Relative Revelations

This is the 14th installment in the Millennium series.
Dedicated to Dru and Susan.
It was posted to the net on May 28, 2004.

Relative Revelations
G. L. Dartt

The Nexus was bright and cheerful, the morning crowd from the Alpha shift filtering in for breakfast before reporting for duty. Scattered among them were several officers with families, the bright, cheerful piping of children's voices rising over the rest of the chatter. Through the huge viewports that dominated the fore bulkhead, the surrounding purple and yellow gases reflected the ship's running lights back into the interior with an unusual illumination. Millennium had been crawling through the heavy dust of a nebula for the past week, the ship's science departments happily gathering data so fast that the main computer could barely keep up.

Seated in a corner, next to one of the viewports, Commander Kiara Kelly sipped her orange juice and eyed the spatial anomaly, wishing it were the chill darkness of normal space and the sharp points of stars instead. While she had been greatly impressed when she first stepped foot on Millennium at the beginning of this year-long mission exploring the Beta Quadrant, she was beginning to think that once one got past the advanced shields and weaponry, as well as the prototype transition drive that allowed the vessel to 'jump' to areas of space never before explored, this was still basically a science vessel. And that wasn't where she had envisioned herself to be at this stage of her career.

Lifting her glass, she studied the orange depths moodily.

"May I join you?"

Startled, Kelly almost dropped her drink, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she turned to look at the newcomer who was standing next to her table. Lt. M'Reek was whipcord slender, with an explosion of reddish brown hair and dark eyes. He served as assistant security chief to Commander Ro Laren, and while Kelly had interacted with him before, it had never been in such informal surroundings. She hoped her sudden feeling of awkward pleasure wasn't visibly apparent.

"Please," she invited.

His motion was compact yet graceful as he sank into the chair opposite her. She watched him quietly, not daring to speak, suspecting she would sound stupid if she did. She knew she was attracted to him. What she didn't know was what to do about it. Shipboard romances could be such disasters, and that was without even knowing whether M'Reek would be interested or not. Not to mention the fact that they were different species, and heaven only knew what the captain's take on it would be. Janeway would undoubtedly have some objection to her exec being involved in a relationship with a crewmember just because it went against some unspoken protocol.

All this went through her head in the time it took for the security officer to settle himself. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at him. "Just finished the gamma shift?"

He dipped his head. His eyes were dark and solid, black circles against a narrow rim of white. "I think I like this schedule better."

"Frees you up for the day and evening at any rate."

He regarded her evenly. "It's good to have my evenings free."

She felt a certain catch in her breathing, wondering why he was looking at her like that. Did she dare believe it could mean what she thought ... what she hoped ... it could mean?

"Um, listen, if you're free this evening, maybe you and I could..." she began.

"So what will you two have?"

Stopped in mid-query, Kiara blinked and glared at Paryk, the ship's bartender and lounge host, who had suddenly appeared at their table.

A small smile played about M'Reek's sensitive lips, as if he knew the reason for the first officer's glower. "Some r'ne'ck, Paryk."

Kiara had never heard of it. She suspected it was a dish from the security officer's homeworld, wherever that was.

"Something to go with that juice, Commander?" Paryk looked at her expectantly, apparently oblivious to her gaze of death. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"I'm fine," Kiara said through gritted teeth.

He didn't go away. Instead, he turned his attention back to M'Reek. "I understand Commander Ro has designated you the head of internal security. That's a promotion, isn't it?"

M'Reek inclined his head. "She just gave me the news last night." He paused. "How the hell did you find out so quickly?"

Paryk managed to look smug and modest at the same time, not an easy feat for the blue-skinned, purple-haired alien. "There's very little that I don't know about, my friend. You should know that better than anyone, considering how often you and Commander Ro use me as a source in your investigations."

M'Reek grinned lazily. "So what else is new?"

Paryk apparently took that as an invitation, and to Kiara's great disgust, promptly plopped himself down in the other chair. "Well, not to name names, but a certain beta shift operations officer, who shall remain anonymous, was in here a few nights ago, doing his best to put the moves on a certain chief science officer, who shall also remain nameless."

Kiara rolled her eyes. "There's only one chief science officer, Paryk, and we all know Madison covers beta shift ops."

Paryk shot a glance at her. "I was trying to be discrete."

"If that were the case, you wouldn't have brought it up in the first place," M'Reek pointed out dryly.

Paryk shot him a disdainful look. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

M'Reek held up his hands, not encouraging the bartender precisely, but not objecting either.

Kiara shook her head. She really didn't want to waste time hearing gossip about the ship's officers, particularly Lt. Hansen who, with her devastatingly good looks, probably had the entire male population on Millennium at her beck and call. Still, Kelly couldn't help wondering if the science officer had blown the guy off or posted another notch on her bedpost as some Starfleet officers were apt to do when on long missions. She knew Hansen was Borg, having been assimilated at a young age and joined to the Collective for eighteen years. What she didn't know was how human the young woman had become in her pursuit of sensual delights.

"I thought with the nebula, Hansen's plate would be too full to be dropping by the Nexus."

"Lenara Kahn dragged her in here for dinner," Paryk explained to the security officer. "Everyone's gotta eat sometime. Seven went over to the bar for a refill on her drink and that's when Madison made his play." Paryk laughed. "She dissected him into so many pieces, it's a wonder he didn't leave a blood trail when he slunk out of here."

"He's lucky the captain didn't hear about it." M'Reek's voice was heavy with irony. "He might end up cleaning out plasma relays for the rest of the trip."

Startled, Kiara looked at the security officer across the table. "What business is it of the captain's if someone's interested in Lt. Hansen?" she demanded, somewhat more tartly than she'd initially intended. "She's entitled to a personal life."

The two men stared at her blankly, before Paryk abruptly tilted his head, as if suddenly realizing something. "The captain and Seven are married, Commander."

"Married?" Kiara repeated stupidly. "Janeway and Lt. Hansen? Seven of Nine and the Captain?"

"How could you not know that? Everyone knows that."

M'Reek shot a look at Paryk. "To be fair, not everyone does," he reminded gently. "It's not as if they post it on the ship's memo board or list it in the initial orientation for new officers. They're very professional about the whole thing."

"They go dancing in here all the time," Paryk objected.

"Not so much this year. Of course, we're still early in the mission."

"I can't believe this." Kiara blinked, still rocked. "Though I guess it explains why I'm always running into Hansen on deck three. I thought the captain was conferring with her privately on scientific matters."

Paryk laughed. "I can't believe you didn't know."

Kiara felt defensive. "I'm not in the habit of speculating about people's personal lives."

"Jeez, been on a starship much? Speculating on people's love lives is the number one past-time."

Kiara opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, and then conceded the point. "Fine, but even if that's the case, the captain's personal life is something else."

Paryk let out another hoot of laughter and even M'Reek smiled a bit. "A captain's love life is generally the most interesting thing to talk about!" the bartender exclaimed. "Janeway's being married actually takes most of the fun out of it. There's no guessing about who keeps her in such a good mood."

This is Janeway in a good mood? Kiara was appalled.

M'Reek reached over and poked Paryk in the shoulder with a long finger. "Breakfast?" he prompted.

A flash of what might have been embarrassment crossed the youthful features. "Sorry," the bartender muttered as he rose to his feet. "On my way." He glanced back at Kelly. "Are you sure you don't want anything, Commander?"

Kiara exhaled slowly. "I guess I wouldn't say no to an omelet. Mushroom and cheese."

"Coming right up."

After Paryk disappeared in the direction of the food replicators, Kiara felt M'Reek's eyes slide over her. "What?" She felt foolishly vulnerable to that dark gaze, wondering if he was going to make fun of her ignorance regarding what was apparently common knowledge about the captain and her science officer.

"You were about to say something before Paryk interrupted us," he reminded her gently. "What was it?"

Kiara had to stop and think a moment before she remembered what it was. Heat rose in her cheeks and she cursed her fair skin. She could only imagine how red she looked. "Nothing," she mumbled. The moment had passed and she didn't think she could resurrect it.

M'Reek tilted his head. "Unfortunate," he said quietly. "I thought you were about to invite me out to dinner this evening."

"Oh. That." Kiara dropped her eyes. "Maybe I was."

"Then I accept."

"Uh, good."

Smooth, Kiara, the first officer thought painfully. Fortunately, it didn't seem as if the security officer noticed anything awkward about the moment. Instead, he offered a smile, one that softened his eyes and eased the stark planes of his narrow features. Disconcerted, Kelly groped for her juice and gulped the rest of it down, not even tasting it.

One good thing about Janeway's marital status, she thought with a silent sigh of relief. The captain couldn't exactly object if her first officer wanted to try her luck with the assistant security chief, not if Janeway was married to the chief science officer.

Janeway exited her bedroom and was startled, but not particularly surprised, to discover her spouse of over four years stretched out on the couch, limbs askew as her lanky form sprawled over the cushions. The half-eaten remains of a meal, congealed on a plate, rested on the coffee table, indicating that Seven hadn't even finished dinner before surrendering to sleep. Classic features softening, Janeway quietly cleaned up, and then perched on the side of the sofa, looking down into the face of her beloved Borg. There was a time when the young woman could go for days before feeling tired, but that was before she had lost so many cybernetic implants. Now, drowsiness could catch her off guard as easily as any human, and it obviously had the night before. With Seven coming off a week of double and even triple shifts as her department immersed itself in the wonder and scientific fascination of the nebula, even she couldn't control her fatigue.

Janeway suppressed a smile. Seven would be horrified to discover she had succumbed to such a Human failing.

Stray strands of blond hair escaped the bun the Borg customarily wore, and the captain gently brushed them away from the young woman's face. Seven looked so vulnerable when she slept, so very innocent, and the captain was reminded forcibly of the last time she had opportunity to watch her partner sleep so unguarded. It had been on Earth, during their last month of leave. Seven had prepared a picnic basket of delectable delights one lazy Sunday afternoon, and on a checkered blanket spread in the sunlit meadow by the pond, Janeway had enjoyed both meal and chef with equal and avid appetite.

In the languid afterglow, Seven had dozed off while the captain sat nearby, legs tucked under her, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her beloved Borg wearing nothing but a white western shirt left unbuttoned to reveal the length of warm, sleek torso, the thin triangle at the juncture of her legs pure gold in the afternoon sun. Seven's left hand, encased in silvery mesh, rested casually on her muscled abdomen, while her other arm was flung over her head in total abandon, a half smile curving the full lips on a face that was completely at peace.

Janeway couldn't imagine a more perfect vision of loveliness, nor being able to love anyone more than she did, no matter how hard she tried.

