• This is the 33rd installment in the Just Between series.
• The title was provided by Silk and it's possible the story does not live up to such a provocative one.
• It was posted on March 4th, 2000.

Seven woke abruptly, cold and shaking. Beside her, her spouse of a year, less one day was awakened by the Borg's abrupt rise into a sitting position, and quickly sat up herself. Captain Kathryn Janeway was a compact woman with auburn hair and marvelous blue-grey eyes, radiating a command presence like a desert rock gave off heat, even when she was vulnerably naked beneath twisted sheets, her gaze muddled, her hair mussed from sleep.

"Annika?" Utilizing her partner's Human designation, Janeway's voice was a throaty trill that caressed the young woman's ears, and despite herself, Seven felt a perceptible calmness seep through her just from hearing it. The captain put her right palm on the small of Seven's back, its warmth penetrating the Borg's flesh to chase away some of her internal chill.

"I ... it was a dream, I think." Seven looked at her hands. To her surprise, they were trembling and she balled them into fists to make them stop.

"More like a nightmare, I'd say," Janeway said softly as she carefully reached over and covered Seven's left fist with gentle fingers, urging the young woman to loosen her grasp, undoubtedly because she did not want the Borg mesh to cut into the organic flesh. Seven slowly relaxed her implant so that it could be enfolded by Janeway's own hand, the tender grasp cradling the Borg appendage. "Can you remember what it was about?"

"I cannot," Seven remarked after a few moments of thought. "The images are fleeting, disjointed ... I only know how they made me feel."

"How is that?"

"Frightened." Seven hesitated. "Very frightened." She paused and glanced at her partner. "I do not become frightened easily, Kathryn."

"I know," Janeway said gently. She slipped her right arm completely around Seven's waist and hugged her comfortingly. "Darling, dreams are the mind's way of clearing out all the disturbances in our subconscious. After all you've been through in the past few months, this is something that perhaps we should have expected ... and it's hardly the first time you've had nightmares."

Seven inhaled deeply, allowing herself to be reassured by her partner's words. "Perhaps you are correct." She lay back down in the bed and Janeway snuggled up next to her, draping her arm protectively over the Borg's torso. "What time is it?"

The captain glanced up at the chronometer. "0015 hours. Plenty of time for you to go back to sleep."

Seven tried to relax as Janeway assisted, her hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over her partner's abdomen. Exaling slowly, the Borg allowed the caress to ease her tension, the familiar sounds of the warp engines and soft respiration of her partner a balm in the night to her jangled nerves. Warmth seeped through her as the captain nestled her head on the Borg's shoulder, and long moments passed as Seven attempted to resume her interrupted slumber. Yet, the fear continued to linger in her thoughts and kept the peacefulness of sleep beyond her grasp.

"Still awake, darling?" Janeway murmured finally, long after Seven had thought the captain had surrendered to her own drowsiness.

Seven sighed. "I am sorry, Kathryn, I do not wish to disturb you."

"You're not." Janeway paused to yawn. "I can't seem to settle my own thoughts now that I'm awake."

"What are you thinking about, my Kathryn?" Seven pulled the woman closer to her.

Janeway made a soft, rueful sound in her throat. "The last batch of documents that came in from Starfleet Command," she said, referring to the communication packet which was now being sent to them on a regular monthly basis from the Alpha Quadrant. The second one had just arrived the previous day, and along with personal messages, including a letter from Kathryn's mother to Seven, the astrometrics officer knew that there had also been a great many official files that had been for the captain's eyes only.

"Can you tell me about them?" Seven asked, not pressing but simply offering to listen to whatever Janeway might want to share.

"Not the specifics, but I can tell you that the Dominion War had a big impact on the Federation and Starfleet. I'm just beginning to understand how much by sifting through the new regulations and protocols that have been installed, along with the tactical data I've received."

"The Federation was not conquered by the Dominion."

"No, but the victory came at a great cost, darling," Janeway responded sadly. "Some of the things I've been reading are horrifying in their implication. The only good thing that I've managed to conclude is that I probably don't have to worry too much about the future of our Maquis here on Voyager. With Starfleet in the state it's in, they're going to be extremely grateful for experienced bodies to fill the holes should any of the Maquis members wish to accept official commissions."

"So the Maquis have been pardoned?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on making it official and with any luck, I'll have those documents in my hands before too long. It would be nice for Chakotay and the others to know that an arrest and trial are not hanging over their heads should we suddenly return to the Alpha Quadrant."

Seven thought about that, idly tracing Janeway's forearm with her fingertips. "Kathryn, do you feel our imminent return is truly a possibility?"

Janeway sighed a little. "I try to look at it realistically, but yes, there's a part of me that thinks now that we're in contact, it's merely a matter of things falling into place for us to return home within the next year."

Seven nodded, though she knew Janeway couldn't see that from how she was angled. "I received another letter. You have been so busy with the rest of the communiqué that I did not wish to share it until you had time to discuss it with me."

"From Phoebe?" Janeway responded, raising her head to regard the Borg in the starlight shimmering through the window above their heads. "I knew you had received one from Mother but..."

"No," Seven interrupted. "It was not from anyone I know personally. It came from a scientist who read about our work on the slipstream drive and wishes to correspond with me regarding it."

"Who is this scientist?" Janeway queried, frowning slightly.

"Dr. Brahms."

"Brahms?" Janeway echoed, her tone rising slightly. "Dr. Leah Brahms? Of the Theoretical Propulsion Group?"

"I do not know, Kathryn," Seven said, slightly taken aback by her partner's response. "She merely indicated that she was intrigued by the findings we had made here on Voyager and wondered if I would be agreeable to sharing data with her as she would with me as she works on her current transwarp project."

"Oh, Annika," Janeway said, obviously excited by this development, "Leah Brahms is one of the Federation's most highly regarded scientists in the field of starship propulsion. If she's currently working on some kind of slipstream drive, it will considerably increase our chances of having a breakthrough."

"You believe that I should correspond with her?"

"Definitely. Not all the best scientists are in Starfleet, you know, and to have civilian researchers also tackling the project can only help us tremendously."

Seven nodded. "Then I shall formulate a reply to her immediately." With the latest communiqué, Janeway had seemed to have had a great deal on her mind regarding the Federation and Starfleet ... so much so that Seven had been reluctant to bring what had seemed inconsequential information to her attention. Apparently she had been incorrect in that assessment. Squeezing the captain lovingly, she brushed her lips over the smooth forehead.

"In regards to the other letters from the Federation, you never told me what Phoebe wrote to you," she added softly. "We did not have a chance to read them to each other this time, as we did the last."

Janeway chuckled briefly. "Things have been a bit hectic since yesterday. Phoebe just wrote her usual missive ... information about her personal life interspersed with completely inappropriate comments about mine. The same old thing and I loved every word of it. If you'd like, I'll download it into your workstation so you can read it for yourself."

"I would appreciate that and I will download Gretchen's into yours. She indicated that she was quite pleased that you are now so open and vulnerable with her. She seems to think I had a direct influence on that."

"You have," Janeway told her, raising her face to kiss Seven's jaw. "You should already know that, love."

Seven felt a warm spurt of pleasure go through her. "I had suspected, but was not entirely sure."

"You can be sure, now," Janeway told her with a smile and settled back against Seven's side, her hand resuming her circular caresses on her partner's stomach, though it seemed a bit different now ... more sensual, lingering on the Borg's skin as she traced delicate lines over her abdomen. "Darling, are you so very sleepy?"

Seven smiled faintly into the darkness. "Why do you ask?"

Janeway nuzzled into the Borg's neck. "I was just thinking that since we're awake anyway...."

"That we could find ways to occupy ourselves other than attempting to go back to sleep?" Seven finished for her. She raised an eyebrow. "Is that an efficient way to prepare for our duty-shift that will occur in approximately five hours?"

Janeway stretched against Seven's side, pressing her entire length against the Borg's lanky form. "I don't know how 'efficient' it would be," she admitted huskily in Seven's ear, emphasizing it with a flutter of her tongue over the lobe. "But I do think it would be loads of fun, and I know how important you think our having fun is."

"Ah, so this is for my benefit," Seven responded dryly. "I am touched by your concern."

Janeway laughed. "You're developing quite a sarcastic streak," she noted as she flicked Seven's nipple lightly with her thumb.

"I suspect I will have to, simply to hold my own with you," Seven noted as she pulled her spouse close to her. She kissed her, a light, fleeting taste, which nonetheless, indicated a definite promise of more and lengthier ones in the near future. "Are you aware of what the day after tomorrow is, Kathryn?"

"Your birthday?" Janeway replied, wrapping her arms warmly around Seven's neck. "My birthday? Jake's birthday?"

"None of those choices," Seven noted, not entirely sure at this point if Janeway was continuing to tease her or not. Janeway's tone indicated that she was, but on the other hand, remembering specific dates, even special ones, was not the captain's strongest suit. "It is the first night of Prixin."

"Ah, and you want to know what I'm wearing to the celebration in the messhall."

Seven ran her hands down her spouse's back, tracing the spine lightly. "That is not what I wish to know."

"You want to tell me what you are wearing to the celebration in the messhall?" Janeway guessed brightly, as Seven cupped the captain's buttocks, squeezing them firmly.

"I do not wish to go to the celebration," Seven remarked, slipping her right hand down to the captain's thigh and pulling it up onto her hip, increasing her access and making Janeway hum in the back of her throat. "Not in the messhall."

Janeway's smile widened. "Oh, but we have to go, darling," she told her, pressing closer as she kissed Seven's neck. Her fingers trailed lightly over Seven's breasts, stroking the nipples with delicate promise. "It's expected of me as the captain and you are the captain's spouse. We have to make an appearance, at least."

"I am aware of that," Seven said, feeling her respiration increase as pleasure rippled through her. "I have been your spouse for some time now. But for that day, I wish to be elsewhere."

She was getting stubborn now. If Janeway refused to specify what they were discussing, then she was certainly not going to either. The captain obviously understood that and was being just as deliberate in her own avoidance of being pinned down to specifics. The fact that their hands were doing wonderful things to each other as they verbally danced was almost incidental.

Almost.

Seven gasped as Janeway tickled a particularly sensitive area. "Kathryn?"

"Yes, darling?"

"You do know what the day after tomorrow is?"

"Oh yes, my love," the captain assured her, the tone suddenly very tender and warm. "I know exactly what it is. But can we discuss it a little later?"

"Very well," Seven muttered happily.

Later would be just fine with her.

After a moment, she felt Seven shift slightly, a deeper inhalation as she pressed closer to the captain. Lips gently traced Janeway's ear, nuzzling it softly, and the captain squeezed the hand in her grasp gently.

"Mmm, good morning, darling."

"Good morning, my Kathryn," Seven murmured, kissing a tender line along the captain's neck.

Janeway felt a sliver of pleasure ripple through her and she groaned, but not entirely from the sensation. Rather, there was distinct note of frustration underlying it. "Oh, love, we can't right now. In fact, the computer is going to remind us that we have to get up very soon."

"I can be very quick," Seven whispered, running her hand down the length of Janeway's torso, sliding over her breast and nipple which hardened instantly, down the captain's ribs and belly, then over her hip and along her buttock.

"Oh, you can?" Janeway said with a mixture of amusement and dismay as Seven continued to stroke her lavishly. "'Quick' to you means it will be over in one hour rather than two. Unfortunately, I just don't have an hour to spare this morning, as much as I would love to. I have too much waiting on the desk in my ready room."

"You underestimate me, Kathryn," Seven breathed into her ear, and Janeway was startled as she felt Seven's fingers touching her intimately from behind, dabbling into the gathering moisture to spread it over the achingly sensitive nub.

"Annika!"

"Shh, Kathryn, it will not take long."

Janeway shuddered. Perhaps it would not take that much time after all, she thought, as her need rose delicious and strong within her. "What about you?" she whispered, unable to resist the delight surging through her. "I don't want to leave you without."

"You will not," Seven told her with assurance as her fingers fondled Janeway insistently. "I will take my pleasure at leisure tonight, after our shifts, but I am aware that you always appreciate an early 'wake up call'."

