The silvery form of the USS Voyager slipped silently through space, its normally bright paint dulled deliberately while it utilized only the minimum of running lights. It was surrounded by predators, and it knew it, speeding bravely, yet cautiously to where it needed to be.
"Absolutely not!"
"It's a command decision. I'm the captain. It's my job!" Kathryn fastened her tunic, dismally noting that yet again an attempt to make up with her lover had failed, duty rearing its ugly head just as they were getting ready to sit down to dinner.
"And your job is more important than us?" Annika yelled back, turning to slam her hand down on the workstation and scattering several padds in the process. "Honestly, Kathryn. You may be on Voyager, but this isn't the Delta Quadrant. You can call up Starfleet and have another ship here in three hours to check out that Cardassian freighter. I don't know why you don't call for help now. This was supposed to be a courier mission, remember! We're supposed avoid conflict in carrying out our mission, not go looking for it."
"Sensors have detected only one ship." Kathryn threw her hands up in the air and headed for the door. "Voyager can handle that. The Federation needs all the reconnaissance information they can get. This is ridiculous. We have less than twenty minutes before their long range sensors spot us. We need to be on the bridge, Lieutenant."
Annika Hansen glared at her lover, angered by the use of the rank, knowing that it was Kathryn's way of shutting down the argument without leaving her any room to maneuver. She tugged hard on the hem of her tunic. "Aye, Captain," she snapped, the last word said with great disdain. Together, they rode the turbolift to the bridge, both too stubborn to say a word to ease the anger ... and hurt ... flowing between them. In any event, the jolt that rocked them in the turbolift drove it completely from their minds, both realizing that it had just become moot. The courier ship no longer had the luxury of taking a quick scan and moving back to safety. They were fully engaged with the enemy.
"Report," Johnson said as she strode out of the lift and took the short flight of stairs in a single bound. "Go to Red Alert." The lights had already been dimmed to that status once the first attack came, throwing a crimson tint over everything, but she needed to verify the official status.
"Apparently, the vessel on our long-range sensors was not a Cardassian vessel," Tuvok said calmly, the Vulcan standing and smoothly relinquishing the command seat to her. "They disguised their warp signature."
"The Breen vessel is showing full shields and a massive armory," Ensign Nog said from his operations station. The Ferengi's voice was terse, but calm. It was not the first time he had been under fire.
Ensign Martel at tactical was not so calm. "Shields down to 57%," she yelped, her voice higher than usual. Kathryn had no doubt that it was due to the young cadet being on her first mission, having graduated from Starfleet Academy only one month before being assigned to Voyager. With the Dominion war still raging and Starfleet losing officers at a horrific rate, these cadets were being pushed out of the Academy with only two years of training rather than the requisite four. Still, the young ensign did her best to ignore the sweat pouring off her forehead as she continued to read off the vital information. "Photon torpedoes and phaser banks fully charged."
"Aim for their weapons array, quantum torpedoes, on my command," Kathryn said, her eyes steely gray.
"Torpedoes ready," Martel said.
"Fire." A hit rocked Voyager at the same time the viewscreen showed the large enemy ship being struck by the heavily charged missiles. Johnson rubbed her forehead absently as she listened to the reports.
"Direct hit, their shields are down to 60%," Martel said with more than a touch of joy in her voice. "Dominion ship is turning away." The ensign's eyes widened, her mouth opened but no sound could come out of it. Seeing her, Annika moved from her science station up to tactical and her eyes widened at the information she discovered there.
"Mines!" she yelled, rerouting all available energy to reinforce the shields, just before the explosives detonated. Frantically, Ensign Ro Laren worked the helm, desperately attempting to divert the ship and failing utterly. Voyager, Starfleet's first transwarp-driven vessel, jerked and bucked violently under the backlash, scattering the crew helplessly about the bridge. Lt. Hansen fought the darkness that clouded her vision and looked around desperately, gasping loudly when she saw Kathryn lying on the deck, blood pooling at her mouth and nose.
"Doctor to Captain."
Annika stared at the horrid scene for a second longer before reality set in. She smacked her comm badge and looked around to see if anyone else was on their feet. "Hansen to Pulaski. We have injured on the bridge."
"Sickbay is piling up. I can't spare anyone. Use emergency site-to-site transport for the worst cases."
Ensign Martel slowly staggered to her feet, crimson blood trickling down the side of her face. Nog moaned and rolled on the ground while Tuvok laid eerily still, as did Ro Laren, crumpled by her chair. Annika quickly realized she was in charge, an event she had hoped and prayed would never happen. Nor would it have, under normal conditions, but the war had made things far from 'normal conditions' ... to the point where a scientist-turned-science officer would end up in command of an Intrepid-class vessel.