Smiling faintly at the warmth the memory stirred within her, the starship captain carefully leaned down and brushed her lips over each of Seven's eyelids before tenderly covering the generous mouth. The Borg stirred, making a sleepy sound of protest at being disturbed, even as she automatically slipped her arms around Janeway's neck, holding her head to her as she returned the kiss. She blinked drowsily when they finally parted.

"Kathryn?"

"Hmm, good morning, love," Janeway murmured "Couldn't make it to the bedroom?"

Seven opened her eyes wide, the brilliant blue pupils slightly muddled before they abruptly focused on her surroundings. A touch of bemusement colored her gaze. "I fell asleep." The surprise was evident in her tone. "I only wished to rest and recharge my nanoprobes for a moment. I intended to return to the lab."

"You've been working too hard," Janeway said, searching her face. "Darling, the nebula isn't going anywhere, and your staff is perfectly capable of carrying on projects without your personal supervision."

Seven lifted a brow. "Is that why you woke me? To lecture me on overwork?"

Janeway's lips quirked, a grin curling the side of her mouth, her voice suddenly very gentle. "No, my love, I kissed you because you're beautiful. Waking you was merely a beneficial side effect. And I really don't mean to lecture you. I'm just worried about you."

Seven hesitated, and released the captain in order to sit up. Janeway waited until she was settled and then claimed a position on the Borg's lap, straddling her hips as Seven slipped her arms about Janeway's waist.

"Am I neglecting you, Kathryn?" Seven kissed the captain's throat.

"That's not what I'm saying, darling," Janeway told her quietly but firmly, leaning into her warmth. "This has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with how much time and energy you're devoting to duty. I know this is a very exciting time for you and your department. I completely understand why you want to be there for each new scientific find and for every new discovery. It's no less than how I am in similar situations. But I don't want to see you run yourself down by not sleeping and eating properly."

Seven absorbed that. "I am eating properly," she offered finally, a sheepish tone in her voice.

Janeway smiled as she remembered the half finished meal. "Are you? You're obviously not sleeping enough." She lifted her head from where it was resting against Seven's forehead in order to look into the brilliant blue eyes. "I'm not ordering you stop work entirely, Annika. I know how difficult that is. Just slow down a little, and as soon as Millennium clears the nebula, I'll arrange for us to share a few personal days."

"Assuming nothing demands your attention?"

"Assuming that."

"You would allow Commander Kelly command of your ship that long?" Janeway flinched slightly and it was Seven's turn to smile. "Small steps, Kathryn."

"Small indeed." Janeway stroked the Borg's cheek and sighed lightly, wondering why Seven had turned the conversation around so quickly from her to the captain, but willing to go along with it for the time being. "I wish I trusted her more. The whole situation is so awkward and difficult. I'm not sure where to go from here."

It felt so good to be able to confide in Seven this way, and she wondered why it had taken so long before she had allowed it of herself. Perhaps she had been afraid that Seven would disagree with her handling of the first officer, particularly by involving Ro Laren. The Borg knew how to shred Janeway's arguments better than anyone, all the while making the captain feel about two millimeters tall. No one else had that ability, and the longer they were married, the better Seven became. Of course, no one else could restore Janeway's confidence and self assurance with just a word or a look either, so the captain supposed it balanced out perfectly in the long run.

"Is this so different from Chakotay when you first began working together?"

"It is different," Janeway insisted, pausing as she clarified in her mind what she wanted to say. "He was Maquis, and I could accept that until he settled in as my exec. Plus, there was always a part of him that I knew wasn't completely loyal to my ideals, that wasn't totally in line with what I could trust. It bothered me when we clashed on various issues, but it didn't necessarily surprise me when we did, or how he went about it. I don't have that with Kelly. I keep expecting her to act like a Starfleet officer."

"She is acting like a Starfleet officer," Seven pointed out gently. "At least, the Starfleet officers who served extensively in the war."

Janeway exhaled slowly as she absorbed that. "I guess that's the part I'm still having trouble with. I don't know what it was like for her."

Seven nuzzled the hollow of Janeway's neck. "Or for Nog, or the others who served during that time, just as they know nothing of what it was like to be on Voyager, lost and alone in the Delta Quadrant, dealing with Hirogen and Varduuar and the Borg."

Janeway lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should have Ro run another simulation in the holodeck, just so I can try my hand at the Jem'Hadar."

Seven started slightly. "With the safeties on."

"Of course." Janeway smiled and hugged her, before reluctantly pulling away. "Duty calls." Seven made no move to release her, forestalling the captain's motion by tightening her embrace. Startled, Janeway looked down at her. "What is it, darling?"

"Don't go."

The Borg's lips sought out Janeway's, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss that made the captain's toes curl.

"Oh, God, darling," Janeway gasped unconvincingly when the kiss finally ended. "I have a meeting this morning with Kelly."

Seven briefly drew back to look into her face, easily determined that the captain wasn't being entirely sincere in her objection, and drew her down for another kiss. Janeway resisted only a few seconds longer before surrendering to the warmth of her partner's arms. Seven wasn't in the habit of making demands upon her, but when she did, it was the captain's immediate inclination to grant them.

Besides, it wasn't as if it was some kind of onerous task to share pleasure with her beloved spouse. Passion flared quickly as gentle, loving hands slipped beneath her tunic, loosening it and peeling it from her body. Her sweater and undergarments quickly followed, and Seven's mouth was on her breasts in the next second, her skilled tongue and lips doing the most wonderful things to the sensitive flesh. Janeway threw back her head and groaned, wrapping her arms around the Borg's head and holding it tight to her. It felt so good, and she could feel moisture dampen the juncture of her legs, desire sending chills of delight through her.

A chirp from the comm badge made the women pause, and Janeway resisted the urge to curse.

"Bridge to the captain." Commander Kelly's voice sounded vaguely curious.

Taking a deep breath, Janeway reached down to the floor where her tunic had landed.

"Janeway here." She reluctantly shifted away from Seven who was turning her nipples into points of sheer sensation. When the Borg targeted those particular erogenous zones, it was extremely difficult for Janeway to think clearly or particularly want to.

"Captain, were we supposed to meet at 0700 to go over personnel reports?"

Janeway exhaled audibly. Damn.

"Of course, Commander," she said smoothly. "I'm running a little late. I'll be along shortly. Janeway out."

She closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, and then looked down into the face of her beautiful blonde Borg. Resting her hand lightly on Seven's upper chest, she felt the warm throb of the heartbeat within. "You know, I could really learn to dislike her on a purely personal level, not just a professional one."

A quirk of a thin eyebrow and the smallest twitch of Seven's lips forced Janeway to smile.

"I'm sorry, my darling." The captain cupped the Borg's cheek.

Seven exhaled slowly and took the captain's hand in her own, bringing it to her mouth where she kissed the palm. The sensation was electric, shooting up the captain's arm, through her body and settling directly in her groin, causing another rush of moisture.

"God," she muttered, helpless against the feelings her partner was capable of stirring inside her, "if you really want me to stay, say the word. You know I will, in a heartbeat. Personnel reports aren't that important, and I have absolutely no problem telling Kelly that we can do them another time."

Seven hesitated briefly and then smiled, loosening her embrace. "Go," she said quietly. "You must report for duty."

"We'll finish this later, I promise." Janeway kissed her deeply, trying to convey the full scope of her regret.

Seven returned the kiss, but it was tender rather than passionate, and the captain knew the Borg had already let go of her desire.

Janeway sighed again and slipped away, scooping up her discarded clothing and hastily pulling it on. Raking her fingers through her hair to straighten it, she strode briskly to her private turbolift and turned around. As doors hissed shut, she saw that Seven hadn't moved. Instead, the young woman was still on the sofa, regarding her intently. For a moment, Janeway felt disturbed, though she was unsure why, before the turbolift began to move and her mind shifted to command mode, mentally preparing for her day.

Seven didn't immediately move from the sofa once Janeway left. Instead, she remained where she was, staring blankly at the closed doors of the turbolift. She wasn't sure why she felt so unsettled. It wasn't even that she and Janeway had been starting something very pleasant prior to being interrupted. Indeed, she had actually initiated the physical encounter in the hopes it would relax her and take away some of her feelings of discontent.

Eventually, she rose from the couch, glancing back at the indented cushions with concern. She shouldn't have dozed off the night before. It implied something about her continual lack of endurance that concerned her greatly. She would have to schedule a checkup with the Doctor once the ship had cleared the nebula and she once again had time to spare for such things.

Moving into the ensuite, she stripped off her uniform, took a quick sonic shower, and replaced her outfit with fresh garments from the replicator. She picked up a mug of liquid nutritional supplement from the kitchenette and exited her quarters, sipping it as she strode down the corridor leading to the public turbolift. She had leave to use the captain's private transport system, of course, but she tried not to unless it was absolutely necessary. Sometimes, she wasn't sure what dictated the unspoken protocols involving their personal relationship as opposed to their professional one, but it worked, and that was all that mattered.

The turbolift deposited her near her lab, and she nodded briefly at her staff as she headed for her office. It was austere, with little in the way of decoration other than an image of her with Janeway and Jake, and a small statuette deemed too ugly for the captain to have to suffer every day in their quarters. Taking a seat behind the desk, the Borg flipped open her desktop padd and activated her workstation. A list of requests from various departments appeared. Suppressing a sigh, she set to work to clear away the most immediate tasks. After an hour or so, she had finished most of the tedious daily details required to run her science section efficiently.

Irritated with the minutia on which she usually thrived, she rose from her seat and went out into the lab, intending to check on the progress of the nebula study. As she crossed the expansive room toward the astrometrics array, she noted that Lenara Kahn had several of their personnel running deep scans on the center of the nebula. She paused and watched for a moment, taking into account their proficient manner and attention to detail.

Kathryn was right, Seven thought ruefully. Her people were well trained and did not require her personal supervision to do their jobs. There was no need be here at the moment if other things required her attention. Catching Lenara's eye, a slight incline of the Borg's head was all that was required to have the woman leave the station and move over to join her. The merged Trill was dressed in a long white coat over a blue work garment. Her ash blonde hair was bound up in a bun similar to Seven's, framing the elegant features, highlighted by the spots that ran down her temple and neck, disappearing beneath her collar.

"I must take care of something," Seven explained. "Supervise the personnel in my absence."

"Of course." Lenara's hazel eyes studied the Borg curiously. "Seven, is something wrong?"

Seven lifted an eyebrow. "Why would you ask?"

Lenara frowned, lips pursed. "I'm not sure. You seem a little out of sorts today."