"You're too good to me, love," Janeway mumbled, then groaned again, feeling the tender penetration of her partner, the wonderful touch pressing insistently and directly on that spot inside her that immediately made her cry out. Spasms shook her, and then it was over as she gasped for breath, just as the computer noted in dispassionate tones that the time was now 0600 hours.

Janeway felt boneless, too sated to move. "I don't think the 'wake up' part worked very well. I want to stay right where I am ... more than ever, now."

Seven kissed Janeway's cheek, then bent over her and managed to kiss her mouth. "Shall I carry you into the shower?"

Janeway forced herself to stir. "No, that's perfectly all right." She was well aware that Seven's idea of helping her wake up in the shower meant turning the water on cold and dumping her partner under it. The captain much preferred the 'bed' version of the Borg's wake up call. "I'm up, now."

Seven eased away from her and rolled out of the bed, taking a moment to stretch luxuriously as was now her habit in the morning. Janeway knew if she didn't soon follow, the Borg's next move would be to swoop down on her and pick her up in her arms. However, the captain did take a moment to appreciate the sight before slipping from between the covers and padding naked into the ensuite. Seven joined her in the shower where the couple actually managed to limit themselves to cleaning themselves. In front of the large mirror, Janeway pulled on her uniform which had been waiting for her, neatly folded on the sink counter, as Seven retrieved her blue and grey outfit from the closet. The captain met her partner's pale eyes in their reflection while Seven was putting up her hair.

"You seem in good spirits this morning, darling," Janeway said with a fond smile. "I guess the nightmare didn't stay with you, after all."

Seven sealed her outfit at the back of her neck, then moved behind the captain and rested her hands lightly on Janeway's shoulders as she regarded their reflections in the large glass.

"Apparently, your 'cure' was most effective. Once we made love, all the lingering fear disappeared."

Janeway returned the smile, looking a bit smug. "I'm glad I could help, darling." She reached up and put her hands on Seven's, her face sobering slightly. "I hope you know I was teasing you last night, when it seemed as if I wasn't considering tomorrow as anything significant. Honestly, it's a day that means more to me than mere words can convey."

"I know, Kathryn." Seven's pale eyes sparkled, and Janeway saw the flash of teeth appear between her full lips. "I am glad that we are taking the next two days as an off-duty rotation. I will enjoy spending some personal time with you."

Janeway turned around so that she could look up into Seven's face, feeling the Borg's arms slide lovingly about her as she put her own around her partner's slender waist. "We really do have to show up at the Prixin party tomorrow night, but I promise, the rest of the time, I'm all yours, love."

"I cannot think of a better anniversary gift," Seven whispered, just before covering the captain's mouth with her own. The kiss went on endlessly, and Janeway finally had to break the contact herself.

"Mmm, darling, any more of those and I may have to change our off-duty rotation to start today."

Seven smiled and nuzzled her briefly. "Tempting, but tomorrow will be better." She hugged her again, then released her. "I must make breakfast. Do you have a preference?"

Janeway kept her arm firmly around her partner's waist as they strolled out through the bedroom and into the living area. The couple's Irish Setter, Jake, bounded over to greet them, his tail wagging and the captain paused to pat his head. "What about those little egg and spinach things?"

"The baby quiches I made last night?" Seven responded as she went on without her partner. She quirked an eyebrow as she glanced back over her shoulder. "For breakfast?"

"We do have some left over from last night, correct?" Janeway gave Jake a few, final thumps to his ribs. "No point in wasting them."

"I had no intention of wasting them," Seven remarked as she retrieved a stasis covered plate from beneath the kitchenette counter, popping the little tarts into the heating unit. "I had thought that you would prefer them for lunch."

Janeway proceeded to set the table with plates, cutlery and the various extras like salt, pepper, butter and a pitcher of juice. "I'm afraid I'll be a little busy today. I doubt I'll be able to make it back here for lunch." She paused suddenly, interrupting her motion of placing a plate on the table.

"Kathryn?"

Seven eyed her with mild concern from behind the counter and Janeway shook her head, smiling faintly as she forced herself to get back to her task.

"It's nothing darling. It just occurred to me how very ... domestic we've become in the past year."

Seven removed the quiches from the oven and carried them over to the table.

"That bothers you?"

"Not at all," Janeway said as she scooped three of the hot tarts onto her plate, shaking her fingers at the brief burn. "It just amazes me how much ... I enjoy it. Especially since this kind of routine always bored me senseless in the Alpha Quadrant. I couldn't wait to get my day started and frequently skipped breakfast altogether, particularly when I was younger and lived in San Francisco. Now, this regular routine of dressing and eating in the morning, where you and I can just ... I don't know, exist as normal people ... are moments of perfect happiness to me."

Seven used her fork to slice off a bite of the tart. "Perhaps it is because our lives are so otherwise ... unsettled. I suspect that if our work was not on a starship lost in the Delta Quadrant, or if we did not experience so many opportunities to be routinely slaughtered in the course of our day, this domestic routine would still bore you."

Janeway swallowed a mouthful of orange juice, and laughed briefly. "Maybe, you have a point." She took a bite of her quiche, lingering over the delicious combination of egg, spinach, and flaky pastry shell as it melted in her mouth. "Living on the edge tends to make times like these precious in a way that perhaps other people don't have an opportunity to appreciate."

Contemplating that suggestion lightened Seven's already pale eyes. "Perhaps when we return to the Alpha Quadrant, where our lives could possibly be more placid, you will cease to enjoy sharing breakfast with me."

"Not a chance," Janeway said firmly.

"I shall be sure to remind you of that, in the event that you are incorrect in your assessment."

Janeway reached over with her foot and nudged Seven's under the table. "Don't you believe me?" she asked, a trifle wistfully.

Seven chewed her quiche thoughtfully. "When we return to the Alpha Quadrant, you will probably be caught up in completely new and different projects, be it a new ship, or a new position or simply working out how you will respond to active duty with Starfleet once more. When that happens, you will forget to take pleasure in these moments, or speed through them to tackle your day as you did early in our relationship." She picked up her glass and sipped her juice, regarding her partner indulgently. "That is acceptable to me, Kathryn. I will not try to hold you back or make you into something you are not. However, there will be times that I will insist that you stop and smell the coffee."

"The flowers," Janeway said, torn between amusement and a little sadness with the acknowledgment that her partner was probably right about how she would be.

Seven looked confused. "Flowers?"

"The saying is 'stop and smell the flowers'," Janeway corrected.

Seven frowned. "We do not have any flowers with breakfast. You have coffee."

Janeway started to explain, realized it would probably take longer than the rest of their meal to do so and smiled instead. "I'll hold you to that promise, darling. Make me stop and smell the coffee every so often. Speaking of which..." She held up her empty mug, waggling it slightly, and Seven shot her another indulgent glance before getting up to retrieve the fresh pot from the coffee maker. She poured the deep, dark liquid into the captain's cup and the remainder into a silver thermos placed on the counter for just that purpose.

"I would point out, darling," Janeway added, after she savored her first sip of the fragrant brew, "that you try to change me all the time."

Seven blinked. "I do not," she objected with mild outrage. She paused, apparently thinking about why her partner might make such a charge. "I merely do not allow you to indulge in habits which are not good for you. That is not changing you, that is..." She hesitated, searching for the word, "... 'channeling' you onto more beneficial pathways."

"Ah," Janeway said, in too good a mood to pursue it at the moment. "I'll keep that in mind ... the next time you're trying to 'channel' me."

Seven shot her an unfathomable look and Janeway chuckled as she picked up the padd placed earlier on the table, checking over the downloaded ship's logs while she sipped her coffee. In the meantime, Seven took the opportunity to clear away the rest of the dirty dishes and generally clean the area before she went into the ensuite to finish up her morning ablutions. Janeway smiled when the Borg came out and deposited a kiss on the back of the captain's neck. Reaching up to capture the hand Seven had placed lightly on her shoulder, she used her grasp to pull the younger woman down to where she could look into her partner's curious expression.

"'Channel' a better good-bye kiss than that, my way," she instructed and Seven responded with a brief smile and a much more intense kiss that seemed to fill the Starfleet officer with her devotion. "Have a good day, darling," she muttered when they finally parted.

"I shall," Seven promised, giving the captain's hand a final squeeze before she left their quarters.

Janeway took a little longer to finish, lingering over her coffee and the previous night's reports before completing her own morning routine and heading for the turbolift. Her thoughts were intent on the day ahead of her, what tasks awaited her attention and all the paperwork she wanted to have completed in order to take the next two days off. If she worked through lunch, she would probably be able to finish even the departmental reports before the end of her duty shift, and as she waited for the lift to arrive at the bridge, she impatiently shifted the silver thermos until it was tucked neatly under her arm.

The cylinder impacted on the deck before her body did ... but it was a close race.

The Terror slammed down on her like a tsunami  and she cowered in the corner of the lift, curled up in the fetal position as the sheer, unrelenting fear gripped her with cruel claws. Dimly she was aware of the turbolift coming to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal the bridge and a senior staff who did not, at first, realize what was happening. It was Harry Kim who finally left his ops post to see what was holding the lift, and his cry to Commander Chakotay sounded not a little panicked, barely penetrating the roaring of the captain's pulse in her ears.

Then, just as suddenly as it had struck, it was gone, and Janeway had only the lingering memory of a soul-deep fear that had so completely possessed her.

"Captain?" Chakotay's dark, handsome features were concerned as he stood in the entrance of the turbolift, looking down at her. He reached out his hand and uncertainly, she accepted it, using her first officer's solid, burly strength to lift her back to her feet.

"I don't know," she said before he could ask.

Her voice was husky, forced past a throat that felt parched, undoubtedly from when she had been gasping desperately for breath. Stepping out onto the bridge, she was aware of Tuvok, her security chief, regarding her with as much concern as his impassive Vulcan features would allow, while at the helm, Lt. Tom Paris had turned halfway around to stare at his captain searchingly. Harry had returned to his station and looked considerably disturbed as he glanced at her. She faltered briefly as she descended the stairs and had to rest her hand briefly on the rail before resuming her course to the command level.

"No one else felt anything out of the ordinary, I assume," she said, somewhat weakly as she sank into her captain's chair.

Chakotay carefully placed the thermos he had retrieved from the floor of the turbolift on the console between Janeway's chair and his own, but he did not question what she was saying ... he simply looked over at Tuvok.

"Run an internal scan, see if anything abnormal occurred in the past ten minutes." He sat down beside the captain and stared at her, the tattoo arching over his left brow crinkling as he frowned. "Can you elaborate a little, Captain?"

Janeway noted that her heart was still pounding in her chest, as if she had run a marathon. Only now was it starting to slow, and her hands were unpleasantly moist. She inhaled deeply, gathering together her scattered wits as she wiped her palms unobtrusively on her trousers. "It was ... a sensation of total and complete fear," she explained, taking the time to choose her words carefully, with as much scientific detachment as she was able to muster. "I wasn't able to think or control myself at all. I simply wanted to hide, to crawl into a hole and never come out. I don't even remember falling."

"Internal scans detect no abnormal readings," Tuvok noted. The Vulcan lifted his head, raising an eyebrow as he looked toward the command level from his tactical station. "Long range sensors reveal no indication of a ship or spatial anomaly."

"Check with sickbay," Chakotay said over his shoulder, glancing at Kim. Harry leaped to obey, keying in the necessary commands to his console.

"Sickbay has no reports of a similar incident," he said after a moment and Janeway felt a certain amount of distress. She knew what she had experienced in the turbolift, but she had the irrational feeling that her crew would stop believing her with no corroborating evidence.

"Run another check with the internal sensors," Chakotay instructed Harry. "Inform the Doctor to alert us if any reports involving a sudden, irrational terror occur, and also put out a general memo to the crew that any member experiencing an attack of any kind of debilitating emotion is to report immediately to sickbay."

He glanced over at Janeway and she realized what he had just done. She certainly could not demand her crew follow orders that she openly disdained. She narrowed her eyes, but rose gracefully from her chair and headed for the turbolift. Quietly, an ensign from the science station joined her, prodded by a gesture of Chakotay's head. Janeway forced herself not to argue with her first officer about it. After all, the Terror could strike again, and it would be remiss of her to object to having someone be there to help. Though she didn't much like the hand on her elbow, as if she were too feeble to walk, and she offered the ensign a searing glance that made him snatch his hand back as if it had been burned.

