Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, concentrated on her engineering array and tried very hard not to look at her spouse of over a year who was piloting the Delta Flyer. At the moment, Captain Kathryn Janeway was not particularly pleased with her astrometrics officer, which was fair, because for the past week or so, Seven of Nine had not been particularly pleased with her captain. Now they did their jobs in a professional, if chilly fashion, and tried not to allow their personal tension interfere with the task at hand.
"Long range sensors are indicating the approach of a wave front," Seven noted. "It would be prudent to divert our course by seven degrees."
Janeway glanced at the data on her screen, then shook her head. "That will add two days to our return to Voyager," she said shortly, almost dismissively. "The Flyer is able to withstand a wave front of this magnitude."
Seven exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to grind her teeth. "Captain, there are indications of some unusual readings within the wave itself. It's possible that they could damage certain systems of the shuttle."
"Verify," Janeway said, refusing to take that at face value.
"That is not possible with this equipment," Seven explained, her eyes narrowing. "Caution dictates that we divert course."
Janeway paused and Seven could see the muscle jumping in her jaw. "Speculate. What could happen to the Delta Flyer?"
Seven frowned. "I do not care to speculate without more extensive data," she said stubbornly.
Janeway inhaled sharply, aggravation evident in the set of her head, and Seven took a certain pleasure in it, knowing she was the cause.
"Then we'll go through." Her tone brokered no dissension.
"Very well."
"It did not require your approval," Janeway noted with some heat.
"As you will."
Janeway opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it with a snap, fuming at her inability to have the last word. Seven returned her attention to her board, monitoring the data crossing over her viewscreen. There was a part of her that realized they both were being totally irrational in their actions, but another part ... the emotional part ... was determined not to back down. Kathryn was being completely unreasonable, and Seven absolutely refused to apologize or give any indication that she was finding this whole situation completely intolerable. Not until Janeway did.
"Time to intercept wave front, ten minutes," the Borg noted icily.
"Maintaining course," Janeway said deliberately, all sorts of provocation simmering beneath the even tones.
Seven shot a glare her way, but did not respond. The wave front was now visible through the front viewport, a gaseous, roiling mass of glowing greens and blues. Seven watched the readings from the sensors stream steadily through her console, and perhaps it was her anger that kept her from recognizing what they portended any earlier than she did.
"Captain," she said, voice rising, putting aside their antagonism completely in her moment of alarm. "There are magnetic strands threading through the cloud."
Conflict forgotten, Janeway did not hesitate. "Hard about," she said, her hands flying over the helm.
But it was too late.
The Delta Flyer was abruptly thrown sideways as it impacted with the closest of the strands that Seven had not detected in time. Lights flickered as both women were jolted roughly about, and there was a sickening sensation of weightlessness as the integrity field and the shields failed briefly and returned, considerably lessened in intensity. Seven's hands flew over the board, now festooned with red from various malfunctions.
Janeway's face was strained as she fought the helm controls, trying to bring the vessel back on a steady course. It was an impossible attempt, the tiny ship thrown about in the wave as if it were a pinball in one of the arcade games that Tom Paris was so fond of. Seven knew if both women had not been strapped in ... as Seven had stubbornly insisted upon when they left Varkus IV as per protocol ... they would have suffered severe injuries by this point. As it were, Seven felt the straps cut cruelly into her flesh, and she could only imagine what her spouse was experiencing with her fully Human frame not enhanced by Borg metal and nanoprobes.
It seemed an eternity before they were spit out into the vacuum of normal space, the cloud seeming almost contemptuous as it left the damaged craft behind, continuing on its inexorable way through the heavens.
"Captain?" Seven said, her ears ringing from where her head had slammed into the bulkhead.
"Report," Janeway responded, with but a fraction of the command whip in her tone.
Seven swallowed hard against the bile which had risen in her throat from the shaking they had undergone and scanned her board. The news was not good and she took a deep breath to prepare her response.
"Structural integrity field is down to 15%," she recited. "Warp engines are off line and emergency life support is activated. Hull stress has exceeded tolerance on the port nacelle as well as the starboard support. No breaches in progress but the struts require additional bracing once extended for warp speed. The vessel is operating on emergency reserves and the energy stores have been drained to 33%."
Janeway didn't answer right away, still working on her board, and Seven waited uneasily.
"We're too banged up to try for Voyager." Her voice was hard. "We need to set down somewhere and make repairs, or at least, try to survive until they come for us."
"Understood. Releasing distress beacon now. Scanning for class M planets."
The silence stretched out and finally, Janeway shot an angry look over her shoulder.
"Go ahead," she said hotly.
Baffled, Seven glanced at her.
"What?"
"Tell me that I should have avoided the wave front," the captain said, anger threatening to boil over. "You've been gleefully informing me of all the rest of my shortcomings this week. I'd hate to think you'd fail to reach perfection by missing this one."
Wounded, Seven stared down at her board. "I did not intend to say any such thing," she said frostily. Especially since a part of her felt responsible for the whole situation. Had she let her anger at Janeway get in the way of doing her job properly? Why hadn't she insisted that they not enter the wave front?
There was a chirp from her console. "I have a possibility," she added in her best Borg voice, devoid of any emotional inflection at all. "It is the third planet of the only system within reach. However, it is in its glacial period. We would need to land at the equator to have any chance at long term survival."
"Laying in a course," Janeway said, her voice unnaturally even.
The ship shuddered as the captain channeled power into the impulse engines, but it did not fly apart, and Seven released the breath she did not even realize she had been holding. Her temples throbbed, both from the blow to her head and the stress she was experiencing. Somehow, she thought she would be adapting to the situation a great deal easier if she did not feel this distance between herself and the captain.
If only Kathryn was not so ... obstinate, she thought coldly, keeping a close eye on the energy output, ready to override at any sign of an overload. The ship creaked and groaned disturbingly as they limped toward the star system, but the integrity field held, and wherever she could find the spare power, she bolstered the weakest spots.
The trip through the outer system was perilous, Janeway having to steer well clear of any meteors or debris that would test an already strained hull. The sound of groaning metal and muffled hisses boded badly for sustained life support, and they sent shivers down Seven's spine as she constantly directed their depleted power to shore up various weak spots that kept popping up every passing minute. The hours passed with agonizing slowness, the conversation between the two kept to an absolute minimum of exchanged technical data and nothing beyond.
Finally, they reached the outer atmosphere of the planet, and Janeway shot a look over her shoulder.
"This is going to be rough, so strap in tight," she ordered. "I don't know if the hull will stand up to re-entry. We probably won't make it down in one piece."
Seven glanced at her, and in the instant that the women's eyes met, everything else was forgotten, their gaze holding in a timeless exchange that transcended the strife they had been experiencing in the past week or so, mutual silent apologies and regrets foremost in their expressions. The wordless stare said far more than all their recent recriminations and carelessly hurtful comments, and Seven felt her chest ache acutely. How could she have let anything interfere with her feelings for her spouse?
Tears stung the Borg's eyes. "I love you, my Kathryn," she said softly, no longer caring who was right or wrong, or what position was the correct one on the issue that had come between them.
Janeway swallowed hard, her throat moving visibly in the murky illumination. "I love you," she whispered, "Seven of Mine."
The captain held the look between them a little longer, her blue-grey eyes shimmering briefly, then nodded once before turning back to the helm. "Let's do it," she said, her voice hardening again. Her hands moved quickly over her board, keying in the constant corrections and course changes that the ship required. "Entering upper atmosphere."
Immediately, there was a jolt and things began to happen very quickly. The ship began to tumble, tossed around like a leaf in a stream, and it was all Seven could do to maintain any kind of focus on her console. Janeway was yelling orders but it was impossible to hear her over the pounding the ship was taking. The Borg did realize that any hope of a controlled descent through the atmosphere was impossible, and she kept routing power through the thrusters and the shields as best she could, trusting that her partner would do the best she could with them at the helm.
Then far too soon, they were breaking through the grey of the clouds into a snow storm, the visibility almost nil, and Janeway bit off a short curse that did manage to be heard amid the rumblings and screams of stressed metal.
"We're going down!"
Seven braced herself, wishing desperately that she could do the same for her partner, and wondering absurdly what the vessel looked like from below, screaming through the sky like a falling star. Frantically, Janeway attempted to maintain a level heading, looking around for someplace to land, or at least, to crash with as minimal further damage as possible. The temperature rose dramatically as the friction from the atmosphere heated the hull of the vessel, and Seven found it difficult to breath in the choking heat.
The ship bounced once, a bang that made the Borg's teeth crash together, before it hit a downslope of some sort. Plowing through drifts of snow that billowed wildly, it became an uncontrollable toboggan skipping along an ice field. Seven's detached, logical mind allowed for the fact that it was probably that angle of descent that was currently keeping them intact, translating their momentum into a helpless skid across the snow. Had they hit a flat spot, or worse, an incline, they simply would have disintegrated, exploding in a fireball of metal, circuitry and organic tissue.
Then, there was something black and large looming up in front of them, and with a final jolt that reverberated to her very molecules, Seven's head slammed into the bulkhead next to her and darkness descended, total and complete.
She was crumpled over the helm, her face pressed against the cold, inactive touch screen, as a sort of haze filled the air around her. She tried to move, gasping at the sharp agony that lanced from her ribcage. Probably cracked, she noted dazedly, if not broken entirely. No doubt, there were internal injuries as well. She turned her head gingerly, seeing a white cloud issue from her lips. It was exceptionally cold and her breath crystallized in the air, creating a frosty cloud. Through the fore viewport, she could see the boulder that had brought them to such an abrupt halt, the nose of the Delta Flyer folded around it, disturbed clots of snow and ice breaking up the otherwise stark, white wall of a steady, wind-whipped snowstorm.
From what she could tell, all the systems had completely failed. It was imperative that she get a few of them operable again before she died of exposure. She didn't think the vessel had managed to come down as close to the equator as she had initially planned, but obviously, they weren't in the northern regions or they would have already frozen solid.
That brought the plight of her partner into sharp immediacy, and she struggled to turn around, to see what had happened to Seven. The Borg was still strapped to her chair, slumped in her restraints, blood oozing sluggishly from a slash along the side of her head, a crimson stream caking her face all the way down to her black sweater. Janeway's breath came in sobs as she dug a medkit out from the closest compartment and pried herself out of her chair. Her left arm pressed tight to her side, she stumbled over to the Borg.
"Annika," she said weakly, activating a medical tricorder, running a probe over the young woman. The readings were not particularly good, nor did Seven respond to her name, but it certainly wasn't as bad as it could have been. Janeway was keenly aware that one or both of them could have, and probably should have, been killed in this crash. Why had she insisted on going through the wave front? Why didn't she listen to Seven when the Borg had warned her not to? Was her pride so damned important to her that she would let it affect her better judgment? Was her beloved partner going to die from such arrogance?
As she went over the variety of injuries her partner had, she found that she was talking to Seven, not really paying attention to what she was saying.
"I expect you to come through this," she commanded. "You can't fight with me for two weeks and then just up and die on me without giving me the last word. That's completely unacceptable."
She got out the bone knitter and went over all the fractures her partner had managed to acquire, then did the same for herself, the immediate relief from the cracked ribs almost enough to make her cry. The dermal regenerator closed the deep cut on Seven's head along with the one that Janeway had suffered on her leg. The captain knew that they had been fortunate not to have bled to death in the aftermath, the cold having aided somewhat with the clotting. The rest of the scrapes and bruises she left, knowing that the ship needed to be tended if the couple intended to keep on surviving. Any minor contusions would have to heal themselves with time. It did pain her greatly that she could do nothing about Seven's concussion or the internal bleeding beyond administering a hypospray of broad spectrum antibiotics, hoping that the young woman's nanoprobes would take care of the worst of it. Nor did she try to move her, leaving the Borg strapped into the chair while she wrapped a couple of Starfleet-issued thermal-reflective blankets around her. The thin, silver material would keep Seven's body heat from leeching away into the surrounding air that was rapidly chilling as the temperature outside made its presence felt.