"Martel, take over the helm. Get us to safety. Nog ... Nog! Get a report, find out what we've got left. Computer, emergency site-to-site transport, Tuvok, Ro and Captain Johnson to sickbay." With a sea of sparkles, Tuvok and Ro dematerialized from the bridge. The captain flickered fretfully, then reappeared, the transporter failing to complete the transfer.
"Lieutenant, transporters are off-line," Nog said, his breathing labored. "Unable to initiate any more site-to-site transports."
"Doctor, Kathryn is hurt and we are unable to transport," Annika said, more than a little scared at the current situation. She should have transported Kathryn by herself first, she thought furiously, and would have ... if she hadn't known what the captain would say once she found out about it later. Annika bit her lip, her years of training at the Daystrom Institute and subsequent scientific projects not preparing her in the slightest for commanding a starship in the middle of a battle. Certainly, the briefings she had undergone during a three week course at the Academy were hardly up to this. Unfortunately, compared to the rest of the kids on the bridge, she was still the most experienced with Voyager's systems. Annika swallowed against the acid taste in her mouth.
"Get her stabilized and use the tricorder in the medikit. Give me readings."
"Lieutenant, sensors report three Breen vessels heading this way ... t-they appear to be heavily armed and on an intercept course with us." Sonya Martel's voice shook as she relayed the information.
"Shields down to 37% and falling. Weapon systems are off-line," Nog said, with one arm pressed heavily across his chest, as he leaned on his artificial leg for support. Annika's fingers felt numb as she grabbed the medikit and knelt down next to Kathryn.
"What do I do?" Annika whispered helplessly as she removed her tunic, rolling it up and using it to support Kathryn's head. They had to get out of there, she knew, but with three Dominion ships headed their way and no chance for the Federation to get anyone there in time to help, options were limited. "Hansen to Pulaski." The science officer's hand shook as she ran the probe over the captain; it took a strength of will that she did not know she possessed to keep from crying at the sight of her lover's broken body.
"Sickbay here." It was not Dr. Pulaski, but her young assistant, Ensign Joanna Charles. Apparently, the doctor was too busy with other patients to answer the hail. It did not matter though, someone had answered and that was good enough for Annika.
"Blood pressure is below standard, but her other vitals are within norms." Dr. Hansen's eyes ice blue eyes turned pale. "Heart rate is dropping."
"Lt. Hansen," Dr. Pulaski's voice came over the comm. "Transmit the readings to Sickbay."
"Transmitting." She reached over and brushed her hand across Kathryn's forehead. "You have to hang in there," she whispered. "I need you."
"Lt. Hansen ... Annika." The doctor's voice was a forced calm. "I'm sending a team up to get her now. Put the tricorder on a continuous feed to Sickbay."
Annika did not dare ask how the doctor managed to free two medics to bring the gurney to the bridge. In a disaster, those who are most injured or in danger are treated first, and she had seen the tricorder readings.
"Ma'am, one ship approaching weapons range. They're powering up their weapons array."
Annika tried to envision her intensive, if very brief, Starfleet officer's training, grasping desperately for something to break through the confusion and fear and tell her what to do. The only thing that kept coming to her over and over was that they had to get out of there fast. "Time until they're within range?" she asked, unsure why she was even entertaining the thought. It was crazy. Absolutely crazy. There was no way that it could be an option.
"Six point two minutes," Nog said. "The other two will be within range two minutes after that."
"Lieutenant, sensors reporting two more Jem'Hadar fighters approaching bearing four-two-three-point-six-seven."
The turbolift doors opened with a whoosh, letting two medics, carrying a gurney, onto the bridge. "I'll take it from here, Lieutenant," one of the medics said, holding out his hand. Annika handed the tricorder over, but not until she took one last look at the readings, noting the signs were slowly dropping.
"Lieutenant." Annika turned to see three more bridge officers enter from the turbolift, automatically going to the stations they were best suited for ... Jackson to replace the woozy Martel at the helm, Wickers to operations and Mitchell for Nog. They looked at her expectantly, and it took a second for Annika to remind herself that, at the moment, she was ranking officer. The decision had to be made and it had to be made now. Trapped by Jem'Hadar fighters if they went forward, and flanked on the sides and rear by Dominion forces, which included a Breen dreadnought, there was only one way out. Lt. Hansen dazedly made her way to the command chair, trying to fight the sickening feeling washing over her at the sight of Kathryn being carried away and fresh blood staining the deck. The red light and klaxon horn melted away to the background as she began to speak. "Ensign Mitchell, route all available power to the main deflector. Prepare to channel the transwarp stream through the deflector array on my mark." Hastily she programmed in the exact energy signature she wanted to create.
"Commander Scott to the bridge. What are ye trying to do to me people down here, Captain?"
"This is Lt. Hansen. We're trying to recreate the rift, Commander. I need enough to open it and take Voyager through." Annika did not need to explain further. Commander Montgomery Scott had been there for the first trip of Voyager through the rift into the alternate universe. He had not been happy about it then and he obviously was not happy now.