"Let the Doctor know I'm on my way." She glared daggers at Chakotay who had the grace to look slightly repentant as the doors closed on her view of him.

Fortunately, as the young man escorted her to deck five and sickbay, there was no recurrence of the Terror which had so crippled her.

Heart in her throat, she lunged through the sickbay doors that barely opened in time before her concerned rush, and swept the expanse of the medical center with a single, laser-like gaze. Janeway glanced up from where she was sitting on a biobed, and her eyes widened as she saw the expression on her spouse's face. Hovering over the captain, both Sek and the Doctor cast odd looks at Seven in response to her rather abrupt appearance.

"Seven?"

Janeway's husky tone was a welcome sound to her partner and Seven inhaled deeply several times, struggling to calm her racing heart. Composing herself with an effort, she moved over to the bed.

"I ... was told that you had been sent to sickbay," Seven admitted, when she reached her partner. "I was concerned."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "So you rushed up here to see what was wrong?" She was not entirely pleased by such a gesture. Anger shaded her eyes to battleship grey. "Seven, you simply can't leave your post..."

"I understood it to be quite serious," Seven interrupted quietly and Janeway stopped, her face softening. "As it was when you lost your memories."

"It's not," the captain responded in a much gentler tone."Seven, you can't accord lower deck rumors the same credence as an official comment. Check with the bridge next time." She sighed. "There was an incident in the turbolift, but I'm fine now. I was able to make it here under my own power." She raised her head, frowning suddenly as she looked at Seven with a sudden, calculating expression. "Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, you told me that the nightmare last night left you terribly frightened. How frightened?"

"Captain?" the Doctor said, regarding the couple with a certain amount of trepidation. "Are you saying that Seven suffered a similar incident?"

Janeway raised a hand, indicating that she wanted a moment to organize her thoughts. "Seven, while I was on my way to the bridge, I was overcome by a sensation of intense terror ... so strong that I couldn't even maintain my feet. Last night, you woke from a sound sleep and were actually trembling, something that isn't characteristic of you at all. I realize I dismissed it initially as a nightmare, but perhaps I was in error. Possibly it was something more than just a bad dream."

"You believe this is an attack of some kind?" the Doctor asked, directing his medical probe at Seven as he passed it over her, raising the tricorder that was absorbing the data.

Janeway shook her head. "I'm merely saying that perhaps I wasn't the only one to experience this bout of terror, but because Seven was asleep, we misidentified it as a nightmare."

Seven considered that. "I was ... extremely frightened," she admitted reluctantly to the medical staff. "I do not know what it was that frightened me, but when I woke up, I was filled with a profound terror. It was only the presence of the captain that kept me from fleeing the bed."

The Doctor frowned as he studied his tricorder. "I can detect no anomalous readings, beyond a slight elevation in the adrenal and hypothalamic gland. But that would be expected considering that she rushed here believing you'd been injured. It's certainly not indicative of any extreme fear you described."

"Perhaps we should run a history scan to see if this has ever been described in the Starfleet databanks," Sek suggested. "Perhaps this is psychological in nature." The diminutive holographic Ocampa moved over to the nearest work console, her blonde head bending intently over her screen.

Not to be outdone, the Doctor also moved over to a console to make his own search of the medical databanks, leaving Seven and Janeway momentarily alone.

"Kathryn, are you all right?" Seven asked softly. "Truly?"

"I'm fine," Janeway responded in an equally low voice. "The fear seemed to dissipate as quickly as it hit and even though I was shaken afterward, that was more from the memory of it than because I was physically harmed in anyway."

Seven nodded, understanding very well how that felt after her experience the night before. "Is the memory still lingering now?"

Janeway inhaled. "A little."

Seven smiled faintly. "Perhaps we should retire to the Doctor's office where I can prescribe the 'cure' you offered me last night?"

Startled, Janeway looked at her, and then blushed faintly, glancing somewhat nervously in the general direction of the Doctor and Sek. "Seven, we're on duty," she said, a tiny edge to her tone.

"Yes, Captain," Seven responded, inserting a faint apology in her voice though she wasn't all that sorry that she had brought up a more pleasant topic for her partner to ponder. And deep down, she knew Janeway wasn't either, judging by the warm pink suffusing her cheeks or the unconscious half-curl at the corner of her mouth.

Everyone looked up as a hail came over the communications system.

"Bridge to sickbay." Seven identified Lt. Paris's voice. "Medical emergency. Commander Chakotay is undergoing some sort of seizure."

"Initiate an immediate site-to-site transport to sickbay," the Doctor ordered immediately.

A thin hum of the transporter sounded and the curled up form of Voyager's first officer materialized on the deck. By the time the Doctor and Sek had wrestled the terrified man up onto a biobed, the fear seemed to be easing and Chakotay gasped for breath, the whites showing about the circles of his dark eyes.

"You were right, Captain," he managed, swallowing hard. "It is intense."

"Just hang in there," Janeway assured him, trying to stay out of the way of the medical staff who had hooked the first officer up to every monitoring device they had.

The Doctor frowned, glancing back and forth from Chakotay to the captain.

"Commander, did you touch the captain when she had her attack?"

"He helped me up off the floor of the turbolift," Janeway answered for him. "After it was over."

"What about anyone else?" The Doctor's tone was worried.

"Ensign Francis escorted me down to sickbay," Janeway noted, her voice tightening as she began to understand the Doctor's concern. "I don't think he touched me ... no wait, he put his hand briefly on my elbow in the turbolift."

"Sickbay to Ensign Francis," the Doctor said, slapping his comm badge. There was no reply and the chief medical officer glanced over at the captain whose eyes were deepening to a dark grey. The Borg was aware of a sudden tension in the atmosphere of the medical center. "Ensign Mark Francis, please respond." He dropped his hand and looked profoundly concerned. "I think this ... whatever it is ... is being passed on by physical contact. We need to isolate and contain it immediately."

The captain raised her head. "Sickbay to security. Tuvok, send out a team to search for Ensign Francis, but don't allow anyone to touch him. Just transport him directly to sickbay. Anyone who touched Chakotay should also report immediately to sickbay."

"Understood, Captain," Tuvok's replied evenly. "I am sending down Mr. Paris now."

"Seven, who have you been in physical contact with in the past twenty-four hours?" Sek asked of the Borg.

"Only the captain." Seven paused. "I do not encounter much opportunity for tactile contact among the crew at large."

Janeway held up her hand as the door opened and a somewhat confused Tom Paris stepped through the door. "Let's not panic here. After all, this hardly seems like a particularly dangerous situation. While the Terror is unpleasant to experience, there doesn't seem to be any afteraffect."

"I don't know about that, Captain," Chakotay said, still looking a bit pale. "Consider the consequences if it struck while you were standing on the catwalk in engineering overlooking the warpcore, or while you were climbing a ladder in the Jeffries tubes...."

"Good point." Janeway opened her mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the hail from security.

"Tuvok to Janeway."

"Go ahead."

"Captain, we've found Mr. Francis," the Vulcan noted with a dispassion that was purely Vulcan, making his next words even more jarring. "He's dead. We discovered the body in an access corridor. There does not appear to be any apparent cause of death."

Janeway's face became totally impassive, but not before Seven saw the flash of despair cross the dark eyes. "Do not touch the body. We'll beam it directly to an isolation chamber. Try to find out if anyone came in physical contact with him after he left me in sickbay, and send them here as well."

The Doctor nodded. "I am instituting a level one contamination alert. As of now, we all are under quarantine, and that includes both the captain and the first officer."

"Understood," Tuvok said, accepting the shift in command to his shoulders, regardless of the fact that Janeway would undoubtedly continue to issue instructions from sickbay.

Seven stood back, out of the way, and tried hard to make sense of this. It appeared that she had somehow contracted some form of disease and then passed it on to her partner who, in turn, had passed it on to others. But how did Seven become infected in the first place? And why had Ensign Francis died when the rest of them had only experienced brief bouts of intense fear?

Her mind worked furiously as the Doctor set up his sickbay to act as a quarantine unit for the four crewmembers. When Francis materialized in a section he had cordoned off to act as a isolation chamber, he immediately shifted to operating whites and began an autopsy. The captain, Chakotay and Tom all gathered around the first officer's biobed, making a point of ignoring what was going on across the room, and Seven joined them uncertainly.

Sek also joined them and took a second to pat Seven on the back, obviously noting her unease. It was something that the hologram did often and the Borg realized she had never really noticed it before.  Was it possible that she was being touched by others and had never taken note?

"Seven, were you working on anything out of the ordinary yesterday? It seems that you were the first victim of ... well, whatever this is."

Seven shook her head unhappily. "I spent most of the morning decoding the message packet Starfleet sent to us before organizing it and transmitting it to the appropriate work stations. Various people entered and left astrometrics at that time, but I did not come in physical contact with anyone. In the afternoon, I worked on the navigational array alone, and then, after my shift was over, I met with you for our regular session. After it was complete, I returned to my quarters where I spent the rest of the evening with the captain. I spoke with three people this morning, Neelix, Lt. Kim and Jennifer Delaney, but I am sure that none came close enough to touch me, nor I, them."

Janeway frowned. "We patted Jake this morning. It might be a reach, but we should probably cancel whoever has him today for his recreational time, just in case."

Seven nodded and moved over to the console, sending a memo to Ensign D'Vor that there was no need to pick Jake up for his run until further notice. The Irish Setter would not be pleased and of course, there would be no way to explain it to him, but perhaps the couple could find a way to make it up to him somehow.

As she turned to rejoin the others, it happened again and without the protective cushion of sleep, it felled the Borg in her tracks. She was only dimly aware of crashing to the floor, of both Sek and the captain kneeling next to her, of shouts and people talking outside the edges of her consciousness. Instead, there was only the Terror, the sheer panic that held her motionless on the deck as she curled up in a ball to protect her vital organs, wanting to scream and being unable to formulate even that much of a conscious effort.

She was trembling when it released her grip on her, her blood rushing through her veins, propelled by the pounding of her heart, her breath coming in sobs of air forced past a throat that felt closed. The warmth of Janeway's hands on her shoulders slowly penetrated the icy chill that seemed to permeate every molecule of her being and she uncurled slowly, allowing the captain to ease her into a sitting position. She opened her eyes, looking into the concerned gaze of her partner, seeing far more dark than light in the eyes of her beloved.

"Annika, are you all right?"

"I am ... functioning," Seven responded, uncertainly. The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently and the young woman realized that the response had not exactly reassured her partner. Janeway knew, as well as Seven did, that when the astrometrics officer fell back onto the precise, coolly-edged tones that echoed the voice of the Borg drone she had once been, she was far from 'all right'.

"This is quite interesting." Sek regarded her tricorder. Apparently she had been scanning Seven constantly as she had been experiencing the Terror. "All your hormonal systems, including those that are Borg in origin, kicked into overdrive, as if you were undergoing great stress. Yet, you seemed unable to control your body, beyond cowering as if expecting to be harmed."

"I did expect to be harmed, though I did not know from where such harm would originate."

"But there was no reason for it," Sek noted, frustrated. "It's as if the fear center in your brain was abruptly triggered, but there was no external source that would cause that, no indication of a mental probe or a viral infection or anything."

She was about to say more, but the doors to sickbay slid open and two security people, utilizing an antigrav cart, escorted Voyager's chief of engineering into the room. They were careful not to come in contact with the stocky young woman on the cart, and Seven wondered idly how they had managed to get her onto it without touching her. Not that B'Elanna would have objected because she was completely comatose. Seven frowned, not liking the implication. As far as Seven knew, none of the people currently in sickbay had come in physical contact with the Klingon at all this morning.

Whatever it was ... apparently it was spreading.