Janeway checked Seven's board, cursing as she saw it was completely dead. She knew that for them to be losing heat so rapidly, there had to be a hull breach somewhere. When she couldn't find it inside, she knew it was probably on the outer hull where she couldn't see it. That meant going out into what looked like a major blizzard. Fortunately, the atmosphere of the planet was breathable, and assuming no viral or bacteriological element existed that required a more detailed analysis, they would be able to replenish their air supply.
Not that any bacteria existed out there, she thought as she glanced through the fore viewport. Snow peppered the transparency, propelled by a harsh wind that could be heard moaning about the thick hull. Any self respecting virus would promptly shrivel up and die in such horrid conditions. She took another look at her partner, her pale narrow features smeared with blood, and felt her heart twinge painfully in her chest. Swiftly, she leaned down and brushed her lips over Seven's forehead.
"Stay with me, darling," she ordered.
She picked her way back to the aft compartment, stepping over loose parts and equipment that had broken free during the crash, and avoiding the dangling wires that had burst from the ceiling. In a locker, she found the necessary cold weather gear, and pulled on the heavy padded jacket over her uniform. The hood of the coat was lined with artificial fur threaded liberally with thin heating strands meant to warm the air before it reached the wearer's face. After fastening it securely, she drew on the tough, yet flexible gloves, and then picked up a tool kit before entering the air lock. She had to cycle the controls manually, gritting her teeth against the strain on her already stressed muscles as she grasped the stubborn handle.
The wind cut through her like a knife as she stepped out onto the planet's surface, pelting her with small snowflakes that stung as they impacted her skin. The lined hood kept her face from freezing, but it could not melt the flakes before they hit, the wind propelling them with such force that it was like being constantly peppered with sand. She gasped and drew out her tricorder, making a circuit of the tiny vessel that looked far worse from the outside.
Both nacelles, along with most of the underside of the vessel, had been ripped from the ship and were undoubtedly left somewhere far behind in the white obscurity. Even as Janeway watched, the deep ruts created by the Delta Flyer, where it had plowed its way to a stop, were being obscured by fresh snow. She supposed they were fortunate the nacelles hadn't exploded when they were torn free, though it would have been a very quick death in the blast of searing radioactive heat.
Discovering a tear in the hull along the starboard side, she used a laser from the tool kit to patch it. It would not hold up to space flight, of course, nor even any kind of long distant atmospheric flight, but it would keep the interior insulation secure while they were on the ground.
The next task was to find some sort of power. Somewhere through all that grey cloud and blinding snow was the planet's sun, and Starfleet vessels were designed to utilize that energy. Indeed, as many before her had found out, and as many undoubtedly would after her, sometimes it was all survivors of a crash had to draw upon.
It required her to climb up onto the roof of the Delta Flyer, however, and that was no easy task in this weather. Cursing, she slipped and slid, trying to find purchase on the handholds, and finally ended up using the boulder at the front to boost herself. She crawled unsteadily over the roof, brushing away the snow that had buried the top, aware that if she fell off, at least her landing would be relatively cushioned by the drifts starting to pile up around the vessel. Once she finished clearing the snow, she repaired one of the transfer units with a spanner, and with hands now shaking from the cold, activated the solar absorption panels.
It was with relief that she saw the line of lights indicating full activation, as a small deflector field automatically activated when the solar grid was engaged, keeping the snow from settling on the energy absorbing panels. However, she knew she would probably have to get up here again the next day to chip away any ice that formed from the melting snow around the edges. A check with the tricorder revealed that the energy, as minimal as it was, was already trickling through to the storage batteries within the emergency reserves and bringing the ship's power back on line. The temperature had dropped even further as she worked, the light growing duller as night approached, and she was shivering as she tried the ventral hatch that was jammed shut. Obviously she was not going to be able to enter or exit the ship through the roof as she had hoped. Cursing, she slid down the front slope of the ship and struggled through the drifts to the rear of the vessel, cycling through the airlock a second time into the aft compartment where she dropped the tool kit on the deck. Although the snow did not melt at all, at least it and she were now out of the cruelly biting wind.
It was dark inside, the vessel still lacking enough energy to spare for interior lighting and the weak, fretful sputters from the emergency lighting were worse than useless, casting odd shadows where there shouldn't be any. Tripping more than once over debris as she made her way forward, the captain realized that she had never before been on a ship that had experienced such a complete and catastrophic systems failure. She wondered if Tom Paris's construction had a design flaw, and then reminded herself that the tough little ship had managed to remain intact long enough to get them down alive. Considering the alternative, she should be grateful that lack of power was currently the worst she had to deal with. She dug out some candles and a lighter from the emergency stores in a forward compartment and lit two of the fat little cylinders. Not only would they grant some light, they would also provide some much needed warmth while she worked on improving their situation.
She quickly checked on Seven, examining her intently in the dim light. The Borg had not worsened, but there was no sign that she had regained consciousness while the captain had been gone, either. Janeway tenderly kissed her spouse on the forehead again, as much to comfort herself than because she thought Seven could feel it, and went to work on the ops panel. It took a lot of rerouting of circuitry, but finally, she was able to produce some heat from the vents, along with activating the distress beacon. In a vacuum, getting rid of heat was a much larger problem for space ships than keeping the interior warm. Air conditioning was actually much easier to provide to the shuttle's interior. Janeway shot another look out the viewport and grimaced. This whole damned planet is an air conditioner, she thought sourly.
She stopped shivering as the interior temperature gradually rose, and finally she was able to shed the bulky jacket. Another check on Seven showed she was warming up as well ... too well. The Borg was starting to run a fever and Janeway administered another hypospray, trying not to let her concern overwhelm her.
Her instincts demanded that she keep moving, so she cleaned up the shuttle's interior as best she could, storing away the equipment that had broken loose and piling any broken items in the corner, intending to look them over later in the hopes of salvaging what she could. She then ran a inventory on their supplies, taking stock of what tools, equipment and food they had. She knew that without enough energy to power the replicators beyond the lowest level recycling function, the two women were limited to the shuttle's stock of field rations and the unappealing mission bars. The shuttle held the standard supply ... enough to last a year for two people, though it was expected that anyone stranded that long would eventually supplement the supplies with natural foodstuffs and gradually wean off the rations altogether.
Janeway felt a little better once she had finished her check, but it was without enthusiasm that she popped a field ration, not feeling especially hungry. The packet heated itself as the seal was broken, though the captain was unaware that these self-contained meals were very similar to what had been known as 'TV dinners' in the latter part of the 20th and early part of the 21st century. Far more nutritionally sound, however.
Desolately, she picked at the Salisbury steak and the reconstituted potatoes, but knew she had to eat. It was still not particularly warm inside the ship yet, and with such harsh conditions outside, it was highly unlikely that it would become very comfortable. The two Voyager crewmembers would not freeze as long as the solar panels were operative, but staying warm took energy, and it was clear that the most they could hope for was simply to stay alive until Voyager found them ... if they did.
Janeway forced herself to finish the meal, and then checked Seven again, leaning against the console beside the Borg as she peered anxiously into the still features. She would have preferred for Seven to be prone, specifically in one of the bunks in the aft cargo compartment, but Janeway wasn't strong enough to carry her back there with any kind of gentleness, and if she tried dragging her or something equally inelegant, she might only make things worse. Seven's breathing was steady, and the fever seemed to have abated somewhat, so Janeway decided to leave the young woman strapped in the chair.
She discovered an away mission heating unit in the supplies and created a makeshift kitchen on the metal shelf lining the starboard side of the shuttle. She stepped outside briefly, long enough to fill a container with snow, which she melted and heated until it was warm. Along with some clean cloths, she carried the bowl over to where her partner sagged in the chair, leaning against the ops console as she looked at her. Wetting one of the cloths, she carefully cleaned the blood from the Seven's face and neck, her ministrations more a caress of comfort than having any medicinal value.
"Darling, I don't know if you can hear me," she whispered, "But I'm so sorry about the fights we've been having. I realize how much it hurt you when we had to take the baby back to her people ... but that was where she belonged, just as you belong with us. I held her too, and I know what it felt like, but Annika, she had to be returned. It wasn't our place to keep her. I just want you to know how sorry I am that we've disagreed so harshly about this. I never meant to hurt you with this decision. That was never my intent. I was trying to do what was best for everyone."
She stopped, her chest hurting. This wasn't anything that she hadn't said before, and Seven had refused to accept it. Even if the Borg wasn't unconscious, it was unlikely that she would accept it now. Distressed, Janeway retrieved one of the blankets and wrapped it around herself, leaning up against the bulkhead. She would have been more comfortable in a bunk, of course, but she didn't want to be that far away from Seven. Instead, she watched her partner's bruised face, feeling helpless and not a little frightened.
After awhile, she found herself nodding off, unable to remain upright, and rather than fall down, she moved over to the engineering station on the opposite side of the shuttle, curling up in the chair that she angled to face Seven. Somehow, she managed to doze off, hearing the constant wind moan around the ship and the quiet tick of snow pellets hitting the viewports. When she woke, the candles had burned themselves out and it was pitch black in the shuttle, if a little warmer. Obviously, channeling all the power to produce heat rather than light had been a good idea. She thought about going to find more candles, wondering what had woke her.
Then she heard it, outside, the soft, muffled sound of something moving through the snow.
Something large. Very large.
Heart in her throat, she felt around beside her, finding the engineering console by virtue of banging her hand into it. She bit her lip to hold back her curse, freezing as everything went dead still. Even the wind seemed to have died, and she was conscious of her breathing, of the respiration of her partner ... and of something else snorting heavily outside. She listened as whatever it was moved again, and there a sudden knock as if it had run into the side of the shuttle. From across the darkness, Seven made a sound, an unconscious whimper of protest and Janeway's eyes hurt as she peered fruitlessly into the blackness. The only illumination came from the weak reflection of the snow through the transparencies, and then even that disappeared as something big and dark blocked out the viewport.
Janeway swallowed back her startled scream and hoped with everything she had that Seven would not stir again, would not cry out. If Janeway could figure out a way to get across to her without making any noise, or better yet, get to the phaser rifles, she would, but right now, it was in everyone's best interests if everyone just remained right where they were. Particularly that big ominous shadow peering in from outside.
The minutes passed with agonizing slowness, and abruptly, the shadow was gone. The captain didn't know how long she remained staring into the darkness, the wind resuming its howl around the shuttle, almost as if whatever had been out there had frightened it into stillness as thoroughly as Janeway had been. More likely, however, the chances were that the creature had just been out during a lull in the storm, and had retreated when it started up again. She wasn't sure when she fell asleep again, too exhausted to hold it off, even with the possible presence of a predator prowling around their shuttle. When she opened her eyes, it was daylight, and she wondered if she had somehow dreamed the entire thing.
She painfully uncoiled from the chair and moved over to where Seven remained unconscious. Janeway debated as to whether or not she should try to administer a stimulant, but the diagnostic program in the medical tricorder did not recommend it at this point, and she wasn't about to start experimenting with dosages on her partner. Instead, she pulled on her jacket again and went outside.
The wind remained strong and bitter, whipping up loose granules of snow, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky arching a frozen bowl of azure over the stark landscape. The sun reflected harshly off the sculpted drifts, and Janeway blinked painfully in the glare, her tears chill on her cheeks. She wiped them away clumsily, and proceeded to struggle up to the roof of the shuttle. After chipping away the ice which had built up around the panels, she took a moment to stand upright, looking around now that she had some clear visibility. The Delta Flyer had skidded to a stop in a valley of sorts, bordered by granite formations which jutted up through the ice and snow like the broken teeth of some gigantic monster of myth, austere, yet beautiful in their rugged majesty.
