• This is the 45th installment in the Just Between Series.
• It was posted September 29th, 2000.
• Special thank you to Kim who provided a suggestion for a particular scene. She knows which one. *G*
• Another thanks to MJ who reminded me exactly what Ro would have to deal with once she was home, and provided the impetus for a most interesting encounter.

Seven of Nine gazed through the viewport at the M-Class planet hanging against the backdrop of unfamiliar stars, fascinated by the first sight of the planet she was about to visit. This was the homeworld of the Trill, a joined species of humanoid hosts and small vermiform known as symbionts, a lush planet of purple and green, swirled with white weather patterns. Lavender tinged oceans, thick with the crill, provided nutrition to a tremendous variety of life, while the land masses were a deep emerald and chocolate brown. Jungle and deserts with nothing in-between were all, many claimed, that could be found on the Trill homeworld... except for the brilliant white of the Tenaran ice cliffs located in the upper hemisphere. The young woman hoped to be able to see that remarkable landmark for herself, as well as investigate the caves of Mak'ala during her visit to the planet.

Glancing over her shoulder at the rest of her companions, Seven wondered if they were also anticipating this visit. Piloting the private yacht, DragonFlight, Lt. Ro Laren frowned over her controls as she communicated with planetary transport control, securing an approach vector and a berth at the Trill orbital space station. Meanwhile, lounging in the passenger seat at the rear of the cockpit, Phoebe Janeway, Seven's sister-in-law, made sketches on a pad of paper. It was an archaic medium in the 24^th Century, but since the artist was also a Traditionalist, it was to be expected that she would eschew advanced technology whenever possible.

The young woman tossed her head, flipping her long, curly, dark red hair back over her shoulder, then glanced up to meet Seven's gaze, her level grey eyes warming perceptibly. "Excited, Annika?" she asked, using the ex-drone's Human designation.

"I am ... anticipating our arrival on Trill," Seven agreed, which for the icy blonde, was as enthusiastic as she tended to get. Phoebe understood and smiled widely.

"There'll be a lot to visit. I'll have to spend a certain amount of each day at the symposium, of course, but I've set aside enough free time for us to sightsee."

The artist glanced at the Bajoran at the front of the ship's cockpit, and a fleeting expression of dissatisfaction crossed her face. Seven knew Phoebe hadn't been exactly thrilled to discover the ex-security officer was accompanying them, but the Bajoran apparently had a deep and abiding interest in Trill culture, a hobby that Seven had never suspected prior to her spouse telling her about it. Naturally, Seven had sought out the Bajoran and invited her along. Ro had been very grateful, to the point of providing the use of a privately owned ship, though the Borg had no idea where the Bajoran had acquired it, or whom she knew who could lend her such a yacht. It was a vast improvement ... according to a seasoned traveler like Phoebe ... over the commercial liners, though it had done little to soften the artist's stance against the Bajoran. Seven still wasn't entirely sure why her sister-in-law was so wary of Ro.

"What aspect of Trill art interests you most, Lieutenant?" Phoebe asked, with the same cool, if polite, tone she had used when speaking to the other woman during most of the three-day journey from Earth.

"I have a decided preference for the D'horna masters," Ro replied shortly, over her shoulder. It was not the first time Phoebe had asked such a question, and Seven wondered if the artist was somehow testing the Bajoran. If so, Phoebe had not discovered anything beyond the short, precise ... and, so far as Seven knew ... accurate answers that Ro had offered. The Starfleet officer glanced over at Seven. "You'd better strap in, Seven. We're on final approach."

On a private transport such as this, the pilot was always in command, and Seven obligingly made her way to the nearest seat, securing herself with the strong straps that fit over her chest and stomach. Through the fore viewport, past Ro's dark head, she could see the orbital station they were nearing, the spiky architecture typical of Trill design, and felt the pace of her heart pick up just a little as the ship eased into its berth. There was a subtle jolt as the vessel connected to the airlock, the Borg waiting through the other jolts caused by umbilicals and magnetic clamps that indicated that the vessel was being fully secured to the station, before Ro shut down her helm. Various lights, scattered across the touch pad, became dark, though a few remained dimly lit, indicating power was still being channeled in the circuits, ready for future activation.

Seven unfastened her webbing and rose from her seat, aware of a distinct excitement rising within her. This was the first time she had ever visited a planet for the sole purpose of peacefully exploring a known culture, and despite missing Kathryn constantly, it still provided her with a sort of excitement, combined with the belief that she was going to enjoy herself. She wondered if this was a sign of her adaptation to living in the United Federation of Planets now, rather than how she had existed as a crewmember of Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. There, she and her fellow crewmates had to be constantly on guard against unexpected threats while visiting unfamiliar planets and cultures. She had initially dismissed the importance of being a Federation citizen, but now she realized that sense of security was allowing her to concentrate fully on enjoying her trip rather than being intent on accomplishing a task as part of an away team.

Her luggage consisted of one large carryall, and after retrieving it from her small cabin at the rear of the vessel, she slipped the long strap of the bag over her shoulder, and returned to the cockpit. Janeway had packed it before Seven's departure, assuring the young woman that everything she would need would be in it, plus a few things that would probably not be required, but might be nice to have along. There had been a bit of an odd expression in the captain's eyes as she said that, so Seven suspected that there were a few surprises in the luggage that remained undiscovered. She just hadn't had the chance to completely empty the bag during the trip from McKinley Station to Trill to see what exactly had been packed.

It took some time for the three women to work through the various inspection areas of the station. Since the Dominion war that had involved the entire Alpha Quadrant in a struggle against an aggressive civilization from the Gamma Quadrant, the regulations and rules regarding the entry of visitors to even the most peaceful planets were more stringent and formal. Seven maintained her patience, as did Ro and Phoebe, and eventually, they made it to the transporter area where they beamed down to the planet itself. Materializing in a travel center that serviced one of the larger cities on the planet, they were directed to ground vehicles waiting outside, helmed by helpful Trill transport personnel. Ro requested an address that Phoebe did not recognize.

"I made reservations at the Hotel Braharni," the artist objected as they climbed into the rear seat of the hovercraft.

"Since you were so kind as to invite me along, I took the liberty of securing rooms at the Daxina Retreat," the Bajoran explained smoothly. "At my expense, of course. It's much closer to the university where the symposium is being held."

Phoebe blinked. "That's a rather exclusive resort," she said doubtfully, though she looked vaguely pleased. "Quite expensive." She paused, then added bluntly, "How does a Starfleet lieutenant afford that?"

Ro regarded her blandly. "Seven years of back credit, as well as a substantial discount for Starfleet officers. Apparently, Trill is still very grateful for the ships sent here to protect the planet from Jem'Hadar invasion."

"Oh," Phoebe said, obviously taken aback. "I didn't know about the discount. That's quite thoughtful of you. Thank you, Lt. Ro."

Seven, listening intently to this conversation, had the distinct impression that Ro was not being entirely forthcoming. She didn't know why she thought that exactly, but she wondered if it wasn't the officer's almost lackadaisical attitude that was arousing her suspicions. During the time Seven had known Ro, she had developed a sense of constantly contained energy from the Bajoran, a restrained tension ready to be unleashed at any moment, disdaining the need for comfort or luxury, considering such indulgence as unnecessary weakness. This indolent appeal for Phoebe's approval was a side of Ro that Seven didn't recognize, and it occurred to her that perhaps, like most of the Voyager crew who had returned to the Alpha Quadrant after seven years, the officer had been forced to change what had been her standard operating procedure in the Delta Quadrant to an attitude more in keeping with the society of the Federation. Or perhaps this was simply what Ro was like when she wasn't on starship duty.

If so, Seven wasn't sure she liked it, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

The resort the vehicle took them to was a large, sprawling, very elegant building set within a lush park-like area, located directly in the heart of the city. Even with her limited experience with commerce and monetary exchange, Seven was able to deduce that this was an area reserved for a select few who could afford it. She saw many of the short, stocky beings known as Ferengi among the guests, a ready indication that this was a place where significant deals could be made amid the civilized atmosphere of a vacation resort populated by lavishly garbed Trill citizens and offworld visitors.

Ro had arranged a three-bedroom suite for the women, with a balcony that overlooked a sparkling, lavender-tinted pool below, bordered by professionally tended gardens that stretched to the four meter high stone walls keeping the rest of the city at bay. The three women took a moment to avail themselves of the view, breathing in the air perfumed by a profusion of flowers spread beneath them in a colorful array.

"Too bad this balcony doesn't have direct access to the pool," Phoebe said, but it was a token complaint only. For the most part, the young woman was overwhelmed by the Bajoran's generosity, and she seemed to realize that she was being somewhat ungracious. "Not that we need it," she said, offering Ro a smile. "This is wonderful, Lieutenant."

"Please, call me Laren while we're on vacation," Ro responded pleasantly.

"If you truly require direct access, Phoebe," Seven suggested, evaluating the distance from the balcony to the ground dispassionately, "you could always climb down utilizing the vines secured to the building."

Phoebe shot her a look as if suspecting she was being teased, while Ro shook her head, a serious expression in her dark eyes. "No, she couldn't. Those are t'karni vines."

Ro moved back into the suite before Seven could ask what that meant. Phoebe seemed to notice her confusion and drew the Borg over to one side of the balcony. "T'karni vines," the artist said, pointing at the growth winding its way up the side of the structure not far away. On closer inspection, Seven could see a less attractive aspect of the greenery. "They're covered with thorns that exude an acid-based poisonous sap for protection. Anyone attempting to climb them would find themselves in a great deal of trouble very quickly."

Seven blinked. "Indeed. Why would such vegetation be used for a resort?"

Phoebe considered it, then shrugged. "Well, they look beautiful at a distance and blossom with those lovely golden flowers. Then, there's always the security factor."

"Security?" Seven repeated, feeling a slight nudge at the back of her brain, though why that warning tingle shot along her spine was not immediately clear.

Phoebe offered her a bit of a sardonic expression. "A lot of very wealthy and influential people stay in resorts like this. It would be bad for business if a thief or assassin could climb into the rooms."

As Phoebe returned to the suite, the Borg regarded the lovely vegetation in a new light, wondering if the beauty and luxury of this establishment were why Ro had chosen it for their stay on Trill ... or if something deeper was at work here. She filed it away as something she would have to pursue later, and slipped through the balcony doors into the living area, noticing that Ro was at the comm system while Phoebe relaxed on the sofa, studying the padd with the hotel restaurant menu. Seven picked up her bag,that had been placed near the door of one of the bedrooms, and carried it inside, glancing around the room that would be hers for the duration of her stay.

She tried not to notice the generous size and obvious comfort of the bed as she placed her luggage on it in preparation of unpacking, shoving aside the thought of how much she would have loved rolling around on it with her spouse. Kathryn was not with her and she was simply going to have to deal with that fact, the Borg reminded herself. Instead, she would concentrate on enjoying herself as much as possible, as well as taking this time to investigate the Trill Ministry of Technology, a institution which had invited her to become a member of its scientific collective. She had no intention of joining them, of course, having already decided to join Dr. Leah Brahms' Theoretical Propulsion Group on Mars, but she was still very interested in the work the Trill were doing, particularly in connection with artificial worm holes. She had an appointment to meet with Dr. Lenara Kahn, who would be giving her a tour of the facilities. Seven had been corresponding with the scientist for some time, and she hoped to be able to discuss some of the more intriguing aspects of Kahn's research in person.

As she unpacked her bag, Seven was surprised to discover a padd tucked unobtrusively in an interior side pocket. Curiously, she pulled it out and activated it, feeling somewhat odd as she saw an image of her partner appear in the small screen.