Yet, this was not a time for such speculation. She was considerably concerned over how bad this supposed Terror was, considering that it had forced the Doctor to isolate the captain, Chakotay, Paris and Seven in sickbay. Of course, the Bajoran knew what it was like to be frightened ... indeed, she had spent most of her early years terrified of making the wrong move or saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, but a fear so great it completely incapacitated a person? That was something she couldn't quite comprehend. No matter how great her fear, she had always found a way to control it, to channel it so that it didn't stop her from functioning.

Which was why, when it struck her right there at the helm, she had a distinct sense of surprise and consternation underlying the abject terror as she slumped over the console. She tried desperately to move, to reach for a phaser, to logically define whatever was frightening her, but all she could do was whimper like a child crying out in the night. When it was over, she found it difficult to straighten, requiring a supreme effort of will not to flinch as she became aware of the other bridge staff who had surrounded her in concern, though no one had made a move to touch her.

"Lt. Ro, please report to sickbay," Tuvok said calmly from the command chair.

She resisted internally for an instant, but did not show it as she nodded shakily and stood up. She staggered a bit and Lt. Davis, who had been covering tactical, reached out a hand to support her. She jerked away quickly, as did he as he realized what he had almost done.

"Mr. Kim, take the helm," Tuvok said. "Mr. Baytart, escort Lt. Ro to deck five."

Ro took a breath and moved to the turbolift, acutely aware of the eyes from the rest of the bridge crew following her progress, filled with pity and not a little fear that they would be next. She was angered by it even as she realized how irrational it was ... how irrational it all was. Baytart carefully kept his distance from her in the lift and she supposed the real terror was the sheer unexpected nature of this, the fact that it came from nowhere and did not discriminate on whom it touched, Bajoran, Human, Borg, and ... as she discovered when she entered sickbay ... Klingon.

"B'Elanna!" She hastened over to where the engineer was being treated by the Doctor before she realized what she was doing. The captain intercepted her, forestalling her progress and drawing her over to the area where the others had already gathered. She could not help looking back over her shoulder as she went, and that was when her eye was caught by the sheet covered form in the corner.

"My god, did someone die from this?".

"Ensign Francis," Janeway said shortly. She cast a somewhat sorrowful look in the same direction. "Apparently he had a weak heart. Voyager's facilities have never been up to replacing a Tirellian's organ without a donor, so it was kept under control by constant medication. The Terror must have been too much for it ... and him. Maybe if we had been able to get to him in time, if he hadn't been alone in the corridor..." Her voice trailed off and Ro could easily identify the regret in the captain's voice, the sense of somehow being responsible for it . The Bajoran supposed that came with command ... something that she was still not entirely sure she wanted.

Ro spend a few moments explaining to Sek how many people she had come in physical contact with in the past day or so. When she was finished, the hologram moved off to discover if those crewmembers had suffered any odd occurrences, while the captain moved over to Chakotay and began to converse with him in tones too quiet for the rest to hear. That left Ro alone with Seven and Tom Paris, who regarded the Bajoran with a bit of wariness.

"Where did it hit you?" he asked, attempting to make small talk. It wasn't something Ro normally had much use for, but at the moment, she was drowning in worry for B'Elanna, looking over at the biobed constantly. She realized she needed something ... anything ... to distract her, so she did not ignore the query as she normally would.

"On the bridge, just now."

"It struck me last night, in bed." Seven also glanced over at her friend periodically with concern shadowing her pale eyes. Obviously she required something to divert her attention as much as Ro did. The Bajoran supposed that if she had been unaware of the true nature of Seven and B'Elanna's relationship, she might be a bit jealous. "It was initially dismissed as a nightmare but recently I underwent another incident here in sickbay."

"I haven't experienced anything yet," Paris admitted. "I'm just here because I tried to help Chakotay when he got hit, and they're worried that it's spread by physical contact."

Ro shook her head. "That can't be right. I haven't touched anyone who was attacked. Not even B'Elanna, though I did talk to her over the comm channel around midnight. She worked beta last night and I worked the gamma to cover my roommate. What of all the people I have touched in passing? I don't see them here." She paused, thinking furiously. "It can't be a virus, can it?"

"No one knows. Chakotay went down within ten minutes of touching the captain just after her attack, and obviously, so did Francis. Yet, I haven't felt anything at all, and I touched the Commander plenty when I was trying to hold him down on the bridge."

Ro frowned, thinking furiously.  "Maybe you have a natural immunity?"

"Maybe." He didn't seemed pleased by the suggestion.

"Damn," Ro muttered and sat down on the closest biobed, feeling helpless. She wanted an enemy to strike at ... what good was advanced tactical training when there was no foe, no opponent to conquer? Just an invisible, insidious Terror that struck at random, without regard for species.

"I think the hardest part is that it's so ... unspecific," Tom said, offering his opinion on how people were feeling even though he hadn't actually undergone anything himself. Ro didn't know why that irritated her so much, but it did. She strived not to show it, however. "I mean, we all have fears, certain things in our psyche that terrify us, but this doesn't seem to prey on those elements within ourselves ... this Terror seems to be absolute, yet not really directed at anything at all." He paused, searching for something to keep the conversation going. "I think the one thing I'm most afraid of, would be to lose my ability to pilot, to be unable to fly starships. I guess I really don't like rats, either." He looked over at Seven, raising an eyebrow. "What scares you? Or are you going to tell me that Borg don't get scared."

"Borg do not," Seven responded evenly. "However, as a Human, the one thing that I am most afraid of is losing Kathryn. If I did, I believe that I would entirely cease functioning."

Ro blinked, feeling that hit her in the gut like a physical blow. Not necessarily the implication of it, but how much she sensed that Seven truly meant it. Without her spouse, Seven would not want to go on. Ro could not imagine being that tied to anyone, not even B'Elanna. She cast another glance over at the woman with whom she had been romantically involved for some months.

Not even 'Lanna, she thought sadly, though she did recognize that no one else had ever reached in and touched her heart to the extent that the engineer had. Suddenly, she realized why B'Elanna envied Janeway and Seven so much, why she longed to have the same kind of relationship. On the other hand, was that much dependance necessarily a good thing? Both she and the Klingon were proudly independant, and to give that up would somehow fundamentally change who they were. It might even remove the very thing that drew them together in the first place; the attraction to another strong, capable individual.

"What of you, Lt. Ro? What frightens you?"

Ro hesitated, not wanting to share that much of herself, not even to Seven whom she had grown to like a great deal. But she also did not wish to appear any less courageous than the Borg, who had been so natural with her honesty.

"To be controlled," she admitted finally. "To be completely conquered. To watch horrible things happen and be unable or unwilling to do anything about it. I don't mean being imprisoned, because true freedom is a state of mind, not body ... but to be so oppressed that I couldn't fight back, even when the opportunity existed. That's my greatest fear."

There was a pause as her companions considered that.

Tom, typically, was the first to comment. "That's pretty ... profound."

She bristled, thinking he was mocking her, until she saw his eyes and realized he wasn't. With an effort, she calmed herself and involuntarily looked over at B'Elanna again. To her great relief, the engineer was awake and sitting up. Sek and the Doctor were talking to her intently, and Ro immediately slid off the biobed, striding briskly over to her lover and just barely getting there ahead of the captain and Seven.

"A little room, please," the Doctor said acidly.

"I'm fine," B'Elanna remarked, raising her hand. Her dark eyes intersected with Ro's and warmed perceptibly. "Really I am."

"The question remains, why did she lose consciousness while the rest of us didn't." Janeway frowned at her medical staff. "I understand why Francis died, but does Lt. Torres also have a medical condition that would cause this?"

"If you consider being Klingon a medical condition," the Doctor said dryly.

"Captain, Klingons are psychologically conditioned from a very young age to fight fear," Sek elaborated. Ro wondered if the hologram had discovered that in her regular counseling sessions with the engineer. Certainly, it was not something that the Bajoran had known. "Not control or suppress it, as Humans or Bajorans might do, but fight it with a warrior spirit, and crush it to nothingness. Nor do Klingons react physically to fear as other species do. The emotion is treated almost as a foreign body, and the body's immunity reacts in a similar fashion, flooding the circulatory system with antibodies and increasing the demand on the internal organs, not to mention activating all the redundant systems."

"The Samurai warrior ethic taken to an absolute extreme," the Doctor added.

"This Terror can't be fought, however," Sek continued. "From your descriptions, it's not specific enough to be isolated in the mind. There is no cause to center the aggressive responses on, nothing to destroy."

"So she passed out?" Janeway replied. B'Elanna flushed, obviously very embarrassed  for having such physiological reflexes.

"Something like that," the Doctor agreed. "It's fortunate she isn't a full Klingon, or worse, a full Warrior Master. It could, in that case, actually cause liver damage after several attacks."

"So what happens now?" Tom asked.

The Doctor glanced at him, but directed his response to the captain. "Honestly, I realize that this is not the answer you want, but I have no clue what is happening. Whatever this is, it's not being transmitted by air or touch. More people would be coming down with it, if it were the former, and the other is not viable because not all of the patients have been in physical contact with each other. There is a trail from Seven to you to Chakotay and Francis. Yet, Mr. Paris remains completely healthy and unaffected while neither B'Elanna nor Ro are in that physical trail at all. Nor have there been any reports from the people that B'Elanna and Ro have come in physical contact with over the past twenty-four hours." He tilted his head and took a deep breath. "It's possible that this ... whatever ... is loose in the entire ship, and while I'd like to isolate those who have been affected, it doesn't seem practical. I want to keep B'Elanna here for future observation, but I need sickbay free for patients who can't get right back up again when the seizure is over. There's no point in confining capable officers who are going to disrupt things eventually through boredom or frustration." He eyed the captain, Seven, Ro and Chakotay disdainfully. "Frankly, I couldn't have come up with a worse group to try to isolate if I had deliberately set out to do so."

Janeway raised her chin warningly and he hastily continued.

"As long as everyone has someone around them to help in the event of an incident, just to keep them from drowning in the bathtub or something similar, I see no reason why I can't release you. There are no after effects from this beyond the minor physiological responses any good scare would cause, and I suspect you'd all be more helpful at finding the real cause of this by remaining on duty rather than staying here."

Ro thought that was quite reasonable of him ... far more than she would have expected. It obviously surprised Janeway a little as well, though the captain was quick to take him up on it.

"Very well. Keep me informed of any further findings." She shot an apologetic look at her chief engineer. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but it seems that you'll have to remain here for the time being. I'll send Seven down to cover your duties."

"Wonderful," B'Elanna said, crossing her arms over her chest. Obviously was not pleased by this, she would undoubtedly be nothing but a pain to deal with. Ro readily understood why the Doctor would be so anxious to clear his sickbay of those who would chafe under such restrictions.

"What about the children?" Seven spoke up then, worriedly.

The Doctor blinked. "You're right, Seven. Unlike the adults on board, they won't be able to understand what's happening or how to deal with it." He paused, taking a moment to think about it. "With your permission, Captain, I'd like to have all the children on the ship, including Naomi, moved to Safe Haven as soon as possible. That way, it will be easier to keep a handle on things, as well as make sure the children have immediate attention if this Terror does strike them. In the meantime, we need to run a complete molecular biopsy on Ensign Francis's brain. Perhaps we can pinpoint something visually in the tissue that the first scanned autopsy didn't reveal."

Janeway considered it. "Permission granted, Doctor. Appropriate whatever personnel you need to do your work as quickly as possible. I have no idea how many more attacks there'll be, or how many people will be affected."

She glanced back at the rest of her senior officers. "Tom, assist the Doctor. Ro, you go with Seven and assist her in engineering. Chakotay, you're with me."

Ro nodded and followed Seven as the Borg obediently headed for the door. The Bajoran would rather have been on the bridge, but she also realized that she had been, in effect, chosen by the captain to act as Seven's shadow, to look after her if she was struck by the Terror again. It was not a responsibility abdicated easily by Janeway, and Ro supposed that she should feel honored by the captain's faith in her.

She snuck a peek back at the Klingon before she left, feeling her heart twinge as B'Elanna raised an hand forlornly at her before the doors slid shut, cutting off the Bajoran's view of her lover. Then she resolutely turned her attention to the problem at hand, knowing that the sooner this was cleared up, the sooner the engineer would be released from sickbay.