From this vantage point, she could see marks in the snow, made by something other than the shuttle, and her blood ran cold as she realized how large the prints were. She kicked away the last of the ice from the roof and slid down the slope of the fore part of the Delta Flyer, brought up short by the boulder. She dropped to the ground, and went inside, shrugging out of her jacket that she hung up, the snow dripping off it to puddle on the deck. It occurred to her that if this was going to be a daily excursion, she needed to set up something that would take care of the excess water pooling in the air lock.
Wearily, she checked on Seven again, depressed at the lack of change, and forced herself to take out another ration pack. There would be no skipping of meals, she told herself sternly as she pulled the tab, placing the bowl on the table and watching the steam rise from the beef stew. She couldn't afford it, and what she might try to get away with on Voyager was not something she cared to try on an away mission.
Particularly on this away mission where it appeared she and her partner were in a struggle for their very lives with a frozen and hostile environment.
B'Elanna Torres woke in the early hours before morning watch, not knowing what it was that had disturbed her. Lying beside her, her breathing steady, her lover of a few months, Lt. Ro Laren, remained asleep. The Klingon had the unmistakable feeling that something was wrong, but she couldn't determine what, and her engineer's ears listened keenly to the hum of the warp drive beneath all the rest of the subtle sounds of an operating starship. Moments passed as she tried to determine if what had awakened her was mechanical in origin, but everything sounded 'right' and she was sure that she would have been contacted if anything had happened to the ship.
Just to be sure, however, she rolled away from the warm comfort of her lover and fumbled for her communicator in the low illumination.
"Torres to engineering."
"Engineering," came the response. "Nicoletti here. B'Elanna? Why are you whispering?"
"Just give me your status," the chief engineer muttered.
"Everything's fine," Nicoletti responded in a puzzled tone. "All ship's systems are operating at peak performance."
"Fine," Torres said. "Torres out."
"Lanna?"
Torres sighed and rolled over, wrapping her arm across the lanky Bajoran. "Sorry, bangwI', I didn't mean to wake you up," she said, snuggling close as she nestled her head on Ro's shoulder.
"What's up?"
Torres shook her head, frowning. "Nothing, I guess," she said. "I just ... I have this feeling." She blushed. "It doesn't make sense, I know."
"Don't underestimate your instincts," Ro said softly, pulling the Klingon closer to her with her arm. "Is it bad?"
B'Elanna hesitated, trying to pin down her feelings. "I don't know. I only know that I woke up feeling like something is wrong, but I can't tell you what."
Ro considered it, then brushed her lips over B'Elanna's head ridges. "One thing about bad news and starships, if there is any, we'll find out about it soon enough."
Exhaling audibly, B'Elanna pursed her lips. "That's true."
She felt Ro languidly run her hand over her back, stroking her spine firmly, fingertips seeking out the muscles at the base where they prodded gently.
"You want something?"
Ro nipped lightly at B'Elanna's forehead. "Seems a shame to waste an opportunity. We are both awake after all."
"There is that," the Klingon allowed readily. She eased up until she was more on top of the Bajoran, looking down into the finely etched face of her lover. Dark of hair and eyes, a crinkled ridge at the bridge of her nose, Ro Laren was a most attractive woman, particularly to the Klingon who was constantly aware of the fire the burned beneath those composed features. "I love you, bangwI'."
"Hmm, that's good," Ro said in that controlled, faintly amused tone of hers. "Because I love you, too, Lanna."
Torres smiled, revealing slightly pointed teeth, and dipped her head, capturing the Bajoran's lips in a sizzling kiss. Ro returned it passionately, tossing back the blanket so that they had both freedom of movement and would remain cooler in their physical activity. B'Elanna liked her quarters kept a degree or so warmer than what Ro was normally used to, and the two had finally compromised, finding an adjustable blanket that adapted to the heat of the body it was against, keeping the couple cool or warm as required. But when they made love, the blanket became useless as both women tended to warm up far faster than it could adjust to. Already, there was a faint sheen of perspiration over the golden skin of the Bajoran, and Torres felt her own body respond, olive skin becoming slick in the night.
They rolled over so that Ro was on top, pressing down on the Klingon, kissing some more, and then rolled back, still kissing. Torres loved this wanton, wallowing immersion in each other, an exchange that never made her feel smothered or trapped as previous lovers had. Ro was willowy yet incredibly strong, taut as a wire with skin as soft as velvet. The Klingon always delighted in the contrasts in the beloved body. Finally, the pair settled in the center of the bed, Torres on top for the moment, but only because she was slightly more insistent about going first. She eased down the Bajoran's body until she reached Ro's breasts, firm swells that responded so wonderfully to Torres, the sharp little tips stiffening promptly beneath her lips, the ridges that radiated from the top of the aureoles just as sensitive. Torres rasped her tongue over the nipple, then over the ridge before moving over to the other one, liking how Ro moaned blissfully from her oral caresses.
B'Elanna felt the thin thatch of dark hair tickling her navel, and as she moved down, Ro spread her legs, welcoming the Klingon's stocky body between them. Smiling as she kissed over the Bajoran's flat stomach, B'Elanna briefly nuzzled in the wiry patch, inhaling the woman's scent, captivated by its power and heady promise. She placed her hands on the inside of Ro's thighs, parting her legs further, looking down at the f'lar ridges waiting for her, the moisture oozing freely from the clefts to either side to cover them, the opening below that from which even more wetness glistened. Abruptly she plunged into that delicious heat, burying her face into it, making the Bajoran cry out in delight.
"Prophets, Lanna," she swore. "Yes ... oh ... yes..."
Her legs came up over the Klingon's shoulders, her heels thumping into the small of B'Elanna's back, which inflamed the Klingon beyond belief. Feeling the responsive muscles at the base of her spine spasm with pleasure, she moaned into the tender flesh, licking and sucking lustily, sliding her tongue into the opening as she nudged her nose over the f'lar ridges, her head bobbing rhythmically, bringing Ro quickly to a peak. The Bajoran's thighs closed hard about B'Elanna's head, and the Klingon felt buried, gasping for air. It was a mistake because she promptly inhaled some of the slick moisture. Gamely she kept with it until Ro was completely through her climax before she surfaced, coughing and blowing as she attempted to clear her air passages. Since this was a regular occurrence, however, Ro paid it no mind, reaching out to hook her hands beneath B'Elanna's arms and hauling her up so she could kiss her so hard that the Klingon saw stars. Possessively, the Bajoran's arms and legs wrapped firmly around B'Elanna and the engineer thought that possibly, she had died and gone to heaven.
"That was wonderful," Ro muttered happily.
"Glad you enjoyed it," B'Elanna said, still slightly overwhelmed, though she tried hard to hide it.
"Oh, I did." The Bajoran rolled them over again, pinning B'Elanna and kissing her hotly. "Now, it's my turn."
B'Elanna growled, testing the grip on her wrists, knowing she could break it, but choosing not to. Her head went back as Ro nibbled and suckled at her throat, and she groaned blissfully, feeling the sweet mouth travel over the swell of her breast. Soft lips closed over her nipple as the Bajoran flicked rapidly with her tongue, dancing over it and sending tingles though the Klingon. Arching slightly, she pressed more of it into Ro's mouth, her head lolling back and forth on the pillow. Ro's hand closed over her other breast, squeezing it firmly, then releasing it so that her fingertips could tease her nipple, flicking it with a nail and making it swell with pleasure.
"bangwI', Kahless, I love you," B'Elanna breathed, lost in the sensation. She bend her knees, parting her legs as Ro lifted up slightly, dropping her hand from B'Elanna's breast, stroking lavishly over her stomach and down to where moisture flowed freely. The Klingon jerked and moaned, Ro's fingers swirling over her dual clitori, rubbing back and forth between them, before plunging two fingers inside her.
B'Elanna yelped happily and thrust her hips up to meet the Bajoran's hand, internal muscles gripping and squeezing around the impaling fingers. She uttered a few, sharp sounds, brief grunts, and then she was climaxing, shuddering beneath the other woman before arching a final, ultimate time, feeling the pleasure impact all the way to her toes.
Ro collapsed on her, breathing heavily. It was not a simple task to satisfy a Klingon woman, and usually took a lot of energy. Not everyone was capable of it and B'Elanna, her arms wrapped firmly around her lover, was well satisfied by the effort.
"You okay?"
"Peachy." Ro laughed, perspiration trickling down her temple, and B'Elanna realized that it had actually become quite hot in the room, the atmosphere steamy, heavy with sex and musk from the couple's passion. Both women were panting, sated by the physical interaction. "I should know better than to use that position, however. It always takes so much out of me."
"It's the penetration," B'Elanna told her. "It's a lot easier when we're lying on our sides."
"Maybe." Ro rolled over to lie on her back as they both cooled off. She regarded the ceiling thoughtfully. "You like the penetration, don't you?"
B'Elanna swallowed, wondering if it was worth her effort to go over to the replicator for some ice water. "I do." She paused. "Not that I miss being with a man or anything."
Ro shook her head. "I wasn't suggesting that. It's just that I came across some devices that might allow us to ... ah, get the job done a little easier."
"You mean ... an accessory?" B'Elanna asked, ears perking up. This was a subject that she had always wanted to bring up with the Bajoran but had never quite been able to figure out how ... without possibly giving the impression that Ro was lacking in some way. That was absolutely the last thing she wanted to imply. She licked her lips, preparing to pursue the conversation. "The entertainment replicator has a whole menu of various items that can enhance an experience."
"That's where I came across them," Ro admitted, not adding why she had been in the files in the first place. B'Elanna decided that perhaps her lover liked penetration on occasion, as well, and would enjoy some variety to their lovemaking. "Unfortunately, the one that seems to be the best constructed and most versatile also costs the most rations."
"Let me guess. Iit's called the Wonder Wand 9000™."
Ro frowned. "As a matter of fact, yes. How did you know?"
Not about to explain that Seven of Nine had once shown her an actual example of the device, B'Elanna smiled and thought quickly. "I've been doing a little research myself."
Ro didn't respond right away, and when she did finally speak, her voice was tentative. "Lanna, I don't want you to think that I feel like I'm missing out on anything. I love you and I want to be with you forever...."
"I know," B'Elanna said quickly, reaching over to pat Ro on her leg. "I don't want you to be male, Laren. I just miss the ... additional fun certain appendages can provide."
"Exactly," Ro said, seeming relieved. "And if we can get the same basic effect from a toy..."
"We're not missing out on anything at all."
"Best of both worlds."
"Which leaves us with one problem."
"Where are we going to get 375 replicator rations?" Ro finished.
The two women fell silent, thinking furiously.
"Maybe we could ask for a special dispensation," B'Elanna offered finally. "Like a medical requirement."
Ro uttered a bark of laughter. "I'm sure we could get the Doctor to sign off on that one."
Laughing as well, B'Elanna rolled over, resting her head on Ro's chest. "What about a request through engineering? she suggested, running her fingertips lightly over the Bajoran's stomach. "List it under ... uh, tools."
"Special spanners," Ro noted dryly.
"Personal probes."
"Somnetic Inducer."
"Huh?"
"After you use it, you feel like going to sleep," Ro explained.
"No, that was my last two lovers, and it was usually before, not after."
Ro snorted, B'Elanna roared, and it wasn't long before the two woman were absolutely weak, the two laughing until they cried.
"I guess we'll just have to save our rations," B'Elanna said, once they had trailed off, the pair cuddling up together in the dim illumination of pre-morning watch.
"Maybe I can ask for a raise," Ro said, kissing her lover on the forehead ridges. "I am a command candidate now. Surely that's worth something besides additional headaches."
"We can swap holodeck time," the Klingon suggested. "I'm not much for those things and neither are you. I bet Tom would be glad to take our hours off our hands."
