• This is the 50th and final installment in the Just Between Series. I started writing JB Us around the first of the year in 1998, and now it's the first of the year in 2001, so it seems fitting it ends at this time, three years later. It's been a heck of a ride, and for all those who were there from the beginning on the mailing list, to those who have just recently picked it up, and to everyone just between, thank you for all the wonderful feedback and comments. This has been a wonderful experience from beginning to end, and I dedicate this last one to you, the readers.
• It was posted on January 26th, 2001.

A good portion of Earth's northern hemisphere lay blanketed in February snow, deep in the heart of winter, but on the equator of Mars, it remained shirt-sleeve weather. The wide, blue expanse of Lake Utopia provided a picturesque backdrop to the crowd gathered in the back yard of the lakeside home, while a multitude of flowers bloomed colorfully in the nearby garden as if to celebrate the occasion. From her position at the altar, where she was performing the duty of 'attendant', Seven of Nine took note of the perspiration on her friend's upper lip. Lt. B'Elanna Torres recited her vows to the person she was marrying with a decided quaver in her tone, and the Borg wondered if she would be called in to catch the bride in the event she collapsed. There was an unnatural greyness in the Klingon's skin tone, the proud head ridges standing out in stark relief as B'Elanna's dark eyes glittered with an unnatural luster.

Standing next to her, Lt. Ro Laren appeared even worse, her face pale, her usually keen gaze slightly glazed. When the other woman finally completed her vows, the Bajoran began her own recitation, her voice as unsteady as the Klingon's had been. Seven noted that B'Elanna appeared far more relieved to be finished her part of the wedding ceremony than actually touched by the words Ro was now muttering, but the Borg knew from her own experience that the Klingon would remember them later ... once she had a chance to recover from this intense experience.

The Borg glanced over her shoulder, seeking out her spouse who was seated in the front row next to Commander Chakotay. Both officers were outfitted in their dress uniforms, as were most of the guests from Starfleet, and Captain Janeway had her hands folded neatly on her lap, her features somewhat pensive. It occurred to Seven that perhaps Kathryn was lost in thoughts of their own wedding which had occurred more than two years earlier. Their eyes met, and Janeway smiled faintly, her gaze shading to blue as Seven offered a slightly raised eyebrow.

Breaking off the warm glance with an effort, Seven returned her attention to the ritual, wondering how much longer this was going to take. The ceremony was a combination of alien elements from both B'Elanna and Ro's respective backgrounds, presided over by a Vedic from the Bajoran embassy on Earth, as well as a Human minister from Marsport. B'Elanna wore her full dress whites, as did Ro, both women disdaining the more feminine attributes of the wedding ceremony. That dubious distinction had been left up to Seven, who was garbed in a lavish gown of brilliant red, the Klingon color for weddings, though traditionally, the bride wore it, rather than her 'attendant'. Meanwhile, Ro's 'attendant', Lt. Commander Tuvok, wore a simple Bajoran unity robe, and raised a demonic eyebrow as Ro faltered a bit. He prompted her quietly, maintaining an impassive, attentive expression. Of course, Seven reminded herself, Vulcans would never allow themselves to show boredom, even though this was taking three times as long as Seven and Janeway's wedding ceremony had.

Her attention wandering once more, Seven found her eyes sweeping the crowd. In addition to the people who had served with both B'Elanna and Ro on Voyager, there were several people who had served with the Bajoran on the USS Enterprise, including Captain Picard and Commander Riker. They were located well away from Janeway, which Seven thought had been a prudent decision by whoever had made up the seating arrangements. There remained a slight antagonism between the starship captains after a recent covert operation by Picard that had involved not only Janeway without her knowledge for most of it, but Seven, as well. It would have been most unwise to have the Starfleet command officers placed in close proximity for any length of time.

Lt. Tom Paris, Ensign Neelix, and Lt. Kes looked on avidly. Though seated with the Enterprise crew, all three officers had served on Voyager when it had been lost in the Delta Quadrant for seven years. Seven wondered idly if any of her former crewmates had received their new orders yet, and if so, what their response was going to be. She knew Kathryn was quite anxious to finalize her crew assignments for her new command posting on the USS Millennium.

Seven issued a soft sigh of relief as the Vedic stood forth and began his final blessing on the couple. With any luck, the Borg would soon be able to change out of the tight dress, finding it incomprehensible why the garment had to be designed so that her breasts were cinched nearly up to her chin, providing her with an openly displayed cleavage so ample that more than one male guest had lost his entire chain of thought while glancing at her. However, she had agreed to participate in the ceremony, so she did her best not to squirm impatiently as she stood there. She was not pleased when she remembered that the reception line would require her presence directly after the ceremony, and she resigned herself to at least another hour of constricted movement and pinched ribs before she would be free of the heavy and awkward Klingon garment.

Unfortunately, it took two hours, and Seven discovered she was ready to tear the outfit directly from her body by the time she was finally allowed to retreat to a room in the house where she quickly changed into her dress uniform. Of course, this outfit was just as restrictive in its own way, and she tugged at her collar unhappily as she descended the stairs to join the rest of the celebration taking place in the back yard, wishing she had one of her flexible and skintight biomesh outfits to pull on. At the bottom of the stairs, she was surprised to encounter her sister-in-law, Phoebe. The young woman had an inquiring expression on her face.

"I was just about to go up and see if you needed help," the artist said, a note of amusement in her voice. "You didn't ... uh, rip it to shreds, did you?"

Seven shook her head. "I removed it properly," she told her. "However, the thought of destroying it so no one else would ever be condemned to wear it did cross my mind."

"You looked lovely," Phoebe assured her, hooking her arm in the Borg's as the two women exited the french doors at the back of the house. Seven cast an envious look at her free-spirited companion who was dressed comfortably in a simple summer dress, her feet tucked into sandals. "Red is definitely your color."

"I resembled a victim of a hovercraft accident," Seven corrected her, causing the young woman to laugh out loud. "No one should choose that shade of arterial red to display their love."

"It's still better than those uniforms you've all chosen to wear," Phoebe said, waving her hand disdainfully at the crowd. "Honestly, you all look like waiters in an overpriced restaurant ... or a high school marching band."

Seven smiled in certain agreement, but as she shot a look across the yard at her spouse who was talking with Admiral Nechayev, along with other members of the Starfleet brass, she was convinced that however the rest looked, Janeway still appeared to be the most elegant and dignified person there. Phoebe had apparently followed her gaze, and she squeezed Seven's arm.

"How are you and Kathryn doing?" she asked in a lower tone, her face sobering. "I know you were having a few problems at Christmas."

"We have overcome them," Seven said, with a touch of pride at the hard work both she and Janeway had dedicated to reaffirming their relationship. It had not been easy, but she and her spouse were finally back to where they both thought they should be, sharing a single path rather than wandering in alternative directions, unsure of where they had lost track of each other. "Of course, Kathryn has been quite busy preparing the Millennium for its maiden voyage, but since I am able to work with her on a full time basis, it is not as it was when we were working in separate Starfleet facilities."

"I still can't believe you two are shipping out so soon," Phoebe sighed. "I thought you would stay on Earth longer."

Seven lifted an eyebrow, considering how much she had been through in the past year and a half on Kathryn's homeworld. "It is possible we shall be safer in unknown space," she offered dryly.

Phoebe made a face, part regret at the Borg's accuracy, part amusement at the humor in the comment. "Just remember, you'll always have a home here," she said. "Once you're finished wandering around the galaxy."

"I suspect that Kathryn shall never tire of 'wandering around the galaxy'," Seven told her. "It is part of who she is. Perhaps it was even a contributor to the difficulties we have faced here. In any event, wherever she goes, I shall be with her. I could not imagine any other life." She rested her arm around the shoulders of her beloved sister-in-law and hugged her. "However, your friendship and love shall be with me no matter where I am."

Phoebe returned the hug, her arm around the young woman's waist. "Always, little sis," she promised.

"Hey, Seven."

The Borg turned around, nearly bowled over by an enthusiastic embrace offered by Tom Paris, surprised by the helmsman's enthusiasm, but appreciative of the affection behind it.

"How are you, Lt. Paris?" she asked as he released her.

"I'm doing great," he said. "I just got my orders. Is it true there'll be three squadrons of fighters on the Millennium?"

"It is," she said. She paused. "Will you accept the transfer?"

"Of course," he exclaimed. "Wing Commander? That's a lot more attractive than bus driver."

"'Bus driver'?" she echoed uncertainly.

"He's exaggerating, Seven," Kes said, joining the group. The slender, blonde ship's counselor put her hand on the lieutenant's arm, and Tom flashed the Ocampa a smile. "I remember a time when helming the Enterprise was your greatest dream, Tom."

"That was before I checked out the specs of those KillerBee fighters," he said, using his hands for emphasis. "I can't wait to fly one, let alone be in command of the entire auxiliary fleet."

"The captain believes you would be an adequate leader for those newly commissioned officers who will be accompanying us," Seven said.

Tom's initial enthusiasm immediately took a plunge. "'Newly commissioned'?"

"Experienced officers, particularly pilots, are difficult to recruit in the aftermath of the Dominion War," Seven explained, unsure why he was not already aware of this. "Since the Millennium is required to take on a certain percentage of graduates directly from the Academy, the captain chose to concentrate many of them in the auxiliary fleet section. She believes that by having the pilots all start from basically the same point, it would be easier for their senior officer to teach and guide their development into a unified squadron."

Paris let out his breath in an audible expulsion of air. "I didn't ... realize that," he said, his face falling. "Thanks for telling me, Seven."

Seven blinked, realizing that she may have unduly influenced the officer's decision as to whether he would accept the posting. However, it was best that Tom know what he was getting into. She doubted that Kathryn would want an officer who was not prepared for what she would expect of him.

Kes was regarding the young man with amusement. "Don't tell me you're considering changing your mind?" she asked. "You were so excited on the way here, you talked of nothing else." She glanced at Seven. "Honestly, Seven, I think he's just frightened at the prospect of having to teach cadets how to fly."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "They will all know how to fly," she corrected the ship's counselor. "They would not have graduated Starfleet Academy with a top pilot rating otherwise."

"Exactly," Tom said, groaning. "They'll know just enough to think they know everything, and not enough to realize they haven't a clue. They'll be cocky and arrogant ... hot shot officers convinced that they're the greatest thing ever to access a navigational system."

"In other words, an entire squadron of little Tom Paris's," Harry Kim broke in, having heard the latter part of the conversation. Voyager's former operations officer looked a bit heavier than the last time Seven had seen him, but still quite happy, content in his marriage and fatherhood. He was carrying his young son, Harry Jr., who immediately stretched out his arms to Seven.

The Borg smiled and accepted the youngster, bouncing him a little in her arms. Though she had decided not long ago that children of her own were not in her immediate future, she still enjoyed being with the child whom she had helped deliver in a turbolift on Voyager.

"I resent that," Tom said.

"Don't you mean, you resemble that?" Harry needled his friend.

"So what about you, Harry?" Tom asked him, manfully overlooking the laughter that followed. "Are you applying for a post on the Millennium?"

Harry hesitated, then shook his head. "My career is really taking off," he said, referring to his position in Starfleet Command's Starship Design section. "Megan and I will be staying on Earth, but I'll be thinking of you guys while you're out exploring the galaxy."

Kes glanced around. "Where is Megan?" she asked.

Harry gestured toward the buffet table where his newly pregnant wife was stocking up. "You know how it is," he said sheepishly.

Tom poked the lieutenant in his ample belly. "She has an excuse. What's yours?" he asked, making Harry blush. "This whole domestic scene seems to be agreeing with you, buddy."

Seven played with Little Harry and allowed the conversation of her former ... and perhaps future ... crewmates wash over her, comforting her with its familiarity, and renewing her sense of belonging. There had never been any denying that Kathryn Janeway ultimately belonged on a starship. What surprised the Borg was that she was discovering she belonged there almost as much.

"She's very beautiful."

Janeway inhaled slowly, then turned around to face Picard. "Yes, she is," she agreed sharply. "Is that why you used her as bait?"

Over the starship captain's shoulder, she saw Commander Riker, Picard's first officer wince and roll his eyes. She had attended the Academy with Will, but she wasn't about to take any advice from him regarding Picard. She also wore the four pips of command, and regardless of the fact the distinguished man commanded the flagship, she was not about to allow him any leverage in their encounters.

"I appreciate that you and I shall never agree about this ... situation," Picard said measuringly. "In any event, that's not what I wished to speak to you about."

