women were clearly visible through the transparent barrier to the rest of sickbay. "If you need me to hold you, if you need me to stay with you ... even if you need me to leave you alone, just tell me and I'll do whatever you want. You are far more important to me than the ship or my duties at the moment."

Seven wrapped her arms around the smaller form of her spouse, clinging to her. "I do not know what I want you to do," she whispered helplessly, burying her face in Janeway's hair.

"Then I'm going to stand here and hold you as close as I can for the next little while," Janeway said softly, rubbing Seven's back lightly. "In the meantime, you just concentrate on how much I love you. We'll work out the rest when it's time."

Seven closed her eyes and tried to take her spouse's advice, absorbing herself in the fragrance of her beloved, centering her attention on how it felt to hug the captain, how it felt to have her hold her in return. It did grant her a measure of peace. Her heart rate slowed perceptibly and the terrifying feelings filling her chest and making her head pound receded, replaced by warmth and a belief that things would be all right, just so long as she held onto her partner.

"I do feel better," she said finally, drawing back to look down into the smoky gaze. "How did you know?"

Janeway smiled gently. "Because when I'm running around, feeling as if I'm losing my mind, taking a moment to hold you always calms me enough to start thinking clearly again," she admitted. "I hoped it would do the same for you."

"It did," Seven said. "I have never felt so ... uncertain before, Kathryn." She quirked an eyebrow. "I am still uncertain, but it is no longer as ... frightening."

"I'm glad," Janeway said, her face soft as she regarded her.

Seven inhaled slowly. "I will concentrate my efforts on the engineering lab with my work on the warp coil," she said quietly. "When the drone ... when Erin Hansen ... wakes again, then I shall speak with her further and try to help her adapt to being severed from the Collective." She paused, thinking about it. "I do not think I will tell her I am her daughter. Not immediately."

"You'll know when the time is right," Janeway said calmly. "I'll leave it completely in your hands." She reached up and cupped her partner's cheek in her hand. "Still, darling, she might figure it out on her own."

"Eighteen years is a long time," Seven noted rationally. "I am no longer six years old. I no longer look anything like I did as a child. I do not believe that I would recognize Naomi Wildman were she suddenly to become an adult."

"Perhaps not," Janeway agreed easily. "However, it is also possible to underestimate the power of a mother's ability to know her child, Annika. Just don't be surprised by anything that might happen."

"I shall adapt in any event," Seven promised.

Janeway smiled. "I suspect you will," she said. She paused, dropping her hand and abruptly the captain was back, though there was no visible alteration of her expression. "Is there anything new regarding the warp coil?"

Seven never failed to be impressed by this change, done in an instant, the other side of the kind, compassionate woman she loved. Captain Janeway was also compassionate, of course, but it was always tempered by the knowledge of her responsibilities, and threaded throughout with a keen, practical streak that was not present when Janeway was simply being 'Kathryn'. Obediently, Seven released her, drawing away marginally.

"The specs are very clear on how we must alter the components of the warp coil," the young woman responded. "We shall begin in the morning, and expect to have most of the first stage changes done by the end of the beta shift."

Janeway nodded and suddenly the captain was gone again. Seven tried not to smile since she suspected it was completely unconscious on the part of her spouse. She did not think she could explain it well enough for Janeway to appreciate what Seven had come to recognize about her.

"In that case, I think that we should call it a day," Janeway said quietly, reaching out for her again, taking her hand. "It's been another long one and we both need our sleep."

Seven nodded. "I believe you are correct," she allowed softly. She tilted her head. "I think I need to go to bed and hold you all night long. I will be required to think very clearly tomorrow morning."

Janeway smiled, recognizing the gentle teasing and she patted Seven fondly on the back as they left the office. Seven glanced once more at the individual lying unconscious on the biobed, then fixed her eyes firmly forward as she followed her spouse back to their quarters.

Tuvok remained isolated in his cabin and Vorik had quietly been given leave to set up housekeeping in the cabin next to the security chief's. Not that Tuvok was operating as the security chief any longer, as Ro Laren took over that role in all but name. Janeway had yet to make it official, however, because once she did, she would be obligated to explain certain things to various people. For the moment, crewmembers like Commander Chakotay were of the belief that Tuvok was simply taking some accumulated leave. Here the Delta Quadrant, when a senior officer asked for time off, it was usually given with no questions asked as long as it didn't interfere with the operation of the ship. Chakotay had passed on the request for her authorization without question. She had signed off on it casually and so things stood. That would change immediately once Tuvok ... died and Ro Laren was installed officially as the head of the security department.