Ro nodded. "That's a thought. I think I can trade some lessons in advanced weapons training to some of the guys in security even though Voyager doesn't have any of those ship mounted Type-10 phasers they use on the heavy cruisers. Davis is always bugging me to give him tips on the tracking simulator. Maybe he'll swap some rations for it."
B'Elanna was about to suggest that she could also swap some leave time, but the lights came up to signify morning watch and the computer blandly intoned that it was "0600 hours" so she kissed Ro ruefully and rolled out of bed. The pair quickly readied themselves for duty, taking turns in B'Elanna's ensuite because, unfortunately, the sonic shower just wasn't big enough for two. B'Elanna made a mental note to ask for double quarters soon. As it turned out, one got a slight ration allotment increase when one moved into a larger cabin, and she was sure that they were at the stage where Ro would now agree to it.
Of course, she'd better make sure to clear that with the Bajoran first. She wasn't about to make a move like that without being sure it would work for both of them. She had made enough errors like that in this relationship, as had the other woman.
The pair kissed goodbye at the door and headed off for their shifts, Ro to join Chakotay on the bridge and B'Elanna to engineering. The Klingon had only been there five minutes before she heard the first of the lower deck scuttlebutt.
The Delta Flyer was overdue and no one knew where the captain and Seven were.
Finally, she realized that if someone had wrapped blankets around her, it meant that her partner was all right ... at least, all right enough to tend to the Borg. Seven lifted her head with great care, feeling the ache throb along her temples.
Janeway sat at the helm, the console panel opened so that she could dig into its interior for some odd reason. She looks so tired, Seven thought, noting the dark shadows under the captain's eyes. Indeed, the Borg suspected that it was even possible that Janeway hadn't been eating properly. There was an empty ration pack on the shelf next to Janeway, however, so perhaps that was an inaccurate assessment, but it would not have surprised Seven at all to discover the packet was not from a recent meal.
"Kathryn?"
At least, that's what Seven tried to say. What came out was a noise that didn't even sound Human, but it was enough for Janeway to turn her head quickly, an incredible joy lighting her face. Seven realized that she had worried her partner considerably if the reaction was that strong.
"Annika?" Janeway said, moving quickly over to her. Her eyes, more grey than blue, searched her face anxiously. "It's about time you woke up, crewman. You've been derelict in your duty long enough."
This was new, Seven decided. She was used to tears, even outraged anger, but an attempt at a joke was unfamiliar. She had either not frightened her partner at all ... or had frightened her into a whole new level of reaction.
Seven swallowed, finding it difficult to do without saliva. Janeway seemed to sense her need and quickly retrieved a bottle with a straw, placing the tip carefully between Seven's abraded lips.
"Slowly," she instructed.
Seven complied, sipping at the cool water that went down her throat like a balm. She drank her fill, which wasn't much, and drew back.
"Enough," she rasped. She took a breath, wincing as it hurt ... everything hurt. "What ... is our status?"
"Well, we crashed," Janeway said, drawing her fingertips lightly over Seven's brow.
"I remember," Seven muttered. "We struck a boulder."
"You do?" Janeway cupped the Borg's cheek, studying her intently. "I suppose that's a good sign. In any event, we're running on the solar power the roof panels can give us. They're providing heat, but are far too limited to do much else. All we have for replicators is the recycle feature, so what we're wearing is it, while our food is coming from ration packs. We can't replicate parts to repair the various systems, and frankly, even if we could, we lost both nacelles. The Delta Flyer is not getting off this rock under its own power."
As she talked, she drew back the blankets and worked on the restraints holding Seven in the chair, freeing her. Seven noted the yellowish and fading bruises on her partner's face and reached up with trembling fingertips, not quite touching the captain's cheekbone.
"Why have you not repaired these?"
Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "Darling, we have no way to recharge the medical devices. I'd rather save them for serious injuries rather than mild contusions that can heal themselves."
"Of course," Seven said fretfully. "Why did I not think of that?"
"You're probably still muddled a bit. You had a concussion ... this is the first time you've been conscious since the crash. Do you think you can walk? I want to move you aft, so you can lie down on a bunk."
"I believe I can," Seven said, still feeling a bit qualmish. "However, I do not wish to remain on a bunk. They are only large enough for one person."
Janeway smiled gently. "Yes, but unfortunately, in order to sleep together, we'd have to put the sleeping pads on the floor. The solar panels store power all through the daylight hours, but the heat tapers off through the night. Sometimes it's practically nonexistent in the hours before sunrise, especially after days like this when the cloud cover is particularly thick. Putting a sleeping pad down on those metal deck plates is just asking to freeze to death."
Seven frowned. Her thoughts were somewhat disjointed, but her intellect insisted on solving this problem before she moved an inch.
"There are away mission habitats on this shuttle, are there not?"
"Of course," Janeway remarked, obviously not seeing where this was going. "The standard issue is three doubles."
"Each habitat comes with expandable mattresses. Activate them and stack them on top of one another until they are of a suitable height to be away from the chilling effect of the deck."
"Damn," Janeway muttered, staring at her in astonishment. "Why didn't I think of that?"
Seven suspected that it was because Janeway rarely put her own comfort first, whereas, for her, the captain's comfort was a priority. As long as Seven didn't require a bed, Janeway did not think of providing a proper one for herself.
"In fact, I'd prefer it," Janeway said, thinking furiously. "We could put a bed like that out here in the cockpit and close off the aft compartment altogether, leaving it unheated and channeling that power to here." She looked at Seven, studying her closely. "I need you to eat something," she added. "I'll find a broth or something."
The thought of food was completely unappealing, but Seven nodded, knowing she had to ingest nutrition. "Very well." Her cranial implant was sending signals that indicated that her nanoprobes had been working at full capacity and required some immediate outside energy source. She felt nauseated as Janeway put a bowl of broth on the dark console in front of her, but she forced herself to pick up the spoon, her hand trembling.
Janeway's eyes were grey as she watched this. "Do you want me to do that?" she asked quietly.
Since most of the soup sloshed out of the spoon before Seven even got it away from the bowl, the Borg decided that was a logical suggestion. She handed the spoon to Janeway who gently took it out of her hand and dipped it into the soup as Seven leaned back in the chair.
"How long?" she asked, after her first mouthful that had taken a determined effort to swallow. She held her breath, hoping it wouldn't come right back up again.
Janeway seemed to sense her need to pause, and stirred the soup idly as she answered the young woman's question.
"We crashed three days ago," she admitted.
Seven considered that. "You must have been greatly concerned about me."
"Words can't even express it," Janeway admitted, offering another spoonful which Seven discovered went down a bit easier.
"You have not been sleeping."
Janeway grimaced, obviously not wanting to acknowledge it. "I caught naps now and again." She paused, transferring more soup to Seven. "I wanted to be near you, particularly at night."
Seven thought there was a little more to that than Janeway was letting on, picking up on a certain shadow that crossed the bluish grey eyes.
"Why?" she demanded, after a third spoonful.
"Couldn't it be because I love you?" Janeway said dryly. Seven merely looked at her and the captain sighed. "There's something that comes by at night every so often to check us out. I've never been able to get a good look at it, and to be perfectly honest, I try to stay as still as possible. We have no power to put up even the most limited of repulse fields and we have no weapons stronger than the phaser rifles." She used a cloth to dab at Seven's chin. "I would rather save them as a last resort. Whatever comes by is very large, but so far, it hasn't tried to get in. Without knowing the proper stun setting, I might just make it angry, and I'd rather not kill anything if I don't have to. It's not my nature."
Seven dipped her head briefly in acknowledgment of her partner's reverence for life. "I feel better. I think I can feed myself now."
"All right," Janeway said, laying the spoon down on the console. "While you finish your soup, I'll get out the habitat mattresses." She hesitated, then placed her fingers under Seven's chin and lifted her face, leaning over to kiss her with immeasurable tenderness. "You scared me, love," she whispered when she finally drew back.
"I rather thought I had."
Janeway held her gaze for a few moments, and then kissed her again before she made her way aft to the cargo compartment. Seven picked up her spoon and dipped it into the broth that was rapidly cooling, eating steadily if without much appetite. Shivering, she realized how cold it was in the shuttle, and she wondered if anything could be done to increase the heat supply. She considered it carefully, gazing through the viewport where solid flakes of precipitation hit the transparency with a subtle, steady hiss. She looked back down at her bowl, mildly surprised to discover it was empty, and carefully put the spoon into it before easing the chair around so she could watch her partner.
Janeway had returned from the aft compartment with three rectangular packages, each approximately twice the size of one of the captain's 'bodice rippers'. Janeway placed one of them on the deck and pressed the activation tab. The package began to unfold, enlarging as the expanding foam was released inside, firming and shaping the mattress until it had reached its full size. It was smaller than the queen-sized bed the couple shared in their quarters on Voyager, but far wider than the sleeping pads on the fold-down bunks in the rear compartment.
The captain repeated the process with the other two, stacking one on top of the other until the 'bed' was only a little lower than their berth on the ship. Janeway covered it with the heat reflective blankets and rolled a few more up to act as pillows. By the time she was done, it actually looked inviting.
"Come on," Janeway said, coming over to Seven and putting her arm around her. "Let's get you over there."
Gingerly, Seven got to her feet, using the console for support as much as her partner, staggering the few steps required to make it to the bed. By the time she got there, she was shaking, and a cold sweat had broken out all over her body. It was a clear indication that her nanoprobes had exhausted their energy output capability for the time being, especially since they could not even regulate her perspiration. Her head spun and she wavered as she collapsed on the edge of the bed.
"I don't think you have pneumonia," Janeway said, concern darkening her eyes, "but you're obviously weak as a kitten."
"My internal reserves have been drained," Seven noted, aware that she was breathing heavily. "It will take some time before they will be replenished."
"Well, time seems to be something we have plenty of," Janeway said. "There's a -35º chill factor out there thanks to the wind, and sticking close to the shuttle is our only option."
Seven shivered. "There's been no contact with Voyager?"
"No," Janeway said, and somehow there was a wealth of meaning behind that word that Seven wasn't prepared to pursue at the moment. The captain sighed and sat down next to her partner. "Darling, I'm going to take your clothes off so I can recycle them for you."
Seven smiled faintly. "Any excuse to undress me. You are incorrigible."
Janeway made a small sound of amusement. "You must be feeling better, if you're making jokes."
"Did I imply it was a joke?"
"Just be still," Janeway said, carefully easing the vest off Seven's shoulders. "Let me do the work." She frowned as she looked at Seven's long sleeved sweater. "I'm going to have to pull this over your head."
"I understand," Seven remarked, already tensing in preparation. By the time it, and the undershirt had been removed, she was dizzy and more than glad to lie down as Janeway finished removing her trousers, undergarments and boots.
She wondered how long it would take before she could stand up without help, and what this meant for their future survival.
The Borg watched the captain through half closed eyes, and Janeway could not help but feel heartened by the gaze, glad that Seven had not lost consciousness again. Once the captain had finished, she moved over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it as she looked down at her partner. Seven was still pale, and her hair straggled around her features which were marred by fading bruises and cuts. Dark circles stained beneath her eyes and the skin around the metallic implants seemed drawn and tight.
Janeway thought she was utterly beautiful.
"Hey," she said softly, drawing her hand down the cheek. "I don't want to try to wrestle you into the sonic shower, but I do have some water that I keep warm on the camp stove. Would you like a sponge bath? It might make you feel better."
Seven nodded. "Yes, I would."
Janeway filled a basin with the water from the large container kept hot on the heating unit that remained active all the time, supplying an additional form of warmth to the cockpit. Fortunately, like the habitats, they had three, and with any luck, the unit would last for some time. Its energy cell actually used less power when left on at a steady level than when it was turned on and off, or when the temperature setting was altered. Carrying the basin over to the bed, Janeway wet a cloth and began to bathe her partner, drawing the warm sponge over the long limbs and lanky torso, making sure that she cleaned every millimeter of the woman.