Janeway took a rein on her temper, already regretting her initial comment. It had solved nothing, and worse, it had indicated a lack of control over her emotions. That was not something she cared to show to any of her brethren, even when she didn't like the other captain very much.

"Proceed," she said evenly, using one of Seven's favorite prompting techniques.

"Lt. Ro," Picard said. "She has not yet received an assignment from you. If you have no intention of offering her a posting on the Millennium, I'm offering her a position on the Enterprise. I'm in dire need of an experienced tactical officer."

Janeway was beyond outrage. Forcing back her fury with an effort, she glared at him. "Which tactical posting she accepts is, of course, up to her," she said stiffly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Ah, I hadn't realized you had offered her the tactical station on your ship," he said. "May the best captain win."

Janeway started to respond hotly, then abruptly stopped, thinking it through. This is too deliberate, she thought. Too manufactured.

"Sorry, captain," she said frostily, her eyes edging into grey "I won't jump to your manipulation any longer. I will offer Ro the posting when, and if, I deem it necessary."

His face tightened. "She deserves better than for you to punish her because you can't punish me or Admiral Ross," he said, angered because he had been caught, but also annoyed with Janeway for her stubbornness. "I expect better of you."

That comment stung, partly because of its accuracy, but mostly for its implied condescension, and again, Janeway came close to saying something that a starship captain shouldn't really say to another. She couldn't deny that she had been furious with the Bajoran, even as she knew, deep down, Ro had simply been doing her job, following her first loyalty. That the Bajoran's first loyalty had been with Picard was what truly rankled.

"What you do or do not expect of me is irrelevant, Picard," Janeway said, her tone icy. She took a breath, controlling her anger. "In any event, you should be less concerned with the officers you don't have on your vessel, and be more aware of the officers you used to have." Deciding she should quit while she was ahead, Janeway turned and stalked away, wanting to put some much needed distance between them.

That was the problem with starship captains, she thought grimly, as she sought out the relative privacy of the nearby flower garden, striding briskly along the graveled path. The very personality traits that elevated certain individuals to that position, also made it difficult for them to get along in different situations, particularly when it seemed as if one were violating the territory of another. Crossing such invisible boundaries inevitably resulted in raised hackles and the determination to put the other in their proper place with regards to who had the proper authority. She had done the same thing with Ransom back in the Delta Quadrant, making it clear which of them had the upper hand ... long before she had discovered that he had been up to no good. Perhaps, before her tour of duty in the Delta Quadrant, and her appointment to the Millennium, she would have unconsciously accorded Picard a certain seniority due to his greater accomplishments, and for commanding the larger vessel, but now she considered herself his peer, not a lesser officer in anyway, and it manifested in her attitude toward him. It was purely instinctive, and she was sure that Seven, upon observing it, would have some comment about the sheer 'Humanness' of it.

"Kathryn."

Jolted out of her musing, Janeway lifted her head to see her mother and her mother's lover ... a concept that still gave her a little twinge on occasion ... seated on a bench beneath an oak tree which had grown to a respectable height in the lighter gravity of Mars. She forced her dark thoughts to the back of her mind, and pasted a smile on her features, one that became more genuine as she saw how happy Gretchen appeared. It was obvious that the man, approximately the same age as the captain, had provided the older woman with a new enthusiasm for life. Or perhaps Gretchen had always had it, and Michael simply made it easier for Janeway to spot it.

"I suppose this wedding has given you a few ideas of your own," Janeway said jokingly, as she sauntered up to them. Her smile faded as the two immediately exchanged a brief glance, the intent of which she didn't recognize, but decided that she might not like. "What did I say?"

Gretchen looked vaguely guilty, but also very pleased with herself at the same time, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Janeway's misgivings grew deeper.

"Mother?"

"We were going to tell you and Phoebe together," Gretchen admitted, after exchanging another look with Michael. "Not here, however. This should be B'Elanna and Laren's day, not ours."

Janeway hesitated, then took a seat on a boulder conveniently located nearby and stared at the couple, making it clear that she had no intention of moving until she had uncovered what was going on.

"What?"

"We're already married," Michael admitted, his jade eyes looking like a cat's in the sunlight. His dark hair tumbled boyishly over his forehead, and Gretchen squeezed his hand, regarding him fondly. "Just after Christmas, as a matter of fact."

"It seemed like a good idea," Gretchen explained as Janeway gaped at them, not sure she was hearing correctly. "You and Seven had gone off on your second honeymoon to the Caribbean, Phoebe was busy preparing for her new showing ... we just decided to go off on our own vacation."

"To Greece, I know," Janeway said, remembering the message that had been waiting on the house comm when she and Seven had finally returned after a week and a half in the sun and surf. However, there had been no mention of anyone getting married. "That was three weeks ago!"

"It's not as if we've seen you much since you resumed your duties on your new ship," Gretchen admonished, and Janeway blinked, fixing her stare on her mother. The older woman had the grace to blush faintly. "We just didn't want to make a big deal out of it, Kathryn," she amended.

"What ... where was the ceremony?" Janeway asked, feeling oddly detached and weak. "In Greece?"

"On a little island in the Aegean Sea," Gretchen said, enthusiasm edging her tone. "The sand was pure white, and the caretakers of the cottage we were staying at stood up for us. The village priest married us. It was really very charming, Kathryn."

Janeway was aware of her mouth moving, but not much coming out. With an effort, she firmed her jaw and closed her mouth firmly. She needed a moment to gather herself, then forced another smile.

"I guess all that's left to say is ... congratulations," she said, standing up. She hugged her mother tightly. "As long as you're happy," she added in a murmur in Gretchen's ear.

"Oh, yes, Kathryn," she responded, a dimple appearing in her cheek. Gretchen's eyes were the most brilliant blue the captain could ever remember seeing. "I'm ecstatic."

Janeway released her, then reached out for her new ... step-father, a distinct pain throbbing in her temple at the thought.

"Congratulations, Michael," she managed.

"Thank you," Commander Patterson said, accepting his own hug from the captain, though this was a bit more awkward. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She straightened and regarded them both, feeling quite bemused at their beaming faces.

"So, you haven't told Phoebe yet?" she asked.

"No," Gretchen allowed. "However, I suppose we should tell her immediately since we've told you. Seven should know, as well."

Janeway's face softened. "I know Annika will be very happy for you," she said.

"Captain?"

Janeway glanced over, seeing Neelix approach through the flowers, and the newly married couple apparently took the Talaxian's appearance as their cue to leave.

"We'll speak with you later, Kathryn," Gretchen promised as she hooked her arm in Michael's, and the pair left the captain with her former crewmember.

Short, stocky, with golden eyes and tufted features, Neelix greatly resembled a Terran animal known as a warthog, though with a much gentler and outgoing personality. He had acted as Voyager's morale officer for most of their incredible journey in the Delta Quadrant, and looking back, Janeway knew that without him, the journey would have been a great deal more difficult.

"How can I help you, Neelix?" she asked him graciously, putting aside the issue of her mother's new marital status for the time being.

He bowed slightly, and gestured to the bench recently vacated. "I'm aware that this might not be the time or place, Captain," he said as they took a seat. "However, I think that the sooner you know, the sooner you'll be able to make alternative arrangements."

Janeway exhaled, not liking the sound of this either. It seemed that as much as this day belonged to Ro and B'Elanna, there was little of it that was going to go right for her.

"What do you mean, Neelix?" she prompted evenly.

"It's about this request for transfer, Captain," he said. "I know that we had discussed it when I first left Voyager, but now I find that ... well, I've changed my mind."

Janeway blinked. "I see," she said slowly. "You want to stay with the Enterprise."

He nodded, eyeing her closely. "Yes, Captain," he said. He seemed to sigh. "I know that you'll need a morale officer since you're going off into the unknown again, and I had to think long and hard about my decision. However, I'm tired of ... well, wandering around. I feel I've created a vital place for myself on the Enterprise, and to be honest, the type of missions it carries out, the amount of diplomatic functions we encounter ... I just think Picard needs me more."

Janeway considered that, regarding the little alien whom she had first met almost nine years earlier, a lost soul who had no real home, throwing in his lot with a band of intrepid explorers doing their best to return to the Alpha Quadrant. He was thousands of light-years away from the world where he had been born, but it was obvious that he was content in the place he had finally carved out for himself.

"I understand," she said, reaching out and putting her hand gently on his shoulder. "I agree; the Enterprise is definitely the sort of vessel where your talents can be utilized to their fullest. I'm sorry to be losing you as a crewmember, Neelix, but I hope I'll never lose you as a friend."

"Never, Captain," he promised, his eyes glowing. "Good luck with your new ship. I know I'll think of you often out there in the various quadrants."

Janeway smiled. "I'll be thinking of you every time we come across a new world we've never seen before, Neelix," she said. Impulsively, she reached out and hugged him, patting him on the back. When she released him, he was blushing, but very flattered at the captain's informality. "Picard's a very lucky captain," she added.

He dipped his head and lowered his voice. "You're still the best, Captain," he said, offering her a smile. He rose from the bench, and with a dip of his head to indicate a final good-bye, he moved off toward the lawn where the rest of the reception was taking place.

Janeway leaned back against the bench, looking out over the lake glinting dark blue through the trees, the sun setting low over it. This part of the garden offered her a certain isolation, and she was happy to revel in it, suddenly feeling a certain weariness permeate her body. She thought about returning to the reception, but the thought of working her way through the throngs of people lacked appeal, and she tilted her head back, her gaze turning to the darkening sky above, and beyond, to the first stars that were beginning to appear, one after another. She pondered a moment, then stood up, tapping her comm badge.

"Janeway to Utopia Planitia Control," she said. She decided not to bother contacting her spouse, believing she'd probably be back before she'd be missed by Seven or anyone else at the party. She just needed a bit of a breather from all the news that was suddenly descending upon her.

There was a brief pause, then; "U.P. Control."

"One to beam to administration, then on to the yards, docking array one-alpha."

"Acknowledged."

Janeway felt the dissolution of the transporter sweep her up, beaming her to the dock where her new ship waited, needing to walk its decks and reassure herself that the vessel was exactly where her future lay.

Riker smiled. "I don't know what it is about you two, but you really know how to push each other's buttons," the burly officer said. "How do you manage that?"

"I have no idea," Picard sighed. "She's very ... stubborn."

"She's a starship captain," Riker reminded. "One of the best, in fact."

Picard eyed him. "Are you implying that it's the nature of the beast," he asked, raising an elegant brow.

Riker's smile widened through the thick growth of beard he sported. "In my experience?" he said. "You bet."

Picard shook his head. "What did she mean about officers I 'used' to have?"

Riker glanced toward the buffet table at a group of Starfleet officers which included Seven of Nine and the officers who had served with her on Voyager but who were now serving on the Enterprise. Picard followed his gaze, and his eyes widened.

"She can't do that!" Picard was outraged, and Riker shrugged helplessly.

"They have the right to consider other postings, Captain," he reminded him. "Particularly, when it's to a new and larger vessel. Janeway has tendered several requests of transfer, not only to all her previous crewmembers, but additionally, to twelve officers in our science section, three from sickbay, including Nurse Ogawa, and most importantly, she's offered the first officer position to Lt. Commander Data, along with a promotion to full Commander."

Picard stared at Riker in horror. "Why am I only hearing about this now?" he demanded.

Riker spread out his hands. "Unless they accept, it's not anything I can officially report," he said. "I've already made them the necessary counteroffers to encourage them to stay with the Enterprise, but there are some benefits that I just can't match. That promotion for Data, for example. Despite his great abilities, no one else has ever really offered him that kind of position before, perhaps because he's an android. Janeway, on the other hand, has served with a holographic CMO. She has no prejudices. It might be a hard offer for him to turn down."

Picard's face turned grim. "I'll speak with him," he said.

Riker dipped his head, lowering his voice. "We knew this might happen when we accepted the new Sovereign-class ship, Captain," he reminded. "Its purpose is primarily sector patrol, with an eye to internal Federation policy dealing with territorial and diplomatic issues. We no longer count scientific exploration as part of our primary mission, yet some officers joined Starfleet for just that reason. It was no coincidence that we lost so many crewmembers, including Barclay, as soon as it was clear what kind of ship the new Enterprise-E was going to be. Meanwhile, the Millennium, with an emphasis on scientific missions, is heading out to explore deep space, not remain within Federation boundaries. That's quite attractive to a lot of people."

"Including Data?" Picard asked.

"It might tempt him," Riker admitted.

Picard exhaled audibly. "You realize this is nothing more than a blatant attempt to raid my crew," he said.