"Hello, darling." Janeway's husky voice was a caress in the Borg's ears. "I just wanted you to know how much I love you and that I'm missing you. I trust that you're having a wonderful time with Phoebe and Ro. I've included some files to help you remember we're married in case you start to forget about me." Seven flicked an eyebrow, wondering how Kathryn would even consider such a possibility before realizing that her partner was being facetious. "Play a file every night, just before you go to sleep, so you'll know I'm thinking of you constantly." The captain paused, and tilted her head slightly, lowering her eyelid in almost a wink. "There's even one in case you're only missing my body rather than my scintillating personality, but make sure you're completely alone when you access it."

Seven's lips curled into a smile, equal parts of tenderness and amusement at her partner's gesture warming her heart. Sometimes, the Starfleet captain could be so unexpectedly romantic, surprising her partner with her loving imagination and thoughtfulness. It was not something Janeway was known for, not even by those who loved her most.

Suddenly feeling as if her partner were only a heartbeat away, Seven finished unpacking and carefully placed the padd on the night stand to access later. Returning to the living area where Ro and Phoebe were discussing dinner plans, she discovered that her first evening on Trill was apparently going to include something called a t'Crina fire show after a formal meal in the hotel restaurant.

Still, Seven was undoubtedly safer where she was, on the move and with several undercover Starfleet officers protecting her. A recent incident at the Utopia Planitia shipyards, involving a Starfleet engineer named Jason McCord, had made the captain fearful to have Seven around ... especially since the young woman still retained several internal implants that might prove valuable to the cartel of criminals known as the Orion Syndicate. Initially a small crime syndicate operating on the fringes of the Federation, they had gradually been increasing their territory and influence over the past few years, discovering that a quadrant still recovering from a devastating war, was a great deal easier to operate in than it had been seven years earlier, before the Dominion had invaded.

McCord, a young Starfleet officer who had fallen in with the wrong crowd, stole Borg technology from Janeway's previous starship command, USS Voyager, in an apparent attempt to pay back several heavy gambling debts owed to the Syndicate. Starfleet suspected that the nanoprobes were intended to be used by the Syndicate in the construction of new and powerful weapons to combat the various law enforcement agencies working to stop their illicit activities. For the cartel to strike within Earth's solar system, however, indicated that they had somehow achieved a conduit of some sort into one of the Federation's most powerful, inner core planets. It was a problem that needed to be addressed immediately, and a plan had been implemented by Starfleet Intelligence to lure those representatives of the Syndicate into a trap, using the stolen Borg units as bait, and hopefully, discovering where the opening for such criminal activity had been provided ... and by whom.

Groaning silently, Janeway rolled out of bed and padded naked to the ensuite where, after taking care of a few biological necessities, she retrieved a set of workout clothes and pulled them on before heading downstairs. As she exited the french doors at the rear of the house, she whistled for Jake, her Irish Setter ... something that turned out to be rather unnecessary since he was waiting at the bottom of the stairs that descended from the deck, wagging his tail vigorously. He knew they were going for a run, just as they had every morning since moving to San Francisco, and it was obvious that he couldn't wait to get to it. Smiling, she snapped his leash onto his collar, then went through the gate to the quiet street at the front of her house.

The San Francisco sunshine was burning off the greyish mist as she and Jake entered Golden Gate Park, located just a block or so from where she lived. She stretched out his leash to its full length, and together, they began a slow jog through the manicured lawns and pebbled pathways of the park. She wanted to pick up her pace, to actually sprint for a certain distance, but she had promised Seven that she would not overdo it while the young woman was gone. Janeway felt unusually compelled to honor her promise, particularly since she hadn't been entirely forthcoming with her spouse regarding the young woman's trip. She had not told Seven anything about the criminal cartel, or the fact that an attempt had been made on the captain's life while she had been touring the shipyards prior to accepting the posting. She had not even told Seven that Ro had been assigned to protect her on the trip, rather than accompanying her because of a feigned interest in Trill culture that Janeway had invented to manipulate Seven into inviting the security officer along. Despite her twinges of guilt, Janeway understood the levels of security clearance required for this operation, which her spouse did not possess, and was under orders to keep the situation classified. Perhaps it was a good thing that Seven was enjoying herself without having to worry about things like the Orion Syndicate or what Starfleet had to do in order to discover whom they were working with on Earth.

After the captain and Jake had completed their regular circuit, not seeing anyone they knew personally ... though a few of the other runners had become familiar enough to nod 'good morning' to ... she pulled in the dog's leash and they returned home where she made sure he was fed and watered. As she left him gnawing on a bone, she made another mental note to herself to find a playmate for him, so that he wouldn't be so alone through the day with both his mistresses gone.

Upstairs in the ensuite, she shed her sweaty clothes, running them through the recycler and putting them away in the provided space in the closet, before activating the shower unit. After a long, luxuriously hot shower, she brushed out her short auburn mane and drew on her uniform, meeting the bluish-grey eyes of her reflection in the mirror, noting how the black and slate-blue tunic fell over her shoulders, and checking the fold of the wine-red sweater beneath. She retrieved her comm badge and pips, affixing the adornments to left breast and collar respectively, then moved back through the bedroom to the outer loft. She disdained making the bed, knowing it would only be used again that night, and descended the staircase to the living area below.

In the kitchen, she replicated some coffee, grateful that Seven had programmed the initial pattern, though the captain was keenly aware it was not as good as the brew the Borg usually made from carefully selected roasted coffee beans. Janeway toyed with the idea of breakfast, decided she wasn't that hungry, and finished her coffee over a padd where she scanned the tasks she had scheduled for the day. She had just accepted a posting at Utopia Planitia, taking over the shipyards in an interim position until her next command was ready, and like all new jobs, it required an intensive period of adjustment. The presence of a rogue officer had also forced her to go over the entire base with an attentiveness that might not have been present in other circumstances. Janeway often worked late into the evening with her engineering teams, ostensibly to knock the rust off her engineering skills, but in reality, to take the opportunity to personally assess her personnel, and make sure there were no more bad apples in the barrel.

That was another reason Seven was better off not being on Earth at the moment, Janeway thought to herself, leaving her stained mug on the counter as she utilized the downstairs bathroom to clean her teeth. The ridiculously late hours she was pulling during this initial adjustment period would have outraged the young woman, and with Seven away on her trip, that was not the problem it might have otherwise been. Picking up some padds from the coffee table in the living room, Janeway tucked them into her tunic and left the house, sealing the door behind her.

The transport from McKinley Station, orbiting the Earth, to her office on Mars was just a matter of seconds thanks to a private alcove tied into the Utopia Planitia base power supply. The larger-sized power cores considerably boosted the tranporter's range, enabling it to maintain a confinement beam from the space station orbiting her homeworld to the red planet, hundreds of thousands of kilometers away. Janeway found the use of a private transporter an unusual but necessary perk of her new position as commander of the shipyards, facilitating her mobility about the wide-spread facility, as well as allowing her to bypass much of the complexity of traveling between worlds.

The longest part of her daily commute was the walk from her home to the station where she had to wait for the public transporter to beam her to Earth's main space station. Of course, utilizing her captain's privilege, she could actually beam directly from her home to McKinley Station via the Starfleet transporters, but she thought she should save that for an emergency ... not to mention the fact that it would be lazy in the extreme. Besides, she rather enjoyed her morning and evening walks, and she inhaled the salty tang of the San Francisco air with appreciation as she headed down R. Garrett Avenue. As she neared the house at end of the block, she noticed the front door opening, and felt an unidentifiable lurch in her stomach as she recognized the man who came down the path to start his day. With a bright expression on his face, he joined her as she passed by his front gate.

Mark Johnson was a tall, lanky man who still retained much of the sleek musculature from his youth, good looking in a rugged rather than handsome way. Initially a thoughtful boy who had pursued a career in philosophy, he and Kathryn had grown up together in the same Indiana Agricultural Park, where their friendship had been formulated from a great many reciprocal experiences and a shared base of ideals and beliefs. But it was not that history that caused Seven of Nine to grit her teeth every time they ran into their neighbor. Rather, it was what had happened later in Janeway and Johnson's lives, when they elevated their friendship to a more intimate level.

Kathryn and Mark had been engaged to be married prior to that fateful mission to the Bajoran Badlands where the captain's ship had been swept into the Delta Quadrant for seven years. Mark had been one of the last to give up hope, but eventually, believing Voyager destroyed and Kathryn dead, he had moved on with his life, marrying his assistant and starting a family which now included two young children. Yet, for all that, there remained a connection between Janeway and Mark, one that perhaps Seven and Melissa, Mark's wife, sensed whenever they all encountered one another. Certainly, neither young woman had been pleased to discover their spouses now resided just down the street from the other, and while Seven trusted Kathryn implicitly, the Borg also made no secret of the fact that she intensely disliked the whole concept of Janeway being in such close contact with her ex-fiancé on a regular basis.

Janeway wasn't exactly sure what she felt when she ran into Mark. The history between them was one that she couldn't deny, and while the romantic feelings had faded, wiped out by the more powerful and immediate emotion for Seven, the captain missed the close, infinitely comfortable friendship she and Mark had shared. She suspected he did as well, and when their paths crossed, as they seemed to be with increasing frequency over the past week or so, they had fallen into the same ease of conversation and interaction that they had enjoyed before Voyager's unexpected detour to the Delta Quadrant.

Janeway decided that she was relatively pleased at how the situation was progressing. Mark was a wonderful man, and she cherished his friendship deeply, enhanced by the fact they were both married now, and Janeway was completely in love with Seven ... as she supposed he was with his wife. Without romance to complicate matters, their friendship had the opportunity to mature into one that was far richer than the relationship they had previously shared. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her enjoying his company, regardless of Seven's baseless suspicions about the man; the fact that Janeway's internal voice of caution also gave her a sharp nudge about it now and again, was something she noted but ignored for the most part.

"Beautiful morning," he offered as they fell into step with each other.

"Part of why I moved back to San Francisco," she returned with a smile. "You have an early class?" Mark taught philosophy at the University of Indiana on a semi-regular basis when he wasn't busy with his role in the Questor Group, though he and his wife continued to live in his home in San Francisco. Transporter technology had made such long distance commutes inconsequential, after all. The only thing a person truly had to be conscious of were the time differences between zones.

"A guest lecture at the Washington campus. You're on your way to Mars?"

"Utopia Planitia. A full day ahead of me at the shipyards."

There was a pause as they turned the corner and started down the sidewalk that sloped down to the waterfront where one of the city's main transport centers was located.

"You know, this is how I always pictured it," he offered quietly after a few moments, as they entered a more commercially-zoned area of the city, the cobblestone streets lined with small stores and restaurants. The coffee shop on the corner was one that Janeway had frequented many times while residing in the area, and had recently introduced to Seven.

Janeway glanced at him. "Pictured what?"

"Our married life. Walking to the station together, discussing our plans for the day, maybe meeting for lunch at McKinley Station..."

Janeway suddenly had the sensation that a fully primed photon torpedo had just been deposited in her path. "Times change," she said, attempting a light tone, though she didn't pretend she had no idea what this conversation was really about. "Life worked out the way it was meant to."

He stopped, putting his hand on her shoulder to turn her around so that she was facing him. "Kathryn," he said in a voice that was not at all light, apparently ignoring the fact that they were standing on a street corner in full view of everyone. Exasperated, Janeway took his arm and drew him into the relative shelter of an entrance of a store that had yet to open, apprehensive about why he suddenly wanted to talk about this. "I'm serious about meeting for lunch. We can talk over old times, figure out where we go from here..."

"Go from here?" she echoed stupidly, realizing she had misread their resuming friendship, furious with herself for having ignored all the warning signs. Had she become so incredibly obtuse during her time away that she couldn't avoid this kind of emotional complication?

He studied her face, as if memorizing it, moving closer to her, the warmth of his body brushing over hers. "Kath, don't you understand how much I've missed you?" he asked, his manner becoming intimate in a way that her body remembered well. "If I had known you were still alive, that Voyager had just been lost rather than destroyed..."