There was nothing remotely sexual or arousing about this for either of them. Just a deep sense of caring and loving tenderness in doing it, and Seven remained very quiet as Janeway washed away the rest of the blood and sweat that had covered the Borg. The pale eyes seemed to glow as they followed the captain intently.
"I do not understand," Seven said weakly, when the captain had finally completed her task. "Why is it that I have superior physical prowess, yet I am the one most injured in the crash?"
Janeway shrugged. "I'm smaller. Maybe that makes me more flexible when we're getting bounced around like that." She leaned over and kissed Seven gently. "I know this is frustrating for you, darling, but you have to let yourself heal. In the meantime, let me take care of you, all right?"
"Very well," Seven said, dissatisfied.
Janeway smiled and touched her chin with her fingertips. "If you really get bored, I'll bring over some padds for you to look at. We can't tap into the main computer, but the padds still have enough information on them that perhaps we can come up with a way to create a deflector field of some kind."
"Was that what you were doing when I woke up?" Seven asked curiously.
Janeway shot a rueful glance at the helm which had been opened, the interior remaining exposed to the cool air. "I hoped that I could come up with something that would repulse our nightly visitor. Not enough to make it angry, just enough to let it realize we're rather unpalatable."
"It would never believe that," Seven noted softly. "Not once it had a taste of you."
Janeway shot her a grin. "Where is this sense of humor coming from? Usually, I'm the one trying to keep our spirits up with bad jokes."
"They are bad?" Seven queried with disappointment.
"No, they're wonderful," Janeway told her, bending down to kiss her again. The Borg could not help but notice how loving she was being ... a distinct change from the week prior to the crash.
Seven was regarding her closely when she drew away. "Kathryn?"
"Yes, Annika?"
"I have been very angry with you."
Janeway nodded, her eyes darkening. "I know."
Seven's eyes shifted. "You hurt me," she said. "It was as if my opinion did not matter."
Janeway felt a lump form in her throat. "Oh, it mattered." She paused, trying to find words that would work. Since this was not the first time they had this discussion, she knew it was still probably beyond her ability. "Annika, I love you. With all my heart, I love you. And I want us to have children." She paused. "If things had been different, I would have loved to help raise that Borg baby with you, but I'm the captain, and you're the astrometrics officer, and between us, we barely have time to be together, let alone raise a child on Voyager so long as we remain in the Delta Quadrant. It wouldn't be fair to her, and she had blood relatives who were more than willing to raise her. It would have been wrong for us to keep her." She took a breath. "We disagreed, and in the end, I had to make the decision as captain. I know that's what you find unfair ... that my decision was the one that seemed to matter. But darling, this is tearing me up inside. Don't ever believe that what you think and feel doesn't matter to me."
Seven turned her head, obviously not wanting to hear this any more now than the first time they had argued about it. Janeway felt the same anger rise in her chest, the frustration that her partner was simply refusing to listen to her.
"Annika, suppose we had kept her," she said, clutching desperately for anything that would penetrate the young woman's fury and disappointment. "Who was supposed to look after her when we're in the middle of a crisis? Who would be looking after her now while we're lost on this planet? Would that be fair to her?"
"But we will always have this," Seven said angrily, her voice cracking from her weakness. "Even in the Alpha Quadrant, when you take command of another vessel ... if this is to be your stance, then we can never have children."
"But it will be different in the Alpha Quadrant," Janeway responded hotly. "I'll be able to call for help when I find myself in a situation too large for one ship. There'll be starbases and Federation planets to take on new crew and the knowledge that any ship I choose to command in that instance is specifically designed for families ... not some damned Scout ship that should never have been out for longer than a year! Our children deserve better than that!"
She bit back the rest of her words and turned away, knowing her anger was getting the better of her. This was not the time and it sure as hell wasn't the place. "I need to check the roof," she said shortly and left the cockpit, yanking on the bulky jacket furiously, slamming though the airlock and outside where the wind almost knocked her over with its power. She staggered, the arctic chill damping her anger as if an avalanche had buried it.
If she had needed a reminder how anger made one incautious, then this was a quick and sharp refresher. The current situation was simply not one where she could afford to be careless or imprudent in her actions. Thinking clearly once more, she brushed the snow away from her face and checked the roof, just so the trip outside wasn't totally wasted, then returned to the airlock. It seemed to take forever to cycle, and she was shivering when she stumbled inside. In the cockpit, Seven was sitting upright in the bed, her eyes wide with concern, looking as pale and gaunt as Janeway had ever seen her.
"Are you all right?"
"No," Janeway said, standing close to the heating unit, slowly thawing out. She shot a look at her partner. "I'm sorry I became angry," she said in a low voice. "I shouldn't have stormed out of here ... particularly when there's already a storm out there. Nor should I have left the shuttle without a phaser. It was foolish, but then it seems foolish decisions are all I've been making lately ... at least in your eyes."
Seven was silent for a moment. "You are not foolish, Kathryn," she said finally, in a tired voice. "The decision you made regarding the infant is simply not one we can agree upon. Perhaps it is best that we accept that it has been made and move past it." She raised her pale eyes to meet the captain's. "I do not agree with it, I will never agree with it, but I will no longer pursue it. It serves no purpose."
Janeway started to respond, stopped and bowed her head. "All right," she said with difficulty. "I guess I knew there would always come a day when there would be something that you and I would not be able to agree on ... I just wish it hadn't been this." She took a breath. "Annika, I don't want you to resent me."
"I do not," Seven said wearily. "I am angered by your decision, but I know I must let that anger go so that it does not unduly influence the rest of our lives." Weakly, she lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes.
Janeway instinctively moved over to her, putting her hand on her forehead. "I'm sorry, Annika. I shouldn't have argued with you."
Seven sighed. "I initiated it."
"Yes, but it always takes two to fight," Janeway muttered fretfully, noting that Seven's temperature was rising again. She got out the medical tricorder and checked the readings. "Your fever's back. Darling, I know that it's hard, but please try to stay as quiet as possible until you're feeling better."
"I will comply," Seven whispered, completely obedient to the demand, which bothered Janeway far more than the tricorder readings.
The young woman lay on her side, her eyes closed, and Janeway felt concern permeate every molecule of her. The tricorder recommended another application of broad spectrum antibiotics and Janeway quickly found the hypospray, which she injected into Seven's neck with a soft hiss. The Borg barely flinched, and Janeway drew the covers up around her partner's shoulders, bending down to kiss her temple.
"Try to get some sleep, love," she whispered. "I promise, I'll be right here."
"You will not leave the ship again?" Seven murmured.
"Not today," Janeway said regretfully. She realized that Seven had been worried when she had stormed out, and why wouldn't she be? After all, Janeway had just finished telling her all about the big dark creature who lurked about the shuttle at night. Honestly, sometimes she just didn't think before she acted. One would think that as a Starfleet captain, she would have learned better than that by now.
"Acceptable," Seven whispered and then was silent, her breathing smoothing out as Janeway realized that she had fallen asleep.
The captain brushed her fingers over the woman's brow, and then moved back to the helm where she tried to complete the task she had started earlier in that day. It was a futile endeavor, and finally, Janeway just shoved everything back inside the compartment and closed it up. There would be no repulsion field this day, she decided grouchily and rubbed her forehead tiredly. A glance aft took in her partner, who was still asleep, and suddenly the view of the bed was far too inviting to resist, particularly as the captain saw the light grow duller outside, heralding the oncoming night.
She uncoiled from the chair at the front of the cockpit and went aft, digging out some ration packs from the compartment. Seven stirred at the movement, the pale eyes opening, looking around in muddled confusion as Janeway returned to the cockpit.
"Kathryn?"
"I'm right here, darling," Janeway said quietly. "Do you think you could eat something?"
Painfully, Seven wrapped a blanket around her body and rose to a sitting position, leaning back against the hull as Janeway brought over more broth. It was beef this time rather than the chicken she had offered the Borg earlier, just for variety's sake. Sitting next to her on the bed, Janeway ate her stew and occasionally helped Seven with her own meal, though it seemed that the young woman was feeling a little stronger. At least she was able to manipulate the spoon without too many problems. The illumination in the shuttle was quite low when they finished, and Janeway lit a candle to provide light.
"These are primitive conditions," Seven noted, easing back down on the bed.
Janeway smiled faintly. "Yes, but not quite as primitive as they were on 'Safe Haven' when we had to transport down with nothing but our survival packs."
Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Will you come to bed, Kathryn?"
"After I dare the cold of the aft head," Janeway noted. "Though, I think instead of stripping down for a sonic shower back there, I'll give myself a bit of a sponge bath as well. I never feel clean with the sonic application, anyway, and it'll save a little power which will mean a little more heat through the night." She was aware of Seven's expression and she tilted her head. "What?"
"You have not wanted to sleep with me recently. I was afraid..."
"That my ego would continue to rule my actions?" Janeway said dryly. "Annika, there's nothing like a crash landing to reorganize one's priorities." She paused, a sudden uncertainty filling her. "Unless you would prefer not to sleep with me?"
"No," Seven said immediately, reaching out to grasp Janeway's wrist gently. "I wish you to come to bed. That is why I asked."
Janeway smiled slightly, relieved. "Give me a few moments."
She took as little time as possible in the aft head, performing the necessary biological tasks that she had to do, and glad that she had decided against the sonic shower. Since she had sealed off the aft compartment, it was damned cold back here even as it was correspondingly warmer in the cockpit. It was fortunate, however, that the facilities operated on an independent power source and did not really utilize water in its function but rather, molecular dissolution to remove waste. Even without heat, nothing would freeze ... unless it was her buttocks to the ceramic seat, she realized. She quickly finished and decided that channeling some heat to this tiny room was a necessity, even if the cargo compartment between it and the cockpit remained unheated. She envied Seven and her implants that took care of all these biological inconveniences.
She quickly dashed back to the cockpit and made the necessary adjustments to channel some heat into the head so that if she did require the shower, she could take one without freezing. Then she took off her clothes and used a basin of water to wash, glad that for the moment, the temperature was fairly comfortable in the cockpit. She was aware of Seven watching her with appreciative eyes as she scrubbed herself down, and she smiled faintly at the partner.
When she finally blew out the candle and crawled onto the mattress next to the young woman, snuggling under the blankets already cozy from Seven's body heat, she groaned aloud from the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of it.
"God, I think this is the first time I've been warm since we crashed," she muttered, wrapping her arms around the Borg who accepted the embrace happily, if weakly.
Seven nestled her head on the captain's shoulder, resting her hand lightly on Janeway's chest as the captain brushed her lips over her partner's forehead.
"I'm sorry there's been such trouble between us lately," she whispered.
"I believe that we are both equally at fault," Seven conceded softly. "It is something that we cannot resolve in terms of agreement, but perhaps, now that it is over, we can put it behind us." She sighed softly and settled down against the captain, dropping off to sleep once more.
Janeway, despite her exhaustion, did not surrender immediately, her thoughts too busy to sleep. She realized that this negotiated truce between her and Seven might be the absolute most the couple could hope for regarding the issue. How could she have known how much of an impact it would make on their lives when Voyager came across that Borg cube in the depths of space? The huge ship had been severely damaged, most of the drones dead from an unknown pathogen, leaving only five children, released prematurely from their maturation chambers, to run the vessel. They had captured Chakotay, Harry, Tom and Neelix, and it had been up to Janeway and Seven to rescue them from the youngsters. Borg were generally predictable, but these immature drones were not, and it had taken all of Seven's developing humanity, along with her knowledge of the Collective, to solve the problem. After the death of their leader, the four remaining children, along with an infant that Seven had rescued from a malfunctioning maturation chamber, had come on board the ship, finally accepting the necessity of leaving the Collective. Janeway had been determined that she would find the children's homes and return them to the safety of their own people.