Riker lifted his head, looking out over the lake, and away from his superior officer's eyes. Picard frowned.

"Fine," the captain said heavily. "I allow that I could have been accused of doing the same thing at DS9 when Voyager first returned ... but this is personal, Number One."

"Janeway's the sort of captain that takes things personally," the first officer reminded him. "From what I can tell from rumors floating around, she's a big believer in not necessarily getting mad as much as she is in getting ... even."

Picard firmed his jaw, considering this, then spotted Guinan across the lawn, speaking with the newlyweds. It occurred to him that conferring with the woman, who had been his friend for so many years and on so many levels, could help him deal with what was rapidly becoming a major aggravation. When he made the decision to keep Janeway in the dark about Section 31, he had known she would be angry, but he had not truly realized what facing the captain's fury really meant. Now he required a certain amount of damage control, and no one was better at that than the enigmatic bartender who reigned over Ten-Forward.

"If you'll excuse me, Commander," Picard said. "I think I'll offer my congratulations to the new couple."

"Of course, Captain," Riker said, and immediately drifted over to where Deanna Troi was talking with Lt. Reginald Barclay, the Emergency Medical Hologram from Voyager, and Dr. Lewis Zimmerman.

Picard squared his shoulders and headed for where Ro and Torres were speaking with the stocky, dark-skinned woman. Guinan, as always, sensed his approach long before he was near, and left the couple, patting Ro on the arm with a warm smile, before turning to intercept the captain near the bar.

"Captain?"

"Did you know that Janeway is trying to recruit her old crewmembers for her new ship," he said flatly, without preamble.

"Yes," she said, glancing at the bartender and gesturing at a slim blue bottle, holding up two fingers to indicate how many she required. "Fortunately, I believe I was able to convince Neelix that his future would be more successful with the Enterprise."

"I'm more concerned about our assistant ship's counselor," he said, accepting the glass she handed to him absently, not really paying attention until he took a healthy swallow of it. It was like fire burning a path down his esophagus, and he gasped for air.

"You really shouldn't gulp Romulan brandy like that," she said, frowning slightly as she regarded him. "It's meant to be sipped."

"I didn't realize that was what I was doing," he admitted, looking down at the blue liquid with bemusement.

"You were saying?" Guinan prompted.

"Kes," Picard said. "Is she accepting transfer to the Millennium?"

Guinan looked thoughtful. "I believe she is," she admitted.

He paused, looking around to see who was in earshot, then moved over to a quieter, more private area of the back yard, guiding the woman with him by placing his hand on her elbow. Seeming faintly amused, Guinan accepted the nudge, regarding him with a raised brow.

"Is something the matter, Captain?" she asked.

"Do you think it's wise for her to ... leave?" he asked. "You had concerns about her ability to temper her power."

"Initially," she agreed. "However, after a year and a half of tutoring, she has progressed significantly in her control. Besides, she has also progressed significantly in her role as a psychologist. It was inevitable that we would lose her to a vessel that requires a counselor, and Janeway would naturally want to work with someone she knows and trusts in that role."

"What will this mean if what you portended actually occurs?" he said worriedly. "Shouldn't she stay with us? Should I fight this transfer?"

She shook her head, putting a hand on his arm warningly. "Not at all," she said, her voice very patient and calm. "It will do Kes good to be on her own for awhile. There is still time before her talents are required, and when that time comes, it's truly irrelevant where she happens to be in the universe."

Picard exhaled. "You know how much I hate dealing with intangibles and mystical possibilities," he said, a touch of exasperation in his voice. "If it were anyone else, Guinan, I simply wouldn't be according this any credibility at all."

"I know," the serene woman said. She lifted her head. "I understand how difficult it has been for you to maintain your own counsel in this. There is, honestly, no need to concern yourself, Captain. It's not as if anything is going to occur in the foreseeable future. In fact, as I said, it's entirely possible that it shall never occur. We're simply preparing for every eventuality."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked flatly.

She offered him a smile, less reassuring than her normal demeanor. "No," she allowed.

He resisted the urge to close his eyes in frustration.

"Why don't you offer your congratulations to the happy couple," Guinan suggested gently. "This is a wedding, after all, and a time of celebration."

He nodded. "You're right," he said. He paused. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Not at the moment, Captain," she told him. She paused, then met his eyes with her dark gaze. "Let it rest for now. Things will happen ... or not ... in their own time."

"That's easy for you to say," he muttered, before turning away, escaping that infuriatingly calm smile and serene demeanor of his friend. As he worked his way through the crowd, periodically stopping to speak to various people he knew from Starfleet Command, or had served with him on the Enterprise at one time or another, such as Miles O'Brien and his wife Keiko, along with their children, he eventually found Ro and Torres again.

"I'm so glad you could come, Captain," Ro told him warmly.

"I wouldn't have missed it," he said, smiling as he stiffly embraced her. He was not known for affectionate gestures, but he was particularly fond of this woman, even when it had seemed she had let him down. However, Ro had more than made up for that disappointment, and he was truly sorry that anything she had done in his service had inconvenienced the Bajoran when it came to her professional relationship with Janeway.

He was still a bit agitated over his earlier encounter with the starship captain, mostly because there was a lingering guilt there. He knew how he would have felt in Janeway's shoes, and suspected that he would have been just as outraged and angered at being left out of the planning of an operation that involved him on any level. Still, he couldn't see where he could have managed it differently, and with a determined effort, he decided to put the whole thing behind him, and concentrate fully on the future.

"Your tour with the shipyards should be coming to an end, soon," he noted, regarding the young woman closely. "Have you considered your next position?"

Ro and Torres exchanged a glance, the Klingon offering a bit of a raised brow. It occurred to Picard that any position he offered the Bajoran, would have to be matched with another position offered to her new spouse, and he began to go over his engineering section. There was no question the Klingon was a formidable talent, and any ship would be fortunate to have her, but the Enterprise's engineering section was doing quite well under the aegis of Geordi LaForge. There were simply no openings for an officer of Torres's abilities on his starship. Would Ro accept a position without her? Somehow, looking at the two women, Picard sincerely doubted it.

"We're thinking of staying on Mars," Ro admitted. "Utopia Planitia requires a new commander."

Picard blinked, surprised. "You're going to take over Janeway's role when she leaves?" he asked.

"I've spoken to Admiral Ross about it," Ro said. "He seems to think it's a viable position, and would provide me with some valuable command experience." She smiled. "I wouldn't be the first officer who chose this route on the way to my own ship or space station."

"No," Picard agreed slowly. "Captain Sisko commanded the shipyards while he was starting out. So did DeSoto. A lot of fine captains came out of Utopia Planitia." He glanced at Torres. "What of your ambitions?"

The Klingon smiled lazily, not the least bit impressed with the reputation or aura of the starship commander in front of her. "Ambition comes in many forms," she said. "Mine is to be happy in my personal life before I start worrying about my professional one." She glanced at her spouse, regarding her proudly, and making the stoic Bajoran blush faintly. "In the shipyards, I get to play with a variety of engines, not just one."

"So the new transition drive doesn't appeal to you?" he asked, honestly surprised. It had been common knowledge that Janeway had every intention on shipping out with the same officer who had managed to keep Voyager intact during the seven years it was unsupported by Starfleet. Some of the other engineers with more seniority had voiced their disgruntlement, but there was no question Torres possessed the inside track for the position of chief engineer on the Millennium.

Torres shrugged. "Like I said," she said. "Some things are more important." She glanced over as more people approached, obviously intent on congratulating the newlyweds, and it was apparent the conversation with Picard was over as far as she was concerned.

Picard offered the two women a hasty good-bye and his best wishes, before fading back into the crowd. He finally found Riker and Deanna Troi speaking with Seven of Nine, along with Paris and Kes. There was also a young man whom Picard did not recognize, but suspected had probably served on Voyager, the unfamiliar officer holding a child who displayed a distinct family resemblance to him. The entire group seemed to straighten to attention as he joined them, a side effect of his rank which was so automatic that he suspected they weren't even aware of it. He greeted the others politely, then focused his attention on the Borg, wondering if this might be an area that he could utilize to smooth things over before he left the reception.

"If I could speak with you a moment, Seven of Nine?" he asked.

Seven blinked, then dipped her head, and together, the pair moved off to the side. "Locutus," the young woman remarked once they were relatively isolated from other ears. "How may I assist you?"

He winced, though he recognized that was the way the young woman would know him best, far better than his role as a Starfleet officer. "I'd rather you didn't call me that," he requested gently.

"Of course," Seven corrected, not missing a beat, "Captain Picard."

"I was speaking to your spouse," he said. "Were you aware that she has yet to offer Lt. Ro a post on the Millennium?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I assumed she was waiting until she had completed her other crew arrangements," she said calmly. "I am sure she has every intention of offering Lt. Ro the position of tactical officer and chief of security."

"I think Captain Janeway is delaying the assignment because she's still upset at Ro about having worked for me on the Section 31 operation," Picard told her bluntly, suspecting that complete honesty was the only decent way to deal with the young woman, particularly after her encounter with Section 31. He owed her that much. "It's probably not my place to interfere, but I thought that I might warn you that if she waits too long, some other assignment may snap Ro and her spouse up."

Seven stared at him evenly. "Your concern in this?"

He lifted his head. "I feel responsible for any ... animosity ... that may have arose between Ro and Janeway from this whole situation, which was primarily my operation," he said. "I know Janeway is someone to whom loyalty is very important."

"Yes," Seven said. "It is." She looked thoughtful. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

Picard nodded. "I'm glad to help," he said. He smiled briefly. "I can't help remembering the incident on DS9 when you first appeared in the Alpha Quadrant."

Seven's gaze warmed, as if she, too, were remembering the meeting between them years earlier. "You assisted me then," Seven concurred. She tilted her head. "You have an interest in my well being?"

"Let's just say that Starfleet officers should look out for each other whenever they can," he said. "I think that this will be far from the last time that all our paths cross."

"I agree," Seven said, her pale eyes sparking in acknowledgment.

"It is a ... very small galaxy."

The Borg made her farewells to Ro and B'Elanna, wishing them her best. The afternoon had turned to evening, and both women were starting to look a bit worn. Seven remembered how exhausting her own special day had been, and that she had been so tired by the end of the reception, her wedding night had consisted of her lying down in bed and promptly going to sleep. Janeway had been amused by her spouse's inability to perform the physical aspect of the matrimonial tradition, but Seven still felt a bit of embarrassment whenever she thought about it. She hoped Ro and B'Elanna had paced themselves better, and would be able to enjoy the full experience of their maritial joining.

Finding an out of the way spot, Seven requested a transport to the docking array that lay in geo-synchronous orbit above the Mars base. The dock was quiet, only a few engineers still on duty to finish last minute details on the ship's exterior, and she quickly made her way to the tether that physically connected the vessel to the dock. She could have beamed directly to the ship itself, of course, but transporter use was generally frowned upon as long as the vessel was still considered under construction, due to the occasional power fluctuations during systems installation. In any event, Seven did not mind the walk though the long corridor, the roof of the temporary link lined with transparent aluminum so that she could see the massive vessel every time she looked up.

Inside the ship, she was greeted by that fresh, metallic scent that all new starships possessed ... or so she had heard. Certainly, this had been how Voyager had smelled when she had been on board briefly at its construction during a temporal excursion. Most of the final, interior details of the Millennium had been completed, from the thick slate-blue carpet on the deck that muted her booted footsteps, to the shiny panels that adorned the bulkheads, indicating where she was located in the vessel at any given moment. She paused near one and touched the surface, accessing the ship's internal comm system.

"Computer," she tried.

"Working," came the flat response. The mainframe had yet to have the final personality AI connected, and it was far more 'mechanical' than the other computers Seven had become accustomed to during her time with Starfleet.

"Locate Captain Janeway."

There was a pause as the computer searched the ship utilizing the internal sensors, the communicators still primarily linked with UP Control rather than the Millennium, and not yet interfaced with the main search parameters. Nor did the vessel have a specific crew roster in its databanks, so the only way it could find the captain was by locating the badge identification chip which corresponded to the name in the Starfleet personnel files it cross-checked in its database. It only took a few seconds, but in computer terms, it was a long time before it managed to track her down.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway is on the bridge."

Seven exhaled. She should have guessed, she thought to herself.

Taking the direct route to the closest turbolift, she instructed it to take her to deck one where she stepped onto the expansive bridge, spotting her partner sitting in the captain's chair, her auburn head bent intently as she worked at the console that spread around each arm of the command post. Janeway obviously hadn't heard the almost silent hiss of the turbolift door ... an equipment flaw that might prove dangerous in the future, Seven noted disapprovingly ... and it provided the Borg a moment to observe her partner unnoticed.