"What? You would have waited seventy years for me to return?" Janeway responded coolly, not allowing herself to respond to the sensations coursing through her that were nothing more than a purely physical imprinting of a personal closeness that no longer existed. "You couldn't, Mark, and I wouldn't have asked you to."

"But, it didn't take seventy years," he reminded her, putting his hands on her waist in a gentle ... and familiar ... embrace, and dipping his head so that his lips were only a breath away, inviting her to close that infinitesimal distance between them, even expecting it, his eyes warm and loving.

"What about Melissa?" she asked pointedly, not moving a millimeter.

That was like a cold dash of water on something that was becoming far too heated, and Mark had to stop to take a breath, pain shading his eyes. Despite his confusion, he was an honorable man, and the guilt over his conflicted feelings was evident in his face. His hands dropped away, and he stared at her blankly, before his face flushed a deep red.

"I love Melissa," he said quietly once he had regained his composure. "But I have loved you first, last, and always, Kathryn, from the time I was old enough to know what love is. You know that." He paused, his internal struggle evident in his face. "You and I had something very special. I'm not prepared to throw it away without even trying to save it."

Janeway carefully took a step back, drawing away from his immediate presence, and putting some much needed distance between them. "Mark, there's nothing to save. Do you honestly believe there might be some kind of chance for us? I can assure you that there isn't. You're married, and I'm married..."

"We should have been married to each other. How can we just ignore everything we've meant to each other?"

"I'm not ignoring it, but it's in the past, Mark. It's over ... and it would have been over by now no matter what the circumstances."

At his expression, she exhaled audibly, trying to find the words that would make this easier, and suspecting that there weren't any. She really didn't want to hurt him beyond what their choicess in life already had, but this was something that had to be dealt with once and for all, before it went any further. Not just for her sake, but for his, as well.

"Mark, I loved you as much as I have loved anyone ... I won't deny that," she explained, with great sincerity. "Yet, even when I did ... even when I believed we would spend the rest of our lives together ... there was always a part of me that I held back, that I refused to share with you. It was the part of me that needed to be on a starship rather than stay on Earth and settle down with you."

He took a breath. "I know about that part of you, Kathryn. I've always understood and respected your life in Starfleet..."

She shook her head sadly. "No, Mark, you didn't. You couldn't, because while I could never share that part of myself with you, I can share it with Seven. She's found a way to become integral to it, perhaps because she can accept it completely. My personal and professional relationship with her is one that you and I could never manage to create, no matter how hard we tried ... not because we didn't love each other, but because of the type of people we are. That's just how it is. It isn't anyone's fault." She paused, searching for the words which would bring an end to this. "It never would have worked out between us, Mark."

He gazed at her for several moments, with a stark disbelief that gradually gave way to sorrowful acceptance and understanding.

"You really believe that?" His voice was very unsteady.

"I know that," she told him persuasively. "I saw it, Mark. During my time in the Delta Quadrant, I visited a parallel universe, one in which my counterpart did return home in time to marry you."

He flinched. "And?"

"It didn't work." She patted him on the forearm comfortingly. "Your counterpart found his future with Melissa's counterpart ... just as you did here. Apparently, it was meant to be ... but even if I hadn't seen that outcome with my own eyes, I've always known on some level that Seven is the one person who's absolutely 'right' for me. There's nothing else that could match our understanding of one another ... not even what you and I shared, as special as it was."

He looked away, all his illusions and dreams being shattered right before the captain's eyes, but when he finally looked back, there was a sort of peacefulness in his gaze, replacing the haunted look that had existed since resuming their friendship, though of course, she hadn't recognized it until she saw it healed. Once again, she cursed her astonishing lack of sensitivity.

"I'm really happy for you, Kathryn," he said finally, with painful honesty. "I guess ... I just needed to..."

"I know. I should have cleared this up between us from the beginning." She paused. "No matter what else, Mark, you were always a good friend. I still cherish that part of our relationship, but if it can't exist now, I'll understand."

His features were dark as he considered that. "I don't know, Kath. I would like us to be friends, but it's obvious I fooled myself badly ... not to mention what I was prepared to give up with Melissa..."  Shame colored his gaze.

Janeway nodded. "That's something that you're going to have to come to terms with, Mark." She looked across the street at the large chronometer set in the building. "Damn, I'm going to be late."

"You'd better go." He paused. "I'm truly sorry, Kathryn."

She looked back at him. "I am, too ... for everything."

She left him standing in the doorway, striding briskly for the station, aware that she had just cut away a vital part of her past in order to be free to pursue her future. It was necessary and inevitable, but still very painful.

Suddenly, she missed Seven so much, she could almost taste it.

It occurred to Ro that perhaps Seven thought she was just being odd, and was far too polite to tell her that such precautions were out of place on Trill. Phoebe certainly would, the Bajoran knew, and she was glad that the artist had been left behind at the symposium for this visit. Phoebe's questions about why Ro was really there were becoming progressively more pointed and not a little antagonistic.

A female figure appeared at the entrance, and Ro watched as she crossed the plaza to where the visitors waited. The Bajoran decided that this had to be Lenara Kahn, the Trill scientist who would be conducting the tour. She was quite attractive, an older woman with that timeless expression in her eyes that indicated she was one of the joined members of her society, host to a symbiont cradled protectively within her body's midsection. Spots traced a delicate trail from her forehead, down her temples and throat to disappear under the neckline of her garment, and her smile, as she greeted the Borg, was luminescent.

"Seven of Nine? I'm Dr. Lenara Kahn," she said, reaching out a graceful hand. "It's so good to finally meet you in person."

"It is very good to meet you." Seven glanced at Ro and raised her hand to indicate her. "This is Ro Laren who will be accompanying us. She is very interested in Trill culture."

Lenara regarded her evenly, amusement coloring her eyes. "Is she? I'm glad you told me, Seven. Otherwise, I would have assumed her to be a Starfleet security officer assigned to protect you during your visit to Trill."

Since Ro was not wearing her uniform, and Seven had not indicated she was even a Starfleet officer, it took a great deal for Ro not to react. Seven quirked a somewhat sardonic eyebrow. "In truth, that thought had occurred to me, as well."

Concerned, Ro mulled that over as the two women started toward the main building, immediately falling into a discussion about Kahn's research into artificial worm holes. The Bajoran wondered just who was trying to fool whom here. She granted that her cover story had not been the best, but she hadn't realized Seven had seen right through it. How long would it take before the Borg would pin Ro down and demand to know exactly what was going on?

Which, of course, led directly to the next question of how much trouble Ro would cause herself and the captain if she told Seven everything about the Syndicate and what had occurred at Utopia Planitia. She doubted she would be able to satisfy Seven's curiosity with mere platitudes once the Borg suspected Ro was there for something other than what she had initially implied. Wondering if Janeway could handle any personal repercussions if she told Seven everything, Ro realized that the professional matter of informing a junior lieutenant about a classified incident was something else that would have to be considered, as well.

The tour of the Trill facility was extensive, and Kahn was quite animated in presenting all the advantages the Ministry had for someone like Seven, even though Ro knew the Borg had told the institution that she had already decided on another position before they had even arrived on Trill. Apparently, the Ministry was not ready to take Seven's word at face value, perhaps likening it to some kind of negotiating ploy, and it was obvious Kahn had been instructed to change the young woman's mind about her decision if she could. Ro particularly appreciated the suggestion that joined Trill, like the Borg, had a sense of possessing more lives than just their own, which would afford Seven a comfortable environment in which to function. Seven appeared unmoved by that argument, obviously not believing that combining several lifetimes through the symbiont truly compared to having the memories of thousands of species in her cortical implant. Ro remained quiet and listened to the discussion, realizing that Seven was handling herself quite well, and wondering if perhaps Janeway had not been underestimating her spouse's social skills and ability to look after herself.

Despite Seven's resistance to Kahn's more clever appeals, Ro suspected that if the Borg didn't have a Starfleet captain waiting at home for her, she'd be sorely tempted to accept the Trill's offer. It was very generous, and obviously, intellectually appealing.

"I suppose I can't blame you," Kahn said finally, as the trio paused for lunch in the dining room of the main administration area. "One becomes so cloistered in facilities such as these. I've been seriously thinking of accepting a posting to a Starfleet vessel myself, now that they're taking civilians again."

Ro lifted her head. "They stopped?"

"During the war, even the Galaxy-class vessels restricted themselves to Starfleet crews, with no civilians at all." Kahn smiled faintly. "Perhaps that's why we now have so many restless scientists in the Ministry. We were used to having the option of working anywhere in the Federation, and perhaps we never really appreciated the freedom of career movement that Starfleet offered us until it was suddenly gone." For a moment, her gaze grew sad. "I, myself, once had the opportunity to live and work on a Starfleet station, but ... other responsibilities took priority."

Ro eyed Kahn covertly, doubting it was just the missed Starfleet opportunity that stirred such profound heartache in the warm eyes. There was more of a story there than the Trill was revealing, though the Bajoran was sure that she would probably never know the whole truth.

"I'm sure Starfleet would welcome the opportunity to work with someone of your qualifications," Seven said, obviously not detecting the subtle hint of melancholy in the other woman. "They welcomed me, and in fact, that is part of the reason I cannot accept a position with this facility. I would be unable to maintain my commission."

"Is your commission that important to you?" Kahn asked curiously.

Seven hesitated, discretion warring with her innate honesty.

"It is to my spouse. She is a Starfleet captain, and if I were to resign, it would limit our ability to be together."

Kahn regarded her intently. "Being with the person you love is far more important than we sometimes realize. I understand now why there is nothing I can offer you here." There was a brief pause, the words weighing oddly heavy in the atmosphere, before the Trill inhaled and looked down at her meal. "I hope that we can continue our correspondence, Seven. I found your views on the application of radion particle waves to be particularly fascinating."

"I would ... appreciate maintaining contact. It intrigues me that the energy fluctuations of the cluster nodes have taken such a wide divergence in your studies."

Ro tuned out the rest of the conversation as it rapidly submerged into technological gibberish between the two women, far beyond the security officer's ability to follow. As she gazed around the dining room where other scientists and technicians were eating, she noted that the Trill seemed to have a preference for decorating with lush fernlike plants and a black, granite type stone, matching the style found in the rest of the facility. After lunch, Kahn offered the Starfleet officers a final tour through the residential compound, where Seven met several other scientists, before finally escorting them back to the shuttle as the sun set over the mountains, the shadows growing long across the plaza.

"It was very nice to meet you, Laren. I hope this has added to your appreciation of Trill culture." Kahn's eyes were amused and Ro stifled a sigh.

"Please, inform me as to your results on the cluster expulsion rate, Lenara Kahn," Seven requested, taking the Trill's hand briefly in her own as she made her farewell.

Kahn held it, a little longer than necessary in Ro's opinion. "Perhaps, I'll personally bring the results to you on Earth. I've been feeling a decided need to expand my horizons lately. It's possible I'll find them there."

Seven lifted a brow. "Perhaps."

Ro slipped into the cockpit of the shuttle and activated the pre-launch sequence as Seven and Kahn exchanged a few more pleasantries, then the Borg entered the craft and sealed the door behind her. She settled into the seat next to Ro and stared straight ahead as the Bajoran keyed the helm and lifted the tiny ship off the ground. Through the transparencies, Ro saw Kahn standing by the entrance of the facility, lifting her hand in a final gesture of good-bye, and she waved back before turning the ship's nose onto a heading back to the capital city.

It was a few moments before Seven spoke, and even though Ro had suspected what she was going to say, she still flinched at the questions posed so casually, yet so decisively at the same time.

"Why are you really here, Lt. Ro? Why did Kathryn send you to protect me?"