Seven considered that. "I am," she admitted after a moment. "I intend to report to sickbay for a scan."

There was true alarm in the Trill's eyes now. "Seven, if there's anything I can do..."

Seven tilted her head. "It is unnecessary to be concerned. It is merely a cautionary visit in order to rule out anything physical causing my sense of unease."

The explanation was insufficient for Lenara, she saw, but she had no more information to offer the Trill. Stymied, the Borg nodded briefly at her assistant and took her leave.

Sickbay was quiet when she entered. Of course, the only time it wasn't quiet was when there was a red alert and people were injured. Then, Seven would see it only if she were similarly wounded and unlikely to notice how busy it was.

Pulaski, Millennium's chief medical officer, spotted her through the transparencies that lined the wall of her office and quickly rose to meet the Borg. A tall woman, she carried herself with grace and dignity, her brilliant eyes sharper than those of officers half her age.

"Seven? Can I help you?"

"Is the Doctor here?"

Pulaski grinned crookedly. "By that, I presume you mean Lewis. He's actually off duty and gone into rest mode. Do you need me to call him?"

Seven hesitated. She did not believe it to be that serious, and undoubtedly, the elderly doctor, with her experience, would be able to assist her without the need to disturb the EMH who normally did her scans.

"I require a physical. Are you capable of diagnosing my unique physiology?"

Pulaski eyed her with sardonic humor. "I think I can manage," she said dryly as she motioned Seven over to the nearest biobed, retrieving a tricorder and a small probe from the tray nearby. "After all, Lieutenant, you're not really that unique. You're still very much Human under all those implants."

Seven frowned, unsure she appreciated the comment. She was even more unsure why she was bothered by it. She stared straight ahead as the doctor examined her, unaware of Pulaski watching the young woman with far more interest than she did the data being recorded on the tricorder.

"So, how are things with you and Kathryn?" she asked suddenly. "Have you had a fight recently?"

Startled, Seven blinked, turning to face the snowy haired woman. "No."

Pulaski's keen blue eyes studied her. "So what's bothering you?"

"If I knew, I would not require a scan."

The doctor's lips quirked, a tiny grin though Seven had not been attempting humor. "Seven, the scans are detecting nothing physically wrong with you, but they're only as good as the data we put into them. Tell me how you're feeling."

Uncertain, Seven sought the words to explain her sense of wrongness. "I returned home during the gamma shift at 0215 hours and paused to ingest nutrition. During this time, I felt fatigue and closed my eyes in order to recharge my nanoprobes. Instead, I fell asleep, and required Kathryn to wake me 3.5 hours later."

"That's a problem?"

Seven stared at her. "I fell asleep without conscious effort. I did not finish my meal. I did not move into the bedroom where I would sleep more comfortably. I have felt unlike myself since it happened, but have been unable to determine why."

"How long were you working?"

Seven hesitated. "I began my duty shift at 0700."

Pulaski snorted. "Well, that's nineteen hours."

"Forty-three hours," Seven corrected. "It was 0700 the previous day."

Pulaski stared at her. "So why are you so damned surprised that you fell asleep?"

"It is not my nature," Seven insisted. "I am Borg."

"You were Borg. Lately, you've been working on becoming human, and you've succeeded." Pulaski put the tricorder down and leaned back against the other biobed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Seven, you can't pull the long hours you once did. Your body won't let you."

"Why not?" The sharp anger in her tone surprised her as much as it did the doctor, and with an effort, she damped down her unruly emotions.

"Because," Pulaski explained in an extremely patient voice after studying the Borg a moment, "your cranial implant has cut back on the number of nanoprobes maintaining your system. Furthermore, they no longer regulate every minute detail of your physiology as they once did."

"They are becoming inoperable?" Seven was truly alarmed, and it must have shown because Pulaski raised a hand to calm her.

"No, they're becoming what your body requires, Seven. You live a human life now. You derive your energy from organic material, you sleep rather than regenerate, you read data from screens rather than tapping directly into databanks, you make decisions based as much on emotion as pure logic and fact. In short, your human systems are becoming dominant over the nanoprobes instead of the other way around, and the cranial implant is letting them. Isn't it what you want?"

"No!"

Pulaski blinked, surprised, and regarded her curiously. Seven bowed her head, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but not sure why she was reacting this way.

"I will never be fully Human," she managed in a quieter tone. "I can never lose all of my implants. To do so would be to die."

"That's true," Pulaski said gently. "But that doesn't mean those implants can't be programmed to act as human systems as opposed to Borg systems, to be limited in what they control and react to."

"That would be inefficient."

"I can't argue with you. Being Human is a rather flawed existence compared to being a machine." Pulaski paused, a small smile curving her lips. "It's ironic."

"What is?"

"I worked with an android on the Enterprise."

"Commander Data," Seven identified immediately.

Pulaski lifted a brow. "That's the one, though he was only a lieutenant commander then. I believe he caused himself a whole lot of unnecessary aggravation simply because he wanted so badly to be something he wasn't. I tried to advise him to appreciate his true self, to be the best android he could be, rather than a pretend Human. Everyone thought I was being bigoted, that I was trying to deny his sentience, but what I was really trying to do was urge him to be true to himself, to accept his nature and delight in it. Now, years later, I discover I have a Borg who doesn't really want to be Human, even though that's exactly what she can be."

"I want to be Human," Seven objected. "It has been my goal since being severed from the Collective."

"You mean it's been Janeway's goal," Pulaski said sagely. "You just went along with it because you love her."

"That is not true." Seven was becoming angry again. "Kathryn has always encouraged me to be who I am. She has always told me that it is my Borgness that is part of what attracted her to me."

"Ah." Pulaski's eyes grew lidded. "Are you worried that she won't love you because you're becoming more Human than Borg?"

Seven fixed her with a cold stare. "I was unaware you had a psychology degree."

"Several," Pulaski said, unruffled by the Borg's look that was capable of making lesser officers tremble in their boots. "Though I certainly didn't specialize in it, as Kes did, I'm fully aware that physical health is tied directly into mental health. Besides, you don't get to be my age without picking up a thing or two." She fixed Seven with her own patented glare of assessment. "Tell me, Seven, do you really want to be Human, with all our flaws and weaknesses, or do you want to go back to what you were as a Borg?"

"I have no wish to return to what I was in the Collective."

"But you don't want to be as Human as the rest of us, either," the doctor concluded. "It takes away your superiority, the enhanced abilities that make you better than everyone else. Can't say as I blame you. It's no fun losing all your advantages."

Pulaski seemed greatly amused at Seven's dilemma as she spoke in that dry, somewhat condescending tone. The young woman was surprised by the sudden urge to strike the doctor, by a strong desire to remove that smirk from her face and make her take back the comments. She wondered if this was Pulaski's usual manner when dealing with the captain. If so, it was not surprising that Kathryn often came away from meetings with the doctor absolutely seething. Yet, at the same time, Seven knew that Pulaski was one of the very few people on the ship who could tell Janeway what she needed to hear, even she didn't want to hear it and was resisting with all her might to avoid hearing it. Perhaps the same thing was happening with her.

"Is this irreversible?"

"What, becoming Human?"

"Being weak," Seven clarified sharply. "Being unable to perform as I once did."

Pulaski spread her hands in a shrug. "You tell me. The programming of your nanoprobes originates from your cranial implant. So much of it is automatic that you don't really notice what it's doing, anymore than I notice what the individual muscles in my legs do when I walk across the deck. It's regulated by what you consciously demand of it, as well as what you subconsciously demand of it." She smiled at the confused young Borg. "Who do you want to be, Seven?"

Seven shook her head. "I do not understand."

The brilliant blue eyes softened. "I know, and I suspect that's really causing your current sense of discomfort. You find yourself on the crux of a dilemma, Seven. Do you start pulling back from being as Human as you can be, reprogramming those nanoprobes to return all your enhanced abilities and inhuman traits, or do you accept that you're capable of being as completely and totally as human as anyone? The former will set you forever apart from Humanity, make you different, always an outsider to a certain degree, for the rest of your life. The latter will force you to accept all the little annoyances that we all face, such as allergic reactions, and growing toenails and falling fast asleep when you only intended to rest your eyes."

Seven took a breath. "I must ... consider this."

"At least you have the choice, Seven," Pulaski said. "Most of us are stuck with what the Creator gave us."

"There are great ramifications in either choice."

"Just so long as you remember it's entirely your decision, Seven." Pulaski lifted a brow. "I mean, Kathryn will influence you, as do others in your life, but when it's all said and done, you're the one programming who you will become. That's true in most cases, of course, but for you, it's a fundamental decision that must be consciously made."

"Will you become as fully Human as possible? Or will you go back to being Borg?"

Kelly glanced over at the captain, trying not to be obvious as she did so. They had been doing personnel files for two hours and absolutely none of her suggestions regarding the crew had been accepted. In some cases, they had been dismissed with a casual disregard, while others had been considered for only the briefest of periods before being refused. At this point, Kelly wanted to throw the damned padds into Janeway's face, walk out and never look back. She might have, if they weren't stuck tens of thousands of light years away from the Federation.

She tried again. "There's an opening in biometrics. I think Ensign Esperanto would be suitable."

Janeway shook her head. "He lacks discipline and long term planning. Samantha doesn't need to be teaching an unqualified officer, along with all the rest she has on her plate at the moment."

Kelly didn't stop to wonder how the hell the captain knew anything about a lowly ensign on deck fifteen. She just exhaled explosively. "With all due respect, Captain, would you like to do these yourself? I don't seem to be contributing much to this task."

Janeway flicked an eyebrow. "You rarely do."

Kelly stood up abruptly, and the captain held up her hand, motioning her back down. "At ease, Commander. The comment was ... inappropriate. I apologize."

Confounded by the apology, one she had never expected to receive, Kelly wavered, and then resumed her seat in the chair, uneasily regarding the captain sitting on the sofa. Janeway carefully put down the padd in her hand and settled back against the cushions, her grey eyes regarding Kelly with calm assessment.

"Do you know why Starfleet sent you here?"

"To punish me," Kelly said bitterly without thinking. Janeway's face tightened and she added hastily, "I think it was to teach me some stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like how to be a better commanding officer." Kelly hesitated. "Permission to speak freely?"

"I was unaware you weren't." Taking a deep breath, the captain leaned back. "Go ahead."

Kelly felt her way carefully around the conversation. "I'm not sure you're the one who can teach me to be a better officer."

Janeway clamped her lips shut, as if she had been about to say something and swallowed it back. When she spoke, her voice was very mild.