"I need at least fifteen minutes to prepare the EPS manifolds to take that kind of load."
"We don't have fifteen minutes, Commander," she said, looking at her monitor. "We have less than five before their long range torpedoes can hit us, and we need to be able to close the rift up after us."
There was a pause in which she was sure the Scottish engineer was calling her several colorful names. "Aye, Lieutenant."
The decision made, Lt. Annika Hansen sat in the command chair, lost, out of place, worried to death about her lover and terrified the rift would not be opened in time.
Janeway left the turbolift and crossed the bridge. "Report."
"Sensors picked up an energy surge but it seems to be dissipating," Lt. Kim said. "Wait, it's coming back. Captain, it's the same energy signature as the rift we went through to the other universe ... the one with Vice Admiral Johnson."
"On screen," she said, her hands gripping the armrests of her command chair. It took only one glimpse of phaser fire for her to react. "Red alert, shields up."
The rift opened further, revealing a limping Voyager trying to get through on impulse engines. "Captain, sensors indicate a ship of unknown origin firing upon Voyager," Tuvok said, his dark eyes never leaving his console. "Their shields are failing."
"Lay down some cover fire and open a hail." She waited for the nod from Harry. "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway. May we be of assistance?"
"Captain?" The screen changed to show a harried Annika Hansen wearing the pips of a senior lieutenant, seated in the captain's chair and looking as frightened as a child waking up from her first nightmare. "We're under fire. We have wounded." Hansen looked around helplessly.
"Lt. Hansen," Janeway said, mindful of the pips as she wondered how bad it was that a senior lieutenant would end up in charge of the bridge under battle conditions ... particularly one with Hansen's background. "Where is Captain Johnson?"
"S-she's in sickbay," the woman, who looked so much like her own Seven, said.
Janeway looked at Chakotay. "Get over there and assess the situation." This was not the time to talk a green command officer through a tough situation. The turbolift doors opened and Seven crossed the deck heading to her position at tactical.
"Aye, Captain," he said, turning and heading for the turbolift.
"They are limited to impulse power only," Seven said, startled by the distraught look on her counterpart's face along with dark circles beneath her eyes. "Systems are failing on decks 7 and 8," the Borg added as she looked over her instruments.
Janeway turned to face the screen. "Lt. Hansen, your systems are failing on decks 7 and 8." To her dismay, the person currently in charge of her counterpart's Voyager looked over her shoulder at the ensign standing at tactical. "Lieutenant, you need to evacuate those decks and send an engineering team there to assess the situation." Janeway rubbed her forehead. Clearly Dr. Annika Hansen was not in command, despite the protocols that might dictate that she was. Even Seven had never been placed in command of Voyager during battle status, and she had experience with tactical procedures. "I'm sending Commander Chakotay over to assist you. You must lower your forward shields long enough for him to beam over."
"I don't know..." Annika started, then paused and looked around, her eyes focusing on a spot on the floor just out of the range of the viewscreen. Seeming to draw from an inner strength despite her terror, she brought her head up. "We need to close the rift."
Seeing the enemy ships rapidly approaching the tear in the spatial fabric, Janeway agreed. "Stand by, we're going to empty our torpedo banks before we close the rift. That should give them something to think about." She only had to glance at Tuvok to know the weapons were ready on her command. A moment or two passed with agonizing slowness, then Chakotay's image appeared on the viewscreen. Annika appeared relieved and gratefully turned over command. "Tuvok, fire when ready. Chakotay, we're laying down a line of torpedoes to cover you while you finish bringing Voyager through the rift."
"Understood, Captain," he said, already giving orders and reviewing the information on the console. Seconds later, as Voyager finished limping through and the rift closed upon itself, the last thing they saw of the alternate universe was a series of exploding weapons ... and perhaps a few enemy ships as well.
With the battle over, an eerie silence filled the bridge. Seven and Janeway exchanged looks, both worried about their counterparts. "Stand down red alert and hail them."
Chakotay's face filled the screen, his uniform looking woefully out of place amid the new Starfleet design. "Captain, we've got impulse only. Transwarp engines are off-line, backup warp engines also off-line. Life support is nominal and the structural integrity field is online." He paused, reading a report coming over the command chair monitor. "Captain, the chief medical officer has requested assistance in sickbay." He paused. "She knows there's another Starfleet vessel present, but I don't think she knows exactly who it is or what's involved here."
"Where is Lt. Hansen now, Commander?"
"She went to Sickbay as soon as I relieved her of command. Uh, Captain..." He paused, his mind trying to reconcile his next statement. "Captain Johnson is in sickbay, as is their Tuvok."
"Understood, Chakotay. Maintain station keeping. Seven and I are coming over with Sek and the Doctor to see what assistance we can provide. Janeway out." She turned to her Vulcan Chief of Security. "Tuvok, you have the conn. Seven, you're with me." She headed for the turbolift, after requesting that the Doctor and Sek meet her in the transporter room.