Ro hesitated briefly, considering several responses, and then finally told Seven the truth about the assault on the captain at Utopia Planitia, the Orion Syndicate's desire to get their hands on Borg technology ... which might include Seven of Nine ... and the trap that Starfleet Intelligence was laying for the criminals, using Voyager's Borg alcove power units as bait. When the Bajoran had finished, Seven sat in silence for a long moment.

"Why did Kathryn keep this from me?" Her face was set with the chill of deep space.

Ro inhaled slowly. "This is all classified, Seven, coming from a higher authority than she holds. Besides, she didn't want to ruin your holiday with Phoebe."

"That is unacceptable." Seven words were razor sharp, bitten off with resentment and anger.

The Bajoran inhaled slowly, not commenting on that.

"The DragonFlight was not arranged by you, was it?"

"No, the captain arranged it. It's more heavily armed than a civilian transport, and the shields are far more powerful. She borrowed it from an old acquaintance, a Captain David Willis. He's the captain we saw talking to Janeway in the dining room at Starfleet Headquarters the first day of our briefing."

"I remember," Seven said, her eyes narrowed in thought. "That was before the incident at the shipyards, however."

"I guess she was thinking of your safety even then, or at least, your comfort."

"Do you think the Orion Syndicate will attempt to capture me?" Seven asked after another long pause.

Ro shook her head. "They would be foolish to risk it. I'm not the only one assigned to keep you safe, Seven. The word has been put out that several undercover operatives from Starfleet Intelligence are keeping an eye on you, and before you ask, no, I don't know who they are. That would defeat the purpose of them being under cover. Certainly, the Syndicate would have no way of knowing who they are ... just that they exist."

Seven firmed her jaw. "The stolen Borg units from Voyager have been made to appear as the more attractive and available prize."

"Precisely."

There was another pause, and the Bajoran was impressed by how contained the young woman was, even as she sensed the fury simmering beneath the cool exterior.

"In your opinion, is there any purpose served by my immediate return to Earth?"

Ro considered it. "Unless you have this irresistible need to immediately confront your spouse about this on a personal level, I'd have to say no. I'm pretty sure Starfleet won't let you be involved with any plan to capture the criminals operating in the inner core planets. Despite the allowances Starfleet has been giving you because of your background, Lt. Hansen, ultimately, you're just a junior science officer without the security clearance required to know about these things."

The last was a bit harsh, but Ro had to remind Seven that they were all playing in a much larger pond now, that the freedom they had enjoyed while serving on Voyager was a thing of the past.

"I do not wish to confront Kathryn," Seven said finally. "Not yet. I need to carefully consider my tactics in this matter." Her eyes were thoughtful in the reflected light of the helm, granting her narrow features a greenish cast.

Ro chewed on that for a moment, not liking the sound of it at all but not really able to argue about it. She stared idly at the passing landscape beneath the ship, shadowed in the darkness, her hands steady on the helm controls.

"It's probably not my place to comment on your personal life, Seven, but if you want my advice, this is something that you may have to get used to. There's a big gap in what a captain needs to know, and what a junior science officer needs to know while serving in Starfleet. That's just how it is. We're not on a starship in the Delta Quadrant any more, where everything can be shared within a select and trusted group regardless of rank. There are too many outside influences on all of us, and Janeway doesn't hold the autonomous authority she once did."

Seven looked stubborn. "I realize that, but I must set specific parameters for our personal life. Those are required regardless of where we are, and what we are required to do."

Ro thought about her relationship with B'Elanna. "You're right. It always works better when both people know what lines they can and cannot cross."

Seven pursed her lips fretfully. "I have not moved quickly enough. Since returning to the Alpha Quadrant, our lives have undergone constant turmoil. Kathryn is trying to adjust to a position that does not include a starship, while I am trying to adjust to a life that is entirely unfamiliar to me. I wonder if the real reason she wished for me to leave was so I would not continue to burden her."

Ro glanced at her sharply. "Seven, that just wasn't a factor. There are only three reasons why Janeway wanted you to go on this trip: to spend some time with Phoebe, to have a chance to see more of the Federation, and to protect you from the Syndicate. She thought she was doing what was best for you."

Seven dipped her head. "Sometimes Kathryn is so intent on doing what she thinks is best for me, she occasionally forgets to ask what I think is best for me. I shall have to remind her, once we return, that it is a mutual decision, not one that is solely hers to make."

Ro felt her lips quirk. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the reminder."

The rest of the journey was devoid of conversation, and the Bajoran was glad to see the bright lights of the city skyline ahead. As she landed at the transport station, and the two women took the rather crowded public tube back to their hotel, Ro found herself feeling suddenly claustrophobic and thought she understood what Kahn had been saying about being cloistered on this planet. Not for the first time, the Bajoran found herself wishing she was back on the clean lines of Voyager. The crew might not have known what they would discover next on their incredible journey, but there had always been a decided sense of belonging within the ship's complement, a strong bond of community based on a group all working together for a single goal. Ro missed that desperately in her current life of impersonal crowds and uncertain alliances.

Feeling a strong need to get back to space, where things were clearer and more defined ... where one knew who one's friends were, and where enemies usually made their intentions clear from the first shot, Ro stepped off the tube and readied herself to escort Seven safely to their hotel room.

Seven tossed the souvenirs she had purchased on the dresser, and pulled her bag out from the closet, beginning to pack it in preparation for their departure the following morning. This day had begun with a sail down the T'varnta River to catch the sunrise, before touring the fossil-filled cliffs leading to Bataurn, a small city on the seacoast. They ate lunch there in an open air café, before enjoying the afternoon hiking through the botanical gardens. They completed the evening with a lavish dinner before attending the planet's most renowned theater, where the featured performance was a play dramatizing the first unification between a Trill host and an intelligent symbiont. The host was played by a very beautiful actress, and the symbiont was presented as a male, though in reality, the entities were considered quite genderless. Seven decided that there was a strong sexual dynamic represented in the scene that displayed the joining of symbiont to host, and while discussing it later with both Phoebe and Ro, she discovered that they agreed. Ro pointed out that was probably why the play was considered controversial. A great many Trill, particularly the joined ones, had been offended by it, but the production was playing to packed houses every night, so perhaps such controversy was good.

Undressing quietly by the bed, Seven ran her worn clothes through the cleaning cycle of the room's replicator, then finished packing them and her souvenirs, leaving out some travel garments for the following day. She had been surprised by the style of the various civilian outfits Janeway had provided for her trip, but they had obviously been chosen with care, and apparently, the Borg looked quite attractive in them. More than once in the past week, other guests at the resort had commented on Seven's appearance, as well as making mention of the unusual 'jewelry' she sported, wanting to know if the metallic adornments had a particular function ... if they represented any sort of culture ... and where similar pieces could be purchased. It gradually became clear to Seven that the average person in the Federation simply did not recognize her as being Borg, and when informed that her 'jewelry' were actually cybernetic implants, shock and consternation had immediately followed. Eventually, Seven contented herself with saying they were symbols of her people and not available for purchase, though one Ferengi was convinced that if he just offered enough latinum, she would rip them from her face and give them to him.

Ro finally had to have a little 'discussion' with him that somehow involved him ending up going for an unscheduled dip in the pool beneath their balcony. Now that the Bajoran no longer had to hide her 'bodyguard' status from Seven, she was more than prepared to have a little fun with it whenever she had the opportunity.

Slipping between the smooth sheets, Seven was unable to keep from thinking about the current problem she was experiencing with her spouse. Frowning, the young woman stared at the ceiling as she lay on her back, conscious of being alone and isolated, despite knowing that her friends were just outside her bedroom door. The illumination dimmed at her request, but a defused light from the city outside her window made the interior of the room easily discernible, even without utilizing her Borg vision. She supposed she could get up and close the blinds, but she discovered she enjoyed the way the shadows danced across the walls and ceiling, a leafy tree making a lacy silhouette on the wall at the foot of the bed.

She took a deep breath and went over in her mind the tactics she intended to use with her spouse once she had returned to Earth. It was becoming progressively clear that now they had returned to Alpha Quadrant, Janeway had reverted somewhat to the person she had been when she and Seven first became romantically involved, attempting to separate her professional life from her personal one, preventing Seven from sharing that part of her. It was understandable, perhaps, with so many outside influences now affecting the starship captain, as Ro had pointed out, but Seven knew she could not afford to let it continue. She would have to confront her spouse as soon as she returned home, and resolve it once and for all.

Her course of action determined, she settled back against the pillows, preparing for sleep, but it stubbornly eluded her. While she had made a decision about how she would handle the upcoming conflict, she was still hurt by Kathryn's deception. Despite that hurt, she found herself missing her spouse with an intensity that was actually painful. The ache inside reminded her of the padd that had been lying on her bedside stand for the past few nights. After her discovery of Kathryn's perfidy, she had studiously ignored it, indulging her displeasure with her spouse by conducting a silent boycott of Janeway's romantic gesture. Now, unable to resist, she reached over and activated the opening program, once again listening to the message her partner had recorded to help ease the young woman's loneliness.

The image froze on Janeway's face, and slowly, hesitantly, Seven activated one of the few unviewed files her spouse had included in the memory chip. Her selection displayed an image of Janeway and Jake in the backyard of their San Francisco home, and Seven raised a bemused eyebrow, uncertain when the captain had found the time to record the message without the Borg being aware of it.

"Hello, my heart," Janeway's raspy trill issued from the tiny screen, making the Borg's eyes well up and her throat fill with emotion. Somehow, when Seven was extremely annoyed with Kathryn, that was also the time that she loved and needed her the most. She did not understand how that was possible, but she had to acknowledge the reality of it.

"Jake is really missing his mom," the captain continued, thumping the dog lightly on the ribs. The animal seemed to know he was being talked about, and for whatever reason, he was looking directly at the holo-imager, making it appear as if he was looking at Seven, his tail wagging strenuously. The Borg was touched, despite the illusion. "But he knows you're having a wonderful time as do I. We're running every morning and he's not letting me overdo it." Seven exhaled audibly, doubting that Jake could prevent the captain from doing anything she intended, and of course, since these files were recorded prior to her trip, the captain could hardly know what Jake would and would not do for her in Seven's absence. The Borg allowed that Janeway's intention to take care of herself was undoubtedly sincere, but somehow, Seven was not entirely sure her partner would be able to maintain it while the Borg wasn't there to encourage her.

Suddenly, Seven discovered she was smiling faintly at herself in sardonic amusement. The truth was, she could not make Janeway look after herself either, any more than Jake could, unless the captain was willing to cooperate in the first place.

"Darling, I love you so much, and I'm missing you terribly, but I'm so glad you're out there, seeing the Federation and discovering how different and interesting the various planets and alien cultures can be. I'm thinking of you every moment of every day that you're gone. Go to sleep now, and dream of me, knowing how much I need and cherish you. I know I'll be dreaming of you."

The Borg swallowed against the lump in her throat and activated another file at random, one recorded in Janeway's office at Utopia Planitia. Seven recognized it because her partner had given her a tour of the facility the day after the captain started her new job and just before the young woman had left on her trip. In the file, Janeway expressed how much she loved her partner and was thinking of her even when she was busy with her new position. She even expressed some of her uncertainties about how she would tackle this posting, so different from being in command of Voyager, and what she planned to do to ease that transition. It was a sharing that was very important to Seven, and she realized that Janeway had not completely cut her out of her professional duties. Perhaps Ro was correct when she said Janeway had no choice in pushing Seven away at times.

Not that the Borg would allow the captain to continue to do it, regardless of what Starfleet demanded.

The third file Seven keyed had been recorded on Voyager, and Seven realized how long Janeway had been preparing this gift, not necessarily for the Borg's trip to Trill in particular, but in the event that the couple would be separated in the future. Janeway, in full uniform, was sitting on the sofa in her ready room, and she smiled faintly at Seven from the viewscreen.