"Commander, I want everyone working full-time on solving this little mystery," she instructed Chakotay as the pair strode toward the turbolift. "I want the science labs operating at full capacity for the next rotation, checking every proposed solution or suggestion, no matter how radical."

"Do you foresee this getting worse?" he asked anxiously as the pair stepped onto the turbolift.

Janeway inhaled slowly. "I just want to have this cleared up as quickly as possible.".  She was aware of her first officer glancing at her surreptitiously as they stood, waiting for the lift to ascend to the bridge.

"By tomorrow, you mean. Your anniversary."

Janeway flushed. She had not wanted to go into specifics but she couldn't help but want the next day to be free of any distractions. If they could not discover the cause of these random incidents, it would mean that both she and Seven would be on active duty for however long it took to find a solution for it.

"I'm being foolish," she admitted, acutely embarrassed now that it was out in the open. "Worse, it's completely inappropriate behavior."

"No, Kathryn," he said, his voice gentle as he reached out and momentarily paused the progress of the tube, apparently realizing she needed to talk. "It sounds as if you're trying to balance your personal life with your professional one as best you can, and no one can blame you for that. When I think of what a hard job it can be to have any success at either..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm just so filled with admiration for you both."

Janeway tried to accept his words at face value but a part of her still felt the need for further justification. "It's just that ... I've missed Seven's birthday the past two years in a row. She doesn't indicate that it bothers her, but I think it must on some level. I know that it bothers the hell out of me." She shook her head. "Dammit, the whole reason I asked her to marry me on the first eve of Prixin was to be sure I would have lots of reminders to keep me from forgetting our anniversary as I have her birthdays. It shames me to be continually making things up to her days, weeks, and even months after the day when I should have honored her. She certainly doesn't forget the days that are special to me."

"She's not a Starfleet captain. She doesn't have your responsibilities."

"But what does that mean, Chakotay?" Janeway replied, a certain amount of dismay in her tone. "That I can simply neglect her time after time and justify it by saying something more critical came along? That my job is more important to me than she is? She's the most important person in the universe to me, and it took both of us going through a great deal of anguish to finally teach me that lesson." She paused, composing herself. "Look, I know if this crisis isn't resolved, we'll just have to work through it, just as we have every one before it and every one that will come after it. That's understood by everyone involved. All I want is for every effort to be put forth so that it doesn't take too long. Maybe I'm being selfish..."

"We all know how much of yourself you've given to this ship and this crew, Kathryn." He ran his hands through his hair and offered her a smile. "If we can give something back, then we will. In fact, I suspect we'll have this all cleared up in time for your anniversary tomorrow. My word on it."

She grinned sheepishly at him. "That's a mighty big promise you're making there," she said, her sense of humor restoring itself. "Considering none of us know what the hell is causing this or what it will take to stop it when we do find out."

"Have faith, Kathryn," he said, reaching out to touch the controls to start the turbolift on its journey again. "I have a good feeling about this."

It was unfortunate that he was felled at that moment by another attack of the Terror, his arms and legs thrashing uncontrollably as he instinctively tried to ward off whatever was happening to him. It completely undermined his entire optimistic speech as Janeway prudently retreated to the farthest part of the lift to wait until his seizure subsided. With scientific detachment, she noted the duration and intensity until finally, after approximately forty-five seconds ... which undoubtedly felt like a lifetime to her first officer if the memory of her own attack was accurate ... he ceased his mindless flailing and lay on the deck, shivering.

Compassionately, she knelt beside him and brushed back a lock of dark hair that had fallen over his brow, then rested her hand warmly on his shoulder. She didn't say anything. She merely tried to be a physical comfort to him as he composed himself. After another moment, he managed to get back on his feet.

"The worst part," he said shakily, "is how damned helpless you feel in the aftermath."

"I know," she said quietly. "Believe me, I know." She took a breath. "I am curious why both you and Seven have been struck twice whereas I've only had one experience."

"Count your blessings," he said, managing a wan grin. "Besides, you may yet receive your fair share in the future."

"There is that," she allowed ruefully. She activated the lift once more and this time, they reached the bridge without any further delays.

She thought Tuvok looked just the slightest bit relieved when he saw the captain and first officer exit the turbolift, but she knew better than to notice it too much. Assuming her place in her chair, she was also aware of a certain relaxation in the atmosphere permeating the bridge, almost as if now that she were here, things were going to be all right. A case of 'be careful what you wish for', she thought as she and Chakotay started organizing the crew to fight this threat, working through the console on the panel between them. Certainly she had done her level best to cultivate that deep faith in her command ... she didn't know of any captain who didn't ... but it occurred to her that a little less belief in her infallibility would be nice, particularly if the Terror struck again and the crew was witness to her cowering on the floor and whimpering like a child.

Thinking of children made her heart sink and she hoped with everything she had that this would not touch them at all. It was one thing for adults to go through the experience, even when, in the case of Francis, it had the possibility of being fatal, but for a child to be struck down was almost more than she could bear. Not for the first time, she was reminded of how very heavy the responsibility of having children on board was, of how much greater a burden being in command of a generational ship placed on her. Sometimes she didn't know how she managed it.

Moment by moment, she reminded herself sardonically. Trying not to look too far ahead and when it all gets to be too much, crawling into Seven's lap and bawling like a baby until it's time to get on with things again.

She spared a thought for her partner down in engineering, missing her tremendously. She had actually considered having Seven assigned to the bridge for the duration of this mess, where she could personally keep an eye on her. It was particularly strong after seeing the cool, efficient Seven writhing on the deck, the mindless fear in those pale eyes, not even able to recognize what was going on around her. However, Janeway knew that the ship would be best served with the Borg taking over B'Elanna's duties in engineering and for now, she had to content herself with the fact that she had assigned Ro Laren as Seven's watchdog. Despite the Bajoran's penchant for bending orders, and a borderline rebellious attitude, she was still a graduate of Starfleet tactical training and a superbly capable officer. She would look after Seven if need be, and if the caretaking wasn't needed, she still had considerable skills that could prove to be useful in engineering.

The captain, however, could not help but be acutely conscious of the hours slipping away as she worked, knowing that time was growing short for her to find a solution for this in a way that would not interfere with her personal life. She felt extremely guilty as she did, confused by how she could be so self-absorbed during a crisis. It was almost a relief when Lt. Kim interrupted her chain of thought.

"Captain, long range sensors are detecting some form of energy output," Harry said, looking up from his ops station.

"Can you elaborate?" Chakotay demanded as both he and Janeway glanced over their shoulders to look at the young man.

"It's hard to get a clear reading," he said, keying in several requests, his hands light on the touch pad. He frowned, his dark brows lowering and lines appearing in his forehead. "It seems to fluctuate, as if it is being generated in subspace one instant, then normal space the next."

"On screen," Janeway barked, sitting up straight in her chair as she turned her head forward. "Magnify."

The fore viewscreen which loomed over the front of the bridge, flickered briefly to bring the spatial anomaly into focus, enlarging the small glowing dot in the center into something that no one on the bridge could recognize. It was crimson and gold and sapphire, as well as countless other colors that were not quite in the vocabulary to describe, unfolding in space like a flower, spreading constantly from the inside, yet not growing any larger. Flashes of light flickered within it like neon lightning, pulsating with apparent power and possible threat. Janeway blinked, astounded by the display.

"Report?" Her tone was more questioning than demanding.

"It is difficult to get a clear reading, Captain," Tuvok noted calmly. "It does not conform to any recorded phenomena in the ship's databanks. Sensors seem unable to isolate any clear readings on it."

"Is there anything about it that would indicate it has anything to do with the fear that has been striking everyone?" 

"There is nothing to verify such speculation." Tuvok paused. "Yet, there is nothing that would preclude such speculation either."

"Well, it's the only thing that's unusual for light-years," Janeway decided. "Let's assume a connection for now and concentrate all our scans on..."

She didn't finish her sentence. The fear was stronger this time, more relentless in its grip and yet, at the same time, she seemed more capable of movement, of directing her actions ... even when they didn't make sense. She pried open the panel next to her, reaching for the phaser contained within and flipping the setting up to the kill level with her thumb. Fortunately, Chakotay didn't hesitate, knocking it from her hands. She turned on him, lips drawn back in a snarl as she raked her nails across his face, barely missing his eyes. He twisted away, blood welling in the four jagged scratches as Tuvok moved swiftly around the tactical console, took the short flight of stairs in one bound and grasped the captain's wrists.

She screamed, fury and terror in equal measure making her struggle in his Vulcan grasp. He was so much stronger than a Human, holding her easily as she attempted to kick him in the legs. Abruptly the fear was gone, and she sagged in his arms.

"Oh my god," she moaned.

Chakotay held his hand to his face, trying to staunch the bleeding as he turned to the horrified Harry Kim who was watching all this with wide eyes.

"Send out a ship wide alert. Inform the crew that the attacks have changed and turned violent. Make sure all appropriate care is taken."

"Yes, Commander," the lieutenant muttered and turned to his board, uncertain by what he had just witnessed.

"Commander, I suggest a dermal regenerator for that," Tuvok said, unperturbed as he eased Janeway into the captain's chair.

Janeway swallowed hard, her heart still pounding and her temper still high, even as she realized what was happening and what it was making her do. She clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking and took deep gulps of air, fighting to regain control. Finally, her heart slowed and she no longer needed to restrain herself from striking out. She winced as she looked over and saw Tuvok efficiently utilizing a dermal regenerator to heal the wounds she had inflicted on her first officer.

"Chakotay," she said, her voice raspy. His dark eyes turned to her, and she gestured weakly with her hand. "I'm sorry."

He offered a crooked grin. "Only apologize if you meant to do it. We both know this wasn't your fault."

Janeway nodded. "The question remains, who ... or what ... is really responsible for this?" She glanced involuntarily at the spatial anomaly that remained on the viewscreen, feeling a chill shiver down her spine as it continued to billow colorfully within the blackness of space.

How would she go about defeating something that no one could even put a description to?

Seven glanced over at the Bajoran, wondering if she considered this assignment of 'shadowing' the Borg as annoying as Seven did. She understood, to a certain degree, why Kathryn had done it, but it didn't make her happy to know she required a 'babysitter'. Though, to be fair, perhaps she was as much Ro's monitor as the Bajoran was hers. After all, Ro had been struck by the Terror as well.

"Did you want something, Seven?" Ro asked, obviously having noticed the glance her way even though she had not looked up from her touch pad at all.

Seven shook her head. "It is unrelated to duty."

Ro smiled briefly, still not looking up. "Which means it's personal. Regarding B'Elanna and I?"

Seven inhaled slowly. "We are on duty," she said primly, offering the Bajoran a way out.

"I can talk and work at the same time." Ro paused. "But while I appreciate that you and Lanna are known for your frank ... and graphic ... conversations, I'm not prepared to indulge you in the same manner. So while you can ask any questions you want, I will answer only those I choose."

Seven was vaguely surprised that Ro would allow that much but she didn't pass up the opportunity. In truth, Ro Laren was incredibly reticent and the Borg knew little about her beyond what B'Elanna had told her. Lately, B'Elanna hadn't even been telling her that much, and Seven suspected that was a result of B'Elanna being involved with such a person, taking on some of that discretion on herself. Perhaps that was to be an expected, if unenlightening aspect of her friend's new relationship. After all, Seven had learned not to be so forthcoming in certain areas herself, purely as a result of being involved with the captain.

"I am curious. What are your intentions toward B'Elanna? Are they honorable?"

Ro laughed, a short bark of sound that seemed somewhat devoid of humor. "Who are you, her mother?"

Responding to a question with a question, Seven noted. An obvious avoidance of the query, and a tactic she had learned from her partner, who used it quite often when cornered.

"I am her friend."

Ro seemed to consider that. "Fair enough." She finally raised her head and pinned Seven with a dark-eyed glance. "I love her," she said simply. "I don't know what that means yet, exactly, but I do know that I don't ever want to hurt her."

"It appears that you already have."

Ro's gaze shifted. "I know. It was unintentional." She tilted her head. "She hurt me, as well. We're doing our best to get by it."