"I ... appreciate that you have a certain reservation about me. I'm not sure where it springs from."

Kelly wished she was anywhere but in this ready room. "I .... I have no sense of you as a captain," she tried, struggling for the right words. She had never been particularly adept with language, or with conveying her thoughts adroitly. She was sure this conversation would result in being tossed out of the ready room, and possibly straight into the brig, but she gave it her best shot. "You're so rigid and by the book, that most of the time, I feel like I can't breathe. I can't do anything to please you, and I have no idea if I should want to or not. Most of all, I can't figure out why your crew doesn't feel the exact same way, but I've learnt that they would follow you anywhere, so they must know something I don't. I just can't see what it is."

Janeway pursed her lips. "Fair enough." She regarded her for a long moment. "Did you ever meet Boothby?"

"Who?" Kelly was startled at the apparent change in subject, trying desperately to keep up.

"Boothby. At Starfleet Academy."

Kelly blinked. "The gardener? I talked to him a couple of times. I didn't really know him."

"He's a groundskeeper." Janeway frowned. "And if you refer to him like that, then you're right, you didn't know him at all. I learned more from him than I think I ever learned from my professors. I just didn't know it at the time."

Kelly stared at her, skeptical.

Janeway sighed. "He gave me a very good piece of advice once. He told me to make sure I take damned good care of the details, because once in awhile, I was going to have to have my way with something big, and the only thing that would save me from a court martial was the knowledge that all the small details were done strictly by the book."

Kelly gaped at her. Court martial? She couldn't imagine Janeway doing anything that remotely put her at risk for such a punishment. "Yes, Sir," she said finally, her standard response for something she didn't understand.

Janeway reached out for the china cup sitting on the coffee table and picked it up, sipping the coffee slowly. Kelly had the unmistakable feeling that the captain wasn't thirsty, but rather, was taking a moment to compose herself. She braced herself for the blast to come.

"Kelly, you're simply not qualified to be my first officer."

Janeway held up her hand, undoubtedly seeing the red rise in the commander's face, the spark from the emerald eyes as the young woman struggled not to leap from her chair and storm out. The captain's voice was gentle as she leaned forward, and through her anger, Kelly realized Janeway really wanted her to understand that it wasn't meant as an insult, but the truth as she saw it.

"That isn't your fault. You have no experience with a ship this size. You have no experience with a science vessel. You have no experience dealing with all the administrative duties required in the position. Hell, you have no experience being a first officer at all. You jumped directly from security to command. Nechayev did you absolutely no favors by posting you here. She didn't do me any either, but here we are, and we're stuck with each other. So it's time for me to stop demanding you act like my first officer, and it's time for you to see that you have a long, long way to go."

"Are you relieving me of my post?" Kelly said stiffly, through lips so tight, they were almost blue.

"No, but I've finally realized that I can't make you something you're not. You're not ever going to be a good first officer, but that doesn't mean you can't make a good captain. In some cases, they're not even compatible."

Kelly had to stop and absorb the words, her anger ebbing somewhat as she tried to figure out what the captain meant. "What?"

"Being a good first officer means becoming the right hand of the captain," Janeway said, leaning back now that she was sure Kelly was listening and not just reacting. "Being in charge of the command support system, the consummate professional subordinate. Your predecessor was the perfect exec. He stepped in and took on the position like he was born to it, but he had an advantage you didn't. He'd spent years trying to achieve career advancements that you must have managed in months. He had the time to fully understand his innate skills and advantages, and learned how to compensate for his disadvantages." She shook her head, almost sorrowfully it seemed. "The war has cost you dearly. It demanded that you progress as an officer quicker than you were ready, as it must have for so many others. Now Starfleet is trying to rein you in, bring you back to a more controlled and disciplined evolution."

"Believe it or not, Captain, I understand that." Kelly raked her fingers through her short shock of dark hair, frustrated. "I know the war threw things out of whack when it comes to developing Starfleet officers, including myself, but it's not as if I can go back and change it."

"What is it you want, Kiara?"

Startled, Kelly looked at her. "Sir... I mean, Captain?"

Janeway took another sip of coffee. "What do you want to be? Do you really want to be a starship captain, with all that entails, or have you simply been on this command track through necessity for so long that you don't remember what you intended to be when you started?"

Kelly thought about it, wondering if she dared be that open with Janeway. "I ... when I was at the Academy, I pictured myself in the command chair. I went into security because it best suited my abilities, but I always went after the command track."

The corner of Janeway's lips twitched upward. "Then you're one up on me because I wanted to be a science officer when I started out. I was channeled into command by my superiors because they believed that was where I was best suited." She put down her cup. "They were right, but it took some time before I became the captain I needed to be." Lacing her fingers across her abdomen, she fixed Kelly with an evaluating look. "I don't believe you would have made it this far if something in you wasn't meant for command."

Kelly lifted her chin, surprised. An apology and a compliment all in the same conversation. What the hell was happening?

"Thank you, s... Captain."

Janeway's eyebrow quirked. "It wasn't a compliment, it was merely an observation. Your record shows you have a knack for making the right decision when things are falling apart around you, and any wrong decisions to date haven't held too much in the way of consequences. But you lack a certain awareness that every captain needs, and frankly, I have no idea how to teach it to you."

"Are you saying you have this awareness?" The question could be considered rude, but it was phrased as an honest query, so Kelly got away with it.

Janeway pursed her lips. "I do, but more importantly, my crew believes I do." She paused. "Being a captain means more than just making the decisions. It means taking responsibility for the lives of others. Furthermore, it means accepting the consequences of that responsibility."

"Having the power to choose between what's right and wrong."

"No, often choosing between what's wrong and what's less wrong," Janeway insisted. "You rarely have the luxury of a clearly defined 'right' in any given situation. And sometimes, even when it does seem right, it's not right at all." It was her turn to look a little frustrated, as if she knew what she was saying wasn't enough for Kelly to understand. For the first time, the first officer actually liked her a little, and it made her want to bridge the gap between them.

"Regarding our initial encounter with the Raeliens." Kelly lifted her chin. "How did you know?"

Janeway paused, looked startled for a moment, and considered the question carefully. "I just did," she said finally, and immediately looked apologetic. "I know that doesn't help." She took another moment to think, the muscle in her jaw jumping slightly. "In the Delta Quadrant, there was potential destruction in every encounter. We had no backup, no one to call for help, no one but ourselves to rely upon. That experience has greatly shaped my current approach to handling a First Contact scenario."

Kelly spread her hands, confused. "But then you should have backed me up and fired on them. Taken care of them before they made an attempt on us."

"But they weren't a threat."

"You couldn't know that!"

"I did." Janeway shifted in her chair, barely confined energy. "Kiara, take a step back. You're Raelien. Someone has invaded your space, someone much larger and from all indications, much more powerful. If you're going to throw it all away on an attempt to destroy us, how would you go about it?"

Kelly took a moment, wondering why she hadn't thought about it before. "I'd remain concealed until the last possible moment, and then I'd go after any weak ... or in this case, apparently weaker ... spot."

"And that is?"

Kelly didn't hesitate. She knew this one. "The aft dorsal transwarp pod. The shielding in that area is distorted by the proximity of the coil, which makes it appear defenseless, even though it's more heavily shielded than any of the rest of the ship."

"You certainly wouldn't attempt to ram us."

"No, I'd come in from above and behind, using the nebula for cover as long as I could. That's the only possibility for a weaker vessel."

"And a stronger vessel intent on destroying us wouldn't pass up such an obvious weakness. They might be suspicious of it, but they'd attempt to rule it out completely before they went after anything else. The Raeliens did none of this. They approached openly, and they didn't attempt to fire on us."

Kelly exhaled slowly. "I didn't consider that."

"Yet battle tactics are your strength, Commander. They're what you've relied upon your entire career. That shouldn't change just because you're in a bigger ship." Janeway paused, dipping her head as she pinned her with a look from beneath her lashes. "You're used to being prey, Kiara. Your mistake was in thinking of yourself as a predator because of the size of Millennium. You didn't ignore your instincts entirely; you merely applied them incorrectly."

"So you're telling me that you command Millennium as if you're still commanding an Intrepid-class vessel? A courier ship?"

"Not exactly. What I did is take a split second to put myself on the other ship. It may or may not have a bearing on the next split second when I have to make the decision. Had you done that, you would have known the approach vector was all wrong for a vessel that size to attack us, regardless of whether they returned our hails or not."

"But they could have been attempting a distraction, or been really stupid and suicidal."

"Perhaps, but the bridge crew would have given you information to indicate that. Ro would have let you know if there were other ships in the vicinity. You have to rely on your people. I have the best Starfleet has to offer. I made damned sure of that when I built my crew."

Kelly stared at her bleakly, the words seeping into her consciousness with a power that was undeniable. "I have so much to learn."

Janeway regarded her evenly. "I'll teach you, Number One ... if only you'll let me."

Kiara blinked. There was no sarcasm lacing the appellation.

Finally.

Janeway maintained the calm, pleasant expression on her face until the door had hissed shut behind Kelly. Then she rolled her eyes skyward and let out her breath in a huff. Seven had advised her to reach out, try to see things from Kelly's side, but it was difficult. She simply wasn't used to anyone possessing that number of pips being so uninformed. She was also painfully aware that there were at least ten officers on the ship who were better suited for the position of first officer. Of course, that made Janeway realize how lucky she was to have maintained the crew she had. She kept Ro, she knew, because it was recognized that as long as she was training first officers, she needed a solid third officer. As long as she had Ro, she had B'Elanna, because neither woman was prepared to serve somewhere without the other, and neither was afraid of walking away from the uniform if they weren't accommodated. Seven, of course, was protected because of her marriage to Janeway. Everyone else was up for grabs. Maybe it was a good thing Nechayev kept sending these unproven and untried people to her. It was certainly better than Starfleet taking Janeway's other officers away and assigning them to various parts of Federation.

Thinking of Seven made the captain reflect on the morning. The Borg was definitely off kilter about something, and Janeway realized she should have taken her partner's display of neediness a little more seriously. Feeling a decided sense of regret over not pursuing it, she was about to contact the young woman to find out if she were free for lunch, intending to have a long talk with her, when a hail from the bridge abruptly interrupted.

"Captain, you'd better see this."

Outside the ready room, Ro and Kelly were gathered in the pit, hovering over the science station where Seven of Nine was working. On the fore viewscreen, the constant pink and purple cloud had dissipated somewhat to reveal a black void. In it, a tiny sliver of something hovered tantalizingly in the center of the area that appeared unnaturally clear of dust and gases.

"What is that?" she demanded as she took a seat in her command chair.