"We're a day out of DS9 and on our way to Earth now, darling. I wanted to take this moment to tell you how much your love and support have meant to me in the time we've been together, and how important it will be in the days ahead. I'm not sure what challenges lie in our future, but I promise you that whatever we face, they'll be immeasurably easier because we'll be meeting and overcoming them together. I love you so much, and I hope that wherever you are and whatever you're doing at this moment, you can feel that in every molecule of your being. It's not easy loving a Starfleet captain, but you've perfected it to an art. I can only hope that I'm able to love my Borg with the same intensity and focus that you bring to loving me."

By the time this file had completed, Seven was prepared to take the next transport to Earth, whether the rest of her companions were ready to return or not, wanting only to be in Kathryn's arms once again. Sniffing slightly as she blinked back her tears, the young woman accessed yet another file, this one entitled 'Desk'. To her surprise, the file was prefaced by an additional message from her partner, separate from the program itself and activated when the file was accessed.

"Hello, my darling," Janeway said, her voice was very throaty and provocative. Seven blinked as she realized this image had been recorded while the captain was in bed, wearing nothing but a sheet draped precariously over her body. The Borg couldn't quite recognize where it had been recorded because all she could really see were pillows behind the nude captain, but suspected for some reason that it was the bedroom they had shared in Gretchen's home in Indiana, possibly recorded the last night they had spent there while Seven had been taking a shower.

"I'm sending this file along on your trip in the event that you're missing not just me, but my body." The sheet slipped lower, and Seven's eyebrow did a slow crawl up her forehead as her partner deliberately took a deep breath, her chest expanding to display every millimeter of her small, but firm bosom, the captain going so far as to put her arms behind her head to grant herself more emphasis.

"Do you remember that night on Voyager, when you decided to make my most secret fantasy come true?" Janeway continued, her eyes sparkling a bright blue, their mischievousness and wanton appeal apparent even in the limited dimensions of the padd's viewscreen. "When you knocked the console off my desk, it continued to store data throughout our entire encounter, and as a result, we now have a permanent record of that evening. If you're accessing this file, make sure you're completely alone, the door is locked and you're in the proper mood to watch it." Janeway's lids lowered, becoming very sensual. "I miss you, darling. Make no mistake; I can't wait until I'm in your arms once more, until your beautiful body is pressed against mine, until we're finally making passionate love again. Until then, we'll both just have to use our imaginations."

Seven inhaled deeply, staring at the screen as it faded to a pale blue, the 'activation' symbol flashing to indicate the file was loaded into the buffer, ready to play. She could feel the heat rise in her face, intrigued by the whole concept of such a file, but wondering if she was in the 'proper mood' for such a thing, considering she was still exasperated at her partner. Yet, the files she'd been watching had gone a long way to ease her lingering hurt and annoyance, and it was hard not to notice that the door was locked, she was alone and conveniently, she was already quite naked between the soft sheets of her hotel room bed.

Daringly, she activated the file, watching it silently all the way through, from the first moment she had transported into the ready room on that night so many months earlier, through the very graphic display of their lovemaking, to the final glimpse of a uniformed Janeway leaning over the console and shutting it down. When the image finally faded from the screen, Seven discovered she was extremely aroused, her nipples tingling pleasantly, and the juncture between her legs moist and aching. She hesitated, and then slowly reached down to touch herself, quivering abruptly as she felt her fingertips brush over the sensitive flesh, pulling back uncertainly. She understood that this was what Janeway had implied when saying the couple should 'use their imaginations' while Seven was away, but the young woman was not overly familiar with the practice of solitary masturbation. The one time she had tried it on Voyager, clumsily utilizing the couple's accessory, it had been a very disappointing experience, and even after Janeway had taken the time to give her further and more detailed guidance on the technique ... instruction that had proven most enjoyable indeed ... Seven had yet to attempt it on her own.

Now, after witnessing the recording of that special interaction, she felt an undeniable need to use what she had learned in her lessons with Kathryn. She activated the file, replaying it from the beginning as she inhaled deeply, and slid down between the sheets until she was stretched out fully on the mattress, her knees bent and slightly parted. Holding up the padd so she could see the screen, she slipped her right hand beneath the blanket and touched herself again, a little more firmly, dipping down briefly to dabble in the moisture welling from her opening. She spread the viscous, natural lubricate around to ease the passage of her fingers, the tips brushing back and forth insistently over her sensitive nub, feeling the most delightful sort of chills ripple through her with every caress.

Swallowing hard, Seven watched the recording of herself being pressed back against the desk, the captain hooking the Borg's long legs over her shoulders, forcing her down onto the cold surface where Seven knocked the console aside. There was a brief instance of spinning room ... undoubtedly the actual fall of the device from the desk to the floor ... then, with breathless anticipation, Seven witnessed the most interesting angle of Kathryn leaning forward to press her mouth against the juncture of the Borg's legs. The young woman stifled her groan, closing her eyes as a sudden ... and acutely vivid ... memory flashed through her mind and along her nerve endings, remembering keenly the delicious sensation of the captain's mouth against her, the way Janeway's lips and tongue had moved over her delicate flesh, tasting her with a refined, if intense, greed.

The padd fell from her left hand onto the bed, the soft moans of the Borg's delight and Kathryn's empathetic murmurs continuing to issue from the small speaker, enhancing Seven's current desire. She wanted to echo the moans, biting her lip to keep them contained, her fingers swirling faster and faster over her tiny protrusion, the edge of sensation shivering sharp throughout her with steadily increasing need, rising in accordance with her heartbeat as she imagined Kathryn pleasuring her, tasting her ... loving her with all the tender skill Janeway possessed. Fully in tune with that image of herself on the viewscreen, Seven felt her body strive for its peak, the soft, guttural sounds of the padd stirring her on, increasing in intensity and duration until she could no longer resist her own caress, abandoning herself utterly to the spasms of delight that shook her body, releasing the tension in her loins, crying out softly in perfect harmony with her recorded self.

As the final shudders slowly died away, still immersed in her fantasy of being with her partner, Seven drew her hand up to her face, languidly licking the salt-sweet essence of desire and pleasure from her fingers. She paused, and then regarded them wistfully, abruptly brought back to reality as she realized it just wasn't the same as when she licked her essence from Kathryn's fingers ... or better still, Kathryn's piquant flavor from her own.

Stifling a sigh, she reached down and shut off the file, interrupting the image of her undressing the captain, the padd's screen going blank just as Janeway bent over the desk, her buttocks hiked in the air while Seven donned the couple's accessory. The Borg placed the padd back on her night stand, aware that she would probably be accessing the file again before the trip was over. Smiling faintly to herself, she rolled over and curled up in a fetal position, wrapping her arms around the spare pillow. It was not anything like the warm body of her spouse, just as her solitary climax had not been nearly as satisfying as being with Kathryn would be ... but both sensations soothed her enough that when sleep finally reached out for her, she was able to surrender to it.

Drifting off into wonderful dreams which featured her partner in the most amazing and provocative positions.

This was a familiar place to the dog, and before long, he was streaking across the springy turf to greet Phoebe's animals, Molly and Rufus, all three Irish Setters coming together in a rusty ball of hair and unrestrained energy. Petunia, the black retriever, remained on the front porch, where she regarded this youthful exuberance with all the imperious disdain her ancient twenty years could muster. Janeway smiled sadly, remembering that uncontrollable puppy she had discovered in a cornfield so many years ago, and keenly aware of the precious time that had slipped away since then, never to be recovered.

Hearing voices from the rear of the house, the captain moved around the corner, faltering briefly when she saw her mother and the much younger man kneeling side-by-side in the flower bed lining the base of the back porch. They were laughing in a very comfortable sort of companionship, and when Gretchen looked up to see her daughter approaching, her eyes were sparkling a brilliant blue.

"Kathryn," she said, her tone delighted.

She rose from the ground, moving lithely with little indication of her sixty-nine years. Tall, slender, with a shock of white hair framing the fine cheekbones that the starship captain had inherited, Gretchen was looking far younger and more vital than Janeway could ever remember seeing. The captain smiled as she was embraced, and she returned the hug.

"Have you heard from Annika?" Gretchen asked as she drew back, looking into her daughter's face.

"A very brief message arrived from Trill this morning. You know Seven; never use a paragraph when a single word will do. She said she enjoyed the symposium and the chance to sightsee on Trill. She and Ro explored the ice caves, and Seven said that she and I would have to go back one day because she believed I would find them 'most intriguing'. Their ship left for Vulcan yesterday morning and should be arriving there later this evening. She's looking forward to seeing Tuvok and the twins again."

Gretchen's keen eyes searched the captain's face. "How are you doing?"

Janeway forced a smile. "I'm okay, Mom.

Gretchen dipped her head. "Don't lie to me, Kathryn," she said in a low tone that only Janeway could hear.

The captain sighed, exasperated. "Fine, I came here for dinner because one more night of sitting in our empty house, staring across the dining table at the seat where Annika should be, would have driven me completely out of my mind. It isn't so bad through the week when I'm busy at work, but it's completely unbearable on the weekend. Even going into the office today wasn't enough to keep me busy, so I came here straight from Mars." She paused. "I'm not sure it's fair to bring this bad mood home to you."

Gretchen laughed and kissed her cheek. "That's what I'm here for, Kathryn. Stay here and keep Michael company. I'll go prepare dinner."

She was gone before Janeway could object, and uneasily, the captain turned around and regarded the man who was digging in the dark earth. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say in circumstances such as these, but then, she suspected he was a little uncomfortable himself, judging from the intensity he brought to probing the loamy dirt. She took a breath and sat down on the top step of the stairs leading up to the back porch. Through the screen door behind her, she could hear her mother in the kitchen, the sounds of food preparation very familiar, evoking more than one childhood memory that danced tantalizingly along the recesses of her mind.

"Isn't it a little late in the summer to be planting?" she asked inanely, not entirely sure when that sort of thing took place when one was talking about flowers.

He shot her a look. "Winter bulbs," he explained gently.

"Ah," she said, nodding as if that was a crucial piece of information he had just granted her. Her eyes moved restlessly over the corn fields that stretched toward the horizon, almost ready for the final harvest.

"I'm sorry this is so ... uncomfortable, Captain," he said finally, after a pause that seemed to go on for an eternity.

She exhaled audibly. "It's not really you. I'd feel this way about anyone who ... uh, my mother was ... well, involved with."

"I guess I'd feel the same way," he allowed, continuing to work in the dark, rich earth. He offered her a smile. "Still, the whole Starfleet thing is an unnecessary complication between us."

She hesitated, then returned the grin faintly. "Maybe, especially now that Paris isn't too fond of me." Patterson served as adjunct to Admiral Owen Paris, and recently, Janeway and her mentor had experienced a difference of opinion about what posting Janeway should accept. The admiral still wasn't speaking to her, apparently considering her some kind of traitor for accepting a position under Admiral Necheyev's direct authority.

He looked more uncomfortable. "The admiral maintains a ... personal conflict with Necheyev. When one does not share his view, certain ... ah, difficulties can arise."

"I don't envy you your job," she offered honestly.

"It can be ... interesting," he allowed, before attempting to bring the topic back on course. "In any event, I was thinking more in terms of our respective ranks. It must be hard to have someone ranked below you involved with your mother."

She shrugged. "Unless you end up assigned to a post under my command..." She stopped, thinking about it. "Let's hope that doesn't happen," she concluded delicately.

"Agreed." He poked his spade under a particularly stubborn weed. "Then, there's the fact that Gretchen and I aren't the same age."

She winced. "As my beloved Annika has pointed out on more than one occasion, that's not anything I have the right to object to considering that roughly, the same difference in age separates us."

He nodded slowly. "So what does that leave?"