Janeway had changed from her dress whites at some point, and back into a regular uniform. Her sweater collar was loosened at the neck, while her tunic had been tossed over the chair at the science station, indicating she had been working there earlier. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing wiry forearms that flexed as she tapped commands into the console, while the elegant line of her face was in perfect profile, eyelashes casting a dark shadow over her cheekbone. Seven smiled fondly, then crossed her arms over her chest, assuming a stern demeanor as the captain abruptly realized she wasn't alone. There was a pause as Janeway lifted her head, then she glanced back at Seven. A rueful expression ghosted across her face as she turned the command chair which swiveled smoothly on its base in response to a touch of her finger on the control.

"I've been here longer than I anticipated," she offered weakly, as a sort of explanation. "I did mean to get back before the reception ended ... or before you missed me."

"What are you doing here at all?" Seven requested pointedly.

Janeway considered that, obviously searching for an explanation that would satisfy her partner. "Uh, I wanted to work on the sensor relays?"

Seven stared at her, and the captain threw up her hands in surrender. "Fine," Janeway finally admitted. "I was feeling a little ... out of control, and decided to come up here to cool off."

"You had a confrontation with Captain Picard," Seven guessed.

Janeway shot her a sharp look. "How did you know that?" she asked.

Seven shook her head. "Logic," she said. She lowered her arms, linking her hands behind her back. For her, it was a definite relaxation in body language, though for others, it would still appear unnaturally stiff. "I spoke with him about you, and since you had disappeared, it was reasonable to assume that you and he had interacted earlier."

"He wants to grab Ro for the Enterprise," Janeway said, leaning back in her chair.

Seven raised her brow delicately. "You object?"

"Of course I do," Janeway said, frowning at her partner. "You know I intend to offer her the tactical post."

"Is Ro aware of this?" Seven prodded. "Because if she is not, then she may choose to accept another offer. Furthermore, one could expect her new spouse to follow her, which may explain why B'Elanna has not yet confirmed her posting to the Millennium. I am unsure why you are persisting in this approach, Kathryn, but it occurs to me that it may not only cost you Ro's services at tactical, but B'Elanna's in engineering as well."

Janeway stared at her, breathing steadily, and Seven knew she was considering what she had said, even if she didn't like it much. Finally, the captain bent her head and swiveled her chair back to its original position so that it faced forward.

"You think I'm being an ass," Janeway said finally, her eyes dark as she stared at the blank viewscreen..

Seven tilted her head. "Not at all," she said honestly. "However, for you to offer that comment suggests that you may hold that view. Do you, Kathryn?"

It seemed a flicker of hurt crossed the classic features, not necessarily from Seven's words, but from what the captain was thinking, and the Borg quickly moved closer, stepping down from the upper part of the bridge to the lowest part of the deck which was already being referred to as 'the pit' by various members of the crew. It contained the first officer, science, navigational and auxiliary stations, and was one step below the main bridge. The captain remained at eye level, since her chair was on the upper part of the bridge, granting a distinctive aura of authority to the location. Tentatively, Seven reached out and put her hand on the captain's where it rested on the console arm of the chair.

"Kathryn, what is it that truly troubles you?" the Borg asked compassionately.

"Ro was never my command candidate," Janeway said, her face lowered, shadowed in the lowered lights of the bridge. "She was always working for Picard. I ... it's left me feeling ..."

"Foolish?" Seven prompted.

"Uncertain of my judgment when it comes to trusting the officers under my command," Janeway corrected dryly.

"I see," Seven said. She paused. "Perhaps it is merely your perception that you must feel ... uncertain about. It is possible that Ro was quite content to be your command candidate, and was merely serving Picard in addition to her duties to you."

"She could have confided in me," Janeway said flatly. "She would have ... if her first loyalty was to my command."

Seven inhaled slowly. "You once told me that you hold many responsibilities, not just to me, but within Starfleet itself," she said quietly, studying her partner thoughtfully. "Sometimes, those responsibilities conflict, and the only thing you can do is choose the greater of the two demands upon you. Just as I am expected to accept and understand when you are required to choose such a demand over your loyalty to me, is it not possible that you will, by necessity, find yourself in that position with another Starfleet officer? With Lt. Ro?"

Janeway stared at her darkly, but Seven could tell from the lighter cast of the eyes, shading from dark grey to a paler shade, that her words were penetrating the captain's anger and disappointment.

"Is this a matter of rank?" Seven prodded. "In that case, Ro was required to obey the senior officer, which was Picard, the captain of Starfleet's flagship. Or are you truly angry because so much of this was out of your control?"

Janeway dropped her eyes and mumbled something.

"Excuse me?" Seven said politely.

"I said," Janeway repeated in a clearer tone. "The latter."

Seven nodded, satisfied that this, indeed, was the true problem. "You are being unfair to Laren," she told her spouse, as gently as possible. She always had to proceed with care when discussing such things, knowing that there was fine line that she could not cross when it came to Kathryn's command. She had sworn never to use her personal ties to the captain to attempt to sway her professionally, but that didn't mean she couldn't point things out to her when required.

"I know," Janeway said finally, exhaling audibly. "I'll offer Ro the posting as soon as possible." She seemed to relax once she had made her decision, as if an unseen burden had lifted from her shoulders.

"That is most wise," Seven told her approvingly, squeezing her fingers lightly. "However, you should probably wait until she and B'Elanna have completed their honeymoon. They shall return next Monday."

Janeway sighed. "I suppose you're right," she said. As she regarded her partner, her face altered slightly, to an expression that seemed somewhat remorseful. "I'm sorry I left the reception early. I should have told you that I was going, and where."

Seven did not shrug exactly, but the incline of shoulders altered slightly, which was indicative of the same thing. "It is better for you to be in a place where you can calm yourself and think things through," she allowed. "Rather than try to remain surrounded by people you may find yourself in conflict with, causing you to make decisions that may prove ... imprudent ... in the future."

"You're probably right," the captain agreed. "However, after all we've been through, I should be more considerate about any 'sudden disappearances'."

Seven lifted her chin. "I was not concerned," she said. "Particularly once I knew where you had gone."

Janeway tilted her head, her eyes soft as she regarded her partner. "Did Mom have a chance to speak with you?"

Seven smiled. "Yes," she said, her mood lightening. "I was ... surprised but pleased. I believe Gretchen and Michael's union will be successful." She paused. "Phoebe appeared unduly shocked, however."

Janeway made a small sound of amusement. "I suppose that I should feel glad that I wasn't the only one caught unawares by this," she said. "One thing this time on Earth has given me is the chance to discover what a truly interesting and amazing person my mother is. Who knew that she could be so unpredictable?"

"Those are all traits that you possess in great measure," Seven pointed out gently. "You had to inherit them from one of your parents."

Janeway dipped her head bashfully, acknowledging the truth of the Borg's comment, then lifted Seven's hand to her lips, kissing the inside of the wrist tenderly, as if suddenly reminded that this was, after all, a day of romance, though few in the Federation recognized the significance of the 14th day of February anymore. "Have I told you how glad I am you immediately accepted your assignment to the Millennium?" she murmured, eyeing the young woman from beneath her lashes. "How much I love working with you on the same ship?"

Seven felt the corner of her mouth lift. "I enjoy it, as well," she admitted. "I feel more comfortable being only a few decks away from you at any given moment. Perhaps working so closely together would not be acceptable or beneficial to some couples, but for us, it is a functional ... and nurturing ... arrangement for our relationship."

"I agree," the captain said warmly. She paused, staring at her. "You've mostly spent your time in the science labs," she added. "Or engineering. Have you had a chance to take a complete circuit of the ship?"

Seven shook her head. "Not yet."

Janeway stood up and stepped down from her chair, offering her arm. "Then allow me to be the first to give you the captain's personal tour," she said. She motioned to the port side at a door by the turbolift. "That's the conference room," she explained, though she made no effort to show the young woman the interior, and Seven wondered how sincere her partner was about giving her the 'tour'. It was entirely possible the captain was up to something else altogether. Janeway turned and pointed at the door opposing it. "That leads to the staff room."

"Staff room?" Seven decided that she would not make it easy for her spouse, asking questions at every opportunity.

Janeway eyed her speculatively. "Apparently, it was decided that the bridge needed one, rather than have the crew take the turbolift down a deck, or utilize the ready room when they require a break in their duties," she explained. "It's supposed to decrease stress during times when the senior officers are required to work beyond the normal shifts. Other areas, such as engineering and sickbay, also have their own personal lounges."

"It is a concept that B'Elanna once mentioned to me," Seven remarked.

"My only concern is that they might serve to further isolate the various departments from each other," Janeway noted. "I'll have to keep my eye on that."

Seven offered her a fondly proud look. "I am sure you will find a way to limit any disadvantages," she said, generating a a pleased but shy expression from her partner at the compliment. The Borg accepted the warm grip on her elbow with a faint smile as Janeway scooped up her tunic and led the Borg to the rear of the bridge, where a door was located between the two turbolifts.

It slid open at their approach, and inside, Seven discovered the captain's ready room. It was similar to Voyager's in that it was comprised of two levels, but like the rest of the Millennium, it incorporated a more circular, flowing line of decor. The first thing Seven saw immediately before her was a large circular sofa and a coffee table in what was obviously a conversation pit of some kind. Following Janeway up the ramp which swept up the right side of the conversation pit, bordered by a rail, Seven checked out the upper level containing the captain's desk. It was drawfed by the large transparencies that looked out over the aft part of the saucer and engineering section, and down onto the beta hangar launch pad. A small head was tucked to the starboard side, aft of the turbolift, while a changing room, containing dress uniforms and a sonic shower, was located to port. Shelves lining the curved bulkhead and a built-in cabinet displayed many of the professional souvenirs and space-going antiques the captain had accumulated during her career. A large replicator, located near the captain's desk, already had a small, permanent coffee stain on the lip of the tray. It made Seven smile.

"It is ... spacious," Seven noted. "More so that your previous office."

"That might be deliberate," Janeway allowed, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked around with a decidedly possessive air. "I guess they believe I'll be spending a lot of time in here."

"You also have direct access to the turbolifts," Seven said approvingly.

"Yes, bypassing the bridge," Janeway agreed. "Even better, there's an alternative shaft that runs directly to the captain's quarters on deck three, accessed by a special command code. That's not in the official specs, by the way. It's just a little surprise they added."

Seven considered that. "For decreasing the time it takes for the captain to reach the bridge?" she said.

Janeway smiled. "Among other things," she offered. She suddenly reached over and patted Seven lightly on her left buttock, startling the Borg. "It occurred to me that you would never have to utilize a site-to-site transport should you wish to 'surprise' me in the ready room sometime in the future."

Seven eyed her. "I am sure that was not the intention of the engineers when it was designed," she said dryly.

"Perhaps not," Janeway offered impishly. "However, one should consider all the options." She moved down the other ramp to the turbolift, the doors slipping open quietly for her. "In the meantime, let me show you our quarters. They finished moving in the basic furnishings yesterday."

Seven regarded her partner from the corner of her eye, wondering what Janeway was up to, but certainly having no objection to participating in the captain's sudden playful mood. Besides, she had yet to see the quarters she was expected to share with the captain for the next few years, and now was as good a time as any to investigate them.

The turbolift did not open directly into their cabin, and Seven realized that Janeway had programmed the lift simply for deck three, belatedly remembering that the captain would not yet have recieved the main codes that controlled the ship systems. Those would be given to her just prior to launch by the admiral during a high security transfer of command. The two women walked down the corridor, and Seven took note of the two other doors leading off from this section.

"First officer?"

"Yes, and VIP guest quarters on this deck," Janeway agreed. "Just as it was on Voyager."

Not quite, Seven mused. For one thing, Commander Chakotay would not be in those quarters, would not be performing the role as the captain's second-in-command on this voyage. In fact, it had yet to be determined who the first officer would be. The captain had put in a formal request for Lt. Commander Data of the USS Enterprise, but it was entirely possible that Starfleet Command had its own idea about who would be suitable to serve with the captain. The only thing Seven knew for sure was that whomever was chosen, the individual could not be Terran. That was because of the transition stage of the new propulsion system the vessel used. Between warp and ultrawarp, there was a brief transition period where the vessel entered the subspace corridor, and for some reason, as yet undetermined, it adversely affected Humans. Other species, Bajorans, Vulcans, Klingons, Bolians, and even Betazeds who were humanoid to within 82% of the natives of Earth, remained immune, but for those with a base Human genetic composition, they experienced dizziness, nausea and severe headaches. For Janeway to command the vessel, it had to be balanced by an exec who could take over for her during the transition.