"Sensors indicate it is a vessel," Seven said without looking back, as Kelly and Ro made their way to their own stations. "Located in what appears to be a sort of 'clear zone' within the nebula. I do not fully understand these readings. They are unlike any I have ever encountered." Since Seven maintained knowledge from over ten thousand species from her time in the Collective, it was a somewhat disturbing statement.

"Captain, I would recommend we tread carefully," Kelly offered.

Janeway flicked a brief glance in her direction, but nodded in agreement. Kelly had a decided bent for suspecting the worst of a situation, but that wasn't always a bad thing. "Helm, slow to one quarter impulse." The ship, already traversing the nebula at impulse, slowed even more. "In fact, take a course that orbits the outer reaches of this clear zone until we know more about it. Keep us within the boundaries of the dust cloud."

"That will hinder our scan of the vessel, Captain," T'Shanik, the Vulcan operations officer objected logically. "We'll be able to access long range sensor readings only."

"We'll have to live with that," Janeway told her with no uncertainty. "There's no need to take Millennium any closer until we figure out exactly what's going on."

At the helm, Nog quickly made the adjustments to the ship's heading and Millennium began a slow sweep around the empty zone.

"This could be considered the center of the nebula, Captain." Ro's hands moved lightly over her board. "It's also the origin of the magnetascopic radiation we've been tracking since entering the nebula."

"The zone?"

"The vessel."

Intrigued, Janeway stared at the small silver splinter floating in the darkness. "Can you magnify at all?"

"Attempting to, Captain," T'Shanik said coolly. "There is a great deal of interference from the radiation. There are also some inert areas of space within the zone that deflects our sensor readings. It's almost as if they're 'void bubbles' of some kind.."

The viewscreen altered, fuzzing slightly before clearing to reveal a somewhat ungainly vessel, bristling with various protrusions and bulges, vaguely cigar shaped but lacking any kind of sleekness. They couldn't make out a lot of detail, but at least they had a better sense of its shape and size. It wasn't very large by Starfleet standards, but for other space-travelers, such the Raeliens who inhabited this sector and used the nebula extensively as a safe harbor, it dwarfed their tiny ships.

"So the magnetascopic radiation in the nebula has been artificially generated, rather than caused by a collapsed photon star as initially thought." Kelly remarked, looking somewhat satisfied, as if some pet theory of hers had somehow been validated by the information. "Is it a weapon of some kind?"

Seven shook her head. "It appears to be a malfunction in the propulsion system. Some sort of pulse generated by the power source. It builds up until it reaches critical mass, then unleashes in a wave of pure energy. It may have been some kind of failsafe designed to bleed off excess power." She raised her chin. "Highly inefficient."

"So it would seem," Janeway said dryly, thinking of how the random surges of energy exploded through the nebula, lessening in intensity as they traveled through the combination of dust and gas until they dissipated entirely in the outermost reaches of the spatial anomaly. But occasionally, they didn't decrease in strength due to some quirk in the ebb and flow of currents within the nebula, intersecting with unsuspecting ships with devastating results, as demonstrated by a response to a distress call by the crew of Millennium a couple of weeks earlier.

"Captain, the signature of the vessel is Elthanian, but it's been here for some time," T'Shanik offered. "Our readings indicate that it is approximately 389.33 years old."

Janeway's lips twitched. Her notion of approximate differed slightly from the operation officer's. It was enough to know that the ship was almost four hundred years old. She didn't need to know the day and month it had been launched. The Vulcan, of course, would not consider the readings accurate unless she could determine the exact moment it entered this area of space.

"Lifesigns?"

"Unlikely," Ro offered, but she studied her data intently. "No indication of any, Captain, but there does appear to be some kind of storage area maintaining large amounts of organic material. Part of the ship has been exposed to hard vacuum while the rest of the atmosphere is poisoned by burn off. Large concentrations of carbon dioxide and methane."

"Was it a freighter of some kind?"

"Possibly," Seven said coolly.

"Not from the weapons signature," the security officer determined. "They have a lot of armament on board from what I can tell, though it's primitive."

"A raider?" Janeway stared at the screen thoughtfully. "Is there any evidence of damage?"

"There are multiple hull breeches along the port side, battle scarring perhaps."

"A battle it lost." Kelly frowned as she stared at the screen. "Why hasn't it been salvaged, if not by the Elthanian, then by the Raeliens?"

"Maybe they tried and those magnetascopic pulses made it impossible," Janeway pointed out. "Their vessels, even now, can't take too much of it at a greater distance. That many years ago, their technology would have been even more susceptible." She took a breath. "I'm afraid to think about what might be in that cargo hold."

Kelly looked back with a puzzled expression, and the captain realized that the first officer didn't know what she was referring to. An oversight, Janeway thought. She should have filled Kelly in on the revelations provided at the formal dinner the captain had held for Jiidan, the Confederation ambassador, some weeks earlier.

"Captain, if we could send over an away team, we might be able to retrieve whatever is in that cargo bay." Ro glanced over her shoulder expectantly. "It could prove to be beneficial in any future negotiations with the Raeliens."

Janeway thought about it. If what she suspected was true, and they were able to retrieve what were most likely the corpses of Raeliens killed by an Elthanian hunting party, they could return them to the aliens who held great store in the proper disposal of their dead. Better still, she could have Jiidan, in his role as ambassador, return them as a gesture of good will, possibly opening the way for future negotiations between the bitter race of people and the large multi-species alliance that bordered so much of their space. It could grant the Raeliens the opportunity to become part of something bigger than themselves, allowing them to evolve into a true civilization, rather than continuing to scrap by while clinging desperately to their limited territory. They had maintained their independence for a long time, but Janeway knew it was completely due to the benevolence of their neighbors who were currently governed by the policies of the Confederation. She had studied enough history to know that could change any time.

"Transporters are nonfunctional within the nebula," Seven reminded the captain, turning her chair so that she could face Janeway. "A shuttle craft, lacking Millennium's multi-phasic shielding, would be vulnerable to the pulses."

"We could adapt one of the delta flyers," Kelly suggested, also shifting her seat around "Bolster the shielding."

"Captain, those 'bubbles' T'Shanik referred to? They're 'dead zones' of some kind, possibly created by the long term effects of the radiation. If intersected, all power, including shields, propulsion and life support, would be disrupted," Nog offered over his shoulder. "It would be very tricky to navigate safely without running into one."

The young lieutenant was merely offering information the captain required in making her decision, but Janeway saw Kelly shoot the Ferengi a quick glance of contempt, as if the first officer suspected the helmsman of some form of cowardice. The captain blinked, suddenly realizing what the woman's problem was with him. She'd have to do something about it and soon. The Ferengi's reputation for caution and avoidance of physical confrontation was legendary ... they preferred to buy or trick their way out of trouble ... but that hardly told the real story of the young officer who had served in Starfleet during the time of the Dominion War. Besides, Janeway would rather have an officer who thought his way out of trouble than one who tried blindly to fight his way out. It was obviously one more lesson Kelly needed in her ambition to become a good captain.

Janeway stifled a sigh and resolved not to think about it at the moment, because when she did, the looming task of teaching Kelly was so daunting, it made her quake inside. Instead, she focused on the need to send an away team over to the vessel. If it proved too dangerous, she wouldn't bother, but she expected her people to accomplish great things as a matter of course.

"Seven, could a delta flyer be modified to transport a team safely?"

The Borg considered the question for a moment, and Janeway took the time to appreciate the play of light on the narrow features, the way the brilliant blue eyes narrowed in thought, and how the muscles in the long neck shifted as Seven tilted her head slightly. The captain suspected the young woman had no idea how adorable she looked when she was concentrating on a problem. Of course, Janeway would be the first to admit that she was somewhat biased in her opinion.

"I would need to confer with Commander Torres," Seven concluded finally. "It is theoretically possible, but she will know if it can actually be done."

Janeway nodded. "Do it. In the meantime, we'll maintain orbit and gather as much information as we can. Commander Kelly, assuming Seven and B'Elanna are successful, I need you to draw up an away team roster."

She took another look at the vessel, wondering if she dared lead the mission and whether it was worth the argument that was bound to arise when she made her intentions clear.

Seven settled into the seat at the ops station on the Delta Wing. Her head still ached slightly from the pointed and somewhat heated argument she had shared with Janeway regarding a suggestion about the captain leading the away mission. It didn't help that Kelly, Ro and B'Elanna had all agreed that Janeway really needed to remain on Millennium. That only made the captain more stubborn, and when the real discussion regarding the suggestion had taken place in the captain's ready room between the Borg and her spouse, far from the hearing and input of the other officers, the Borg had to use every bit of logic she possessed to convince Janeway she should remain behind. Even then, she wasn't sure she had. Sometimes, Seven didn't know if she won those arguments so much as it was Janeway strategically retreating in order to build up her resources for another, more important argument in the future that the Borg would not be able to win.

She did not underestimate the innate wiliness of her commanding officer, having intimate experience with it on several levels.

At the engineering station, B'Elanna took her place, while at the helm, Tom Paris began the pre-launch sequence. Ro made a final check on the cockpit to make sure things were secure before sitting down on the small seat behind Tom. For a second, it was like old times, with the original Delta Flyer and the crew of Voyager off on another adventure, but a glance at the uniforms, including the one that Seven now wore and hadn't then, dissipated the sensation quickly. The young woman dismissed the feeling and returned to work.

The trip over to the alien vessel was uneventful, though Tom had to navigate carefully to avoid the 'void bubbles' that would cause the engines to shut down and strand them in the clear zone. Not that they would have long to complain about going nowhere, since those same bubbles of nothingness would also remove life support, even within the environmental suits they were planning to wear while on the derelict ship.

"Approaching starboard side of the vessel," Tom announced. "I think I can dock."

"Do it," Ro said, sounding very much like her captain at the moment. She glanced over her shoulder at Seven and B'Elanna. "Go suit up."

Seven nodded and rose from her chair, following B'Elanna into the rear compartment where the suits were located. After pulling on the bulky protective garment and checking over B'Elanna's equipment, as the engineer did for her, they ran another scan with the external sensors on the alien ship, making sure there was nothing corrosive in the remaining atmosphere that would damage the material of their suits. By the time they finished, they had docked and Ro had joined them in the mission module, with Tom close on her heels.

"B'Elanna, I want you and Seven to head for the engine room and see if you can't shut down that pulse," she instructed. "Tom and I will check out the cargo bay."

Behind her, Paris looked surprised. "I get to come? I thought I had to stay with the ship."

Ro frowned, shooting him a look. "Why? Are you afraid someone's going to steal it?"