Unfortunately, it hadn't turned out to be that simple.
She had never seen her partner as angry as she had been when the captain had told her that they had found the people of the youngest child ... far angrier than the first situation with Icheb, who had been designed as a biological weapon by his people to fight the Borg ... and even the knowledge that the infant had loving relatives, who were more than willing to accept responsibility for her, had not salved the young woman's ire at the captain. Indeed, Seven had grown very attached to the baby girl in the short time she had been on Voyager, and perhaps Janeway had underestimated that attachment. Certainly, she had underestimated how much Seven had been actively including the child in her future plans regarding herself and the captain.
As a result, the trip to the child's home planet had been an experience of complete acrimony from her spouse, and Janeway was keenly aware that the only reason Seven had even accompanied the captain in returning the child in the first place, was to take advantage of any opportunity to negate the exchange of custody. If there had been a flaw of any kind in the baby's relatives or the situation she was going into, Seven would have demanded that the agreement be overturned, and Janeway wasn't sure that she could have prevented it. After all, the young woman's instincts about Icheb and the hidden motivations of his people had been entirely correct a few weeks earlier.
But there had been nothing wrong with the couple who had taken the child, and Seven had been icily distant on the return trip, even openly hostile at times. Then they had run into this wave front and found themselves in a fight for their lives.
Janeway sighed, staring into the darkness. Voyager had gained crewmembers at a remarkable pace this past year and most of them seemed to be children. What that would mean in the long term was something she hadn't quite figured out yet. Nor was she sure what was going to happen if they ran across more relatives of the other Borg children. Only Icheb's fate had truly been decided, the young male choosing to remain on Voyager for the rest of their journey back to the Alpha Quadrant. The captain didn't ever want to have to go through this again with Seven, and she realized that perhaps she was the one truly at fault here. She had suggested that her spouse would be the best choice to become the children's mentor and guide, to help them adapt after being severed from the Collective. She had thought it would please the young woman and somehow make up for the couple not being able to immediately have children of their own. Had she really been so short-sighted as to think that Seven would not take a deeply personal interest in them? That she would not develop a strongly protective maternal bond toward them?
How big a fool are you, Kathryn? she chastised herself harshly.
Yet that didn't change her belief that the children were better off with their own people wherever possible, rather than being dragged back to the Federation with Voyager. Ironically, it was that same belief that had caused her to sever a young Human woman those short years ago, even as she was ashamed to think that if Annika had been from some other species, perhaps one that she had not encountered prior to that fateful meeting, she might not have taken such a personal interest in 'rescuing' her from the Collective. Seven of Nine would have been 'just another drone'.
She closed her eyes, trying to drag her mind away from such futile speculation, and found herself wondering how long it would be before Voyager started looking for them. They had been in this frozen hell for three days now, and she wasn't even sure if the initial distress beacon was penetrating those sullen clouds to reach the ears of her ship.
With that distressing thought to finish her day, Captain Janeway fell asleep in the arms of her spouse.
"I'm sorry, sir, could you repeat that."
"I want you to take over the role of first officer for the duration of this crisis," the tall, broad-shouldered commander said, leaning back in the chair behind the desk. He rubbed the back of his thumb over his tattoo, a nervous gesture that Ro doubted he even realized he had. "With the disappearance of the captain and Seven, we need to implement a clear chain of command. Normally, it would be Tuvok, but he asked to be released from that role, so I'm choosing you to act in that capacity."
Ro took a breath, looking around the ready room in an effort to grant her time to think about it. The decor was so uniquely Janeway's that she and Chakotay were glaringly out of place here, and both of them were keenly aware of it. Yet, so long as Chakotay was acting captain, he had to take discussions like this into the ready room. He had no choice, and Ro supposed, she didn't either. It was part of the responsibility she had accepted when she agreed to this whole career move. She didn't have to feel ready for it, she decided, she just had to act as if she was.
"Of course, Commander," she said, straightening.
"I want you to coordinate the search with Tuvok and the ship. I wish we still had the Delta Flyer ... its range is so much greater than the average shuttle ... but we'll just have to make do. I want you to schedule the best pilots on the ship to work round the clock."
"Does that include me?"
"No," he said immediately. "The ship will need you to cover the helm, which will free up Tom to aid in the search."
"Understood." She paused. "Is there any hint about what might have happened?"
"We can't find any distress beacon, and the Mutrani say that the captain and Seven left their world days ago." He swallowed convulsively. "Long range sensors do detect traces of a wave front that passed through their plotted course, but it's logical to think they would have tried to avoid it."
"Not if they were in a hurry to return," Ro noted. She hesitated, feeling slightly embarrassed. She was not fond of the informational tidbits that her lover tended to pass onto her, but sometimes they could be useful. "I think she and Seven were having a few ... uh, disagreements about returning the child."
Chakotay regarded her steadily. "So Kathryn might want to get back to the ship as soon as possible." He nodded thoughtfully. "I had thought there was a little strain there, but they're such private people, I didn't ask and she didn't volunteer." He eyed her. "You sure?"
"B'Elanna," she said shortly.
"Ah, yes," he said dryly. "She would know if anyone would." He frowned. "There were magnetic strings detected in the wave."
Ro inhaled sharply. She had the memory of encountering one on the USS Enterprise, and the subsequent damage the Galaxy-class ship sustained had been horrific. She could only imagine how such an anomaly would have affected the Delta Flyer. "How large?"
"Minor strands," he said flatly, "but more than large enough to take out most of the shuttle's systems. It's possible that the Flyer's sensors wouldn't be able to detect them through the radiation of the wave front before entering it."
"If they were hit, they'd probably try for the nearest system with habitable planets, rather than head for us and possibly lose life support in space."
"My thoughts exactly. There are three between here and the Mutrani homeworld. We'd better get started. That's still a lot of space to cover, and the wave front has left such a radiation trail behind it that any distress beacon or ion trails will be masked completely unless we pass right by them."
Ro nodded abruptly. "Right away."
She left the ready room and glanced over at Tuvok, who was still monitoring the tactical station, before making her way over to the first officer's chair. She felt quite self-conscious as she sat down in it, moving the console around and bringing up the schedule of the crew. She tagged the really good pilots, like Paris and Ensign Culhean, as being on active duty with the shuttles for the foreseeable future before assigning other crewmembers to cover the various sections that were going to face a burden from those officers being shifted.
This was one of the more important parts of being a first officer, the ability to manage personnel resources and channel them into the proper avenues. She wasn't sure she liked it, since dealing with large groups of people had never been one of her strong suits, but she set her teeth and did the job that was required. Afterward, when Chakotay came out to take the bridge, she exchanged nods with him and moved toward the turbolift, accompanied by the security chief who was in charge of the search teams.
"I've made Paris, Culhean and White available as pilots," she said as the turbolift carried them down to ship's stores. "I think three shuttles, checking each system at a time with Voyager as backup, will be quicker than a single shuttle checking a system on its own."
"Logical," Tuvok said approvingly, his hands linked formally behind his back.
"May I ask you a question, sir?"
Tuvok quirked an eyebrow. "Proceed."
"I am curious why you did not take the role of first officer during this crisis," she said quietly. "Have you ever considered that the captain's choice in Chakotay all those years ago was ... illogical? At the time, I remember hearing rumors to that effect, giving me the impression that you did not agree with her choice. But if we can't find the captain and Seven, he'll be captain and you'll be his first officer. Will that be a problem?"
"You are taking the long view, which is to be commended, but is also somewhat premature," Tuvok pointed out as he tilted his head, looking vaguely amused though, if pressed, he would deny he changed expression at all. "While the stories you heard at the time were undoubtedly exaggerated and inaccurate, I did question the captain's decision briefly." He paused, considering it. "My objection at that time, however, did not originate with any wish of mine to be first officer, rather than Chakotay. I was concerned he could not overcome his Maquis leanings to be the sort of first officer she required." He raised his head. "I was incorrect in my assessment," he added easily, without hesitation. "Nor would I have any objection to becoming his first officer if it is necessary." He turned his head, eyeing her with intent scrutiny. "That is not why I requested that I be released from having to play the role at this time. I merely wish to supervise the search myself. No one knows the captain as well as I do, with the exception of Seven, and I would stand a better chance of finding her by actively searching in a shuttle than by attempting to supervise the search from Voyager."
"You're not trying to tell me you're going to use intuition to find the captain and Seven, Tuvok," Ro asked dryly.
"There is no need to be insulting, Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir," she said promptly. "Have you chosen your teams?"
"I've contacted them already, and the first alpha group will be in the hanger deck at 1100 hours."
He handed her a padd and she scanned the names, mildly surprised when she saw B'Elanna's name. However, she realized that of all the people on the ship, the engineer and Tom were the ones who would best know how the Delta Flyer would act under various conditions.
After making sure that ship stores had sent everything needed to fully outfit the shuttles and teams with the necessary equipment, Ro accompanied Tuvok to the hangar deck, not only because it was her duty, but because she wanted the chance to say goodbye to B'Elanna.
She raised her eyebrow when she discovered all of the Borg children, along with Naomi Wildman, in the hangar deck, apparently insistent upon going with the search and rescue teams.
"Impossible," she said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at them.
"I have designed a new sensor array which will track down Seven's unique implant signature," said the oldest Borg, a Brunali male who was about fourteen, still in the gawky stage between boyhood and the onset of true manliness. Ro could see in his earnest face all sorts of eventual problems ahead for Seven ... problems that the Borg was undoubtedly, completely oblivious of at the moment. "If you could just wait until I finish constructing it..."
"We can't," she said shortly. She forced herself to soften her stance, seeing the distress in their fresh little faces. "But do what you can here on Voyager. Such a device may prove useful if our first sweep doesn't track them down. However, I'm certainly not going to authorize you to go along with any of the teams."
Sek stepped forward. "Lt. Ro is correct. I realize it's difficult for you to stand by here on Voyager, but it is your duty. The rescue teams have a job to do." She placed her hand on the boy's shoulder. "As soon as we find her, I'll make sure Seven knows how worried you were for her."
Tuvok apparently had enough of this. "Form up," he said, his voice carrying somehow throughout the hangar deck though he didn't raise it at all. "Ensign White, you will pilot the shuttle containing Lt. Torres and myself. Lt. Paris, you will be in command of team two. Lt. Davis and Neelix will accompany you. Ensign Culhean will pilot shuttle three which will include Counselor Sek and Ensign Ashmore. We will search each planet systematically for signs of a landing or crash site while Voyager searches for ion trails or any hint of wreckage in space. Unfortunately, the wave front which ran through this area will have obscured any warp engine traces so it is likely that it will be left up to the shuttles to discover the Delta Flyer's ultimate fate. We will fly for twelve hours, then return to Voyager where we will be replaced by the beta team commanded by Lt. Kim."
He favored them all with an impassive look that Ro knew did not, in the slightest way, convey his true sense of concern.
"Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine will do all they can to survive until we rescue them. It behooves us to make sure that wait is not unduly long."
The various team members nodded and made for the shuttles, the Edison, the R. Scott and the G.W. Carver. B'Elanna lingered behind for a moment, moving closer to Ro. The Bajoran made sure the area was clear, the Borg children having been herded out of the hangar by Sek before she went to her ship, before focusing on the Klingon.
"Don't take too long to find them," she said quietly.
"We won't," B'Elanna promised. She glanced around, then closed the rest of the distance between them, reaching up to put her hand against Ro's cheek. "Don't let being first officer go to your head."
"Too late," Ro said, deliberately misunderstanding. "I already have a planet-sized headache."
B'Elanna grinned, then leaned forward for a kiss. Ro hesitated, then provided it, lingering over the sweet lips. "Be careful," she murmured. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," B'Elanna replied.