Seven wondered how her spouse would handle her first 'jump'. Somehow, she doubted Janeway would do the prudent thing, allowing herself to be medicated, and granting her alien first officer command for that brief transition stage. She hoped that after Janeway had experienced it once, she would learn to accede to the inevitable, as the rest of the Humans in the crew would have to.

Janeway paused at the door at the end of the corridor, pressing the controls. They were welcomed into the quarters with a soft hiss, and the captain immediately brought up the lights. She tossed her tunic onto the back of an easy chair, then stood back to allow Seven to look around.

It was much larger than their living space on Voyager had been, the Borg noted. To her immediate left, she took note of the curved doors indicating where the turbolift could open directly into the room. Beyond that, the dual work stations were against the wall, facing each other just as they had in their previous ship's quarters, while the living area was decorated with comfortable looking sofas, and a large coffee table, which took up the central space. They faced the curved windows which looked forward onto the top of the ship's saucer section. To Seven's right, there was a dining area, as well as a fully functional kitchenette, which was not standard issue at all. She flashed a look at Janeway and received a smile.

"For me?" Seven said, greatly pleased. Cooking from scratch was one of the Borg's favorite hobbies, and looking back, one of the clues that she and Janeway had stopped operating on an acceptable level while on Earth should have been that she stopped finding time to prepare meals for the couple.

"For you," Janeway confirmed with a wry smile. "After all, it's not as if I've learned my way around the kitchen in the past year and a half."

Smiling faintly in return, Seven moved over to the doorway next to the dining table, expecting to find the bedroom. However, when the door slid back to reveal the interior, she actually faltered, struck almost speechless.

"Oh, Kathryn," she said wonderingly. "How did you arrange this?"

Seven turned to her, spreading her arms wide. "This is amazing, Kathryn," she said, her face as bright as the birth of a new nebula.

"I'm glad you like it," Janeway said softly, leaning against the door frame. She glanced around the area, noting the transparencies overhead interspersed with the high intensity lights that provided the necessary solar radiation the plants required to thrive. Beneath a gracious apple tree, a small fountain babbled joyously over artfully placed rock formations which also concealed a hot tub resting on the other side ... something Janeway decided she would reveal at another time for her partner. "I thought, at the very least, we could still have a backyard. I suspect that's the one thing you'll miss most about our house in San Francisco. Of course, in the future, it could be altered back to living quarters ... in the event we were to require a nursery or something."

The brilliant smile radiating from the young woman was all the reward Janeway could have wanted or needed for her 'surprise'. The kiss her partner provided a few seconds later, sweeping over to embrace her warmly, was pure bonus.

Janeway nuzzled the Borg's ear. "Let me show you the rest of the quarters," she suggested, feeling a certain tingle echo through her. Seven did not hesitate, readily accepting her hand, and following her from the arboretum back into the main living area. On the other side was the entrance to the bedroom, the interior dominated by the presence of an incredibly large bed ... far larger than was standard issue for starship quarters.

"Kathryn, who chose the furnishings?" Seven asked, regarding the expansive mattress with a touch of amusement that lent color to her pale eyes.

Janeway grinned unrepentantly. "I had a direct hand in the final decor," she admitted. "After all, it's very rare that a captain has the opportunity to contribute to the actual interior design of the ship she'll command. It would have been wasteful had I not taken advantage of it. Besides, since these are the quarters we'll be expected to live in for a five year tour of duty, and possibly beyond that, they should be exactly to our specifications."

"'Our' specifications?" Seven repeated, eyeing her skeptically.

Janeway hesitated, feeling her cheeks warm. "Uh, I did try very hard to take your tastes into consideration," she said weakly. She gestured at the curving, wall-length cabinet enclosed with transparent doors. "I had that made for any souvenirs you might pick up on our journey."

Seven held her gaze, then smiled faintly, reaching out to take Janeway into her arms. "It is wonderful, Kathryn," she said, hugging her affectionately. "Very efficient, yet designed for comfort as well." She glanced to the door leading to yet another room. "I am sure you had the ensuite constructed with equal attention."

Janeway entwined her fingers in Seven's. "You know me, darling," she said, drawing her into the bathroom which included a lavish tub and a large hydro shower stall, along with a separate sonic unit. "This was the room I had the designer do first."

Seven looked around the area. "Acceptable," she said. "Closet space?"

Janeway touched an area of the wall, the mirrored panel drawing back to reveal a walk-in closet.

"Sufficient even for you, love," she teased.

Since being in the Alpha Quadrant, Seven had greatly expanded her wardrobe, to the extent that a good portion of it would undoubtedly have to be left behind. Of course, on a starship where uniforms were generally predominant for the Starfleet officers, one really didn't require an extensive wardrobe.

Seven blushed faintly, aware of her partner's gentle needling, but clearly pleased by the amount of space provided. "Kathryn, you are not in the habit of authorizing such luxuries for yourself," she said, her tone curious. "Why now?"

"Well, there were always your needs to consider, not just mine," Janeway said over her shoulder as she returned to the bedroom. "Besides, Annika, this isn't going to be like Voyager where we had to make do with what an Intrepid-class vessel could provide. Starfleet knows exactly how long this initial tour of duty is expected to take, and with that in mind, it's important that the ship's interior be set up so the crew will be comfortable, both physically and psychologically. This type of deep space duty, devoid of regular communication with Starfleet, offers its own form of stresses, as we well know from our time in the Delta Quadrant. Whatever could be done to alleviate that was incorporated into the ship, which includes the living quarters."

"Intriguing," Seven said, pausing in the ensuite entrance to watch her partner. "Now I understand better why some of the areas are constructed the way they are. Not necessarily for efficiency, but to provide the most acceptable surroundings for long voyages."

"Exactly," Janeway said, sitting down on the bottom of the bed and crossing her legs, leaning on one arm as she rested the other across her thighs. She exhaled slowly, regarding her partner with languid interest. "So, do you think you could enjoy living here?"

"It appears to be an efficient layout," Seven told her evenly.

Janeway tilted her head invitingly. "Efficient?" she queried softly, deliberately dropping her voice a few octaves.

Seven hesitated, eyeing her measuringly as if to gauge the captain's mood, then gracefully, she drifted to the bed, leaning over Janeway as she placed her hands lightly on the older woman's shoulders, the warmth penetrating the layer of sweater. The Borg's face was only millimeters away, so close that Janeway could feel the young woman's breath flow sweetly over her, but deliberately, Seven did not close the slight distance between them.

"What is it that you wish to hear?" she asked in a provocative tone, making the captain smile.

"You never did say if you approved of the bed," Janeway reminded the Borg huskily.

"It is of significant size," Seven noted, the corner of her mouth curling upward in obvious recognition of the game. Her lips almost, but not quite, brushed over the captain's "Certainly comparable to the one we have in our San Francisco home."

"But, do you like it?"

"I cannot not offer an opinion since it has yet to be utilized," Seven said. She paused, arching an eyebrow curiously. "Is it important?"

"Very important," the captain told her sincerely. "I would hate for anything to be unacceptable, particularly the bed. Perhaps we should 'christen' it now, just to be sure."

"'Christen'?"

"Try it out officially," Janeway elaborated. "Make sure it meets with all our criteria."

Seven's eyebrows rose slowly. "Is not the night of Millennium's launch the proper time for such 'official' assessment?" she asked blandly.

"Hmm, that will probably be a very busy day," Janeway offered reasonably. "It's possible that we'll be so tired that evening, we won't be able to grant the tradition the attention it deserves."

"Ah, rather like our wedding night," Seven said thoughtfully.

"Something like that," the captain agreed. "In any event, by then it will be too late to make any alterations we might require."

"Therefore it is logical to 'christen' the bed while we have the opportunity," Seven concluded.

"Exactly," the captain whispered.

Seven's eyes grew lidded. "You may proceed, Kathryn," she said.

The captain's smile widened, and she closed the remaining distance to press her lips to the young woman's, the contact very gentle, yet implicit in its promise, both women taking their time to savor the tender kiss. With her right hand, Janeway reached up and found the fastening of Seven's uniform, pulling it down slowly as she kissed her again. "Let me undress you," she requested softly, pushing the tunic off her spouse's shoulders.

The Borg lifted a brow, but remained still, allowing the captain to slowly remove her dress uniform, dropping each garment onto the deck. Janeway gave the task her entire attention, captivated by each new revelation ... the soft shadow of Seven's collar bone, the gentle swell of her toned abdomen, the high point of her hip ... granting each discovery a tender kiss, a fleeting brush of her fingertips, a flick of her tongue. By the time she had finished, the young woman was trembling with arousal and anticipation, standing nude before the captain as Janeway looked up and down the glorious golden length of her with deep pleasure.

"You are so beautiful," she murmured, drawing her hands lightly over Seven's stomach, up to her breasts, toying with the rosy nipples, feeling them harden into points beneath her fingertips.

Seven inhaled, shuddering. "Are you going to undress?" she asked.

"Hmm," Janeway said, leaning forward to kiss Seven's surgically reconstructed belly button which the captain found absolutely adorable. "Eventually, I suppose."

Seven laughed, a low chuckle of sensuality as Janeway moved lower, nuzzling into the pale triangle, feeling the curly strands tickle her nose and cheeks, aware of the Borg's hands raking lavishly through the captain's hair. Slowly, Janeway trailed upward once more, nibbling over the smooth skin, her hands stroking the young woman's legs and hips, around to the swells of her buttocks, cupping them as she pulled Seven closer to her.

"Kathryn, you are making it difficult for me to remain standing," the Borg muttered.

Janeway smiled, lifting her head to kiss along the under curve of Seven's full breasts, not quite able to reach the nipples with her mouth. For that, she would either have to alter her sitting position, or bring Seven down onto the bed. She chose to delay the decision, pressing the upper part of her face in the warm valley between the generous swells, Seven's arms going about her head to hold her tight for a brief moment of loving repose.

"I love you," the captain whispered, wrapping her arms around the lanky torso. "So much."

"I know, my Kathryn," Seven responded quietly, stroking Janeway's forehead, her cheeks. "I love you, too."

Janeway exhaled happily and drew back, gazing up at her. "So, are you going to come down here, or shall I go up there?" she asked playfully.

"A dilemma," Seven said, considering it carefully. "Let me undress you while we decide." She grasped the captain's biceps firmly but gently, pulling Janeway to her feet as she looked into her eyes with amusement.

"It seems that the decision has been made," the captain noted dryly.

Rather than answer, Seven bent her head, kissing her spouse with a mouth that was sweetly intoxicating to Janeway, the captain immediately lost in the satiny taste of the Borg's lush lips. She paid only glancing attention to her partner undressing her, focusing on prolonging the kiss rather than on her sweater being peeled from her torso along with her bra, the seams parted neatly by Seven's mesh-covered hand. The trousers were pushed down over her hips, left crumpled on the deck next to her boots, and other discarded garments. Then it was warm body against body, silken skin against skin, a heated embrace that lowered them onto the new bed without ever losing the continuity of kisses that went on without pause.

Lying on her side, Janeway rested her palm on the Borg's breast, her tongue dancing with Seven's, the women conveying wordless sonnets to each other through that oral connection, silent songs to touch the heart and tantalize the soul. Meanwhile, Seven's right hand moved restlessly over Janeway's hips, legs and stomach, fleeting caresses that inflamed and tormented the captain.

"Oh, love," she murmured, finally breaking away from the delectable mouth, almost breathless from the sensation. "You're driving me crazy."

Seven nipped at her bottom lip. "That implies I am deliberately teasing you," she responded, her voice equally unsteady in her arousal. "I am merely following your lead."

Janeway laughed throatily. "You know that we're both holding back to see who surrenders first."

"A competition infinitely more enjoyable than many others we participate in," Seven noted, her respiration quick, her pulse fluttering visibly in the leonine line of her neck.

"Infinitely," Janeway agreed, stroking the slope of her partner's breast, squeezing one nipple, then the other, rolling them between her fingers.

Seven moaned, closing her eyes, her head going back, and the captain drew her tongue along the young woman's throat, mouthing the underside of the Borg's chin. However, Seven's hand drifted down to Janeway's thigh, pulling her knee up onto her hip, leaving the woman open to her. She touched the captain between her legs, and it was Janeway's turn to whimper, quivering helplessly as Seven's fingers swirled in her wetness, the tips rubbing over the nodule engorged with desire.