Tom spread his hands. "It's just that the last few missions, I've been stuck holding the fort."

Ro didn't exactly smile, but the corners of her mouth twitched. "Those team leaders were somewhat more by-the-book than I am." She didn't add that was because the captain trusted Ro to run away missions her way, unlike Kelly who had been leading previous missions. "I have no intention of exploring that cargo bay on my own."

Tom offered a charming smile. "I understand, Commander. It's scary being on a death ship."

Ro looked bored. "Don't make me regret bringing you along, Lieutenant."

The emphasis on Tom's reduced rank made the pilot wince as he headed for the compartment containing the suits. Ro ignored him and tapped on the transparent face shield of B'Elanna's headpiece.

"Be careful in there," she said, her voice suddenly gentle. "Remember, communications are disrupted and we're only going to be able to talk to each other if we're in close proximity. Even bulkheads will interfere with the comm signal."

The engineer, who was also Ro's spouse, grinned, revealing slightly pointed teeth. "I'll remember. You be careful, too. You won't have the Borg backup I do."

She flashed the grin in Seven's direction and made a gesture for her to follow. Seven checked her tricorder a final time and entered the cramped confines of the airlock, listening to the hiss as the air was vented. Her breath from the respirator was loud in her ears as the door slid open, allowing them to move across into the other ship's access port. The outer door of the derelict had functioned properly, but the inner one was obviously damaged. B'Elanna needed a moment before she was able to pry off the panel and cross-link the circuits, providing entrance to the ship.

This portion of the derelict had maintained an atmosphere, though it was murky and thick with dust. The readout on Seven's helmet display indicated that it was non-breathable, filled with toxic gases and lacking any significant quantities of oxygen or nitrogen.

"The artificial gravity has been compromised," the Klingon said, her voice sounding very close and intimate, emanating through the privacy comm located near Seven's right ear. "The power circuits are damaged all up and down the ship."

"Yes, Commander."

Seven had already determined the lack of gravity, feeling the magnetic soles of her boots automatically activate and clamp down on the metal deck. The Starfleet officers stepped carefully through the darkened corridor, their head lamps reflecting eerily in the dim atmosphere. Both women hesitated as something moved from a nearby compartment, both turning clumsily in that direction. Dispassionately, Seven realized it was the desiccated body of a ship's crewmember, disturbed by their passage through the dead air, floating toward them almost as if it intended to greet them.

It had curled up in a ball, knees to chest, arms wrapped around them, as if the individual had returned to the fetal position upon death. It was difficult to tell it had been Elthanian, though long white hair still flowed from the mummified scalp, fanning out as it tumbled gently. Seven frowned as B'Elanna reached out to fend it off, inadvertently breaking off a fragile limb, which spun away in another direction.

"Whoops," the engineer said, somewhat irreverently.

"Commander, it behooves us to be as respectful of all the dead, not merely those who may or may not be discovered in the cargo bay." Seven regarded her disapprovingly and the Klingon sighed.

"You're right, 'Nik, cannibal hunting party or not." B'Elanna removed a small packet from a pocket in her suit, unfurling it to reveal a body bag. They were all carrying a significant supply on their persons, having suspected what they would find here. With difficulty, the engineer managed to snag the body and maneuver it into the pouch as Seven retrieved the errant limb and returned it to the engineer.

B'Elanna sealed the bag and attached it to the bulkhead with a magnetic clasp, holding it in place. "Come on," she ordered. "We'll probably run across more on the way to the engine room."

B'Elanna's words were prophetic as they made their way aft. Seven found the task of bagging the remains unpleasant, but not as much as it would be had they been freshly dead, the various bodily fluids not yet evaporated away in the arid atmosphere.

"This is like old times, Seven."

Seven blinked. "I do not remember having cause to deal with the remains of the dead very often in your company."

"I was referring to us being on an away mission together," B'Elanna corrected. There was a hint of exasperation in her voice, and Seven smiled secretly to herself. "We don't get much of a chance to just 'hang out'."

"We have dinner together approximately every two weeks."

"That's all four of us, the captain and Laren included. I mean just the two of us having time together. We hardly talk like we used to."

Seven pursed her lips. "It is the nature of our current assignment," she agreed, not without her own sense of regret. "We rarely have the opportunity to work in close proximity as we did on Voyager. Our responsibilities are different, and so are our daily routines."

"I miss it."

Seven turned her head to meet the Klingon's eyes. "I miss it, as well," she admitted. "I shall make the effort to spend more time with you in the future."

A grin spread over B'Elanna's face and she nodded before returning to the task of easing the contorted remains of what once must have been an engineering officer into the thin, yet strong interior of the bag. They worked quietly for a few more moments. There had been six bodies trapped in this compartment just outside what the Starfleet officers believed was the engine room. Seven wondered if these individuals had been afraid when they died, or if the end had come so quickly, they didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She discovered she was hoping it was the latter, and wondered at this sentimentality. She really was becoming very human, she thought in disapproval.

"These don't much look like the Elthanians we know and love," B'Elanna remarked, sealing up the bag. She shot a mischievous glance at the Borg through the face shield. "Correction, the Elthanians that know and love you."

Seven sighed. "I do not believe Tazna Jade loved me," she informed the engineer. Perhaps she did not miss this part of their interaction so much, she thought wryly. Seven's love life had always been a topic of great interest to the Klingon. "She was merely attracted to me, finding me something of a challenge."

"Her and the rest of the known universe. I hear you shot down Madison the other night. I can't believe he actually thought he stood a chance with you."

"He did not realize I was married.

"He still wouldn't have stood a chance with you," B'Elanna noted knowingly. "He's a jerk."

Seven considered it. "He was somewhat inept in his approach."

"Good thing Janeway doesn't know. She'd have him scrubbing out plasma relays the rest of the mission. Or have you told her?"

"It was an irrelevant incident." Seven paused, and despite her better instincts, found herself adding, "Do you think I should?" B'Elanna's advice regarding personal matters was rarely useful, but Seven couldn't help falling into old patterns, even as she recognized what she was doing.

"Well, if she hears it from someone else, she could go ballistic. You know how jealous she is."

"For no reason."

B'Elanna laughed. "She thinks she has plenty of reasons. I bet she wouldn't have been as quick to grab you for herself if she'd known how hard it was to keep all the other hopefuls at bay."

"I do not require Kathryn's protection when it comes to these matters." Seven was a bit piqued. "I am quite capable of handling advances from others. Her jealousy can occasionally be flattering, but overall, it is an indication of her need for control. I have to remind her on occasion that I am the one person on the ship over which her control is exceedingly limited, particularly in personal matters."

B'Elanna paused in her motion. "Who are you trying to kid, Seven? We both know that if Janeway asked you to jump off a bridge, you'd do it without complaint."

Seven lifted a brow. "So would you," she pointed out reasonably. "That has nothing to do with her being my spouse, and everything to do with her being the captain we trust with our lives. We know implicitly that she would not ask anything of us that was not absolutely necessary."

The Klingon blinked, becoming more sober and less jocular in her tone as she pursued the conversation. "Fair enough, but isn't that hard? Not only is she your wife, she's your captain."

Seven considered that. "You are assuming that she holds the same dominant position within our personal relationship that she does in our professional life."

"Doesn't she?"

"Only as much as I allow it," Seven said with absolute certainty. "In truth, it is Kathryn who would 'leap from a bridge' if I requested it. My demands are not always as reasonable as hers."

B'Elanna looked at her, obviously surprised by the admission. "No kidding?"

Seven lifted one shoulder briefly in a small shrug. "As an example, Kathryn is not, by nature, domestically disciplined. She enjoys a certain amount of clutter in her existence, particularly when working on personal projects. Yet, with me, she is scrupulously neat, picking up after herself immediately. I demand that of her, demand that she go against her basic nature in order to satisfy my desire for organization and structure. In contrast, I have not adjusted to become untidy for her."

"That's such a small thing," the Klingon scoffed.

"It is indicative of the greater adaptation she has made being married to me," Seven insisted. "Kathryn is fiercely independent, even when she believes she is part of team. In truth, she is only part of the 'team' when she is in command of it. In our marriage, that is not the case. Occasionally, there are disagreements about how we shall adapt, but ultimately, we share equal influence in the relationship. Furthermore, I am aware that Kathryn would do absolutely anything to please me if I were to make it a demand. She would even give up her command. It would not make her happy in the long term, but I absolutely believe she would take that step if I asked it of her. No one else in her life has ever held that power over her."

Her eyes grew distant. "I know that had I decided to remain on Earth in order to be close to my mother, Kathryn would have stayed with me. It would have required her to give up everything, not only her command, but possibly her commission in Starfleet. That is more important to her than I think even she realizes. It is her strongest tie to her father, and the most important touchstone in who she believes herself to be, yet she would walk away from it without hesitation simply to be with me. That knowledge is more powerful than any minor disagreement we may have regarding our respective roles in our relationship."

B'Elanna was staring at her, eyes dark. "That's an impressive thing to be aware of," she said finally, in a quiet voice.

Seven nodded somberly. "I must never take advantage of that part of her."

B'Elanna tilted her head, a sudden awareness dawning in her eyes. "But isn't that what you did earlier today?"

Startled, Seven looked at her. "I do not understand."

"Isn't that why you asked to see Janeway in her ready room after she said she wanted to lead the away mission? It wasn't really to discuss the scientific implications of the derelict, like you pretended; it was really to talk her out of coming along. After you came out, that's when she appointed Laren the leader and announced she and Kelly would remain on the ship. What did you say to her in there?"

Seven handled this one carefully. "The captain did not truly wish to lead the mission. It was merely a passing fancy. Had she truly desired to command the away team, nothing I could say would have made a difference and she would now be here. That is not the sort of decision to which I am referring."

B'Elanna looked askance at her, but didn't say anything further. Seven had the sense that the Klingon didn't quite believe her, but that was irrelevant. Perhaps she could not explain the combination of tolerant acceptance and respectful compromises that comprised her relationship with Janeway, but it wasn't necessary that she do so. It was enough that she was aware of it when she approached the issues that arose between them.

As she followed B'Elanna into the engine room, she wondered how that partnership of give and take would apply when she informed the captain she intended to halt her progression toward Humanity.

"Prophets."

Ro looked around the spacious cargo hold, row after row of Raelien bodies stretching out before her for the entire length of the bay. She had seen some horrific sights during her life, particularly after ten years in a Cardassian internment camp, but never anything like this. Gutted and skinned, without heads or appendages, the corpses hung on hooks throughout the cargo bay, making it look like nothing more than one gigantic meat locker. Of course, considering the point of view they were dealing with, a meat locker was exactly what it was. In Elthanian eyes, these weren't the bodies of the conquered or even the enslaved. These were the carcasses of food animals on their way back to the Elthania of four hundred years ago, intended to feed a starving population.