"Nothing," she said, and smiled somewhat ruefully. "I honestly do like you, Michael. You're a very personable and charming man, and I'm sure Mother is very lucky to have you in her life." She leaned closer, lowering her tone. "I'm just being childish and I'm not sure how to get past it."

"I guess we all turn into children when we're dealing with our parents." He tossed the stubborn weed onto the pile next to him, having finally pried it loose. "You know..." He paused, looking at her directly. "I didn't expect to fall in love with Gretchen ... I really didn't expect to fall in love with anyone ... but from the moment I saw her, I couldn't stop thinking about her. All the objections that I came up with against pursuing a relationship with her just suddenly seemed so unimportant. She's such a wonderful woman, intelligent, warm, caring, beautiful..."

Janeway chuckled, holding up her hand to stop the litany of her mother's attributes. "You don't have to convince me. I may be slower to realize these things than everyone else, but as Seven has pointed out to me, Mom's quite the catch. I guess I should be surprised that she hasn't been deluged by suitors over the past few years."

"She has," Michael said, surprising Janeway profoundly and reminding her again of just how little she really knew about her parent. "I count my lucky stars every day that she chose me out of all the men she could have accepted."

Janeway hesitated as yet another side to her mother was revealed, before dredging up a smile. "Michael, I'm sure I'll be able to work this out eventually for myself. Just give me a little leeway for a certain amount of ... foolishness?"

"Of course, Captain," he said gratefully, shooting her a look with those remarkable green eyes. Janeway wondered idly if that was what had first intrigued her mother about the man. Certainly, she might have been inspired to take a second look at the sparkling emerald pools of attraction in other circumstances.

"I think, considering everything that's happened, you can probably call me Kathryn."

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Kathryn." He raised an eyebrow. "I understand the Millennium is progressing quite nicely."

They fell into a discussion about the new vessel being constructed at Utopia Planitia, that had actually been the real reason Janeway had accepted the post, a position which otherwise would have been considered a significant demotion for the starship captain. In this area, at least, Janeway was quite comfortable talking with Patterson, and before she knew it, Gretchen was calling them both to dinner. Happily stuffing herself with Gretchen's homemade fried chicken served with rice and vegetables, Janeway was left feeling much less lonely than she had in her home in San Francisco during Seven's absence. After dinner, Michael volunteered to do the dishes, so Kathryn and her mother went for a stroll along a nearby country road to settle their meal and provide a little exercise for Petunia, who didn't move as quickly as she once did. As a result, the walk was quite lazy, with frequent pauses along the way to look at various birds, and judge the growth of corn in the fields.

Gretchen nudged her gently after a long period of silence. "I noticed you and Michael were getting along much better at dinner. You two were actually speaking directly to each other rather than using me as a buffer."

Janeway smiled, scuffing a bit of dust up from the road, watching as it settled across the black, polished surface of her boot. "I told you I liked him, Mother. It just takes some getting used to." She cast a sideways glance at her parent, noting how trim Gretchen looked in her denims and western shirt, her forearms browned from being out in the sun. She wore a faded stetson to shade her eyes, and the captain realized that her mother was a very attractive woman, unsure how she could have missed it for all these years.

"Michael tells me that you had a lot of guys on the hook before finally deciding to haul him into the boat."

Gretchen blushed prettily. "He exaggerates."

"Does he?" Janeway kicked a pebble up the road. "It occurs to me that a lot of Dad's friends used to come around for dinner years after his death ... long after you might have needed that kind of constant emotional support. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but now I'm wondering."

"Only now?" Gretchen said dryly.

Janeway laughed. "Okay, Mom, I admit, I've had my eyes opened tremendously since returning from the Delta Quadrant. What about it? Were you and any of them ... involved?"

Gretchen chuckled, reaching down to pull out a strand of grass to chew on. "Kathryn, I would never become involved with any of your father's friends. It would be far too complicated." She paused. "That's not to say some of them didn't try." She smiled, almost as to herself, looking thoughtfully over the fields. "In fact, I think some of the antagonism Michael's receiving from his uncle is a result of me never giving David a tumble."

Janeway winced, thinking about Admiral Patterson, who had been one of her professors at Starfleet Academy and had always shown a paternal interest in the younger Janeway. She had known that he had visited her mother quite regularly, but she thought that had been out of friendship. Was she truly that naive about things? What had her mother said ... a tumble?

"God, I'm sorry I asked now."

Gretchen shook her head. "Honestly, Kathryn, I really don't know where you developed this prudish streak. I will say that, until Michael, I had been emotionally alone for a very long time."

Janeway hesitated, wondering why her mother had phrased it that way. "But not physically?"

"Kathryn, I was your age when your father died," Gretchen replied evenly. "Tell me, did your physical needs end with Justin? Were you celibate after Mark, not experiencing desire until Seven came along?"

"That's..." Janeway began, about to say it was different for her, but realized it wasn't at all. If she had chosen to be celibate until Seven, it was because of her belief ... ultimately misguided ... that she could not afford a personal relationship while on Voyager, not because she didn't have exceptionally strong needs that plagued her on a regular basis. Earlier in her life, after Justin's death, it had taken awhile before she discovered her physical desires again, but once she became involved with Mark, she had practically worn the poor man out. She wondered if she had inherited that great exuberance for loving from her mother.

"Heavens," she said, dismayed at herself, "how can I be so close to a person and not really know her at all?"

"Parents and children have a different dynamic, Kathryn," Gretchen told her serenely. "You didn't know because you didn't want to know, and that's perfectly fine. You shouldn't have to know, but I don't want you to continue through life with this idea that once you reach a certain age, your physical appetites suddenly ... disappear."

"I never really thought that." Janeway smiled crookedly. "Only when it came to you." She started to chuckle and so did her mother. "Sometimes, I'm really dense."

"Part of your charm, darling," Gretchen said, making the starship captain laugh again as the women resumed their leisurely walk.

"Speaking of being dense, I should tell you that Mark still lives down the street from my house in San Francisco."

Gretchen glanced sharply at her. "My god, I didn't even think of that, but you're right, he and Melissa never moved back to Indiana." She exhaled slowly. "Too many memories here, I think, particularly of you. I haven't really kept in touch with him over the past couple of years."

Janeway sent another pebble skittering down the road. "Too many memories in San Francisco as well." Taking a deep breath, she told her mother about trying to resume her friendship with the man, and how it had backfired a few days earlier when she and Mark had been walking to the transport station. "I haven't laid eyes on him since. I'm missing Seven terribly, but I'm so glad she wasn't here to witness that. She'd be furious."

"Does Seven get furious?" Gretchen asked in a rhetorical tone of voice. "I thought she just became more Borg until you couldn't stand it anymore. Still, there's no question that she would probably become a little upset over this. She might not understand that there was never any closure between you and Mark. He never really had a chance to stop loving you ... he just moved on with his life because it seemed as if he had no choice."

"I realize that now ... but Mom, he's married, I'm married ... why would he even think there was a chance for us to pick up where we left off? Did I ... mislead him in some way?"

"I have no doubt that Mark loves Melissa and his children completely, but you need to realize, Kathryn, there was a part of him that 'settled' for loving her because he believed he had lost you forever. Don't forget, your return was so unexpected, and suddenly, you were right there, a visible part of his daily life again. He had all sorts of unresolved feelings to deal with, and until you told him directly that it was over, until he realized there really was nothing there for him, it was eating away at his heart and mind. You're both quite fortunate that the situation was handled with relative quickness and ease."

"It didn't seem easy," Janeway said fervently.

Gretchen smiled. "Believe me, darling, it had the potential to be much worse. You need to make some allowances for Mark ... and for yourself." She paused. "Imagine for a moment if, by some miracle, Justin suddenly reappeared in your life. How would you handle it? How would you feel?"

Caught, Janeway shook her head, feeling a little light-headed. "Probably as well as you would deal with Daddy suddenly appearing while loving Michael. I guess I can understand why Mark would be so confused. Still, I love Annika completely. No one, not even Justin coming back from the dead, could interfere with that."

Gretchen nodded, putting her hand on her daughter's shoulder as they walked. "That kind of love is rare. Always cherish it ... and protect it wisely."

Janeway did not look at her mother, though she felt the words keenly. She wasn't sure she could claim much wisdom regarding her relationship with Seven lately ... particularly in how she had manipulated events to make sure Ro had accompanied her spouse on her trip. She promised herself that when Seven returned, she would find a way to make up for her deception.

Or at least, she would finally own up to it.

Visitors to Vulcan strived to stave off heat prostration. Without the triox compound administered daily, Ro suspected that none of the women would be able to function at all ... excluding Seven, of course, who probably had an implant that allowed her to ignore such inconveniences such as dehydration and lack of oxygen.

The Bajoran stepped out onto the balcony of the traveler's lodging, looking down into the courtyard where a fountain burbled clear, sweet spring water. Just the sound of it provided Ro with the sense of being cooler, but she could still feel her mucus membranes dry out as she inhaled the desert air. Beyond the gates of the lodge, located outside Vulcan's capital, she could see the reddish sand and harsh vegetation stretch for kilometers beneath the silvery illumination of moonlight, putting her in mind of the more desolate areas of Mars where she was now living with her partner, B'Elanna Torres. She wondered how the Klingon engineer was doing while she was away, then decided that the young woman's new position at Utopia Planitia was probably keeping her so busy, she wouldn't even notice Ro was gone.

That thought depressed the security officer so much that she resolved not to think about it any more, relieved to hear the soft chime of the comm system, indicating that she had a message. Curious, she returned to her room, going over to the desk and activating the channel. Beyond the door, from the rest of the suite, she could hear the muffled sounds of Seven and Phoebe talking about the art exhibit they had visited earlier in the day. No matter what else happened on this trip, the young Borg was certainly acquiring a cultural education that would probably help her in the future.

Ro raised an eyebrow as she saw a familiar face appear on the viewscreen. "Tuvok," she said, with honest pleasure. "We were hoping to have a chance to speak with you before we left Vulcan. I understand you and your family were on a personal retreat."

"We were," he responded, his voice calm and even. He, of course, was not displaying the same enthusiasm for the communication that Ro was, but she thought that his eyes might just have taken on a lighter cast. "We returned this morning and I received your message that you were on Vulcan. I trust all is well?"

"Things are going very well," Ro replied, settling down in the chair. "Seven visited the Science Academy yesterday and spent the day touring the facility. Honestly, Tuvok, if she hadn't already committed to the TPG, I think she would be sorely tempted to accept the position they offered. She really likes the efficient and emotionally restrained working conditions."

"After several years of witnessing Lt. Torres, and her approach to engineering and technology, I'm sure Seven would find the Science Academy a distinctly different atmosphere." Ro smiled, realizing the Vulcan was teasing all three women ... in so far as he would indulge in that sort of thing. Of course, he had a fondness for Ro, B'Elanna and Seven that went beyond the mere working relationship they had shared on Voyager. He raised an inquiring eyebrow. "When do you depart for Earth?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Ro responded promptly. "We have a departure window scheduled for 1400 hours."

"Would it be possible for you to visit my home in the morning? All of you?"

Ro dipped her head. "Wait a moment, please." She slipped out of the chair and went to the entrance, the door sliding back at her approach. In the suite, Seven and Phoebe looked up from the discussion they were conducting over a pitcher of the cool, tangy fruit juice, which all three women had developed a taste for since arriving on the planet. "Tuvok wants to know if we can visit his home tomorrow morning, before we leave."

Pleasure infused Seven's face. "Will Azan and Rebi be there?"

"He didn't say, but I'm sure they will be. Shall I accept the invitation?"

Phoebe dipped her head. "I have an early appointment with the curator of the Vulcan Archive of Art, but there's no reason why we can't all meet at the ship at two o'clock. You two should visit your friend."

Seven nodded with enthusiasm. "That would be acceptable."