Seven stared at her, judging her sincerity, finally satisfied by the expression in the Bajoran's eyes. "I apologize if it seems that I am interfering. I am merely concerned for B'Elanna's happiness."

Ro nodded, thinking about this. "So how are you and the captain getting along? Any conflicts recently?"

Seven blinked. Crewmembers rarely asked about her and the captain's relationship, and she knew that Janeway was somewhat reluctant to have it discussed with just anyone. She didn't even tell B'Elanna everything there was to tell any longer. She opened her mouth to respond that she would prefer not to speak of it ... and realized that was exactly what she had been doing with Ro. She colored faintly, and dipped her head.

"I understand. Again, my apologies."

Ro raised her hand in a gesture that signified she was waving it off. "Just making a point. I'm not as forthcoming as Lanna. I never will be."

"I am beginning to understand that." Seven hesitated. "Still, I would be remiss if I did not let you know that if you were to treat B'Elanna untowardly ... as Mr. Paris has, for example ... I would be most displeased."

Ro grinned crookedly. "And?"

"It would not be pleasant for you." Seven stared at her coldly.

Ro smiled wryly. "Well, I've certainly been threatened with less grace, that's for sure. I get the message, Seven, loud and clear. I can't promise that I'll never hurt B'Elanna. I don't know anyone who has been in love who is not hurt on occasion. I can promise you that I will never attempt to deliberately hurt her. Ever."

Seven thought about it. "That is sufficient."

The doors to engineering slid open and Seven lifted her head to see Sek enter. She raised an eyebrow quizzically as the hologram approached.

"I'm just here to do a follow-up check on you both," the hologram said, showing her medical tricorder. "You've heard that the attacks have turned violent."

"I have." Seven had also heard that it had been on the bridge, but that no one was seriously injured so she had not been overly worried. Indeed, she couldn't. Kathryn had made it clear where her place was, and Seven had no intention of letting her partner down, particularly after the captain had been disappointed with her earlier for leaving her post prematurely.

Seven wasn't sure what it was that warned her. Perhaps it was the widening of Sek's eyes as she looked over her patient's shoulder, interrupted in running the probe over the Borg.  In any event, Seven was able to shift just enough so that the blow intended to snap her spine hit her on the shoulder instead. Not that it would have snapped her neck, of course, which was reinforced by metal and nanoprobes, but were she an ordinary Human, it definitely would have been a killing blow. The strike did drive the air out of her lungs with surprise, and the blow to her solar plexis in the next second, sent her to her knees.

"Ro, what are you doing?" Sek was no warrior, despite the contribution to her matrix from B'Elanna, and the hologram didn't react quickly enough to alter her density as a kick snapped her head back, knocking her across the deck.

Going after the hologram, however, had given Seven the precious time she needed to recover, and she rolled to her feet.

"Stand clear. It is the Terror. She is not responsible."

Indeed, Ro Laren's eyes held no recognition, no sense of who she was or what she was doing, flickering about the area in mingled fear and fury. Other crewmembers in engineering had surrounded her, but warned off by the Borg, they did not attempt to subdue her ... which was a fortunate thing, Seven decided. With her training and skill, Ro Laren was a formidable threat, indeed and Seven certainly did not want to have to tell B'Elanna that while she was in charge of her department, one or more of her engineering team had been hurt, or possibly killed, while trying to contain the chief's lover.

"I will handle this." She raised her hands in a gesture of peace, quickly having to alter her stance as Ro rushed her.

The Bajoran woman was wickedly fast, quicksilver in her motion, her lean body like a dancer rather than the bull rush of a much larger, stronger opponent. Ro Laren was as dangerous as anyone on the ship, particularly at the moment. Despite the fact she was not in command of her mind, the Bajoran's body was quite controlled, moving with a sleek deadliness as she attacked Seven of Nine, obviously intending to cause her great harm, possibly of the fatal variety.

But Seven was Borg and as quick as Ro Laren was, Seven was quicker. As flexible as the Bajoran moved, Seven was just as lithe. Where Ro was vicious, Seven was coolly composed, able to counter each blow which came her way. Her enhanced reflexes were able to blunt each killing strike, to deflect every attempt to penetrate a vulnerable area. Seven was aware that Ro might decide the Borg was too much of an opponent and attempt to flee through one of the less capable personnel ringing them. She couldn't allow that to happen. She quickly changed her posture from one of defense to attack.

Moving with efficient determination, she attempted to disable the Bajoran without hurting her. When that proved too difficult, Seven dove for the woman’s legs, knocking her over.  Scrambling on top of her, the Borg used her greater weight and a wrestling technique to pin Ro to the deck. She drew back her arm, calculated the exact force needed to cause unconsciousness and swung. Just before it landed, she saw the confusion in Ro's eyes, the sense that the Terror had subsided, but it was too late to pull the blow. Regretfully, Seven winced as her backhanded strike connected, whipping Ro's head over, drawing blood from her mouth as it knocked her out and worse, breaking her jaw with an audible crack.

"That was unfortunate." Honest remorse filled her as she slipped off the fallen lieutenant. She quickly gathered the Bajoran up in her arms, looking expectantly at Sek who was just getting to her feet. The fight had only taken a moment or two, though it it had felt like several to Seven's time sense, distorted by adrenalin and nanoprobe activation.

"I shall carry her to sickbay. Lt. Carey, you are in command of engineering."

Sek scrambled to catch up to the Borg as she strode purposely down the corridor for the turbolift, protective of her burden. She ran her probe over the Bajoran as the lift ascended, "She's not seriously injured. Just a broken jaw." The hologram paused, her eyes widening. "You did crack three of her ribs."

"She needs to be in sickbay." Dismayed at the information, Seven realized she had miscalculated the required force of her blows. She had no idea when or how she had damaged the Bajoran's ribs. The lift doors opened and the trio stepped off, moving quickly to the medical center. B'Elanna Torres was horrified at the sight of her friend bearing her lover through the doors.

"What the hell happened?" She slipped off her biobed and rushed across the room, much to the Doctor's irritation.

"I struck her," Seven explained honestly. "She turned violent and it seemed the only option to restrain her."

"You couldn't have used a hypospray or a phaser?"

"Clear the area," the Doctor said, raising his voice as he attempted to treat the patient. Ro was coming around and the pain from her injuries must have made themselves felt because she moaned, a hiss through an immobile mouth. "Stay still, Lieutenant."

The Doctor used a bone knitter to repair the fractured bones as Seven looked on regretfully. She was startled when B'Elanna punched her in the arm.

"You didn't have to hit her so hard!"

Frowning, Seven rubbed her arm painfully where the Klingon's blow had landed. "I miscalculated. I should have utilized the Vulcan neck pinch, but Ro was very difficult to subdue."

"Well, don't do it again," B'Elanna growled.

Seven tried not to sigh. "Doctor, this is becoming dangerous. Now, not only must we deal with the Terror, but with the possibility of our crewmates turning on us."

"I am aware of that, Seven," the Doctor said, slightly exasperated. "And, believe it or not, I am doing everything I can to figure out why this is happening."

Seven started to respond, and then subsided. "I am sorry if it seemed that I was questioning your methods."

"No, I'm sorry," he said contritely, after a moment. "I'm just frustrated, Seven. So far, these attacks have been limited to the captain, Chakotay, Ro, Ensign Francis, B'Elanna and you. I have no idea what the single common element between the six of you is."

Seven noticed Sek's face had just turned pale and the Borg raised an eyebrow. She had not thought it was possible for a hologram to manage that particular shade, yet somehow, there it was.

"Sek?"

Sek backed away. "You have to isolate me somehow." Her voice was calm, but there was the slightest hint of tension marring her eyes. "I came in contact with all those people.  I must be the carrier. I just hadn't realized it until you put all those who had been attacked in that particular order. That was my exact schedule yesterday. I spent the morning with Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay going over my progress on becoming the ship's counselor. The other four, in that order, were my afternoon appointments."

The Doctor goggled at her. "Are you saying you have something to do with this?"

"I'm saying, I'm the single common element among the six from yesterday. We'll have to figure out the rest from here."

Seven straightened, hands linked behind her back. "It does seem a prudent course of action." She dipped her head.

"Someone must inform the captain."

"You can't be serious! This is Sek's doing?"

"Not directly," the Doctor explained with a sigh. "It's the anomaly. Sek is merely amplifying what it is ... experiencing. First the terror at finding itself trapped and then the resulting fury at that situation."

The captain pinned her gaze on her CMO. "Are you saying it's alive?"

"That does seem to be what our scans are telling us," B'Elanna offered.

Janeway held up a hand to slow things down. "Let's start from the beginning."

"Once we concentrated our medical scans on the anomaly itself," the Klingon said, forcing herself back to the matter at hand, "we were able to clearly detect indications of biometric energy consistent with that of a lifeform."

Four parallel lines still showed palely pink on Chakotay's cheek where they had been recently healed, and would obviously require a day or two before they had faded completely. "Is it possible this thing is ... sentient?"

"Unknown." The Doctor lifted his padd. "I don't know that we have enough information to believe it is intelligent. However, we do believe these emotions are being generated by the entity and passed on to the people affected."

"What does Sek have to do with this?" the captain demanded doggedly.

"Apparently she is ... developing empathy, just as Kes did."

Janeway stared, astounded. "What?"

"It's undetermined whether that's actually occurring here," Harry interjected strongly. It was obvious the operations officer was not in total agreement with the Doctor's assessment of what was happening with Sek. "This ... creature may merely be projecting on an electromagnetic wavelength that matches the resonance frequency of Sek's matrix."

Lt. Kim had been called down to sickbay when Seven, B'Elanna and the Doctor started cross-referencing Sek's holo-imaging matrix with the ship's scans of the entity in an attempt to determine if indeed, Sek was the catalyst. They had all been stunned when they discovered a matching pattern in energy output between the anomaly outside and that of Sek's pattern. B'Elanna, in fact, had been flatly disbelieving, yet the correlation was there.

"There's no consensus between us on why Sek is somehow amplifying the output from the being," the engineer offered. "But ship's sensor logs indicate that the output did begin yesterday and it does seem to originate with Sek. We six were in contact with her yesterday at various times when the connection was made with the entity as its 'trap' was filtered into our space. As a result, we're somehow linked into the feedback loop."

"Why aren't you and the rest experiencing fear or anger constantly then? Isn't Sek 'emoting' these feelings all the time?" Tom asked. "Is the creature only intermittently afraid?"

"No, it's the 'trap' that's only intermittently in normal space. That's when the connection is made with Sek and passed on to us. I'm pretty sure it's afraid and mad all the time. Also time passes at a different rate in subspace than in normal space, that's why we use it to channel communications."  She didn't think that answered much for the helmsman. He just looked a little more confused, but he didn't offer any further comment.

Harry leaned forward. "Seven, B'Elanna and I have come up with a way to vary the modulation of the force fields in sickbay to break that 'link' and have already put that modification into place around Sek's office. Those modifications drain a great deal of energy from our reserves, but the force field will keep Sek from projecting any more incidents of overwhelming emotion. If we continue on our course, we'll eventually move beyond the creature's range and she'll be free to leave her office. Patience is all we really have to utilize to solve this problem."

The captain put her hands down on the table, her eyes narrowing. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. This ... 'creature' is going about its business in subspace when all of a sudden, it finds itself becoming 'trapped' in the layer between that and normal space. Naturally, it is first terrified by what is happening, and gradually becomes furious, fighting to escape. While this is going on, Sek has developed some form of empathy with it ... which is impossible considering she is a hologram, sentient or not ... and then, she somehow 'infected' myself, my first officer, Seven, Francis, B'Elanna and Ro with a further form of 'shared empathy' while we were in contact with her yesterday."

Seven eyed her approvingly from her chair on the opposite end of the table. "A concise summation."

Janeway rolled her eyes. "It is an insane explanation. It sounds like something a bad holoprogram writer would come up with."

"With all due respect, Captain," Harry ventured. "Wasn't it you who said that 'weird' is part of the job description?"

The captain narrowed her eyes as she stared at him and he retreated.

"First off, how does a hologram become 'empathic'?"