They kissed again, and then B'Elanna grabbed her tool kit and sprinted for the Edison. Ro watched her leave before moving quickly for the exit after checking to see that all the rest of the personnel were clear. She could go to the hangar control area to watch the shuttles depart, but decided not to. There were too many tasks awaiting her as acting first officer and she also needed to take the helm. It would not be easy to find a distress beacon in the ionic soup the wave front had made of this area of space.
Carefully, Seven eased herself onto her elbow so she could look over the captain, raising an eyebrow as she saw something peering back at her through the transparencies, though she was uncertain if it could see her as well as she could see it. Dispassionately, she made an assessment of the creature, noting the various biological characteristics that were visible to her. For long, breathless moments, it remained there, and then abruptly it was gone. Seven was suitably impressed with its quickness.
Beside her, Janeway relaxed marginally, resuming a more natural rhythm of breathing, and Seven realized that the captain had been just the slightest bit afraid. She wrapped her arms around her and pulled her back against her body, spooning against her warmly.
"Did you see it?" Janeway whispered.
"Yes," Seven replied in an equally low tone. "It is approximately four meters in height, humanoid in appearance, with long white hair covering most of its body. It has two eyes, set forward in the skull, with a snout that revealed pronounced canines, indicating a diet that is partially, if not wholly, carnivorous. Its front limbs appear to be manipulative rather than weight bearing, and terminate in long claws that are approximately 50 millimeters in length. The reflexes are remarkable in their swiftness, and it appeared to be moving totally on its hind legs over the snow."
"God, it's the Abominable Snowman," Janeway muttered, sounding less than pleased.
"Kathryn?"
Janeway shook her head. "An Earth myth, darling." She shivered and Seven hugged her closer.
"Are you cold?" she asked, concerned. Belatedly, she realized that she could see her breath in the air, crystallizing slightly, indicating that the temperature had dropped significantly within the shuttle.
"A little," Janeway admitted. "That seems to be our choice in weather, Annika. It's either clear and bitter, bitter cold, or warmer, but snowing so hard you can barely see."
Seven consider it. "The snow is growing deeper around us, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "Even in the short time we've been here."
Janeway was silent for a moment. "You can't even see our crash line any longer," she admitted finally. "I've been trying to clear the fresh snow away from around the shuttle, but it seems to drift right back in again the next snowfall. I haven't managed to figure out what season it is; whether we can hold out for something better or if conditions are going to steadily get worse. We didn't come down near the equator, and I honestly don't think we could get to it on foot. We're simply not equipped to survive any sort of long walk in weather like this, but if we stay here for much longer, we're going to end up buried and even the power from the solar panels will be gone."
She paused, swallowing hard. "I don't know if Voyager can pick up the initial distress beacon we dropped in space, or if the signal we're sending now is strong enough to get past the next planet in the system. That wave front was bound to leave ionic disruption in its wake, which interferes with communications, not to mention how it will mask any ion trail the Delta Flyer left." She took a few deep breaths, unable to keep the distress from coloring her tone. "I don't know where we should channel power, Annika. It will do us no good to enhance the energy output to the distress beacon if it leaves us without heat and we freeze to death long before help arrives. But by the same token, keeping warm is only going to last so long, and if we can't attract help before we're buried by the snowfall, we'll die. It just might take longer."
Seven inhaled slowly, wincing a little at the soreness in her chest and sides as she did, considering the captain's words. For all intents and purposes, it seemed that the couple was truly in trouble. However, she was feeling better as time passed, and surely her vaunted intellect would be able to come up with some sort of solution to help them ... otherwise, what good was it?
She pulled the compact form of her partner back against her, curling around her so that as much of her body was touching Janeway as possible, sharing their body heat beneath the blankets that they drew up to cover as much as their faces as possible.
"What is it you have always told me?" she asked softly. "As long as there is life, there is hope?"
"Something like that," Janeway said, not sounding particularly convinced about it at the moment.
"Believe it, Kathryn," Seven whispered.
Janeway didn't respond, but she did seem to relax slightly. Seven nuzzled the captain's neck, stroking her fingers lightly over Janeway's chest, realizing how much she had missed this intimacy with her partner. She had always hated it when she and Kathryn disagreed, and this recent conflict had been particularly bad. However, she was both relieved and gratified that if they couldn't completely resolve it, her partner was willing, at least, to put it aside and move on. It was just unfortunate that it required circumstances such as these to allow them to finally come to terms with each other regarding it. She drew her hand down the slope of her partner's breast, circling the velvet soft nipple with her fingertips.
Janeway made a soft sound, half contentment, half dismay as she reached back and patted the Borg on the hip. "Darling, you can't possibly tell me you're strong enough for this."
Seven inhaled deeply, pressing closer, and began to cough as her bruised lungs protested. She had to roll away, holding her ribs, and Janeway rolled over with her, putting her hand on the Borg's back, rubbing it lightly as Seven slowly regained control. She took a few cautious breaths, feeling weak. If she did not exert herself beyond a certain point, it seemed that her body remained reasonably accessible to her. But when she crossed that line, the response was immediate and very unpleasant.
"You are correct," she said with dismay. "I am not."
Slowly she turned towards Kathryn and they fit themselves together once more, striving to regain the heat they lost in Seven's paroxysm of coughing, wrapping the blankets warmly around them.
"I do appreciate the thought, my darling," Janeway said, snuggling into the Borg's arms where she sighed softly. "Of all the people to be stranded with in this frozen hell, I'm certainly glad it's with you."
Seven kissed her ear tenderly. "I have often fantasized about this."
"You have?" Janeway was clearly surprised.
"Not this, specifically," Seven elaborated, "but of escaping our duties and responsibilities and being alone together for several days in a row, far away from Voyager and all its demands." She paused. "However, this was not exactly what I had in mind."
"No, I don't suppose it was." Seven heard her swallow. "Why haven't you told me this before?"
"To what end?" Seven responded gently. "It was not something that could be accommodated. I knew that, and I did not wish you to feel bad." She squeezed lightly. "I do not wish you to feel bad now. I merely bring it up in reference to the saying that you have often mentioned to me; 'be careful what you wish for'. I now completely understand the concept of where such a saying would come from."
"I guess you would," the captain said slowly. She lifted her head slightly, tenderly brushing her lips over the hollow in Seven's throat. "However, I still want you to tell me these things. Annika, I love you, but if I don't know what you want, then I can't give it to you. Perhaps you're right and we won't be able to manage such a vacation alone together, but you have to at least allow me the opportunity to try."
"But you will be unhappy if you cannot manage it," Seven pointed out. "You will feel guilty. I do not want that."
"Perhaps, but sometimes, you just have to trust me." Janeway paused and nudged her gently. "You certainly have no problem telling me what you don't want me to do. Just make sure you tell me what you do want me to do, as well."
"Very well, Kathryn," Seven said evenly. "I promise to tell you from now on."
She decided that this line of conversation had the potential to slide into something it shouldn't, and that it would be best if she just didn't say anything further. This new hesitation she now had with her partner was not anything she particularly liked, but perhaps it was better than just blurting out her feelings that were still a bit tender ... especially with regards to what she did and did not want, and what Janeway would and would not do to accommodate that. One day, hopefully, they'd both truly be over it rather than merely saying they should be.
Janeway seemed to sense the sudden tension in the Borg, however, and her arms tightened as she pressed closer, rubbing Seven's back in mute apology. For what, Seven wasn't sure, but she supposed that it would be something that would occur frequently between them for the foreseeable future. Words would take on hidden meaning, as would gestures. It was just something she would have to accept and adapt to.
She tucked Kathryn under her chin and held her as close as possible, feeling the woman gradually relax and ease into sleep. Seven let her mind wander to her charges on Voyager, worrying fretfully about the adolescents. Perhaps the captain was right, she thought bleakly. Perhaps she was not capable of looking after them as a parent would. It was very possible that so long as Voyager was in the situation it was in, the most she could be for them was a mentor or guide, not a person who could take full responsibility for their upbringing. She wondered if the children were regenerating now, gathered together in the special room within the arboretum where their alcoves were secluded, and who, if anyone, had tucked them in?
There had originally been four alcoves when Seven had first joined Voyager, and gradually, they had been shut down entirely when the young woman lost her abdominal implant. Once, in a explosion of fury, she had destroyed most of the Borg equipment, and it had taken a lot of work for Seven and B'Elanna to rebuild the four alcoves, utilizing parts from the children's damaged cube. She supposed that it was just unfortunate they hadn't also been able to salvage the cube's transwarp coil, but it had been damaged beyond repair.
What would happen to the children when they returned to the Alpha Quadrant? Or if, indeed, she and Janeway were not rescued? She knew that the youngest, Mezoti, had unofficially been adopted by Ensign Wildman and Neelix, the girl spending a lot of time with Naomi who had finally found a full-time playmate. Meanwhile, the twins, Azan and Rebi, had been taken under the wing of Commander Tuvok who was taking a personal interest in their education, while Icheb was developing a close friendship with Chakotay. So perhaps it was not all negative. They would have a future without her, with people who cared for them and would assist in their development.
That knowledge hurt her in a way that she had never experienced before, even as on another level, she was comforted by it.
She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep. It was a measure of her physical weakness and exhaustion that darkness descended upon her almost immediately. When she woke in the bright light of the next morning, Kathryn was gone and Seven blinked, anxiousness filling her as she sat up uncertainly. Then she heard thumps on the roof above her and realized that was where the captain had to be. There was a pause, a much louder thump, and Seven raised an eyebrow as she saw Janeway skid down the front of the ship over the transparencies in what the Borg decided was an uncontrolled slide, rebounding off the boulder and landing somewhat inelegantly on her back in a rather deep snow drift.
Intrigued, Seven peered through the window as Janeway thrashed her way out of the white stuff, her mouth moving in what Seven suspected was a litany of curses. She was aware that her otherwise elegant spouse could swear the paint off an ore freighter when she wished, and it appeared that, at the moment, the captain was so inclined. There was a part of the Borg that longed to be out there, romping in the snow with her partner, something that Seven had never really experienced outside a holodeck. However, her lungs ached at the thought of the cold that glittered in the frozen landscape.
She lay back down and listened as she heard the footsteps move around the shuttle, the conditions so cold that Janeway's boots squeaked in the snow, before she heard the manual cycling of the airlock in the aft compartment. There were thuds as Janeway stomped her feet, undoubtedly trying to shake the snow from them. When the captain finally entered the cockpit, she was accompanied with a blast of cold air, and Seven realized her partner was shivering, her teeth chattering.
Quickly replacing the phaser rifle she was carrying in its compartment, Janeway stripped off her clothes, draping her trousers over a chair to dry before diving under the covers with the Borg. Stifling an urge to retreat, Seven instead made the greatest sacrifice a spouse could, letting Janeway entwine her cold feet, legs and arms in hers, allowing the captain to press that chilled form full length against the young woman as the Borg gamely used her own body heat to try to warm her partner up. Janeway's face was red, and her cheeks were wet from tears from the purely physical reaction of coming in from such harsh conditions. Her lips were dry as well, beginning to chap.
"Kathryn, you cannot continue to do this task unless we can find a way to better protect you from the elements," Seven said, holding her partner closely.
"I know," Janeway gasped, snuggling close. "Oh, god, darling, thank you for this. It can't possibly be pleasant for you."
Since it was rather like embracing a block of ice, Seven could not entirely disagree. She consoled herself with the thought that she was able to stop the terrible shivering her partner was undergoing much quicker than if Janeway had been forced to warm up on her own.
"What is our status?"
"The panels are still holding up, but we had another meter of snow come down last night. Already, the drifts around the cleared area are higher than my head," Janeway responded unhappily.