She wasn't sure why it felt worse to her than what the Cardassians had done to many Bajorans during the Occupation, how they had sometimes displayed tortured and mutilated bodies of prisoners as a warning to the resistance. Dead was dead, and for all she knew, the Elthanians had adapted their hunting technique to cause death to come swiftly and without fuss, for no other reason than to prevent the prey from harming the meat while thrashing around in pain.

Still, she doubted she'd ever be able to speak to another Elthanian without this vision of death popping into her head, whether it was ancient history or not.

"This is going to take some time."

Ro shot a look over at the helmsman. "I guess we'd better get started then." She paused. "Are we going to be able to transport all of these over in the Delta Wing? Not to mention the crew bodies that Lanna and Seven are probably bagging? That's going to take several hours. We'll only be able to move a few of them at a time through the corridors."

Tom looked around with an evaluating eye. "We won't have to put them inside, Commander. We can string all the body bags together and tow them back to Millennium behind the flyer. Better yet, there's a cargo net over there in the corner that looks serviceable. We can toss all the bags in it, open the cargo bay doors, back up the flyer and attach the net at one place. That'll make it easier to unload over in Millennium's hangar, as well."

"Well, that's certainly respectful," Ro noted sardonically.

Tom turned to look at her. It's efficient," he countered soberly. "We don't have to tell the Raeliens the logistical details. The captain can dress it up anyway she wants when she finally hands them over. Besides, judging from the looks of the bodies, they'd better be in sealed caskets when she gives them back no matter how we retrieve them."

Ro thought about it. "I suppose you're right," she said finally, with a sigh. "Let's get this done."

The two officers set to work, spreading the cargo net over the deck as a place to hold the bodies, occasionally making a comment that wasn't as reverent as perhaps the task required. The Bajoran knew it was their way of keeping the horror at bay, at maintaining some kind of even keel in these surroundings. The black humor, the need to put distance between themselves and what they were doing, was ever present.

Tom removed some smaller carcasses from the metal hooks. "Their version of veal, I guess."

"Something like that," Ro returned, though her stomach did a little flip.

Those had been children, the same type that had greeted the rescued Raeliens at the airlock during the rescue mission. Cute as buttons, chattering nonstop as they danced around the large and clumsy aliens escorting the patients back to their people, the Starfleet security squad had found them absolutely adorable, as they tended to do with the young of most alien species. Ro had led the detail, and decided then and there that she'd better stop thinking about it or she'd never be able to finish this unpleasant job without embarrassing herself.

Searching for something ... anything ... to take her mind off it, she glanced at Tom and ventured something that she never would have asked under ordinary circumstances, not only because she didn't give a damn about the man who had once held B'Elanna's heart and bruised it so casually, but because she tried to stay out of any personal details that didn't concern her.

"How are things with you and Kes?"

She had startled him, she saw, but he didn't hesitate in responding. "We're good. We moved in together a month ago."

"So I heard." Gamely, Ro tried to keep the conversation going. "I'm glad things are going well."

"Thank you." Tom looked at her oddly. "Uh, how about you and B'Elanna?" He didn't even stumble over it. Apparently, he really was over the Klingon and had moved on, happy in his new life with the Ocampa psychologist.

"Good. We're talking about having kids." She realized she shouldn't have said that, but her surroundings caused her to take less care with her words than normal.

Tom paused, looking at her for a moment before slowly resuming his task. "Really? Congratulations. I don't think I ever thought of B'Elanna as a mom, but hell, why not. She'll probably be great."

Ro couldn't quite figure out whether to be insulted by the comment, before deciding it wasn't worth it. Tom was Tom, and he wasn't going to change no matter how long she knew him. "What about you and Kes? Talked about it?"

"No, it's too early for that."

Tom grunted as he lifted another bag onto the stack rising in the center of the net. The artificial gravity was in full force here, though off in the various corridors, and unfortunately, the Elthanians tended to like theirs at a half-G heavier than Earth normal. It made the job more difficult than it had to be, particularly in the environmental suits, but Ro didn't know how to fix it, and she didn't want to call B'Elanna or Seven away from their job of shutting down that energy pulse in order to take a look at the emitters.

"Besides, I want to be a little further ahead with my life before I propose."

Ro laid her bag carefully on the pile and turned to look at the helmsman. There had been just the slightest hint of bitterness in the words. "Regrets?"

Tom sighed, the sound loud in the speaker next to her ear. "Not about staying with Kes. Never that, but sometimes it's damned hard to play the role of a junior lieutenant again."

Ro wasn't entirely unsympathetic, but she knew the details and it had been solely Paris's choice. "Part of the job."

"I know, but I'm a damned good officer, Ro. It kills me to give up my station when there's a red alert."

"Nog's chief helmsman and alpha shift officer," Ro reminded. "That's how it works."

"I'm a better pilot than he is."

There was no boasting in Tom's voice. It was a statement of fact, and furthermore, Ro knew it too. Nog wasn't bad, but he didn't have near the experience, the skill or frankly, the innate talent that Tom had. She could see where it would be difficult to hand over the helm of Millennium, particularly when things were going wrong around them. But there was no way that Janeway could promote Tom to Nog's position, not as things stood. That had been Tom's doing. He could have been helming the Enterprise now. Instead, he deliberately took a demotion as punishment for imprudent actions during Millennium's first year, actions that never would have been officially noted were it not for Tom demanding they be added to the captain's log.

"The sacrifices we make for love," she said laconically.

Tom laughed painfully. "You got that right."

Ro shook her head, the motion hidden from her companion in the shadows of her helmet, and reached up for the next corpse, lifting the frozen mass from the hook. Heavier than she expected, she dropped it. It hit the deck with a meaty thud, and she swallowed back the urge to apologize to whoever this had been.

"Where do you suppose the heads and appendages are?"

"I don't know," Ro said quietly.

"Hmm, made into soup, most likely and eaten by the crew, along with the organs."

Ro closed her eyes, holding back the threatened nausea. "Is there a reason you're fascinated by this, Tom?" she demanded irascibly, once she had her gorge under control.

"I'm just making conversation."

"Pick another topic."

There was a brief, offended silence, but just when Ro thought that she would finish the mission out in peace, Tom resumed the conversation.

"So how many kids?"

"What?"

"How many kids are you and B'Elanna planning to have?"

Ro sighed. "I think we're just going to worry about the one for now."

"Boy or girl?"

Ro made a quick count of the remaining corpses and decided it was time to use a little command prerogative. "I don't know, Tom. Whatever." She stepped back from the pitiful pile in the center of the cargo bay. "I'm going to see how B'Elanna and Seven are doing. Finish up here. I'll meet you back at the shuttle."

Tom straightened, staring at her. "By myself?"

Ro lifted her hand in a wave as she headed for the door. "I know it's scary being on a death ship, Lieutenant, but you're the one who wanted to come on the away mission."

She found it easier to breathe once she was out in the corridors, though she continued to encounter body bags lining the bulkhead. Switching off the magnetic soles of her boots, she used the guide rod installed on the ceiling to pull herself along hand over hand, finding it much quicker and a little more entertaining than walking. As she approached the engine room, she keyed her communication system into the privacy circuit the other two were using, in time to hear her partner speaking.

"...bypass the manifold, we should be able to eject the fuel cell and prevent any further buildup."

"Acceptable. By doing so, we can..."

The link faded out briefly as Ro swung down and made contact with the deck, activating her boots. The door was half open, and she had to force it open a little further to make it through without getting caught up by her suit.

B'Elanna and Seven looked back as she entered, their headlamps bouncing jerkily in the murky atmosphere.

"What's our status?"

"Commander Torres has proposed a plan to eject the fuel cells," Seven replied. B'Elanna had returned to work as soon as she identified the newcomer, her breath harsh in Ro's ear as she used a spanner to probe deep inside a panel. "If we calculate the spin and drift pattern of the vessel, we should be able to eject it directly in a void bubble, thus rendering it inert."

"Good idea. How soon before you're finished?"

"I'll need about another hour or so," B'Elanna spoke up. "Where are we on the body retrieval detail?"

"Tom has to finish in the cargo bay, and we also have to gather the Elthanian remains from around the ship. I would like you to remote time the ejection. If the eject cycle doesn't work, or you miss the void bubble, we may have to destroy the fuel cell quickly, and we'll have to do it from the Delta Wing. I want everything secure before that happens."

"I'll set it up that way," B'Elanna agreed.

Ro glanced at the Borg. "Are you needed here, Seven, or can you assist me in gathering up the Elthanians?"

The suited figure dipped her head. "I will assist you, Commander."

"Will you be all right here alone, 'Lanna?"

A soft chuckle sounded in the Bajoran's ear. "I don't think the ship is haunted, Laren, and even if it was, I'm not the sort that's scared of ghosts."

"Fair enough." Ro motioned at Seven and the Borg followed her as she left the engine room.

"We did not check any compartments exposed to hard vacuum," Seven noted as they began the grisly task of picking up the random body bags and dragging them to the cargo bay. It was easy to maneuver them in the corridors without gravity, but when they neared the hold, there was a point where they abruptly dropped to the deck and both women had to be careful that the impact didn't shatter the contents.

"No need," Ro grunted as she wrestled the bag through the cargo bay door. "Bodies exposed to vacuum would have been blasted out into space by the explosive decompression. Those remains are probably floating around the nebula."

Seven paused. "I am aware of the effects of decompression, Commander. I was referring to those bodies that may have been held by restraints, or were caught by some obstruction in their passage to the outside. In any event, it would be prudent to check the bridge to see if any information can be retrieved from the main computer."

"Damn, you would think of that, wouldn't you?" Ro exhaled explosively. "You're right, Seven. If we're doing this job, I guess we have to do it right."

"You and I will just have to take a trip to the bridge."

"May I ask you something, Captain?"

Most of the crew knew that when her partner was on an away mission, it was not the best time to ask idle questions of Janeway. In fact, it wasn't really the time to ask important questions either. Most of them had learned to speak only when spoken to or stayed out of her way altogether. Apparently, this was yet another of the multitude of lessons Kiara Kelly needed to learn if she expected to survive her tour of duty on Millennium.

"Go ahead," the captain said tightly. The first officer was standing next to her chair, speaking in a low voice, and Janeway wondered if she really wanted to hear the question that obviously wasn't for public consumption by the rest of the bridge crew who were smart enough not to even look in the captain's direction.