She suspected that Chakotay would be extremely resentful at having been kept in the dark about what was going on for so long, but she decided that he would just have to live with it. Pon farr was an intensely private and personal aspect of Vulcan culture and no one had the right to interfere with it so long as the individual in question was capable of making his own decisions. The only other Vulcan on the ship, Vorik, had no experience with the time of mating and when his first Pon farr came upon him, he quickly made it necessary for the Doctor and others to intercede. Tuvok, on the other hand, had experienced it many times over his long life span and could control it enough to keep it secret from anyone he chose for as long as he chose ... right to the end if that was his decision. She had to respect that both as his friend and captain and make sure others respected it as well, no matter how much it might hurt her to do so.

Which was why she had placed a flag on anything to do with the information pertaining to Vulcan Pon farr in the medical data banks. The little beep from her computer startled her out of her thoughts and she leaned forward, concerned when she saw that someone was accessing the data. She quickly made a trace, expecting to find that the Doctor had finally figured out that something might be going on with the Vulcan and was about to interfere. It was her job to forestall that since all he really could do was drug Tuvok into a stupor until the end came. That was not Tuvok's choice and she would make sure the Doctor understood and accepted it, even though she knew he would argue forcefully against it.

She was considerably surprised to find that it was not the Doctor's code which was requesting the information, but rather, that of the Bajoran, Ro Laren. She immediately touched her comm badge.

"Janeway to Ro," she said.

There was a hesitation. "Go ahead," Ro responded.

"I need to see you in my ready room immediately," Janeway said calmly, but firmly.

"On my way," Ro said, her tone vaguely puzzled.

Janeway got up from her chair and moved around her desk to ascend the short flight of stairs leading to the upper level of her ready room. There, she poured herself a cup of coffee from the silver thermos which rested on the low table and sipped the hot, rich brew quietly as she took a seat on the couch. The chime of her door sounded and she raised her head, eyes dark and grey.

"Come," she instructed.

Ro Laren entered the ready room, her slender form moving with a graceful sort of deadliness. Janeway had noticed it before but it seemed particularly apparent now that this was the person she was expected to rely on to protect her ship in the event her plan to save Tuvok did not work out. The woman quickly spotted the captain on the upper level, her eyes narrowing momentarily, then she lithely mounted the stairs to stand before Janeway, and linked her hands behind her back.

"Captain?"

"I know that Tuvok has informed you that you are to take over his duties," Janeway said quietly. "I'm not sure if he told you why."

"I know why."

Janeway dipped her head. "This time is very private and personal for a Vulcan," she said carefully. "It is not the place of an outsider to..."

"With all due respect, Captain," Ro interrupted. "I suspect I know more about it than you do at the moment. Which is why your plan to get the ship back to the Alpha Quadrant is insufficient. We need a back up plan if we intend to save Tuvok."

Janeway blinked and underwent several alterations in her attitude immediately. Something, she noted dryly to herself, she found herself doing quite often when dealing with this woman. The more she dealt with Ro Laren, the more she found beneath that quiet, contained surface. Fire raged within and frequently, Janeway had to adapt quickly so that she wouldn't get burned.

"I'm listening," she said quietly, sipping her coffee with a calm she was far from feeling.

A bit of surprise appeared in the Bajoran's eyes and Janeway felt a bit of satisfaction that she was still able to keep the other woman off balance. She suspected that she needed to continue to do that as long as she was her captain.

"You had the flag on the computer," Ro said grudgingly. "I didn't even see it until it was tripped, but I thought it was Tuvok insuring his privacy. I'm glad I found most of my information from the exobiology databanks before I attempted the medical database."

"I am attempting to assist my security chief as much as possible," Janeway responded, kicking herself mentally. She had been so concerned about the Doctor finding out, she hadn't put a flag on the main data banks, which anyone could access. She raised an eyebrow. "Plan 'B'?" she prodded.

Ro took a deep breath. "There is the 'surrogate' option."

Janeway frowned. "Indeed?" she said, her tone insisting she continue. The surrogate option?

Ro began to pace as she spoke and Janeway found her shoulders tense in empathy as she watched, knowing well that form of hard-to-control energy.

"Vulcans don't like to speak about this because of the fact they lose control of their emotions," Ro explained. "So they keep things quiet and the rest of the Federation makes up the rest with innuendo and myth. Rather like Klingon sexual habits. The amount of misconception each species has about others can be astounding, Captain."

"I'm sure," Janeway said, having the sudden urge to ask about the misconceptions of Klingon sexual habits and restraining herself with an effort. She decided that she hadn't been getting enough sleep lately and forced herself to concentrate on the Bajoran.

"This whole, 'mate or die', is not exactly what a lot of people believe," Ro continued. "It was frequent that bond mates were apart when Pon farr came upon them in the past, so an alternative solution had to be created."