Seven remained quiet until the turbolift doors closed. "You are worried," she noted.
Janeway nodded. "I know if I were facing half a dozen armed enemies, it would take being critically injured to pull me out of my command chair."
"Indeed, you have been critically injured and refused to relinquish your command before," Seven agreed gravely. "We need to discover what is happening as quickly as possible." She was actually a few steps ahead of the captain as they left the turbolift and strode briskly for the transporter room.
Janeway fidgeted impatiently as the transporter seemed to take forever, something her partner and the holograms did not display, but it was only a minute before they were over on the other ship and moving quickly to sickbay. The Doctor and Sek fell behind as they stopped to help injured limping through the corridors, and if the various crewmembers took more than a few second looks at these newcomers in their older style uniforms, then at least, Janeway was pleased to note they didn't let it keep them from their duties. From the anxiousness on their faces, she could tell things weren't good, and she wondered how much of it was due to the fact that they were no longer in their own universe and how much of it was a result of being in a war. She supposed that being able to see another USS Voyager hanging off the port bow did nothing to help ease the disconcertion, and seeing Voyager's science officer with no uniform at all, but with Borg implants, undoubtedly shook them. She was also disturbed that most appeared too young to even be full cadets much less ensigns.
Janeway did a double take when the door to Sickbay slid open and she saw the older woman standing over the biobed. "Doctor Pulaski? Kate Pulaski?"
The Chief Medical Officer looked at Janeway with her away team, then to the figure lying on the biobed, then back to Janeway. "I don't want to know, do I?"
"Alternate universes, Commander," Janeway explained shortly, her eyes still in shock at seeing her former Academy instructor and the broken form of her counterpart. Sickbay was busy, all the biobeds full, forcing some crewmembers to sit against the walls and quietly wait for their turn.
"Well, certainly two Voyagers are better than one. Is my counterpart on your ship?"
"Actually, I'm on your ship now," The Doctor piped up as he came through the doors with an injured crewman leaning on him heavily for support. "How may I be of assistance?"
Pulaski looked at him for a few seconds. "You've got to be kidding. You don't even breathe. How can you treat those that do?"
"I'm a fully equipped Emergency Medical Hologram as is Sek," he said with wounded dignity. He pointed out the holographic Ocampa speaking quietly to a young man sitting against the wall. "We are Voyager's medical team."
Pulaski favored Janeway with a look that the captain had not seen since her first year at the Academy when she had answered several questions wrong on a pop quiz. It still had the same effect. "Our original doctor was killed our first year in the Delta Quadrant. It was necessary to activate the EMH program," she said, carefully schooling any note of apology out of her tone, though a part of her felt oddly as if it should be there.
"Well, if I was able to work with Lt. Commander Data, I'm sure I can manage with a couple of holograms."
The Doctor sniffed and raised his chin. "I am no longer just a hologram, Doctor," he said. "Sek and I have grown beyond our original programming and are considered fully sentient and equal members of the crew."
Pulaski gave him a dubious look but nodded. "Good for you," she said shortly. "The injured are over there." She jerked her chin at the makeshift triage area where Sek had already moved to start assessing the injuries.
"I'll take care of them with my usual precision and skill," the Doctor said, not bothering to hide his annoyance, but he did move quickly over to the injured. Janeway made a mental note to keep the Doctor and Dr. Pulaski separated as much as possible in the future.
"I assume you're Dr. Hansen's other self," Pulaski said, looking at Seven.
"I am Seven of Nine," she responded promptly. "Annika Hansen was my designation prior to my assimilation, but I do not hold the degree of doctor."
"Assimilation?" Pulaski nodded as if now understanding the starburst on Seven's cheek and the optical implant. "You're Borg."
"You are correct, but I am no longer of the Collective," Seven said. "Captain Janeway severed my link three years ago."
Pulaski shook her head and pressed the hypospray to Johnson's neck. "Well, if Picard could do it, why not?" An urgent beep drew the doctor's attention to the tricorder.
"What is wrong with Captain Johnson?" Seven asked, noting with great concern the way Dr. Pulaski kept the medical probe moving over the unconscious form.
"Besides flying all over the bridge and using her head to stop her body from going through the deck?" Pulaski asked.
Seven's eyes flickered, clearly catching the sarcasm. "That is obvious. I was questioning the extent of her injuries, not the way in which they were obtained." Her blue eyes flickered over to the adjacent biobed. "Why is Dr. Hansen unconscious?"
Janeway gave a quick glance at the activity going on around her. Sek and the Doctor were working like the team they had become, organizing patients according to need and dividing up the tasks to cover the most patients in the fastest time. Already some were leaving sickbay, their injuries minor, requiring a few passes by bone knitters or dermal regenerators. The captain knew that sometimes, on a starship, triage didn't always mean taking the most heavily wounded first; it meant getting experienced personal back to key stations as quickly as possible to ensure the continued safety of the entire ship, the artificial environment dependent on maintaining integrity. It took a while for new or planetbound medical personnel to understand that when they first ventured into space.