"Her matrix is based heavily on Kes's personality and biometric pattern," the Doctor pointed out, "just as I am based on Dr. Zimmerman who imbued me with many of his ingrained character traits. Kes's empathy was well established. You, yourself, utilized it more than once in your capacity as captain."

"But projective empathy is a trait specific to telepathic species, like Betazoids, Vulcans or even Humans to a limited extent. But it's very rare and not understood very well. Now you're telling me we built a hologram that is capable of developing such a 'gift'?"

"It sounds rather unlikely put that way," the Doctor allowed sheepishly.

"It 's completely unlikely," Janeway shot back.

"This is a conclusion based on empirical data," Seven stated firmly. "The monitors in sickbay clearly detected periodic electromagnetic emanations from Sek that corresponded directly with the incidents of the terror or fury the crew experienced. The energy output of the entity is matched exactly by the unconscious outbursts from Sek. Therefore, we must conclude that the two are linked. Since we have altered the force fields around the office where she is staying, there have been two bursts of energy from the entity that were not amplified by Sek."

Janeway blinked. When Seven spoke in such positive and certain terms, it was difficult to argue with her.

"What of the creature?" Tuvok spoke up, contributing to the meeting for the first time.

"What about it?" Chakotay prodded.

The Vulcan raised his eyebrow. "If it is sentient, we have a moral obligation to assist its return to subspace. Even if it is not, perhaps we must entertain the option of somehow finding a way to relieve it of its ... 'misery'."

"Kill it, you mean?" The Doctor frowned.

"If it is suffering, that may be a logical alternative," Tuvok noted, unperturbed.

"That's not an option, but you do have a point, Tuvok. We simply can't go on our merry way, leaving the creature trapped. Suggestions?"

"We probably need to find out what is keeping it caught between the two levels of space," Harry said thoughtfully. "Then we can possibly make the opening larger, allowing the creature submerge back into its own space."

"Unless enlarging it makes more of it come through to normal space," B'Elanna pointed out. "Making the rift bigger might only make things worse."

"Then we must find a way to do both at the same time," Seven offered. "Perhaps by reversing the tractor beam, modifying it into a repulsion beam of some sort, we can 'push' the creature while we utilize another tractor beam to enlarge the rift in subspace."

"We could use the Delta Flyer to push while Voyager pulls," Paris offered. "Pushing takes less energy than pulling, and the rift will undoubtedly be harder to affect than the creature would be."

"Could this harm the creature further?" the Doctor said worriedly.

"No worse than what it is already being harmed," Harry said. "I mean, what happens if it dies and Sek somehow manages to 'amplify' that, overloading the force fields?"

The crewmembers who had been tied into the initial 'connection', including the captain, looked distinctly uneasy at that suggestion.

Janeway took a breath. "The personnel in the Delta Flyer will have to be limited to those not affected by this 'link', particularly since they'll have to get quite close to the subspace rupture. Tom, that leaves you and Harry to do this job."

"Aye, Captain," the pair of boyish lieutenants responded.

"Chakotay, have Lt. Ro report for helm duty," the captain added. "B'Elanna, I want you to modify the tractor beam as soon as possible. Let's get this done, people. Dismissed."

With a plan of action put in place, and the sense that they now knew how to solve the problem, the crew left the conference room with a renewed enthusiasm. A few hours later, after the tractor beams had been modified to operate as she wished, Janeway dispatched Harry and Tom to the Delta Flyer while Seven took over ops and Ro Laren took over the helm. The two vessels were carefully positioned at oblique angles to the anomaly, and golden beams of glowing energy shot out from their respective bows.

B'Elanna studied her board at the engineering station, monitoring the energy output from both vessels. She would prefer to be down in the engine room, but she understood why Janeway wanted everyone in one area for this. Behind B'Elanna, standing as unobtrusively as possible against the hull, Susan Nicoletti waited. In the event the force fields around Sek somehow failed or were overcome, she was required to take over for B'Elanna, who could be struck down by the overwhelming emotion from the entity at any time. Several other key personnel stood about the bridge as well, ready to take over any position, including command, while two security officers flanked the turbolift, with orders to immediately stun anyone who indicated unusual behavior. No one wanted a violent outburst of any kind.

Janeway sat quietly, infinitely calm and collected, her leg crossed elegantly over the other, her fingers linked casually on her stomach as her elbows rested lightly on the arms of her command chair. B'Elanna had no idea how the woman managed to do it, particularly now. It was possible that the captain herself, could be struck down with another attack of fear or fury, just as she had been earlier, yet she didn't indicate the thought had even crossed her mind. The Klingon was filled with admiration and appreciation. Not much wonder Seven's icy shell had been melted by such a formidable woman. Whose wouldn't?

B'Elanna shot a glance at her friend who was covering ops. A single, stray strand of light blonde hair had worked itself loose from the austere bun and the Klingon was surprised that Seven would allow that much of a flaw in her personal appearance while on duty. A quick check of the chronometer readout in the corner of B'Elanna's console revealed that they all had been on duty for sixteen hours straight. Another couple of hours and it would be the first day of Prixin, and the young Borg's first wedding anniversary.

Wondering if the couple was going to do anything special to celebrate it beyond the next evening's party, B'Elanna remembered that she still had to wrap the gift that she and Ro Laren had acquired from Neelix, though only Kahless knew where he had found it. She thought that Janeway would appreciate owning one, even if Seven might not have any more idea of what  to do with it than the Talaxian did. The Klingon had been strongly tempted to keep it herself, particularly when she considered her relationship with Ro, but that would have left them without an anniversary present to offer their friends.

The thought of her lover made B'Elanna's heart beat a little faster, and she cast a quick peek in the direction of the helm where Ro was holding the ship in place as Voyager plied its tractor beam. Ro had actually been on duty since the previous night, leaving to catch a couple of hours of sleep before she had been called back to cover the helm when Paris had been taken to sickbay. Double and even triple shifts were not unknown to any crewmember of Voyager, but the Klingon could tell Ro was operating on her last energy reserves, focusing on the task at hand with an almost fanatical devotion so that her weariness would not cause any errors.

B'Elanna carefully channeled auxiliary navigation through her console in order to back up the helm, ready to override any data input by mistake and correct it immediately. She wasn't subtle enough, however, because Ro immediate raised her head, shooting a sharp look across the bridge. But rather than the anger B'Elanna expected, Ro nodded once in gratitude at the support and resumed her full attention on the board in front of her. B'Elanna exhaled a breath she hadn't even been aware she was holding, and refocused her own attention to her data displays.

"Tractor beam output remains at a constant level," she reported when prompted by a small red light in her board, its sole purpose to remind her to pass on her findings to the bridge officer at specific times.

"Voyager is steady at one hundred thousand kilometers," Ro said immediately after her, undoubtedly using B'Elanna as her prompt, rather than the timing feature

"The Delta Flyer reports all systems at nominal," Seven noted. "No indication of movement, either from the entity or the rift."

Janeway inclined her head briefly. "Increase level by ten percent."

B'Elanna watched as the levels rose across her board, holding steady before another light flashed to indicate a change.

At the same time, Seven spoke up. "Sensors are detecting an increase in the size of the rift. The entity is not moving however."

"Raise to twenty percent."

There was a jolt as the rift suddenly tore open briefly, the anomaly on the viewscreen abruptly enlarging, and then just as suddenly, disappearing, leaving the starfield to resume its normal appearance. For a brief second, B'Elanna was inundated by a powerful wash of emotion that overcame the field modification; a fierce joy laced with triumph, relief and one thin thread of what seemed to be gratitude before it faded to nothing. Glancing around, she saw that she was not the only one to sense it, the captain holding a hand to her forehead as both Ro and Seven blinked with surprise. Chakotay had a smile on his face, one of satisfaction and serenity.

"I think that indicates this was a success," Janeway said dryly as she glanced over at her first officer. "I underestimated you, Commander. You did have this situation fixed by the time you said it would be."

"My word is my bond," he responded dryly. B'Elanna didn't understand that exchange at all.

Seven lifted her head. "Delta Flyer reports that the rift is completely closed. They are returning to Voyager."

"Once they've landed in the hangar bay, lay in a course for the Alpha Quadrant."

"Aye, Captain," Ro responded smartly.

"The force fields around sickbay have been removed," Tuvok reported from tactical. "Power output is returning to nominal levels."

"Reversing modification on tractor beam." B'Elanna finished up the final commands. "Warp engines at full capacity."

"The Delta Flyer is back on board," Seven added.

"Course for the Alpha Quadrant laid in." Ro's hands hovering over her board, ready for the next command.

"Warp seven, Lieutenant," the captain said in a strong, sure voice. "Engage."

Janeway offered the bridge crew a fond smile and lifted her head. "Attention, Voyager," she said, activating the ship wide comm band with those words. "Well done, people. It's been a very ... busy day, and with Prixin starting tomorrow, I think I would be remiss if I didn't schedule a proper holiday for everyone. We'll run with a skeleton crew for the next three days, volunteers only with triple replicator rations for any who accept the extra duty. Full R&R for everyone else."

B'Elanna thought she could hear the cheers echo through the ship as she logged off her board while the gamma shift personnel began to file onto the bridge and the excess beta shift headed off without ever manning their posts. Another typical day in the Delta Quadrant, the Klingon thought sardonically, weariness seeping through her as the realization of another mission completed successfully began to seep through her mind and body.

The first officer shook his head. "It's ironic, isn't it?"

"What?" Janeway asked softly as B'Elanna eavesdropped shamelessly.

"So many things that we do seem so much ... larger than this, yet, we may have just saved that being's whole universe. It probably didn't even know what we were or why we would help it."

Janeway smiled widely, showing her teeth. "Not everything we accomplish requires an explosion or a lot of running around and yelling. Sometimes we do manage to solve an entire crisis in the course of a day." Then she sobered. "But we're not quite out of the woods yet." She paused, inhaling deeply.

"What the hell are we going to do with an empathic hologram?"

"Good morning," she said, her voice deep and languid, as it always was in the morning.

"Good morning, my love," Janeway said, wondering how it was possible to feel this happy and not expire from the sheer, overwhelming joy. "Do you remember how it was one year ago today?"

"I do," Seven remarked idly and glanced at the time readout set in the head of the bed. Her eyebrow quirked sardonically. "I woke, had breakfast and then proceeded to spend the rest of the morning preparing for our wedding. You remained unconscious until 1300 hours as a result of having overindulged with whiskey and soda at your bachelorette party the night before."

Janeway winced, chagrined. "Damn, you'll be reminding me of that on our fiftieth anniversary, won't you?"

"On our one hundredth." Seven smiled and softened, pulling her partner closer to her. "It was one of the happiest days of my existence. Every single moment since, I have been profoundly grateful for the chain of events that brought us together. You are everything to me, Kathryn Janeway, and our life as a collective has enriched me immeasurably."

Blushing, Janeway reached down and kissed her partner softly. "I love you," she whispered against Seven's lips. "But you know that already."

"Yet, I shall never tire of hearing you say it."

"Then I shall never tire of saying it to you," Janeway assured her.

Seven smiled. "Are other people in love as ... inane with their conversation as we can be?"

Janeway laughed. "I suspect they are, but we never hear it, just as no one gets to see or hear how we are with each other."  She nibbled the young woman's chin. "Besides, it's not 'inane', it's ... 'mushy'."

"Ah," Seven said sagely. "I had wondered. Yet, you do not like to show others the extent of how ... 'mushy' ... you are with me."

"Does that bother you?" Janeway looked wistful for a moment. "Darling, this... the way we are with each other is just for us, not anyone else. I'm not ashamed of how I feel for you ... it gives me peace and happiness in such measure that I can hardly express how much ... but public displays of affection are uncomfortable for me."

"Our wedding was a public display," Seven argued mildly, and then raised an eyebrow. "But I will admit that as happy as that day was, I did not truly feel joined to you until the next morning, when it was just the two of us." She kissed the captain sweetly. "I understand, my Kathryn. I have always understood."

"I'm so glad, my darling. I never want you to feel as if ... I loved you less in any way."

Seven kissed her again, deeply. "I know you do not." She smiled and nuzzled Janeway's jaw. "How do you wish to spend our day together?"