Ro nodded and returned to the console. "Seven and I will be there, Tuvok. 0600 local time?" On most worlds, that would be indecently early for a personal visit ... for Vulcan, where most business with outworlders took place during the coolest part of the day, it was quite reasonable.

"I anticipate your visit," he said, before terminating the contact.

Tuvok's family home was located on the other side of the planet, in a small town situated by an oasis. His wife was a lovely, contained woman who immediately welcomed Ro and Seven into her house, directing the Borg to the back yard where Tuvok and the Borg twins were enjoying the small fountain. Eagerly, Seven went out to meet them, but when Ro moved to follow the young woman, she was restrained by the fleeting touch of T'Pel's hand on her arm, startled by the personal contact that was not the norm for Vulcans.

"Cousin," T'Pel said. "Someone wishes to welcome you personally."

Ro was suddenly reminded of what inspired such an implied blood relationship and felt light-headed. She had somehow managed to bury the magnitude of what had happened months earlier on Voyager in the recesses of her mind, but now, apparently, she was expected to face further consequences of her actions. She gulped as from the other room, another Vulcan female appeared, bearing a small bundle.

"Prophets," she breathed, as the tiny form was handed to her, stiff and fearful that she would drop it, gazing down into the tiny, grave face of a Vulcan infant. Two delicately pointed ears adorned each side of his head, his eyes big and dark as they regarded her with bright interest. Now she knew why Tuvok and his family had gone on retreat as soon as he returned home. The infant was no more than a few days old.

"Your son is very healthy," T'Pel said, her tone edged with just the faintest bit of pride and pleasure.

Ro's immediate instinct was to object, but she managed to bite her lip, suspecting it would be something of an insult to do so. After all, she had been a full participant in Tuvok's pon farr, and certainly, she realized that the four-way mental bond between herself, the security chief, T'Pel, and Tuvok's cousin, Tumak, had initiated conception. Ro had even accepted that she had provided an essential mental energy in creating a new life, but now that she was holding the child, it suddenly came home to her in a way that profoundly shocked and moved her.

She inhaled slowly as she looked at the child, feeling an unmistakable sense of connection to him. Perhaps it was all a matter of faith or just perception, but she realized that this little life would not exist if not for her contribution, for no other reason than T'Pel would have died when Tuvok did, had the surrogate option not been utilized.

"What's his name?"

"Surnak," T'Pel said quietly. "It is for my grandfather who passed on several years ago."

Ro nodded soberly. "A proud name." She took a breath and glanced up at the woman who had actually borne the child. "What do my responsibilities entail?" she added, suddenly frightened but fully prepared to accept all the implications of the experience she had voluntarily initiated when it seemed as if Tuvok would perish.

T'Pel looked vaguely amused, yet pleased by the question. Ro, through her friendship with Tuvok, had become very good at reading the subtle muscle movements in those impassive Vulcan faces and interpreting what they meant.

"He shall be raised with his blood family, of course, but it is understood that should all the line perish, but for him, you would take over his upbringing."

"Of course," Ro agreed instantly, knowing that Tuvok's family was quite extensive and it would take a considerable disaster to wipe them out, making her Surnak's last living relative.

"Also, when he reaches his Time of Ascendence, he would be expected to accompany his spirit mother on a journey of exploration, learning of your culture and what it means to be Bajoran."

"Oh," Ro said, blinking. "I'm not even sure I know what it means to be Bajoran."

"Then, perhaps you would find out together."

"What is this 'Time of Ascendence'?" Ro realized that she needed to do some further research into this culture as soon as possible.

"It is that period between childhood and becoming an adult ... when he must learn all that which makes him who he is and what he shall be."

Adolescence. So she would be expected to teach the Vulcan equivalent of a teenager all about being a Bajoran, and what that entailed, assuming she had figured it out by then. Still, she thought, gazing down into the child's innocent face, that obligation would not occur for many years yet, particularly since Vulcans matured slower than Bajorans. Who knew if she'd even be around to teach the child? Carefully, she handed him back to his birth mother, feeling a surprising sense of loss at the sudden emptiness in her arms. "I will do my best," she promised.

"To expect less of you would be illogical," T'Pel allowed graciously. "You are a worthy addition to our family line, Ro Laren."

The woman retreated to the garden with the child to introduce him to Seven, while Ro hesitated, reaching out to the nearby wall with her hand to support herself as she swayed on suddenly uncertain legs. She swallowed hard as she wondered how she was going to explain this one to B'Elanna.

After regaining her composure, she followed T'Pel into the garden where Seven and the Borg twins were talking intently to each other, the young woman sharing what she had discovered on her tour of the Vulcan Science Academy. Apparently, she thought that would be the perfect place for Rebi and Azan to attend when they were older, though both boys offered the opinion that they wished to enter Starfleet Academy, as their 'father', Tuvok, and 'older sister', Asil, had done. Tuvok agreed with Seven, however, and the discussion became relatively heated ... as far as Vulcans and Borg went ... before it was through. Ro was grateful for the attention it was drawing, however, because it granted her the privacy to think about what this new development might mean for her future, and that of her partner.

Before leaving Tuvok's, Ro drew her mentor aside and suggested that he might want to think about contacting the captain at Utopia Planitia. She didn't have leave to tell him all the details, but his security clearance allowed her to tell him what she could about the Orion Syndicate making an attempt on Janeway's life. He was very grave when she finished.

"I am sure that you are more than capable of protecting her. Do not underestimate your abilities."

"I'm not, but I'm also not underestimating the captain's ability to get herself into trouble. She's quick to utilize me as a security officer with Seven, but not necessarily when it comes to herself."

He raised an eyebrow. "That is true. Perhaps I should apply for the posting of security chief at Utopia Planitia." He paused. "Yet, T'Pel and I have made a decision that I would not leave her and our growing children behind ever again."

Ro regarded him seriously, unsurprised. She suspected it was an approach to life that most of Voyager's crew had adopted since their return to the Alpha Quadrant.

"The Millennium is designed for families," she hinted. "Mars is not similar to Vulcan, but it's much dryer than Earth. There's a significant population of Vulcans who prefer to live there while working at Starfleet Command."

Tuvok nodded. "T'Pel and I will consider it."

Ro had to content herself with that as she and Seven took their leave and headed for the nearest space port. Catching a shuttle to the orbital station where their ship was docked, they found Phoebe waiting for them. As the artist and Seven secured the vessel, Ro headed for the station's administration office to finalize any docking fees, as well as go over the inspection record, just to be sure the engineers had given the vessel a complete maintenance check before granting departure clearance. It was a somewhat unnecessary request, considering these were Vulcans she was dealing with, but both they and she realized it was a prudent ship captain that routinely double-checked everything. No one indicated they minded the extra care taken ... not that Vulcans would ever show annoyance, of course.

She was walking back to her docking berth when a casual glance out a viewport jolted her to a stop, leaving her staring at the lean shape of the USS Enterprise easing into a berth. If she hadn't happened to be returning to her vessel at just this moment, she might have missed it entirely, and a quick check with station operations revealed that the Sovereign-class vessel was picking up some ambassadors en route to a conference in the Tirrelus Cluster. She didn't dare contact Picard openly, but she really did need to talk with him.

Apparently, he needed to speak with her as well because when she returned to the DragonFlight, she discovered a short message waiting for her on the ship's comm station.

"Ecitan kiosk, twenty minutes."

According to the time on the message, she only had ten left and only another half hour before her vessel was expected to depart. She asked Seven to finish the preparation for launch, telling her she had an errand to run before they left. Fortunately, the Borg did not seem to be either surprised or unduly curious about this, and agreed, settling into the pilot's seat of the DragonFlight.

Trying not to appear anxious, nor wanting to draw attention to herself, Ro made her way back into the station, finding the Ecitan kiosk in the promenade area of the facility, surprised to discover it was a sort of tacky combination of lunch counter and gift shop that seemed entirely out of place in a Vulcan space station. She nervously took a table, relieved to see she was a minute early, and looked up as a cloaked and disguised man sat across from her. She raised an eyebrow when she looked beneath the shadows of the hood to discover Picard.

"Don't you think that's a trifle dramatic?" she asked dryly.

He smiled thinly. "It wouldn't be good if we were seen together, particularly since I keep demanding an apology from you."

"I think we've just about exhausted that tactic," she said, sobering as she leaned forward. "Captain, was the Orion Syndicate what you meant when you were talking about a 'third party' in your messages?"

"Unfortunately, at the time, I didn't know they were the third player, only that my initial data had been flawed. My sources are not as reliable as I would like, and now it appears that the original information they gave me was garbled, confusing the Syndicate's intentions with that of Section 31. It seems that it was always the Orion Syndicate who was attempting to acquire the Borg technology that Seven ... and Voyager ... possess."

Ro exhaled slowly. "So Section 31 doesn't want Seven?"

"Oh, they want Seven." His eyes grew darker. "In fact, it's much worse than merely wishing to secure her technology and knowledge of the Borg queen. I don't believe they'll be trying to recruit you, after all, Lieutenant."

She blinked. "No?"

"Apparently, they want to recruit her. If they succeed in convincing Seven of Nine that they have the Federation's best interests at heart, if they can persuade her that working with them would make it easier to protect what she holds dear, she would make a most formidable agent for them, particularly with her physical skills, intelligence and technological enhancements."

The Bajoran felt a wave of shock roll over her, one more jolt on a day that had already provided more than its share.

Seven of Nine would become the very thing that she and Picard were trying so hard to destroy.

Ro started abruptly, obviously badly shaken by the Borg's question, her dark eyes uncertain as she stared out the viewport.

"It's ... complicated," Ro admitted finally.

"I suspected it would be," Seven allowed patiently, waiting for the other woman to elaborate.

"How did Azan and Rebi find out?" Ro said, a touch of exasperation in her tone.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "It has been my experience that children often know far more than the adults around them realize. I suspect it is because their presence is often discounted, though they hear and understand a great many things no matter how subtle the adults believe they are being."

"Wonderful," Ro grumbled. She took a deep breath. "Do you remember when Tuvok isolated himself in his quarters ... uh, maybe you don't because it was around the same time you encountered that alien pretending to be your mother."

Despite the many months that had passed since that event, despite the distance Seven had managed to put between her and what had been a most painful experience with the Mimic, the young woman still flinched.

"Tuvok was undergoing pon farr. Kathryn told me it had been taken care of."

Ro dipped her head. "It was, by me."

Curiously, Seven tilted her head. "Explain."

"Tuvok had to mate or he would die," Ro said, sighing slightly as she seemed to realize she wouldn't be able to get out of responding to Seven's questions. "I offered myself as surrogate, and during the course of our ... mating, which involved not only myself and Tuvok, but T'Pel and Tuvok's cousin, Tumak, acting as surrogate in a psychic bond, T'Pel conceived a child."

"You were part of the conception?" Seven was greatly intrigued.

"In a manner of speaking." Ro turned her head and pinned Seven with a look. "Vulcan mating rituals are an extremely private and personal thing, Seven. You must swear to me that you will never discuss this with anyone else."

Seven hesitated, frowning, and Ro sighed.

"Other than the captain, of course. Besides, Captain Janeway already knows what happened."

"She does?" Seven filed that away as yet another thing her partner had been keeping from her. "I promise not to discuss it with anyone other than Kathryn." She studied the Bajoran closely. "Will you discuss it with B'Elanna?"

Ro inhaled slowly, looking very serious. "I have to." A muscle trembled in her jaw. "The incident almost finished our relationship, Seven. It took a long time for B'Elanna to come to terms with what I felt I had to do. I'm not sure how she'll react to this."

Seven considered it. "If you tell her immediately, she would be more understanding than if you attempt to dissemble." She was absolutely assured that this was the proper form of advice, since she was keenly aware of how aggravated she had become over Kathryn's decision to keep things from her.