"Lt. Hansen was hysterical and required sedation," Pulaski said, studying the readings from the tricorder. "She doesn't take well to the captain being injured," she added in a lower voice that indicated this was not the first time the head science officer had to be sedated ... or that their captain had been so critically injured.
Kathryn was still trying to get her brain to accept the image of her counterpart lying on the biobed. Pulaski's words sank through the fog and Janeway forced herself back to reality. "How bad is it?" she whispered, noting that Seven had moved and now was standing by Dr. Hansen's biobed, looking down at her with an unfathomable expression on her narrow features.
Dr. Pulaski set the tricorder down, her weathered features showing a few more wrinkles than Janeway remembered. "Severe fractures of the cranium and vertebrae, broken ribs ... Captain Johnson is nothing if not thorough." She reached out and brushed a stray lock of auburn hair off the unconscious woman's forehead. "I blame her for at least half of the gray hairs I've picked up in the last eight months." She cast a side glance at Janeway. "You're probably just like her too," she said with a touch of reproach in her voice. "Taking chances when you shouldn't, not taking proper care of yourself." A soft beep made Pulaski look at the monitor. "Do you still have those machines running around inside you?"
"The nanoprobes were completely purged from my system after the last time our universes crossed," Janeway said, surprised the Doctor was aware of who she truly was, much less of her medical history. It did explain why Pulaski's odd look at her and Seven when they first entered Sickbay lasted only a few seconds, and of course, Kathryn had known since her Academy days that Kate Pulaski was not easily fazed.
"Good," the older woman said cryptically, reaching for a hypospray and pressing it against the unconscious woman's throat. "Captain Johnson is stabilized as best I can for now. Ensign Charles," she said in a louder voice, drawing the attention of her assistant. "It's time to wake Lt. Hansen."
The young ensign looked at her commanding officer apprehensively. "Yes, Doctor." Seven stepped to the side as Charles used a hypospray to bring Hansen around.
Annika opened her eyes carefully and looked around, her eyes falling on the other biobed. "Kathryn," she said, struggling to sit up. Seven reached out to steady her, noting the dark circles under her counterpart's eyes.
"You require rest," the Borg said firmly.
"No," the scientist said, pushing the offered hand away and standing up. "I have to know. Doctor?"
"Lieutenant, I'm releasing you to active duty," Pulaski said without looking up. "Report to whoever is in charge."
"Oh, no, you don't." Seven was surprised by the fire in her counterpart's eyes. Annika staggered over to the biobed, her eyes stricken when she saw the readings. "Don't you even think of hiding behind your CMO authority. I have a right to know."
Pulaski seemed to hesitate before conceding the distraught woman's point. "I have Kathryn's vital signs stabilized for the moment."
"What does that mean? Is she going to be all right?"
Dr. Kate Pulaski looked at her instruments. All her decades in Starfleet Medical, all the horrors she had seen, the times she had to inform a loved one of the most devastating of news, all those experiences failed to make it any easier. "Dr. Hansen, I'm doing everything I can."
Tears sprang from Annika's face as she crumbled into Seven's strong arms.
"I think it would be best if we took Dr. Hansen to her quarters," Janeway said, receiving an agreeing nod from her spouse who looked distinctly uncomfortable at holding her counterpart. It was obvious that this crew had been running on the wire edge of nerves for a long time, and absurdly, Janeway found herself thinking fondly of the relative peace of this current section of the Delta Quadrant.
Pulaski nodded. "Please come see me before the day is out," she requested quietly. "I need to speak with you further."
Janeway nodded and pressed her comm badge. "Janeway to Chakotay."
"Chakotay here."
"Status, Commander?"
"They don't have any propulsion higher than impulse available, and their deflector array was severely damaged by the increased energy going through it to create the rift. Commander Scott has teams working on decks 7 and 8. Commander Tuvok ... their Commander Tuvok is ready to assume command."
Janeway allowed a small smile. No doubt Chakotay was feeling a bit out of sorts with the alternate universe's ship and crew. He might even be wondering where his counterpart was in the scheme of things. "Turn the conn over to Mr. Tuvok and return to Voyager. Sek and the Doctor will return when they are through helping Dr. Pulaski in Sickbay. Seven and I have some business here that we have to take care of, but in the meantime, as before, we want to keep traffic between the ships as limited as possible."
His voice lowered. "Are we really that much alike?" he said softly. "With the exception of Tuvok, I don't recognize any of the crewmen here on the bridge. In fact, a hell of a lot of them are just kids."
"Perhaps not," Janeway allowed. "But protocols really don't cover contact with alternate realities. I'd like to keep it under control as much as possible."