"God," she exhaled, as much prayer as oath. "So good ... it feels so good, darling..."

Seven lowered her head, brushing her cheek against Janeway's. "Perhaps ... a mutual surrender?" she hissed in her ear.

"Oh, yes," the captain replied, accepting the compromise instantly. She adjusted her position, as did Seven, allowing them both full access to the other. "Much better," she muttered, inhaling deeply, her fingertips dipping into her partner's heat and stroking her avidly.

"Kathryn," Seven whispered, a direct reaction to her partner's fondling. It was more than just the captain's name, it was the first hint to Janeway that the sensation was becoming too intense for the Borg to resist. "Oh, Kathryn."

"Yes, darling," Janeway urged, her fingers moving faster, responding to the young woman's touch which intensified correspondingly, feeling the delightful chills shiver through her. "Oh, yes..."

"Kathryn ... oh ..."

"Now..." Janeway groaned, trembling. "Darling ... now ... ohhh ..."

Together they reached their peak, torn between their own irresistible spasms and the need to maintain their caress for the other, the sensation lessened slightly by the split in concentration, yet strengthened at the same time by the knowledge of the pleasure the other was feeling. Finally, naturally, they slowed and stopped, not so much collapsing as melting into each other, quiet on the bed, fingers still touching the other possessively, lovingly.

"Oh, love," Janeway murmured finally, swallowing in an effort to generate some moisture in her dry mouth.

Lazily, she released her grasp of the Borg, easing back against the bedding beneath her. Seven leaned over her, pausing to bring her fingers up to her mouth, delicately licking clean Janeway's wetness that still glistened on them, a gesture that provoked a chill of pure animal pleasure within the captain. Seven eyed her languidly like a big cat, obviously aware of what it did to her partner, and deliberately, she reached down to touch herself. Offering the result to Janeway, the captain accepted it readily, sucking lightly on the digits slipped between her lips, savoring the mingled taste of herself and her spouse before finally releasing them.

"Delicious," Janeway told her softly, kissing each of the fingertips.

"As are you," Seven told her, leaning over to replace her fingers with her lips, the kiss languorous but deep, indicative of more passion as yet unquenched.

"Was it a suggestion?" Janeway whispered against her lips.

"A promise," Seven explained.

Janeway cupped the Borg's face in her hands. "Together?"

Seven smiled faintly. "Is that what you would like, Kathryn?"

"Very much," the captain said fervently, and captured the Borg's mouth in another kiss, before trailing over her chin, and down her throat.

They took their time to get into position, rebuilding the fire between them with a multitude of kisses and caresses. When Janeway finally put her knees on either side of Seven's head, easing herself down onto the Borg's mouth, she was breathing heavily, more than ready for the touch that welcomed her eagerly. The contact seared along her nerve endings, and she glanced between her legs, seeing her partner's chin and jaw move against her juncture, almost as if the young woman were actually feasting on her. Janeway groaned loudly, then shifted her attention hungrily to the intimate flesh beneath her, inhaling its heady scent with sincere enjoyment. Breasts cushioned by the muscled warmth of Seven's stomach, she felt the young woman's thighs come up to surround her head as she covered Seven's center with her mouth.

Stiffening her tongue, Janeway manipulated the sensitive node with the tip, sending shivers of delight through her spouse, keenly aware of her own desire being stirred by her lover's mouth, hot and avid as it pleasured her. Her buttocks were gripped tightly by Seven to hold the captain in place, and Janeway cried out into the wetness bathing her face as Seven teased her opening with her fingers, before boldly penetrating her. Undulating into the tantalizing sensation flexing within her, Janeway continued to flutter her tongue rapidly over Seven's ridge, finding it difficult to concentrate on both. Shifting her weight onto her left elbow, Janeway slipped her right hand under the young woman's leg, wetting her index finger in the pool of moisture before circling Seven's smaller orifice, easing it into her rear channel. The tight band gripped it with constrictive force, then gradually yielded to her probe as Janeway eased into her partner as far as she could. The vibration of Seven's moan of pleasure reverberated through the captain's loins, and Janeway felt herself drift away, lost in the complete immersion of herself in her spouse, her senses aflame with the taste, smell, and touch of the Borg surrounding her. From behind her, the captain heard the unmistakable sound of metal crumpling under an implant, clear indication of the pleasure escalating far beyond the young woman's control, and Seven bucked spastically beneath her as she surrendered to her climax. Janeway felt her own desire overwhelm her, shuddering from the jolts radiating from her center, the intensity catching her by surprise before the mutual intensity finally released them both, allowing them to collapse limply in the tangle of bedding.

Janeway gulped for air, finally feeling her heart ease its rapid pace, while Seven's stomach beneath her chest expanded and contracted mightily as the Borg fought for her own share of oxygen. Finally, Janeway managed to turn herself around in order to crawl up into Seven's arms, the couple slipping between the sheets and happily settling in the center of their new bed, perfectly content not to move for the next eon or two.

"Has our new bed been properly 'christened'?" Seven asked eventually, her voice warm with amusement.

"Oh my, yes, darling," Janeway said, smiling faintly, her eyes closed as she rested her head on the Borg's chest. "Particularly, once you mangled the headboard."

Seven paused, apparently surprised. "The metal rods were not meant for me?" she asked uncertainly.

Janeway chuckled happily. "No, they were part of the decor," she explained. "Obviously, the designer didn't believe me when I told him that any headboard would require additional  reinforcement beyond what ordinary space travel requires. We'll need to have it replaced before we leave." She paused, snuggling closer. "Of course, that means these quarters will require a second christening between now and the launch ... just to be sure any replacement is sufficient."

"I shall keep my schedule open," Seven promised immediately. Her embrace tightened slightly. "Are we remaining here tonight?"

Janeway exhaled, licking her lips, still tasting the provocative salt-sweet flavor that lingered on her tongue. "Mmm, I certainly don't want to get up," she admitted drowsily. "The ensuite is fully online, as are the replicators, so we should have no problem arranging clean uniforms along with some breakfast in the morning."

"Then we shall stay here," Seven decided. Janeway felt her lips brush over her forehead tenderly, cuddling her close. "Goodnight, my Kathryn."

"Sweet dreams, love," the captain whispered, surrendering to the sleep that beckoned with irresistible force, delighted to spend the rest of the night on her new vessel, sheltered within the arms of her beloved spouse.

Realizing that there was no better way to end Valentine's Day.

On Trill, Dr. Lenara Kahn finished packing the last of her bags, her brother leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a dismayed expression on his features.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, not for the first time. Dr. Bejal Otner had worked with his older sister for a long time, and it wasn't surprising that he would find this a most disturbing turn of affairs.

The scientist smiled faintly, sealing up the carryall. "I am," Lenara said. "You know how restless I've been. It's time I expanded my horizons."

"I don't see how you're going to be able to pursue your research on artificial worm holes while you're traipsing all over the galaxy," he said fretfully. "What about your work here?"

"You'll continue it," she said, picking up the bag and slipping the strap over her shoulder. With her other hand, she picked up another, much larger piece of luggage which he took from her automatically, hefting it as he followed her out into the living area. "Bejal, this is something I have to do."

He stared at her, his eyes bleak. "This is about Dax, isn't it?"

She blinked. "Why would you even say that?" she responded, an edge in her tone. Even now, the wound remained, still tender to any reference of the Starfleet lieutenant who had served on DS9.

"You made the right decision," he insisted. "The cost was too high. If you had stayed with Jadzia, you would have lost everything."

"I know," she said, frowning, resentful that he had brought it up. "I knew it at the time, which is why I chose to leave. What's your point?"

He hesitated, then dipped his head. "It's just that ... I don't think you've had a moment of real happiness since you walked away from her five years ago," he said softly. He swallowed, his throat moving visibly. "I almost wish..."

He didn't finish the thought ... and she didn't dare.

She forced a smile onto her face. "So this change will be good for me," she said in a cheerful tone. "A totally new job in a new starship, exploring an area of space that's never been explored before."

Yet, as she turned away, heading for the front door, her heart ached, remembering how she had felt when the news had arrived that Jadzia Dax had married another. The pain seemed to settle inside her and never left in all the years since. Later, the stark memo informing the Trill homeworld of the death of the host, and the symbiont being passed on to another, a young woman named Ezri in an emergency joining, was almost more than Lenara could bear. It was then that she realized it had been Jadzia she had cared for, as much as the symbiont, and it had left a hole in her heart that would probably never heal. Leaving Trill ... leaving the Federation entirely ... seemed to be the only thing that would ease that knowledge of just what she had refused that day as she stepped through the docking port at DS9, turning her back on the woman standing on the catwalk above her.

If ultimate salvation lay in the amount of light-years she could travel away from the memories, then the Millennium would be exactly what she needed.

In another part of the Federation, Elisa Tarn ... fresh out of the Academy, her ensign pip so new, it gleamed in the sunlight of San Francisco ... stood in front of the transport center, preparing to transport to Utopia Planitia where she would report for her very first assignment as a Starfleet officer. She still couldn't believe she had won a post that so many in her graduating class had been vying for. The USS Millennium had been considered the choicest vessel for any cadet to shoot for, and she almost hadn't applied. Even though she had been near the top of her class, had even won many academic and athletic awards during her time at the Academy, Tarn had a bit of a history with the vessel's captain and chief science officer. She had believed those encounters would have precluded her from being considered for such an assignment.

Tarn still burned with humiliation whenever she thought of her arrogance and condescension toward the compact, older woman she had met while running in the park, contemptuous at the suggestion that either 'Kathryn' or perhaps her spouse, 'Annika', could give the Academy Champion a bit of a race. Later, she discovered that the woman had been none other than Captain Janeway, and the other woman ... who not only defeated her in a sprint, but did so with such casual ease that she had been left eating her dust ... had been Lt. Hansen, a Borg scientist of some repute. It had taught Tarn a valuable lesson in the danger of taking things at face value, as well as the harsh reality that no matter how good she might think she was, there was always someone better, stronger, smarter, and faster out there ... not to mention, far more devious.

She had thought that applying to the vessel under Janeway's command would be a waste of time, the captain not about to accept some cadet who had shown herself to be so foolish and inept. However, Tarn's student advisor had encouraged her to apply, and despite her misgivings, the young woman had done so, sure that she would be overlooked in favor of other, more qualified applicants.

No one had been more shocked or astounded when Tarn was instructed to report to the USS Millennium as a bridge operations officer for the Frontier-class ship's maiden voyage. It was a tour that would last at least a year, if not longer, and the vessel would be exploring areas of space that no one else had ever gone before.

"Tarn!"

Startled, the slender young woman turned, seeing one of her old classmates working his way through the throng of commuters toward her. Ensign Davinus Marcos was a solid Human from the Greek isles, a young man who was considered one of the better pilots to come out of this year's Red Squad. He seemed a lot nicer than the rest of his team, though still displaying the cockiness that seemed a prerequisite for being a member of the elite group of cadets with outstanding skills in high warp tactical applications.

"Marcos," she said coolly. "Heading for Mars?"

"Just like you," he agreed easily, a bag slung over his shoulder. Stocky, with dark hair and eyes, he was fairly handsome in a swarthy sort of way ... if one was the sort to find that attractive, which Tarn was fully determined not to. "I hear you were posted to bridge duty. That's really great."

She thought it was too, but didn't want to appear overly eager. She had learned her lesson about being a braggart and assuming too much about her own abilities. "It'll probably be the gamma shift," she said dismissively.

"Maybe," he agreed. "It's still the bridge, however. Fifty percent of the officers on a ship this size never even get a look at deck one ... unless they're on their way to the captain's ready room to be reprimanded."

That thought made Tarn slightly dizzy. Please, she thought, don't let that be my first accomplishment on the Millennium. She could only imagine what it would be like to find herself under that bluish-grey gaze of disapproval ever again.

As the two graduates gathered their bags and headed into the San Francisco transport center on Earth, another young male, not so long out of the Academy himself, though years ahead of the other two in practical experience, stood on the catwalk overlooking the Promenade of DS9, lost in thought. His orders to report to the newest starship about to be launched from the Utopia Planitia shipyards had come as quite a shock, and even now, he was wondering if there was some way to avoid accepting the posting.

"Nog!"

The Ferengi lieutenant glanced over to see his best friend, Jake Sisko, approaching along the upper walkway of the main Promenade. The young man towered over the shorter alien, and for a few seconds, Nog remembered when they had both been approximately the same size, not long after Jake had arrived on the station ... had it been ten years ago? An entire decade? Where had the time gone?