"Perhaps we could utilize the phasers to melt some of it, or even disperse it entirely."
"That leaves the problem of resulting water and ice if we melt the snow," Janeway noted, finally producing some warmth of her own within the Borg's embrace. "And disintegrating the snow on a regular basis would burn out our phasers before long. We may need our weapons for protection, but it's something to keep in mind." She sighed, shaking her head. "Honestly, darling, this just seems to get harder and harder."
Seven did not respond beyond pulling her closer, but the captain's words disturbed her greatly as she turned her keen mind to solving all the problems facing them.
"Half our food supply has been ruined," she said weakly. "Instead of a year, we only have six months at best."
Seven quirked her eyebrow. The young woman was fully dressed in her away mission outfit, able to get out of bed for longer and longer periods of time each day as the week passed. Currently, she was at the engineering console, attempting to find a way to reconfigure what remained of the engines to provide energy, enough to power the replicators for additional parts and to increase the output of the distress beacon. Such an attempt would be beyond Janeway, as skilled an engineer as she was, but apparently it was not beyond Seven's technical knowledge or ambition.
"Kathryn, it is irrelevant," she said calmly, using a microfilament capacitor to realign some circuitry. "It is unlikely, in any event, we shall been able to continue to power the Delta Flyer for more than a few months. The wind continues to pile drifts around the shuttle while we receive new snow every second day. Eventually, we will be buried entirely, despite our best efforts."
"Dammit, Annika, I don't want to hear that defeatist attitude from you," Janeway snapped, glaring at her.
"It is not defeatist, Kathryn," Seven said in that rational tone. "It is logical." She paused, softening her expression as she looked up at her. "Kathryn, it is merely another set back, nothing more."
Janeway stared at her, her mouth moving, but unable to utter a sound before she turned away, feeling a sob surge up from her chest. There was a moment of surprised silence from behind her, and then warm arms surrounded her, holding her tightly to keep her from flying apart entirely. With anyone else, the captain could have maintained her command face, kept any other subordinate from knowing how close to the edge she was, but Seven was no mere crewmember, and the one person she could not hide from, not even when she wanted to.
"Talk to me, Kathryn," Seven demanded gently, her tone so warm and loving that Janeway ached from the sheer comfort of it. "Tell me what is truly wrong here."
"I don't want to die, Annika," Janeway said finally, her voice shaky, on the verge of breaking down completely. "Not when we're so close to being home. Not when Voyager can finally see the end of her journey. The ship needs us, the crew needs us. It's .... just such a stupid way to die, freezing or starving to death on a god forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere. Yet, no matter how hard we try, it seems so futile."
"It is not futile, Kathryn," Seven promised her. "I am sorry. I did not realize how much this was affecting you. My words undoubtedly did sound defeatist." She urged her around and Janeway turned, burying her face in the warm front of her spouse. "Voyager will find us."
"What if they don't?" the captain husked, tears wetting her face even as she was ashamed of her loss of control. It had just been so many days of struggle, with one setback after another as the snow rose around them and the ice built up on the roof. The loss of half their food supply had been the final straw for the older woman. "It could take months for Voyager to do a thorough search if the original distress beacon is unable to penetrate the ionic interference. We don't have enough food, we're losing power, there's some kind of predator stalking us at night, we're going to freeze to death...."
"Shh," Seven urged softly, tightening her embrace to cut off the litany of obstacles facing the couple. "Kathryn, there are only three star systems between the Mutrani and where we were to rendezvous with Voyager. It will not take months for the ship to search them all ... weeks, possibly a month or so, but not six months. Yet, even if it does, I shall go out and hunt down one of those snow creatures that so disturbs you at night. I will prepare you a delicious dinner, and use the creature's skin to make you a fur coat to keep you warm in the daytime." She tightened her hug. "I, of course, shall keep you warm at night."
Despite herself, Janeway managed to laugh through her tears. "You would, too, wouldn't you?" she said ruefully, feeling her chest hurt from the feelings her partner inspired with her strong words.
Seven kissed her forehead gently. "Kathryn, there is food. Either by hunting down the creature, as I mentioned, or by discovering whatever it consumes. Our shelter is tight against the weather; we simply have to find a way to stay warm within it as well as maintain a path clear to the outside, neither unsummountable obstacles." She paused. "Humans have survived for centuries in harsher conditions than this on Earth. We will find a way on whatever this planet is called." She reached down and cupped the captain's face with her hand, brushing away her tears with her thumb. "We will not die," she concluded with amazing firmness.
Janeway exhaled slowly, bending her head against Seven's chest and let her partner hold and comfort her, wanting to believe that what she was saying was the absolute truth, needing the hope it implied. How many times in the past few weeks had she needed to be hugged, needed to be told it would be all right if only she could just believe? Except it hadn't been there because the only person who could provide it to the captain was absolutely furious with her. This was like coming home, like finding a safe haven in the worst storm. Swallowing a sob, she tightened the arms she had wrapped around Seven's waist, feeding off the strength of their bond which had been missing for far too long.
"Guess I lost it there for a minute," she admitted shakily, embarrassed.
Seven rubbed her back. "It is a rare occurrence," she assured her quietly. "Do not concern yourself at being 'Human' every so often, Kathryn. Particularly with me."
Janeway took a deep breath. "Starfleet captains aren't supposed to be Human."
"Indeed?" Seven said, puzzled. "Yet so many of the most famous starship captains have been. Was there an exception made in your respective cases by Starfleet Command?"
"That's not what I meant," Janeway said, sighing.
Seven smiled faintly. "I knew what you meant, Kathryn. I simply do not believe your contention. Any such rule is of your own devising, not implemented by any organization. Therefore, it is up to you to decide where and when such a rule does and does not apply." She drew back, looking down into the captain's face with ice blue eyes that warmed perceptibly as she regarded her. "Kathryn, it is your Humanness that I love most, not your command ability ... though that is an attractive feature, as well."
"Then I guess I'd better stop complaining, hadn't I?" Janeway said, smiling wryly.
"Or perhaps," Seven murmured as she lightly drew her nose along the captain's, nuzzling her, "I should give you something to consider other than our current situation."
Janeway felt the corner of her mouth turn up, hearing beneath the words, the inflection that implied just what the Borg truly had in mind. "I don't think you're healed enough for that," she muttered regretfully. "In fact, you're leaning all your weight against the console just to be able to stand upright with me."
"What I have in mind does not require either of us to remain standing," Seven whispered, brushing her lips over the captain's, a tender promise of more to come. "Kathryn, I have missed you so much. We have not been together often since we encountered the Borg cube, and in the final two weeks prior to the crash, not at all. I know that is partially my doing..."
"Shh," Janeway said, silencing her with a gentle kiss. "I've missed you, too, my darling." She tightened her embrace. "I just don't think you're ready for any kind of strenuous physical activity yet."
"It does not have to be strenuous," Seven insisted, making the captain smile as she nuzzled her cheek. "We can take our time ... indeed, as you have said, time is something that we have a great deal of." Janeway felt the Borg slide her hands down to her buttocks that she squeezed through the trousers, pulling the captain's pelvis against her own tightly. "It is currently the warmest time of the day within the shuttle ... we would not become unduly cold by being undressed."
Janeway groaned, feeling her resistance crumble as Seven kissed her neck, making her head go back. She swallowed hard, feeling the familiar desire rise within her, thick and strong. "You're absolutely incorrigible, you know."
"Does that mean you agree?" Seven whispered into the captain's hair.
"It means that I'll go to bed with you," Janeway allowed. "But if you aren't up to it, you have to promise me you won't try to push yourself. If you have any trouble, then we'll stop immediately." She drew back, finding the young woman's gaze. "Holding you can be quite wonderful by itself."
"I promise, Kathryn," Seven said, her pale eyes glowing. "If I have difficulty, I will stop."
Janeway held her gaze for a moment, judging her sincerity, and then kissed her again, her lips parting to allow Seven to explore her mouth, absorbed by the woman's sweetness. They moved over to the bed, the Borg leaning somewhat heavily on Janeway though she tried to pretend she wasn't, and Janeway smiled as she eased her down onto the mattress.
"How do you talk me into these things?" she muttered, helping Seven off with her vest.
Seven nipped playfully at her earlobe. "I cannot make you do anything you do not want to do. I am fully aware of that, Kathryn."
"Oh, you are?" Janeway responded, tugging at the sweater, pulling it over the Borg's head and tossing it on the nearby chair. "Well, I know for a fact that you are not nearly as innocent as you sometimes pretend to be about certain social situations ... particularly after a year of being married."
Seven smiled as she reclined against the mattress, waiting patiently as Janeway removed the Borg's boots, trousers and undergarments, but she did not respond to the captain's sally, and the older woman grinned as she paused to kiss her.
"Not going to touch that one, huh?"
"It would be best if I did not," Seven told her, cupping her face in her hands. She kissed her again. "Undress, Kathryn. I am cold without you."
"Then get under the blankets," Janeway told her with mock exasperation, but she made sure the young woman was covered by two of the silvery sheets before drawing back to remove her own clothes. Seven embraced her immediately as soon as she joined her, and the captain uttered a husky sound of amusement, putting her hands on the woman's slender, yet strong, shoulders. "Easy," she warned. "Don't force yourself into stopping before we even get started."
"I have missed you," Seven repeated firmly, but her touch immediately gentled and she settled against Janeway's body, the couple finding a warm spot in the center of the bed to curl up together, the blankets wrapped around them to keep their body heat where they required it. However, the young woman had been too aggressive in her initial approach, and though she fought it, Seven finally had to cough, muffling her spasm into the mattress as she curled up, wrapping her arms around her ribs. She looked so distressed when she finished that Janeway immediately drew her into her arms, nuzzling her gently.
"It's all right, darling," Janeway muttered, running her hands slowly over her partner's silky back. "Do you remember that planet where we were stranded with Ro and B'Elanna? When you and I made love in the aft compartment?"
"I do," Seven whispered unhappily, her head bent, her eyes closed in frustration. Obviously, she was adhering to her promise to stop if her health became a factor.
"Remember how gentle and slow it was?" Janeway persisted, pulling her closer. "Just you and I lying side by side, looking into each other's eyes while you touched me. Do you remember how special it was?"
Slowly it sank in and Seven opened her eyes, an expression of relief crossing her face as she realized the captain still wished to make love. "I do. I promise I will not move, Kathryn."
Janeway chuckled. "As long as you promise." She brushed her lips over Seven's, kissing her briefly. "Relax, darling," she urged quietly. "Let me love you..." She kissed her again, sweetly. "Concentrate on our lips..." Again, she brushed her mouth over the Borg's, inhaling her warm breath. "On being here with me..."
Seven settled against her and Janeway ran her hand down the lanky blonde's side, over her hip to her thigh. Moving languidly, as if they had all the time in the world, which indeed, they did, she grasped it gently and drew it up onto her hip, then quietly slid her hand up and down the outside of it, continuing to kiss her spouse with slow, sweet, tender kisses. She made a soft sound of pleasure as Seven carefully put her hand between their bodies, stroking the slope of the captain's breast, caressing it with the slightest of effort, and Janeway did the same, moving her own fingertips lightly over the Borg's rosy nipples.
"Sometimes," Seven whispered between the loving kisses. "This way is better."
"It is," Janeway agreed, capturing Seven's bottom lip between her own, prodding it gently with the tip of her tongue before reluctantly releasing it. "Making love isn't just the physical aspect, darling. So much of it is in the mind." She reached up and kissed along Seven's brow. "Slow and easy involves far more intellect than the raw stimulation of nerve endings."
"Nonetheless, this is stimulating my nerve endings," Seven pointed out, inhaling slowly as Janeway rolled the young woman's nipple playfully between her thumb and forefinger before moving over to the other to do the same.
"Yes," the captain pointed out, "but you have to concentrate so much harder because you're not all