"Understood. Captain?"
"Yes Commander?"
"How is ... the captain?"
"It's just like you to be worried, Chakotay," she said affectionately before sobering her tone. Clearly, she was not going to repeat what the doctor had said, not with Annika still sobbing and clutching desperately to Seven. "I'll see you back on Voyager. Janeway out." It wasn't until the channel was cut that she realized she hadn't really answered her first officer's question.
The two previous encounters with Dr. Hansen had allowed Janeway to see the differences between the two Annikas, but she was still struck by them, now. Where Seven's hair was shimmering and long, currently done up in the austere bun, Annika's was cropped close to her head, cowlicks causing it to stick out in places. Ignoring the implants, even their faces showed subtle differences, most notably the drawn, gaunt look of the scientist's features. Voyager II's Annika was clearly in pain and had been for some time. Feeling the need to comfort the one that looked so much like her own Seven, Janeway walked over and put her hand on Dr. Hansen's elbow. "Come on now," she said in a gentle tone, exchanging a significant look with Seven. "Let's get you back to your quarters."
"But ... Kathryn," Annika protested even though she was being guided to the door by the quiet but determined Borg.
"Is under the best care she could possibly ask for," Janeway reassured her as the sickbay doors opened and they stepped out into the corridor.
The door to the captain's quarters hissed obediently open, allowing Janeway and Seven to guide Annika over to the couch. Janeway quickly programmed a glass of whiskey, neat, for medicinal purposes, taking it to where the blondes were sitting. Seven was next to Annika, allowing her biometric suit to become damp with the science officer's tears.
"Dr. Hansen," Janeway said, offering the glass as she perched uncertainly on the edge of the chair offset to the couch. "Drink this."
Apparently understanding what she was trying to do, Seven took the glass from her and put it to the distraught woman's lips. "It is required you consume this now," she instructed firmly.
Hansen drained half the glass in one long swallow, much to Janeway's surprise as her Annika did not care for the strong liquor, preferring champagne or wine. Hansen reached into her tunic pocket and pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief. "Thank you," she mumbled, wiping her eyes and face with one hand while using the other to take the glass from Seven. This time she kept it tilted up to her lips until the drink was gone.
Janeway took the glass from her hands and set it on the coffee table. "Fill us in," she demanded gently.
Hansen took a quick glance at her surroundings. "You brought me to Kathryn's quarters," she noted, surprise coloring her tone.
"You do not live together as a family unit?" Seven asked, with even more surprise threading her voice.
Hansen shook her head. "No," she responded with an edge that indicated this was an old wound. She paused, then looked at Seven with an aching expression, apparently seeing her as someone she could confide in. It was almost as if, now that Janeway and Seven were here, she had given herself permission to completely fall apart. Janeway wondered how long she had been storing the anguish away. "With the exception of Dr. Pulaski and a few others, the crew doesn't really know about us. We did talk about sharing quarters six months ago when it looked like the Federation had all but won the war, but then the Dominion allied themselves with the Breen and stepped up their attack and we had to go into battle and..." The blonde woman gave a half sob and pulled her long legs up against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Dammit, I told her she was taking too many chances. We're supposed to be a courier ship, not fighting on the front lines."
Janeway leaned forward and put a gentle hand on Hansen's knee. "I know this is hard for you, Annika."
"Hard?" Hansen gave a sarcastic half laugh. "Damn right it's hard." She looked so distraught that Janeway swiftly got up and replicated a second whiskey, wondering if it was such a good idea to be feeding the woman drinks but not knowing quite what else to do. She wondered if she should give Sek a call. "Ten months ago I thought everything was perfect. Kathryn was a captain again and I was given a commission. Voyager's transwarp drive is a feather in Admiral Nechayev's cap, and this was only supposed to be a six month mission to test the transwarp drive against the Dominion."
"What happened?"
"We ran into an ambush of Jem'Hadar a month after we began." Hansen paused to take a long swallow of whiskey, privately wishing she had a liter instead of a glass of the stuff. "I guess it didn't take them long to discover our new technology and they wanted to have a closer look. And you know Kathryn. Instead of moving us to a safe place and letting Starfleet's warships take care of them, she got it in her stubborn head to take care of them herself." She gave Janeway a disgruntled look, as if the captain was guilty of the same crimes by association. "She was covering tactical when an plasma surge blew up the station. Dr. Pulaski operated on her for over six hours. Six hours, can you believe that?" Hansen sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve.
"Yes," Seven piped up. "When Kathryn injures herself, it usually is of the type designed to test our doctor's skill to the fullest." She gave her wife a small smile. "She has gotten much better at avoiding danger lately."
"Yeah, well, I wish my Kathryn would get the hint," Hansen grumbled, draining the glass. "She was back on the bridge three days after that incident. You think she would have learned but obviously she hasn't." She eyed the empty glass. "I need another drink."