"I thought you'd be more excited," Jake said, leaning on the railing next to his friend.

"What about?" Nog replied, though he knew very well what the young man was referring to.

He tried to inject a display of careless confidence in his posture, but it was difficult. This was like the Academy all over again. He had been fortunate after graduation to be able to come back to where he had spent most of his formative years, in order to serve with old friends and colleagues on DS9. These orders, however, would see him covering the helm on a brand new vessel, would have him working with strangers and officers he didn't know. That was frightening to the young man who had already struggled against the many misconceptions his species carried with them at the Academy. He had actually nurtured the vague hope that he would spend his entire career on DS9, perhaps even taking Captain Sisko's ... now Colonel Kira's ... place one day as commander of the station.

"You know," Jake noted, observing the Ferengi keenly. "Your new orders. Why do you seem so depressed? I heard this was a ship that a lot of officers would love to serve on."

"I'm not sure that this is the kind of position I want," Nog admitted softly.

Jake considered that. "Are you going to turn it down?" he asked.

Nog shook his head, not in negation, but in a sign of his uncertainty. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's not good for one's career to turn down an assignment of this prestige. There's no profit in it."

"But?" Jake prodded.

Nog stared at the variety of people passing beneath him.

"But ... sometimes profit isn't everything," he said. Softly, so that he wouldn't be heard by anyone, not even his friend who was regarding him worriedly.

Meanwhile, light-years away, in Atlanta, Georgia, on the planet Earth, Dr. Katherine Pulaski regarded the orders on her workstation, and wondered what the hell Janeway was up to now. She couldn't believe that her old friend would actually request her services as the CMO of her new vessel, but the request for transfer was right there, flashing on the screen. Pulaski hadn't pulled starship duty for years, and a prototype vessel heading into the vast unknown would not be her first choice in returning to such a position.

Yet, there was always the fact that Janeway had a way of making life interesting, and there was a part of Pulaski that desperately needed for her life to be interesting again.

She leaned back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling. Did she really want to go off to the stars again, never knowing what was going to happen each day as she rose from her bed? She had chosen the administrative position with Starfleet Medical because she had been tired of starship duty, wanting to spend time on Earth ... put down some solid roots for a change. Of course, as the survivor of three marriages, though she remained good friends with all three men, it was quite clear that being able to put down solid roots was not her strongest trait. If she found it difficult to give the proper amount of commitment and attention to a personal relationship, was she really prepared to do it for her career? This tour of duty was going to last five years at the absolute minimum.

Nor could it be considered any kind of career advancement. After operating in the upper echelons of Starfleet Medical, returning to the confines of a starship sickbay was a definite step backward. On the other hand, it was to serve on a vessel that was literally going where no one had gone before, and the possibilities inherent in being the first medical officer to encounter heaven only knew what, held a certain appeal for her.

She admitted to herself that she wasn't getting any younger, and this could be her last opportunity to explore space the way she had wanted to when she first accepted her Starfleet commission so many years ago.

She looked up at the gentle chime at her door.

"Come," she said.

Her eyebrows nearly shot off her forehead as a man dressed in civilian clothing entered the room. Except, she reminded herself wryly, he wasn't exactly a man.

"You have more balls than the Academy tennis squad," she said flatly, staring at the sparse figure who had fought ... and beat ... the organization whose headquarters were housed in this very facility. "Even if they are holographic."

The Doctor ... which was the only name he had ever utilized to her knowledge ... looked vaguely uncomfortable, but he didn't hesitate to come right to the point, perhaps suspecting that after having made it this far, he wouldn't have a lot of time to make his presentation.

"I'm here about the Millennium," he said. "Since resigning from Starfleet, I can only apply as a civilian physician. However, the authorization for me to be accepted as a part of the crew is apparently not in the captain's hands, but is at the discretion of the Chief Medical Officer's."

Pulaski blinked, then stared at him, completely bemused. Taking a breath as she tried to stall until she had composed her thoughts, she gestured to a chair. "Have a seat," she said, deciding that a little politeness never hurt anyone.

He paused, then sank into the chair, peering back at her uncertainly as she took the opportunity to study him curiously. Though she had been at the trial where he had been fighting for his rights as a sentient being, she had never met him personally ... primarily because he had never actually shown up to participate in the judicial inquiry. Now she looked him over, trying to determine if she would have been able to tell he was a hologram if she hadn't already known that fact.

"Where's your emitter?" she asked suddenly.

He lifted his arm, covered with the material of a coat.

"Under my clothes," he said.

"I see," she said flatly. "You want to appear Human."

He lifted an eyebrow. "I want to appear as someone who isn't automatically dismissed as irrelevant because of my physical nature."

Surprised, Pulaski considered that with a touch of amusement. "Nicely put," she complimented. She lifted her head and eyed him. "You know, I haven't decided yet if I'm even accepting this post."

He lowered his brows. "I considered that," he said. "However, if you're not the Millennium's CMO, the captain's only other option is a medical officer fresh out of his or her internship. I'm not sure I could convince such a person to authorize my inclusion into their medical staff. In fact, I am positive I could not. You're my only hope of getting on board."

"Why would you think I'd help you with that?" she said, honestly surprised.

His dark eyes were particularly intent. "Dr. Pulaski, regardless of how you view holograms, you can accept my usefulness as a medical supplement. You also have experience dealing with ... alternative lifeforms. That provides you with a certain acceptance and tolerance ... which is the sort of atmosphere that I can only hope to receive on this particular Starfleet vessel."

"Ah," the doctor remarked, thinking about that. "Did Kathryn tell you this was the best way to approach me?"

"She told me what your attitude would be," he agreed. "However, the only thing she really said to me was that I would have to convince the ship's CMO to hire me to his or her staff on my own. If I were unable to do that, then I wouldn't be able to function on the Millennium as a fully fledged doctor in any event."

"She's right," Pulaski agreed. She linked her fingers behind her head and leaned back in her chair, looking him up and down frankly. "So convince me that you and I could actually work together for five years."

If, in the process, he could offer that elusive purpose for her to accept this post, so much the better.

"I wish I were going with you on the Millennium," he said earnestly.

Seven nodded. "I understand," she said. She reached out and put her hand briefly on the shoulder. "However, you will attend Starfleet Academy in the fall, and at the end of four years, perhaps you will be able to join us."

"It seems so far away," he said mournfully.

"If there is one thing I have learned, it is that time has a way of passing quicker than one would initially assume ... or necessarily want," Seven said. She glanced up as the screen door opened and Chakotay came out onto the porch. Tall, darkly handsome, leaner than he had been on Voyager, the former first officer offered Seven and Icheb some lemonade, the glasses moist from condensation. Chakotay had a tribal tattoo arching over his left eye, and Seven wondered if Icheb would also be required to acquire the facial art as a member of the older man's tribe.

"Have you heard anything from B'Elanna and Ro?" the commander asked as he took a seat on the bench, propping his booted feet up on the railing.

Seven, sipping the tart liquid, shook her head. "They plan to return tomorrow," she said.

"So you don't know if Ro's going to accept the tactical position," he prodded.

"Kathryn has not yet had the chance to ask her," she explained. She paused. "This concerns you?"

He smiled faintly, his eyes distant as he glanced out at the rugged landscape beyond the corral. "I would just hate to see the captain go off without the proper experience in a key position," he said. "If Tuvok isn't going to be her tactical officer, then I wouldn't want it to be anyone other than Ro."

Seven thought about that, and decided she agreed. It took a special kind of security officer to keep track of a captain like Kathryn, and anyone of less capability than Tuvok, or at least, an officer trained by the Vulcan, would be at a decided disadvantage. Seven didn't like the thought of Janeway and her ship not being protected by the very best.

"I am sure Lt. Ro will give the offer the most careful consideration," Seven said, paused, then added; "Despite Kathryn's .... delay in offering her the post."

Chakotay smiled, but did not say anything. He knew, as well as the Borg did, how the captain sometimes got herself into a mess because of her pride and stubbornness.

"Are you excited about your new posting, Seven?" Icheb asked her. "I thought you enjoyed your duties at the TPG."

"I did," Seven admitted. "However, I believe I shall enjoy the duties I will be performing on this particular starship more, and being able to serve with Kathryn is something that the TPG could not offer." She glanced back at Chakotay. "I am curious, Commander. Did you ever consider applying for a post on the Millennium?"

Chakotay considered that as he sipped his own lemonade. "To be honest, Seven," he said, "I did for about half a minute when I first heard what kind of ship it was going to be. However, I truly enjoy teaching at the Academy, and with Icheb starting his first semester this fall, it looks like Earth is our best bet for the foreseeable future. I'm just grateful for the arrangement the captain was able to make for us."

"I could be taught on the Millennium," Icheb said slyly, before Seven could respond to the first officer.

The older man looked at him narrowly. "Not as well as you can here," he reminded the young man. "Besides, you may discover that the Academy isn't for you. There are many other quality educational facilities where you might be better suited, should a career in Starfleet not be what you want after all."

"The Daystrom Institute," Seven offered readily. "You are certainly intelligent enough to be accepted, Icheb."

The young man, undoubtedly sensing that he had lost any ground he had gained about joining the Millennium, and afraid that he was now losing ground on attending Starfleet Academy, firmed his jaw and refused to say anything further. Chakotay and Seven exchanged an amused glance, and the Borg allowed herself to feel some satisfaction in how the conversation had gone. Chakotay merely stifled his smile, and took another sip from his lemonade.

After finishing her drink, and speaking further with Chakotay about what the captain expected, Seven bid the two men her final farewells, suspecting she would not have a chance to speak with them face to face again before her vessel departed. She promised to maintain a correspondence with them, even though all of them recognized that any type of mail would be sporadic at best, because of the rarity of the vessel being within communications range. Taking a moment to hug Icheb, she assured him that he would do well in his future, regardless of what he chose, then she climbed into the hovercraft which she piloted to the Phoenix Transport Station in order to beam back to San Francisco.

The rooms of the house she shared with Janeway on R. Garrett Avenue seemed particularly empty now that most of their personal things had been transferred either to their new quarters on the starship ... such as the picture that used to hang over the mantle of the fireplace ... or placed in storage for when they returned to Earth after they finally had their fill of starship duty. They had gifted Janeway's mother with their pet Irish Setter during the Solstice break, and Seven was abruptly aware of the quiet as she passed through the living area. She paused next to the stairs, gazing around pensively as she realized suddenly that in a very short while, she would be leaving this home behind. She had not taken the time to comprehend how much she would miss the dwelling, even though she had lived in it such a relatively short period compared to her stint on Voyager, and now she recognized that a very special part of her life was going to be left behind. The special memories she and Janeway had managed to generate within these walls made the Borg smile faintly as she allowed her eyes to trail over the remaining furnishings.

The large sofa had offered a relaxing place to snuggle during sunny Sunday mornings after breakfast, with Janeway reading the daily news publication quietly as Seven perused literature she had not been exposed to during her time on Voyager. Later, in front of the hearth during the evening, she and the captain would eat dinner off the coffee table while discussing their upcoming workweek, a cheerful fire casting a warm glow over them. The patterned rug spread across the natural wood floor had provided a cushion for more than one erotic encounter after both women became bored with their professional talk, and became far more intrigued with personal pursuits.

Seven remembered the way Kathryn's skin had glowed in the unique illumination of the flickering flames, and the Borg knew she would greatly miss having a fireplace.

Hand resting on the post of the bannister, the young woman looked toward the kitchen, mindful of the many meals prepared by her, and occasionally by Janeway. She eyed the island in particular, and was struck by a memory of lying on it as Janeway taught the young woman several rather imaginative uses for various food groups ... including dairy. After that, Seven had never been able to resist a small smile whenever she prepared dinner on the butcher block surface.

In the expansive dining room, the couple had hosted a multitude of dinner parties, reaching out to include family and friends in their life away from space. There was the notch in the wooden leg where Little Harry had rammed his walker while the couple had been baby-sitting, while the scar along one edge of the polished wood was where Seven had inadvertently lit the tablecloth on fire during her attempt to make Baked Alaska for Janeway's birthday celebration. She flushed faintly as she remembered that evening, suspecting that she and her guests would have found the incident a great deal less hilarious had they not been so 'relaxed' from Chakotay's pre-dinner concoction of 'Singapore Slings'. Then, there had been the couple's second anniversary, returning to this house after their friends had surprised them with a party in a local restaurant, both women slightly tipsy and very amorous. They had made love on the dining room table in a hazy celebration that had resulted in both women slightly injuring themselves when one leg collapsed near the end, spilling them onto the dining room floor.