"I initially assigned M'Reek to the away mission. Why did you override that choice and assign Commander Ro?" Kelly's tone was stiff but respectful. She was obviously trying to understand why Janeway did the things she did rather than become angry at them and file it away as yet another thing to resent.

The captain, on the other hand, decided she preferred it when Kelly was avoiding her, rather than seeking her out for command lessons. She exhaled slowly, keeping her voice calm.

"For future reference, Number One, if the chief science officer is assigned an away mission, then Commander Ro will always accompany her. No lesser security detail is sufficient."

Kelly regarded her for a moment, and Janeway wondered if she was going to question the instruction, perhaps even demand to know why Seven was accorded such special treatment. She might even ask if the Borg was untrustworthy in some manner to require the chief security officer be present on her away missions.

Instead, Kelly appeared to absorb the comment, nodded knowingly, and retreated to her station. Janeway decided that someone must have filled the young woman in regarding the captain and Seven's marital status, which was something of a relief. That or the first officer thought that since this was a science vessel, then the chief science officer was the most valuable member of the crew and needed the best security officer on the ship to protect her.

Looking back at the screen, Janeway wished she had overridden Seven's protest about leading the away mission. Nor did it help her peace of mind that communication was so disrupted in the nebula. They didn't know what was going on over in the derelict beyond what their sensors could detect. Those devices had recorded the delta flyer's careful approach to the ship, noted that the docking had been conducted safely and securely, and that four lifesigns were now moving about on board the vessel. Kelly had glanced back at the captain when the last piece of information had come in, as if wondering why Janeway didn't object to the ignored protocol of always having a presence maintained on the Starfleet shuttle. The captain didn't enlighten her, merely nodded at the report from T'Shanik, and remained seated in her chair, staring intently at the viewscreen as if sheer willpower could somehow enable her to see what was going on inside.

The turbolift door hissed open and Janeway glanced over to see Kes enter the bridge. She wondered what the ship's counselor was doing there, and then realized that she must be concerned about Tom. The captain needed to remember that she wasn't the only loved one that had to remain behind. At least B'Elanna and Ro were together and she didn't have an agitated Klingon on her hands, though B'Elanna had always seemed to be more comfortable with her spouse being away than most. Or perhaps she was just better at hiding it than others.

Kes moved over to the captain's chair, a diminutive woman with shaggy blonde hair and large blue eyes. "What's the status of the away team?" Her voice was musical, gentle, and despite her unease, Janeway was soothed just hearing it.

""We know they're on board the vessel and that they're doing something," the captain informed her." Beyond that, we have no idea. Communication signals can't reach us as long as we remain in the nebula."

"And if we entered the clear zone?"

Janeway lifted her chin. "I can't justify that," she said firmly. "There's too much risk that the ship will be caught in one of those void bubbles. For all we know, that's what damaged the derelict to begin with."

But she knew if there was a distress call, or the slightest hint of trouble, she would order the ship into the clear zone without a second thought.

Suddenly, the confines of the bridge were too much for her and she stood up abruptly. "Commander, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room. Let me know instantly if anything changes."

"Aye, Captain," Kelly said, glancing at her once before taking the comm.

Janeway strode briskly into her ready room, feeling a sense of relief as the door hissed shut behind her. Here, she could pace freely, without restraint, giving in to the boiling emotions inside without having to worry about her command persona or how nervous it made her crew to see their captain prowling about like a caged animal. She was on her second circuit of the upper ramp when the door slid open to admit the ship's counselor

Janeway paused by the sofa and looked down at Kes with a foreboding expression.

"I hope you're not here to analyze me."

The Ocampa looked up at her, her head slightly tilted. "I'm your friend, Kathryn. Right now, you look as if you could use one."

Janeway frowned as she considered that, but in the end, she didn't order Kes to leave. Instead, she resumed her pacing as the other woman gracefully moved to the upper level and took a seat in the armchair. The counselor watched patiently as the captain tried to work out her agitation in constant motion, sweeping through the ready room as if she could somehow find the answer she needed if only she traveled far enough.

"Damn it, this should get easier," Janeway finally erupted "Not harder."

Kes tilted her head. "Why? Does Seven become less precious to you over time?"

The captain stopped and looked at the Ocampa. "Of course not."

"Then don't expect it to become easier." Kes smiled faintly. "We've had this conversation before, Kathryn. It doesn't change. I suspect if it ever does, it will be indicative of something being seriously wrong in your relationship with her."

"That's just wonderful," the captain growled as she resumed her pacing. Kes watched her passively, almost as if she found a sort of peace, with Janeway providing the physical outlet for whatever fears and doubts the counselor may have harbored. Eventually, the captain grew tired of the futility of it and took a seat on the sofa, regarding the ship's counselor warily.

"So you don't have any advice for me?"

Kes looked mildly surprised. "Regarding?"

"This situation. My approach to it. How I should be approaching it."

The Ocampa's smile grew. "Are you asking my professional opinion?"

"Yes."

Kes shook her head. "I won't give it. I don't take friends on as patients. It would be unwise, and I've already given you my opinion as a friend. This is just something you'll have to accept as an ongoing aggravation and learn to deal with it. You can't change it."

Janeway stared at her, nonplused. She had finally broken down enough to ask a psychologist for assistance and had been turned down flat. She had no idea what to do next, and it took a while before she could find her voice.

"Are you saying that I have no access to you as a counselor?"

"Of course not. I'm merely saying that you, as an individual, will not become my patient, but I'm more than glad to give my professional opinion regarding anything to do with the ship and its crew. Take Commander Kelly, for example."

"Would you?"

Kes smiled at the wistfulness in the captain's voice. "It's no secret that you two have been having problems. That's not a good thing on a starship, though in this case, it's less of a problem than it would be otherwise."

"Why?" Janeway was keenly interested, and if the conversation momentarily took her mind off her spouse and the potential danger Seven was in, so much the better.

"Because you're so strong as a captain, and the rest of your bridge crew is solid," Kes explained. "The crew has grown to understand that we'll be taking on a new first officer every mission. Because of that, they tend to look to Ro and Seven for secondary leadership, and to the medical sector, including myself, for emotional guidance. They really don't need a first officer."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing," the captain said dryly.

"It is," Kes insisted. "Otherwise, Kelly's difficulty in fitting in would be far more complicated, impacting on the crew far more than it does. I'm sure the same thing will happen next year, should we take on another exec." She lifted a finger for emphasis. "Starfleet can't have it both ways, Captain, and neither can you. If you want the crew to rise above the problems a temporary first officer can bring, then you can't expect them to regard the position the same way they would were an officer assigned to it permanently. They certainly can't offer it the same respect."

"I should have kept Zar," Janeway sighed, "but I couldn't justify holding him back from his first command." She shook her head. "Maybe I can convince Starfleet to assign Ro for the next mission."

Kes lifted a brow. "So you don't believe Kelly will be able to grow into the position?"

Janeway shrugged. "Honestly, I doubt it, but maybe she doesn't have to. Maybe she just needs to learn there's a lot she doesn't know before she moves on to her next assignment."

"What if they assign her to you?" Horrified, Janeway stared at her and Kes started to laugh. "There's no question that she'd learn a lot from you, especially if you can break through that wall she's created."

"It's taken me this long just to have a civil conversation with her." Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Damn it, Kes, aren't you supposed to be making me feel better?"

"Not as your friend, nor even if I were your psychologist, Kathryn," the Ocampa informed her. "The best I can do is offer another angle on things that you already know deep down inside, and frankly, are smart enough to figure out by yourself if you'd only try."

Janeway started to respond to that outrageous statement when there was a hail from the bridge.

"Captain, I think you'd better get out here."

Janeway was halfway to the door before she realized she had even started to move, exploding onto the bridge as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.

"What is it?"

"The Delta Wing has undocked from the ship, but there are only two lifesigns on board."

"What?!?"

Kelly shot her a look as if she hoped Janeway didn't really want her to repeat it, and the captain forced herself to calm down, taking hold of her emotions with a grip of steel. "Where are the other two?"

"Still on board the vessel, near what appears to be the bridge," T'Shanik reported. "There's no atmosphere in that section, and a hull breach has exposed it to hard vacuum."

"Why are they there?"

"Undoubtedly Lt. Hansen or Commander Ro found it worth investigating," Kelly suggested quietly. "Perhaps they're attempting to download the ship's logs."

Janeway considered that as she sat down in her command chair. She was vaguely aware of Kes taking a spot at one of the auxiliary stations as the ship continued to monitor the progress of the away mission.

"What's the Delta Wing doing?"

Nog glanced over his shoulder. "There was a venting of gas twenty minutes before the flyer began to maneuver, Captain. I believe they opened the cargo bay doors to vacuum and are now attempting to enter the hold itself."

"Why?"

"Perhaps to make it easier to transfer whatever was in the cargo bay to the flyer."

Janeway propped her elbow up on the arm of her chair and rested her chin on her knuckles. "Unfortunately, we'll have to wait until they return before we know for sure."

And that was the worst part, the waiting, the never knowing, the standing by helpless to do a damn thing while Seven was gone. Kes was right. It would never change and it would never get better.

All she could hope for was that it would never get worse.

"I wish you hadn't remembered this, Seven," Ro muttered as she tried to scrap something organic off what looked like the helm.

The Starfleet officers hadn't found bodies on the bridge, only pieces of them, none of which larger than a breadbox, though Seven wasn't precisely sure what a breadbox was, only that the Bajoran had indicated these pieces were smaller than it. The Borg did not respond to what was clearly a rhetorical comment and resumed her work at another station, attempting to access the ship's computer. After so many years exposed to vacuum and the hard radiation of space, it was not cooperative, but Seven wasn't about to let an ancient and obsolete device defeat her. She'd assimilate it if she had to.

Ro finished what she was doing and moved over to the Borg, resting her hands on the console across from the young woman. "Any luck?"

"Not as yet," Seven replied absently as she focused on the panel, trying to figure out the best way to work her way into it before attempting another tact. It stubbornly resisted her efforts and in an uncharacteristic burst of anger, she slapped the metallic top, denting it significantly. "This is unacceptable!"

"Prophets."

Ro was staring at her soberly, and Seven exhaled.

"My apologies, Commander."

"No need to apologize, Seven. I've just never seen you give into frustration like that before." The Bajoran paused. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Uncertainly, the Borg looked at her. Through the face shield, the narrow features were kind, the dark eyes compassionate. Seven did not know Ro Laren as well as she knew others in her life, certainly not as well as she did B'Elanna. There