"Besides what we're doing right now?" Janeway brushed her lips over Seven's. "Not a thing."

Seven smiled, her bottom lip briefly captured between Janeway's as she drew back slowly.

"The whole day?"

"At least until we have to get ready for the party."

"You will need to eat before then," Seven told her knowingly.

Janeway leered elegantly at her. "I can certainly tell you what I want to eat now," she said huskily. "Or rather, who."

Seven blushed and pulled her closer. "You are incorrigible."

"Why is it that when you talk about sex, I'm supposed to take it in stride, but when I talk about it, you blush?" Janeway was honestly curious.

"Because when I speak of it, it is purely for scientific reasons," Seven told her. "That is why I am always surprised when you become embarrassed. You, on the other hand, only bring it up when you intend to make love, which makes your interest prurient."

"Oh, I see." Janeway lifted a brow. "So if I start discussing, oh, the size and shape of your breasts on the bridge, it's all right as long as I make it clear I have only a scientific reason for doing so?"

Seven considered that for a moment, and then blushed harder than Janeway had ever seen before. "You will not discuss my breasts on the bridge," she said firmly. "Not even for scientific purposes."

Janeway started to laugh, unable to keep a straight face. "Not even a little?"

"No," Seven demanded, then poked the captain when she didn't stop laughing, which of course, only made her laugh harder. Seven then rolled over and trapped the captain beneath her which didn't make Janeway stop laughing either, but it did make her wiggle pleasurably under the soft weight.

"Oh, my, I think I've finally started to get back some of the strips you've been taking out of me, lately," Janeway managed between her chuckles, digging her thumbs into Seven's ribs to make her squirm.

Seven didn't reply, merely allowed herself to settle on the captain, squashing her gently until Janeway started to gasp for air.

"Okay, I give," Janeway said loudly, surrendering. "I won't talk about your breasts on the bridge." Instantly, the weight was gone, supported by Seven's knees and elbows again and Janeway looked up at her partner. "You don't fight fair."

"I learned such technique from you." Seven smiled faintly and nudged her thigh in between Janeway's, pressing her upper leg against the captain's most vulnerable spot, moving it slightly to rub it against the sensitive skin.

Janeway's eyes narrowed, her lips curving. "Hmm, I believe you're about to launch your second assault."

Seven pressed a little closer, and Janeway spread her legs, allowing more of the Borg's leg to touch the moisture starting to gather. She moved her own hips, feeling the little nodule slip gently against the smooth skin of Seven's thigh.

"Do you consider it an 'assault', Kathryn?" 

Janeway nipped at the Borg's lower lip. "Only in the most loving of ways." Seven kissed her carefully, and then again, deepening the touch, parting her lips to let the tip of her tongue emerge to lightly tease Janeway's.

They weren't actually doing anything yet, the promise of things to come more than anything, but it was certainly progressing quite nicely. Janeway liked the tickling sensation of Seven against her, feeling the desire build slowly as the Borg's pupils widened perceptibly, as they always did when Seven was becoming aroused. The kisses were becoming deeper, demanding, definitely more of the type that incited the captain's own pleasure.

Neither were pleased when they heard the chime echo softly through their quarters, indicating someone was at the door.

"No," Janeway groaned, "oh, no."

Seven exhaled slowly. "Whoever it is must know we are here. They would have asked the computer. We cannot 'pretend' to be elsewhere."

"I know," Janeway growled, "but it's our anniversary, dammit. Can't they leave us alone for one single day?"

She saw she had surprised Seven with the intensity of her anger, but honestly, as captain, she had been on call for over six years. Seven, since coming on board two and a half years earlier, had always been there when needed. Their days for themselves were few and far between and on this one day in particular, Janeway thought the ship could leave her and her beloved to their own devices, especially after she had let them all off for R&R. Seven kissed her gently, soothing the anger somewhat with the sweetness of her lips.

"It is all right, Kathryn. It is likely someone who wishes to convey their good wishes. I am sure it will not take long. Remain here."

She rolled out of bed and pulled on her robe ... not the wickedly short, black silk robe that Janeway adored so much, but the blue terrycloth garment that fell to the Borg's ankles and covered her varied assets completely ... before going out to the living area, carefully sealing the bedroom door behind her. Janeway lay in the bed, still annoyed, but no longer as angry. She wondered if perhaps she wasn't experiencing some lingering effect from their encounter with the anomaly. It wasn't unreasonable, she thought defensively, to become irritated when visitors insisted on showing up on this special day. Especially when all she really wanted to do was stay in bed with Seven and make slow, passionate love for most of it.

She listened to the murmur of voices in the outer room, the conversation seeming to go on for hours to the impatient captain, though only about five minutes had passed before the voices stopped and Seven returned to the bedroom. She was holding a brightly wrapped present and held it up, showing Janeway.

"It was Commander Chakotay. He assumed you were asleep and I did not disabuse him of that belief."

Janeway wondered if she was supposed to feel guilty for her lack of sociability and decided not to. "He should know better than to come by today."

Seven eyed her for a moment, obviously attempting to gauge her mood. "Do you want to open the gift?"

Janeway eyed her with ardent attention. "I want you to come back to bed and play starship. I want you to activate my warp engines."

Seven quirked her eyebrow, amused by the captain's obvious desire. She placed the gift carefully on the lounger before slipping out of her robe and crawling onto the bed next to her spouse.

Janeway welcomed her eagerly.  "Now, where were we?"

"At half impulse, I believe," Seven said dryly.

Janeway smiled as Seven carefully eased herself back on top of the captain, her body a familiar and comfortable blanket of warmly attractive flesh that served to raise Janeway's spirits almost immediately. The captain felt the wonderful mouth cover hers and she happily tried to resume the passion she had been experiencing prior to the interruption. She parted her lips, allowing Seven's tongue to explore her mouth, accepting the intimacy joyfully, gratefully submerging herself in the taste and sweetness of the woman she loved more than life itself.

The light sound of the door chime was like a nightmare, and what she said then was not the sort of language that a Starfleet captain should know at all. Seven merely sighed patiently and slipped out of bed a second time, drawing on her robe and leaving Janeway behind to fume impotently on the twisted sheets. This time, it took more than five minutes, stretching into ten, and the captain wondered if she was actually going to have to get up and start throwing people out of her quarters. Finally, after dismissing the visitors, Seven returned to the bedroom, bearing yet another present.

"Lt Kim and Ensign Delaney, wanting to wish us a 'Happy Anniversary'."

Janeway pursed her lips and stared at her partner. "If you don't get in this bed and make love to me right this moment, I'm positively going to explode."

Seven didn't laugh exactly, but she did offer up a rather brilliant smile. The second gift joined the first and once more, the tall, golden Borg slipped out of her robe and joined the captain in the bed. Janeway immediately pounced on her spouse, kissing her with passionate intent, her hands moving almost roughly over the young woman's skin before Seven was able to grasp her wrists and slow her down.

"Easy, Kathryn. I am not going to disappear."

Janeway exhaled, collapsing on her partner. "I'm sorry, darling," she said, honestly contrite. "This is driving me crazy."

Seven nuzzled her. "That is not necessarily a bad thing," she said huskily. "It merely prolongs the time it shall take to satisfy both our needs."

"That's what I love about you, Seven of Mine," the captain whispered against the full lips. "You always show me the bright side of any situation."

Seven smiled and gently positioned Janeway over her so that she could use her mouth on the captain's breasts, paying the most sweet consideration to the nipples that tingled and ached under the loving treatment. Janeway sighed again, this time happily as she braced her arms on either side of Seven's head. Slowly, she relaxed, feeling the familiar sensations of desire and passion rise within her, losing herself in the delicate touch of lips and tongue against the sensitive skin. She did so love having her breasts caressed in such a fashion, almost humming as Seven granted her full and undivided attention to the task.

The door chime sounding for the third time made the captain start, fury flaring without restraint.

"That's it!" she yelped, leaping out of bed and grabbing her robe. "I am going to give these fools such a piece of my mind."

She stormed out of the bedroom and slammed her hand against the door controls, glaring furiously through the entrance as it slid back with a slight hiss. Except there was nothing there and when she dropped her eyes, the lecture she had been constructing with such outrage had to be reversed, almost choking her as she was forced to swallow it back.

"Hello, Captain," Naomi Wildman said cheerfully, her arms full of a brightly wrapped package. "Is Seven home?"

Janeway, on the other hand, undoubtedly looked at it in terms of being thwarted, and if there was one thing that put the captain in a foul mood, it was repeatedly being stymied. That was a difference between the two women that fortunately, also complemented each. In the end, they would both achieve their satisfaction, but for different reasons. In the meantime, Seven put aside her desire and refused to give into her amusement over her partner's vexation.

"Are you going to open it now?" Naomi asked, looking on anxiously. She was sitting on a chair by the dining table, petting Jake who had his head on the child's lap, his eyes blissfully closed. He completely adored the Katarian child.

"We will," Seven decided. "Kathryn, sit with me on the couch while we open Naomi's gift."

Janeway stared at her a moment, obviously still feeling contrary, and then seemed to realize this was not the time to be showing such resentment in front of the child. She attempted to smooth out her classic features and rose, moving over to the sofa beside her spouse.

"It's very pretty," she said, once she was settled, forcing a smile. "Did you wrap it yourself, Naomi?"

"Yes, Captain," Naomi said proudly, pleased at the compliment.

Seven shot her partner a look of affection and Janeway blushed faintly, the last of her pique over the situation seeming to drain away. She inched closer so that her leg was touching Seven's, and put her hand on the small of the Borg's back, the warmth easily penetrating the thickness of the young woman's robe.

"Open it, darling."

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven responded obediently and began to carefully detach the paper of the inexpertly wrapped gift, discovering an excess of fastening compound that had been used to secure the wrapping. It required a great deal of prying to get it open, even with Seven's left implant, and by the time she was finished, she was aware of a faintly amused smile on her partner's face.

Seven lifted the gift free of the paper, looking at it with interest. Beside her, Janeway leaned forward, her eyes alight as she regarded the present. She glanced at the child who was looking bashfully at her feet.

"I made it myself," she said shyly.

"It's absolutely lovely, Naomi," Janeway said, taking it carefully from her spouse. It was an image, one that neither of the women had seen before, framed in wood covered by bright stones and seashells that had been attached with yet more copious amounts of fastening compound. "Where did you get the picture?"

It showed Janeway and Seven in their wedding outfits, posing beneath the rose arbor on the altar, while Naomi, holding a spray of silver roses, stood in front of them. Seven didn't think her partner remembered the specific incident in question, judging from the bemused expression in her eyes, but if Seven's memory was accurate ... and she knew it was ... Janeway had been fortunate to actually make it through the ceremony and the subsequent events afterwards. It would be advantagous for the captain to have this image for future reference.

"The Doctor had it in his collection," Naomi responded, obviously pleased by the captain's enthusiasm. "It was taken on the day of your wedding. My Mom helped pick it out."

"The frame is lovely." Seven looked approvingly at her little friend. "You have created a most attractive format in which to display this image."

"Does the Doctor have a great many of these pictures in his collection?" Janeway asked curiously.

Naomi nodded. "Sometimes he can't find special pictures, because he doesn't organize them very well, but he's been saving all the images he takes during all the events he attends. He says it's his 'hobby'."

"Maybe you can help him, Annika," Janeway suggested gently, obviously remembering when her partner had organized her own photos, much to her chagrin. Seven shot her an amused look and Janeway offered her a bit of a smirk.

"Perhaps I shall. I can only imagine the various images he has taken since beginning his 'hobby' ... particularly of the ship's captain."

Janeway considered that for a moment, and from the expression that crossed her face, apparently did not like the direction her thoughts took her. Seven stifled her smile and stood up, taking the image over to the workstations where she positioned it predominately in a spot of honor, where both she and Janeway could see it as they worked. Naomi was pleased by the significant placement of her gift and beamed at her friend.

"Would you like something to drink, Naomi?" Janeway offered, once again the consummate hostess now that her aggravation had finally worn off.

"No, thank you, Captain. I just stopped by to give you your present." She paused, eyeing the compact woman. "I did not