"I'll get it," Janeway said, rising to her feet and crossing over to the replicator. This time she programmed a regular whiskey and soda for herself and a much weaker one for Hansen.
"Thank you," Hansen said as she took the glass. "I can't believe how crazy this has all gotten."
"Just relax and take a deep breath," Janeway urged, mindful of the concerned look on her wife's face. Seven was clearly sensitive to the situation, and the last thing the captain needed was two upset Hansens to deal with. She wondered if Johnson's injury was triggering memories for Seven ... memories that Janeway had certainly given enough of to her Borg.
"I'm okay," the science officer said unconvincingly.
"I do not believe you," Seven said bluntly. "You and Kathryn are having problems with your relationship."
Hansen gave Seven a surprised look before lowering her head and nodding. Janeway merely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her partner's brutal lack of tact.
"Two weeks after that first battle, Kathryn locked herself in her ready room for days on end, not talking to me, not talking to anyone. She never would tell me what was going on." The whiskey and soda was lasting longer now, Hansen sipping instead of gulping. "When she came out, we talked about our future and growing old together." She looked up at Janeway helplessly. "I really thought she had worked out whatever was bothering her. I thought we were finally on the right track. Then the war stepped up again and we ran into that ambush. Shortly after, Voyager's orders were changed again. We were suddenly testing how quickly we were in transporting necessary goods and personnel to where they needed to go. Certainly, nothing the Dominion had would be faster in moving crucial supplies to key areas, but it wasn't dammed battle duty any longer, it was courier work." Fresh tears made their way down her cheeks. "After that ... everything just fell apart. She pulled away from me, started spending all her time in that damn Ready Room. Wouldn't even talk about living together or our future or anything." Hansen lifted the glass to her lips as if the melted ice might contain just a few drops more of the whiskey.
Janeway reached out and took the glass. "I think you've had enough of that for now," she said gently but firmly. She was startled when her comm badge chirped.
"Pulaski to Janeway."
"Janeway here. Go ahead, Doctor."
"Is Lt. Hansen with you?"
"Yes she is. She can hear us."
"Good. I have Captain Johnson stabilized and the worst of her injuries repaired. She's sedated and won't be conscious until tomorrow, but I do predict a full recovery."
"That is most welcome news, Doctor," Janeway said.
"Pulaski out."
The captain looked at Hansen, who looked very much relieved though still worried. "Do you want to stay here or in your own quarters?"
"I can't take being all alone," Hansen admitted. "I'll go back to Sickbay and stay with Kathryn."
"You need rest and probably food," Janeway countered firmly. "At least, let Seven take you back to your quarters so you can eat and freshen up first." A quick glance from her wife let the captain know that Seven thought that was a good idea. Janeway wondered if the Borg wanted to speak to her counterpart in private and decided that very well could be. After all, she and Johnson had found their greatest sense of closeness when they had been alone in the cave on Mars. "I'll return to my ship and start organizing the repair teams for your ship."
"It's not my damned ship," Annika muttered, under her breath, and Janeway cast a final, worried look at both women as she left the quarters.
Seven's eyes widened when she stepped into the science officer's cabin. "You live here?" she asked dubiously.
"Of course," Hansen said as she shoved some padds and clothes out of the way to reveal the couch cushion. "Do you want something to drink?"
"No thank you," the Borg said, linking her hands behind her back and taking in the mess with a disapproving eye. "Why do you not maintain your quarters? It is inefficient to have..." She did a quick count. "Twenty-seven padds active at once."
"I work better with clutter," Hansen said, a trifle defensively, while waiting for her drink to materialize in the replicator. "Most of the time, Kathryn and I meet in her quarters."
"I understand why," Seven said. "It would be impossible to conduct much socialization in these surroundings. I most certainly would not allow our quarters to become so disorganized." Distastefully, she skirted a pile of what appeared to be worn ... and very dirty ... clothes.
"I'll do better once Kathryn and I are living together," Hansen said sullenly, taking a swallow of her drink. "If we ever live together," she added, slumping down onto the couch.
"You must have faith," Seven said, methodically cleaning off the chair and taking a seat that faced her counterpart. "Kathryn Janeway is a very difficult person to love, but the rewards far outweigh the effort required."
"That's easy for you to say," Hansen scoffed. "Your Janeway is perfect. She married you, didn't she?" She rubbed her forehead. "I can barely get mine to agree that a continued relationship is a possibility."
"My Kathryn is not perfect," Seven corrected, then softened and added honestly. "But she is perfect for me. We have learned how to communicate our needs and feelings to each other, even when they appear irrational."
"Mine hides in her ready room and doesn't even acknowledge I'm around," Hansen said sadly. "Then she'll show up after days of not talking to me and wants me to hold her."
"And do you?"