"Like the ritual 'battle to the death' if a challenge to marriage is made," Janeway said. "That's how Vorik's was solved."

"Because he was young and an unbonded male, Captain, and had never experienced Pon farr before. Plenty of species can sublimate their sex drives into violence, but that isn't an option for a bonded male. Thus, the option of a 'surrogate' was developed. An unbonded female stands in for the wife just as an unbonded male would stand in for the husband if necessary. I'm sure they have arranged such for Tuvok's wife on Vulcan. It's up to us to arrange it for him here."

"He never mentioned this." Janeway frowned.

Ro shot her a look. "Do you really think he would, Captain? There are no Vulcan females on Voyager and it's not as if just any female would do. For a Vulcan completely caught up in the heat of emotions he can no longer suppress, there is little ability to control anything during sex. Surely, you must have experienced your own loss of control on occasion."

A flash of being pressed over her desk crossed Janeway's mind, the helpless spasms of her body as Seven ravished her so lovingly. The sensation shivered through her system and she was hard-pressed not to blush.

"I have," she said evenly.

"Vulcans are much stronger than a great many other species," Ro said gravely. "I suspect that a lot of people don't realize how strong. That higher gravity has created a dense musculature which could inadvertently hurt, say, a Human female. It's not a matter of violence so much as physiological incompatibilities."

"There have been Human/Vulcan marriages," Janeway pointed out.

"And I bet they prepared the Human partner extensively leading up to Pon farr," Ro shot back dryly. "If not providing a surrogate again."

"I knew it had to be a physically strong woman," Janeway said, filing this new information away. "Though not why, exactly."

"She also has to be mentally strong. The female channels a lot of the psychic energy during the mating, and must be disciplined enough to control it. A Betazed easily has that kind of mental discipline, but they simply couldn't handle the physical aspect of it without proper training. We don't have time to train anyone, even if we knew how."

Janeway took another sip of her coffee. "I'm sure you have a point here," she said, cutting to the chase. "Make it."

Ro stopped, facing the captain. "There are three women on board this vessel who could handle a Vulcan male physically at the moment," she said calmly. "Seven of Nine, because of her Borg enhancements..."

"Unacceptable," Janeway interrupted. "Even if she wasn't involved with her mother at the moment, she would not be ... suitable."

"She's never been with a male," Ro said knowingly. "And the whole unexpected nature of that would make her unable to maintain a mental discipline during the experience."

A muscle twitched in Janeway's jaw. "Something like that," she allowed, eyeing the Bajoran narrowly.

"The second possibility of a surrogate is B'Elanna Torres," Ro continued impassively. "Part of the reason Vorik chose her, no doubt."

Janeway smiled thinly. "But you don't like that idea," she said delicately.

Ro quirked an eyebrow. "This is Tuvok we're talking about, Captain," she responded, with probably the most honesty Janeway had ever gotten from her. "If it meant saving his life, and the life of his wife, I'd drag Torres in there myself and stand outside the door to make sure she wouldn't leave. But Klingons don't really have the proper mental abilities to channel Vulcan emotions. She would feed off them instead and amplify them. While that might work with an unbonded male, or one who was bonded to her, it would only make it worse with Tuvok who's bonded to another. She would also be receiving an echo from his wife and her surrogate as well. B'Elanna might survive the emotional overload. They wouldn't."

Janeway took a breath, appreciating the very practical nature of the Bajoran even as she was a little set back by it. She knew she had such a steel streak within herself, but she was always surprised whenever she found it in someone else. Perhaps it was a necessary trait for command and if that were the case, perhaps Ro was more suitable for the role she had in mind for her, than she had originally thought.

"And the third?" she said evenly.

"Myself," Ro said matter-of-factly. "Bajoran females have a comparable strength to Vulcan females and as a result of the tactical training I underwent at Starfleet, I have developed very disciplined mental techniques."

Janeway took another swallow of her coffee, buying time as she considered all this.

"You're saying you want to play the role of Tuvok's Pon farr surrogate."

"Do you have a better option?" Ro replied.

"His wife," Janeway said, looking at her narrowly. "When we return to the Alpha Quadrant."

Ro shrugged. "If we return," she said. She regarded the captain seriously. "I'm not saying that we won't get back, or this plan with the warp coil won't happen, but I'd be a lot more comfortable if we had a backup plan in place in case it doesn't happen in time."

Janeway nodded. "I certainly can't argue with that," she said with a sigh. "But what makes you think Tuvok would go along."

"Because I would present it to him at the crucial time in a very logical manner," Ro said. "However, I also realize that no one can know about this. It would be such a personal thing to Tuvok that he would rather die than have anything about it revealed to outsiders. I do know he's willing to die rather than have the Doctor attempt to treat him."

Janeway considered that. "You're right," she said, a