Ro glanced at her. "Do you understand why I did what I did to save Tuvok's life?" The question was posed in a most tentative tone, unlike Ro's normal inflection, almost as if the Bajoran needed some sort of reassurance about something.

"Of course," Seven replied promptly. "Indeed, I informed Kathryn that I would be willing to mate with Tuvok if it were necessary to save his life." She paused, remembering the conversation. "She said that I could be physically injured in that event."

Ro looked thoughtful. "I don't think so, but it was quite ... energetic. If you've never been with a male, it might have posed a problem or two."

"You were not injured?"

Ro shot a sharp look at her, and then smiled faintly. "No. It was ... fairly pleasant, in fact."

"As a result, you now have a child."

That wiped the small smile from the Bajoran's face. "I do. It was something I never really took into consideration when I made my decision to help Tuvok, but now I have to accept responsibility for my actions."

"What is it like, suddenly being a mother?" Seven had experienced a taste of it when the Borg children came on board, but they quickly became the responsibility of all the Voyager collective. The only one that she felt she had a true maternal claim on had been the infant, but the child's relatives had been found and she had been forced to watch as the captain handed the baby over to them. It had been a wound between her and Kathryn that eventually healed, but left a deep and ragged scar.

The corner of Ro's mouth curled upward. "Scary as hell. Not to mention the fact that suddenly, your life isn't entirely your own anymore. A piece of it is claimed by someone else."

Seven thought about that later when she withdrew to her cabin at the rear of the vessel, stripping down to her undergarments and washing in the small sink which was provided. Crawling between the sheets of the narrow bunk, she lay there for some time, staring through the small porthole next to her, contemplating the passing stars and all she had learned on this visit.

Not long afterward, she heard the subtle sounds of Ro retiring to her own cabin for the night. That meant the DragonFlight had been turned over to the navagational computer that would automatically pilot it while Ro was asleep. Of course, Seven and Ro could take turns monitoring the helm, but with the simplicity of the vessel's systems, there was little that could go wrong. This area of Federation space was well traveled, and it was unlikely the helm would lose so many reference points as to move them off course. It wasn't like Voyager, for example, in the Delta Quadrant, that required almost constant monitoring by officers because of the unknown variables in that area of space, and the complexity of the Intrepid-class vessel's more advanced navigational array.

Exhaling slowly, Seven was abruptly aware that in a little more than twenty-four hours, she would be in Kathryn's arms once more. Despite the problem between them, she still looked forward to that moment with eager anticipation. She had never been away from her partner for so long, not since that incredible journey via a Bajoran orb to DS9 that lasted three months. Missing Kathryn was like an ache within her, a sort of pain that she couldn't heal and was hard pressed to ignore.

She sat up and leaned over, pulling her bag out from beneath her bunk, and digging out the padd with Janeway's files. She wasn't in the mood for the 'special' file, but she went through the rest of them, one after another, immersing herself in the sound and sight of her spouse, feeling a little less lonely. Eventually, she tucked the padd beneath her pillow and fell asleep with Kathryn's voice rasping pleasurably in her ear, telling her how much she loved her and always would.

When she woke, Seven could hear muffled conversation through the door of her tiny cabin, and sensed that she had overslept somehow, though time was rather fluid on a private yacht in space. She slipped out of her bunk and stripped off her undergarments, washing off briefly in the sink with a cloth and a cleanser specifically designed for space necessities. When she dressed in fresh clothes and went out into the main cockpit, Phoebe wordlessly handed her an herbal tea and some breakfast pastries. The young woman took a seat next to the viewport and glanced out at the stars as she ate her meal. All three women were very quiet this morning, as if aware that the trip was finally coming to an end, and were using this time to be alone with their thoughts.

At the helm, Ro manually navigated the ship, though it wasn't really necessary. Seven supposed the Bajoran wished to keep busy ... not that she blamed her, wishing that she had something to do as well. Phoebe, of course, could busy herself with her art at any time, making sketches or simply going over her notes from the symposium on Trill. The Borg wondered if she should develop a 'hobby', one that could be practiced regardless of the surroundings.

Seven was surprised when her sister-in-law leaned over and touched her on her shoulder.

"Come back to my cabin, Annika," the red-haired women suggested in a low voice. "I have some images I took on Vulcan that I'd love for you to see."

"Of course," Seven acceded, and rose from her seat, following Phoebe back to the artist's cabin which was no larger than Seven's. The two women sat on the bunk, tucking their legs underneath them.

"What's going on?"

Seven blinked. "Could you be more specific?" she asked, realizing that the artist had been conducting a deception. Apparently, there were no images of Vulcan to be perused, much to the Borg's disappointment.

"Halfway through our visit to Trill, Ro gave up that ridiculous attempt to pretend she was fascinated with their culture and started acting like what she was really there for. Why was she sent to protect you, Annika?"

Seven hesitated. If the possibility existed for Ro to be disciplined for revealing the real reason she had been sent along on the trip, then the Borg telling Phoebe ... telling a civilian ... about matters classified by Starfleet, could slide very quickly into something that could become quite complicated for everyone.

"She did accompany us in order to secure my protection, but I cannot discuss the 'why' with you."

Phoebe stared at her, then nodded, a touch of discontent in her face. "I'm sure it probably has to do with Starfleet which, frankly, is the story of my life, but I'm glad to know that my first guess was right ... that she was only pretending to have an interest in Trill culture."

Seven did not respond to that, regarding her sister-in-law quietly.

Phoebe shook her head and sighed somewhat wistfully. "Otherwise, did you enjoy the trip?"

The Borg immediately brightened with enthusiasm. "Oh, yes, Phoebe, it was very enjoyable. Thank you so much for suggesting I come with you. It was fascinating to see all the various scientific facilities and to meet the people with whom I have previously corresponded only over a communications array."

"I'm glad," Phoebe said, pleased as she patted Seven gently on the thigh. "Listen, are you and Kathryn having problems?"

Seven blinked. "Why would you ask that?"

"The whole Ro thing. I understand why Ro would have a cover story for me in order to come along, but there's no question in my mind that you also believed it, at least in the beginning. That means Kathryn sent her along without telling you why."

Seven was amazed and somewhat consternated at her sister-in-law's powers of deduction. She tried to come up with an answer, then inhaled slowly. "Kathryn cannot always tell me everything in her role as a Starfleet officer."

Phoebe stared at her a minute. "You're right, she can't, but as her spouse, you have the right to know if something is up, particularly if it involves you. She, of all people, should know what it feels like to come second to Starfleet."

Seven dipped her head, realizing that perhaps it was not just her spouse who had felt neglected by her father. Obviously, Phoebe still had a few unresolved feelings with the whole parental situation. "I agree it is something that Kathryn and I shall have to address once I have returned to Earth. It is entirely possible that she was so concerned about my safety that she overlooked the fact that she must take the time to discuss things with me. But while I have the right to be angry with her, you do not."

Phoebe blinked. "Who said I was angry with her?"

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Your body positioning, the tenor of your voice, the way your pupils are dilated, the..."

"All right," Phoebe said, holding up her hands in surrender. "I am pissed at my sister. You're the best thing that's ever happened to her, and if she's so stupid that she can't see that, then obviously I'm going to have to point it out to her."

Seven smiled faintly, warmed at the ferocity in her sister-in-law's voice, and the brightness of her eyes. Being fully accepted and loved completely by Kathryn's family was something that she cherished deeply, and it was the sort of sustaining support that made her wonder if she should seek out members of her own family for a more extensive contact. During her visit to the Daystrom Institute, she and Ro Laren had taken a brief side trip to visit Seven's grandparents, both maternal and paternal, and while it had still been somewhat uncomfortable, it was far less stressful than their first meeting years ago on DS9. It was possible that with time and effort, she could actually achieve a sort of family bond with them, despite the fact that she did not really feel such emotion yet.

"I appreciate your ... concern, but this is a situation that Kathryn and I must work out on our own."

"In other words, you want me to butt out," Phoebe said dryly.

Seven considered that. "If the implication is that you are not to interfere in my relationship with your sister, then yes, you are required to ... 'butt out'."

Phoebe grinned wryly, looking remarkably like her sibling at that moment. "Okay," she said placatingly. "I promise I won't pick a fight with Kathryn over this, but you have to promise me that you won't let her get away with this."

Seven sobered suddenly. "No, I will not allow her to 'get away with this'."

"Kathryn will have to recognize the consequences of her actions."

The cool tones of Nechayev startled Janeway as she worked at the desk in her new office at the Utopia Planitia base, and she glanced up to see that the admiral had broken into her comm channel. At first, the captain didn't understand what her superior officer was saying, still lost in the schematics of the Galaxy-class USS Discovery, but finally she figured it out and put down her padd..

"Where?" Janeway didn't bother to object to the admiral cutting into her private emergency channel ... after all, that's what it was for ... but she did wish the older woman would not be so abrupt all the time. Undoubtedly, it was part of the reason why Seven did not like or trust the Starfleet admiral.

"McKinley Station. Beam directly to the administration office. The coordinates have been downloaded into your transporter buffer."

The viewscreen went blank as the admiral cut the channel, and without hesitation, Janeway rose from her chair and moved over to the small transporter dais set unobtrusively in an alcove across the room. It had been a courtesy, Janeway realized, for the admiral to include her in this since most of the operation had been taken over by Starfleet Intelligence. Or perhaps there was something more to it. She had developed the distinct impression Necheyev was up to something, but she hadn't quite figured out what yet.

She keyed the transporter and felt her molecules dissolve, reassembling her in the administration office of the space station that orbited Earth. She felt a slight dizziness that quickly passed, and she wondered if such regular, long-distance beaming was good for her. She decided that she would have to do some research into it, or better yet, get someone who enjoyed digging around databases to do it for her. That made her think of Seven, and she hoped that this would not take very long. Seven, Ro and Phoebe were expected to be arriving from Vulcan later in the day, and she had every intention of personally being there to greet her spouse the second she stepped off the DragonFlight.

Taking a position just behind the station technician monitoring the console, Janeway nodded briefly at the blonde woman standing next to an unfamiliar officer. Admiral Nechayev was not a particularly impressive person at first glance, slender and diminutive, even when compared to Janeway's compact form, and especially compared to the man she was standing beside. But the longer one was in her presence, the more Nechayev's personality imposed itself, like the steadily increasing levels of deadly radiation from a star about to go nova. Before one knew it, they were experiencing the fear that they might not survive an encounter with her if they were not especially careful. Janeway was of two minds about her superior officer. On one hand, she greatly respected and admired the accomplishments of the woman, but on the other, Nechayev's arrogant and brutally forceful attitude was extremely off-putting, even to the captain who thought she knew what it originated from.

"Captain Janeway, this is Captain Provo, Starfleet Security," Nechayev said, introducing the balding, broad-chested man who towered over her. His small eyes glinted and he dropped a semi-courteous nod at Janeway before returning his attention to the viewscreens. The captain dipped her head in response, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his attitude.

"What do we have?"

"A face that has been identified as being connected to the Syndicate," Nechayev replied, when Provo did not seem inclined to answer the captain's question. "We don't know the Human with him, but I suspect it's our conduit, or at least, someone who can tell us where it's been routed."

The admiral motioned at the viewscreens covering the wall at one end of the room that monitored the passenger, storage and docking facilities of the station, including the spacious departure section where the various civilians were waiting to board ships bound for a multitude of destinations. The large lobby was bordered by a wide range of gift shops, kiosks and merchant stands, providing last minute necessities and merchandise to the departing travelers. Janeway noticed the main viewscreen appeared to be centered on a small, somewhat obscure newsstand located in a quiet corner of the lounge, away from where most of the crowds were located, and a considerable distance from the main storage facility where lockers could be rented by the travelers. Nechayev pointed at two beings, a Bolian and a Human, lounging nonchalantly by the counter, perusing the offering of publications. "I think they're waiting until