Seven moved around the bannister and ascended the stairs to the loft where the house's main computer system was located. Here, resting on the couch set against the descending angle of the ceiling, Seven's presents from her birthday party had remained for months until the couple finally found the time to deal with them. Now, it was covered with containers that had yet to be transported to the storage facility. It had also been witness to a strenuous romantic encounter one rainy Saturday afternoon not long ago, when the couple had utilized several of their 'accessories' in rapid succession in an effort to determine which was their absolute favorite. They intended to take that choice with them to their new vessel, and leave the rest behind in storage, but the couple hadn't agreed which was the best ... which, of course, demanded that they take them all with them in the interest of future experimentation. Seven was of the opinion that the springs on the left side of the small sofa would never truly recover from the interaction, and she wondered if she should have mentioned the flaw to the new caretakers.

In the bedroom, the large bed had provided a comfortable and pleasant haven for the couple, both for sleeping and making love. Its size had been wonderful for rolling around, but at the same time, it had provided far too much distance between the women when Janeway and Seven found themselves working through a painful situation. The young woman considered the fact that perhaps a smaller mattress surface had its advantages at times. It was far more difficult to overlook a spouse's misery when one was intruding greatly in the other's personal space while trying to sleep. Perhaps the much narrower bed the couple shared on occasion at Gretchen's Indiana home provided its own advantages, and the young woman wondered if she and Janeway should consider reducing the size of their bed on the Millennium.

Moving into the ensuite, Seven stripped off her shirt and jeans, still pungent with the scent of horses after her visit to the ranch owned by Chakotay's cousin, the aroma strong in her nostrils as she ran the garments through the recycler. She took a quick shower, and then dressed in a robe, brushing out her hair as she returned to the bedroom. The sound of the door opening downstairs made the young woman's head lift eagerly, and moving swiftly out onto the loft, she leaned over the railing to spot her spouse returning after a Saturday morning at the shipyards, having been called in to provide her base command presence for the launch of a refitted Galaxy-class ship.

"Hello darling," Janeway said, tossing her tunic casually on the sofa as she glanced up at her spouse. "How was your visit with Icheb? Were they interested?"

"Yes," Seven said. "Chakotay is quite grateful for the opportunity to live closer to the Academy." She paused. "Although Juan was initially happy to have his cousin and Icheb stay with him, I believe now that he has developed a relationship with the woman at the general store, it has become far more difficult for the three men to live together."

"Then it all worked out for everyone," Janeway said with satisfaction, putting her hands on her hips. "Chakotay and Icheb will find this a convenient place to live while they stay on Earth, and we won't have to give up title to the house due to lack of occupancy. It'll still be here for us when we return from our tour of duty. It would have been too much to ask Michael and Mother to maintain it for us this time around, particularly since they're fully involved with the farm in Indiana. "

Seven descended the stairs, striding across the floor to embrace her partner. "I am very pleased we will be able to keep it," she admitted into the auburn hair as she held Janeway tightly. "I discovered this afternoon how much I will miss this house while we are gone."

The captain smiled, her head tilted back to regard her partner lovingly as she returned the hug. "It's amazing how attached you can become to a place, even when you haven't spent a lot of time here."

"It became a home very quickly," Seven agreed. She peered into the deep blue eyes of her spouse, lost in their depths. "Kathryn, how did you ever become used to moving so much?"

Janeway shrugged. "I think it's part of my nature, darling," she said. "I've always been seeking that next star, and even though I love Earth and my home, it only takes a certain amount of time before I start developing itchy feet."

"'Itchy feet'?" Seven repeated, puzzled.

"An expression, love," Janeway explained patiently. "It means that I need to start exploring the unknown again."

"Ah," Seven said, amused. "I thought it was an unsubtle hint for me to rub them."

Janeway laughed. "Not this time," she said. She paused. "Not that I would object, mind you," she added wistfully. "I spent the morning giving Federation news teams the full tour before the Discovery's launch. Walking through twenty or so decks is not my idea of fun."

"Sit," Seven instructed as she nudged the captain toward the nearest chair where Janeway collapsed with a sigh of relief. The Borg sat cross-legged on the floor as she removed her spouse's boots and socks, bringing the sore feet onto her lap where she began to massage them with attentive skill. Lately, the couple had made a point to remember the small pleasures they used to share, realizing that the lack of such gestures was indicative of a loss of togetherness. Physical intimacy did not always require sexual interaction, though occasionally, the first led naturally to the second.

"God, that feels wonderful, darling," Janeway groaned, her eyes half closed as she sprawled over the chair in boneless bliss.

Seven smiled, pleased that she was able to provide such comfort to her spouse. As she stroked the instep, she glanced up at her partner. "Lt. Ro returns from her honeymoon, Monday," she reminded the captain. "Do not forget to offer her the tactical position immediately."

"I won't," Janeway promised. She twitched as Seven discovered a particularly tender area at the base of her toes. "Whatever would I do without you, love?"

Seven offered a small smile. "Forget what is most important," she said wryly. "Just as I would without you."

"Security wasn't able to find anything?" she asked unhappily.

"Not a thing," Admiral Nechayev said with equal dissatisfaction. "Section 31 was very good about cleaning up after themselves. The only sign of life was in the captain's quarters where Seven undoubtedly stayed while she was on board. If we didn't know any better, it would be easy to think that she had been the only one on the ship since its refit."

Janeway lifted her head. "You can't believe that," she said, alarmed.

Nechayev waved her hand. "Don't be ridiculous," she said impatiently. "If one individual Borg could commandeer an Intrepid-class vessel, fly it to where the Orion Syndicate was based, mine their headquarters with explosives, rescue you, and somehow drop Voyager off by Jupiter Station, completely undetected, then she'd be too damned smart to leave any trace of her doing it on her own."

The captain exhaled audibly. "That's why I hate Section 31," she said through gritted teeth. "They encourage the belief in conspiracies everywhere. I just don't want Seven to be caught up in another one."

"Agreed," Nechayev allowed. The diminutive admiral rested her hand on the rail next to the stairs. "In any event, Voyager's been cleared for active duty again, apparently none the worse for wear for her little mission on the dark side. I'd like a team to prep her for immediate launch. Captain Bedford is champing at the bit to take her out."

Startled, Janeway glanced at her. "Bedford? Lydia Bedford?" she echoed. "I was sure Webster was tagged for it."

Nechayev grinned at her. "You didn't put any credits down on that, did you, Kathryn?" she needled.

Janeway frowned, mentally kissing good-bye those twenty credits she had slipped to Miles O'Brien. "Of course not," she lied frostily. She wondered if anyone playing the shipyard pool on who Voyager's next captain would be had picked the experienced commander off the Cairo. "She'll make a fine captain, but I suspect Jellico won't be pleased at losing his first officer."

Nechayev snorted. "Captains are never pleased to lose their first officers," she said. "Particularly once they have 'em trained to jump to their tune. However, the whole point of anyone being a first officer in the first place is for them to eventually become captain." She eyed Janeway. "Which brings us to the Millennium."

Janeway inhaled slowly. "I'm not getting Lt. Commander Data, am I?" she said ruefully, though how she knew that, she wasn't sure. Perhaps because that would be exactly what she wanted, while the admiral's expression indicated that Janeway was going to get what Starfleet needed instead.

Nechayev chuckled. "After picking clean Picard's science section, as well as taking back the first decent helmsman he's had in years, did you really think he'd give up his favorite android to you as well?" she asked rhetorically.

"I expected it to be Mr. Data's choice," Janeway pointed out coolly. Nechayev merely smiled at her, and the captain stifled her sigh. "What's Starfleet Command's decision in this?"

"We're giving you a first officer who requires some final seasoning," Nechayev explained. "A year out in the frontier with you, and we're certain that he'll be completely ready for his first command."

Janeway wasn't sure she liked that. "And the next year?"

"The same thing," Nechayev said. She seemed amused by the captain's expression. "It's your own fault, Kathryn. Did you know that four of your team leaders on your engineering squads of the past year have been tagged for commander status? You're too damned good at teaching these people the subtleties of being competent leaders for us to ignore. I know it's not easy to have a series of what are basically 'temporary' execs, but it's what Starfleet requires from you right now."

"Oh, god," Janeway groaned. "I should have promoted Ro immediately, and pushed for her. You're right. This is entirely my own fault."

"As senior tactical officer, Ro will still be third in command," Nechayev consoled her. "That will help you adjust to a new exec." She paused, then added with a bit of an edge in her tone. "Of course, I have yet to see Ro listed on the roster. What are you waiting for? Ross is trying to recruit her as your replacement here in the shipyards."

Janeway hoped her flush wouldn't show, though she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. "It's just a formality," she lied.

"Well, verify it," Nechayev said, staring at her. "Time is passing faster than you seem to realize."

"Yes, sir," Janeway said, deciding the less said on the topic, the better.

Nechayev gave a last look around. "I need to return to my office," she said. "I'll see you at the end of the week for an update on the Millennium's progress."

"I'll make sure Voyager is prepped by Wednesday," Janeway promised.

The admiral dipped her head in acknowledgment, then headed for the turbolift, leaving Janeway alone on the bridge. The captain glanced around, about to follow when a sudden whimsy struck her. She moved over to the command chair, and sank down into it, leaning back experimentally. It didn't feel quite the same, of course, having been re-upholstered during the vessel's upgrading, and Janeway smiled faintly as she realized the new captain would be expected to wear new dents into the seat. As she sat there, she took a final moment with the vessel that had served her so well for so long.

So many adventures, she thought, listening to the subtle sounds of a ship at station keeping, so many extraordinary encounters. How many moments of quiet reflection, or of stark terror, had she been witness to while sitting in this chair? How many incidents had she experienced that resulted in a pride that resonated through the entire ship, or left a deep sadness that would never be forgotten by any of the crew. Other memories brought a smile to her face, brief captures of life in the Delta Quadrant, though looking back, she realized she had not particularly felt like smiling at the time. She could almost see the six feet of blonde Borg standing in front of her, informing her in those oh so precise tones of hers, that their duty shifts had ended and they could now make love. The varied expressions on the faces of her bridge crew would forever remain with Janeway, as she was sure her expression was indelibly etched in their memories for all time, as well.

She glanced toward the front of the bridge, to the helm manned ably through the years by Tom Paris, the young man so lost and damaged when he first arrived, somehow finding himself because of the captain's confidence in him. It would be good to have him on the Millennium with her, where his interest in various ships, particularly fast ones, would be well served by placing him in charge of the pilots manning the auxiliary fleet. Perhaps with him as their leader, they could learn their lessons in an easier fashion than he had. It would be odd to see a Ferengi in the helm position, but she anticipated that Lt. Nog wouldn't have accumulated the commendations he had if he wasn't a supremely capable officer.

To her right, the tactical station which had been the security chief's domain awaited its new master. The Vulcan had left behind more than most on that incredible journey to the Delta Quadrant, but showed it far less than anyone else on the ship. He had come home to a newborn son, and it was now that child who would keep him on Vulcan for the time being. For the first time in more years than Janeway could remember, she would be shipping out without Tuvok's steady presence serving with her. She was glad that she and Seven had found the time to have dinner with Tuvok and his wife the evening after Ro and B'Elanna's wedding, affording the good friends a chance to say a final good-bye before the Vulcans returned to their homeworld.

She looked at the engineering station, usually not manned, but generally B'Elanna's post when it had been. The feisty, Klingon/Human hybrid had come such a long way from the rebellious young woman she had been when Janeway first gave her the role of chief engineer. There had been more than a few growing pains, but in the end, B'Elanna had more than surpassed Janeway's expectations of her. The captain wouldn't have wanted anyone else looking after her ship while so far away from Federation space and technical support, just as she wouldn't want to have the Millennium's engines in anyone else's hands now.

She would have to get along without Chakotay, however. Janeway reached over and rested her hand on the arm of the first officer's chair, wondering if the exec assigned her by Starfleet would work out as well as Chakotay's unexpected appointment in the most unusual of circumstances. She knew she couldn't have managed to get through those seven years without his quiet confidence and friendship.

There was no chair beyond the first officer's seat, not on an Intrepid-class vessel, but there would be a special post on the Millennium, designated for the ship's counselor. Janeway had never commanded a ship large enough to warrant one before, but she had certainly learned the need for a psychologist while in the Delta Quadrant. Morale had been of utmost importance in their situation, and she suspected that if it weren't for Neelix, and then Sek