"Of course," Hansen said, surprised by the question. "I love her, Seven. Even when she drives me crazy and it feels like she's pushing me away, I still love her. I'll take anything I can get from her, even if it's just being able to hold her once in a while."
"That is insufficient," Seven noted reasonably. "You are not being fair to your partnership. Captain Janeway does not need a companion who caters to her every whim and I suspect neither does Captain Johnson. She needs a person who is strong enough to tell her when she is wrong and to love her despite it. You are doing both her and yourself a disservice by holding your true feelings back."
"I don't have a choice," Annika said bitterly. "The last eight months have been hell for us. We've both said so much ... been so hurtful to each other." She sniffed. "Tonight was supposed to be one of our 'make-up' nights."
"Explain," Seven urged.
"We haven't said a civil word to each other in almost a week and tonight we were going to have dinner and try to put it behind us ... again." Hansen sniffed, blinking rapidly. "I hate this. I hate fighting with her when all I want to do is just hold her in my arms and never let go. I hate coming to these quarters night after night when she's just down the corridor, but we're not talking because of one stupid reason or another. I hate that I'm sitting here when I should be with her in sickbay, and I just don't know how to handle all this." She wiped her eyes with her hand, angrily removing the tears. "I would give anything to see her smile again, to see those eyes a brilliant blue and full of love. Do you know what I mean?"
"I do," Seven said, her gaze softening. "Kathryn at her happiest is a most wonderful sight indeed. I strive to keep her as happy as I am able."
"My Kathryn's eyes haven't been blue in a long time," Hansen noted sadly. "Not since..." A certain enlightenment dawned in her expression. "Not since she got that communiqué," the science officer said slowly. "She received a top level private communiqué just after we got our new orders. Whatever was in that message, it took Kathryn away and there's nothing there but the Starfleet captain now."
"Your Kathryn is hiding her feelings from you beneath the command mask," Seven said. "It is a familiar tactic of hers. It must be a great fear, if she is at all similar to my Kathryn. Anger would be clearly defined in her approach, which would be straightforward."
"What does she have to be afraid of? She knows I love her."
"Unknown," Seven noted. "But if she is hiding it this well from you, it is possible that it involves you in some way."
"How?" Hansen said, bewildered. "She knows I would do anything for her. For God's sake, I joined Starfleet just to be with her."
"Then you joined Starfleet for the wrong reasons," Seven said disapprovingly. "We shall discuss that another time. Right now it is more important for you to concentrate on what you need to do for your Kathryn."
"What can I do?" Hansen asked, holding her hands out. "I try to be there for her. I give her space when she wants it. What more can I do?" Emotionally defeated, she let the tears fall. "I can't lose her, Seven. I don't know if I can survive that."
Seven hesitated, then raised an eyebrow. "I believe ... I understand," she said. She tilted her head. "But I am surprised to hear you say it. Kathryn does not particularly like me to say things to that effect. It disturbs her to know I am that dependent on her continued existence for my own. I am gradually beginning to understand why that is, thanks to sessions with our ship's counselor, but it does not change how I feel or would proceed in such an event. If Kathryn were to die, I would find a way to terminate my own existence soon after."
She raised her eyes to meet her counterpart's and realized that she had surprised and shocked her. Which meant of course, that what Hansen had been saying had been hyperbole, used for effect as so many Humans do. Seven stifled a sigh and realized she was expecting Borg-like behavior from someone who had never been Borg. It was hard to remember that sometimes.
Hansen's folded her hands neatly on her lap, and stared at them. "You mean that, don't you?" she said quietly.
"I would not say it otherwise," Seven remarked. She regarded the other woman for a long moment. "Am I to assume that you did not?"
"I ... I don't know," Hansen admitted with difficulty. She took a breath. "You know, when I'm with you, I realize how much a person says things without realizing what they're actually talking about ... of all the consequences there are included in it." She lifted her head and looked at the Borg. "Yes," she said finally. "I think I do mean it. Without Kathryn, I would not want to live." She paused and forced herself to add with reluctant honesty; "But I probably would. There would be too many counselors and family members around to see me through somehow."
Seven nodded. "I accept that," she said. "For you. However, I could not be stopped from carrying out what I believe is right." She raised her hand, the left one with the metallic mesh which blurred briefly, allowing keen-edged blades to appear. "I am Borg."
Hansen was even more disturbed by this, and Seven returned her implant to its regular appearance, feeling a need to ease the sudden tension between them. "Yet, I also accept that Kathryn would not like it, believing life is too important to discard easily, and as I continue to work with Sek and understand why, I have come to believe that somewhat myself. Particularly if children are involved. Life is precious, and as time goes by, as more and more people become a part of my life, I realize that those people would be terribly hurt by such a choice." She searched for the words. "It is no longer the simple decision it would have been a year or even a few months ago."
Hansen swallowed visibly, her throat working as Seven watched. "I guess ... we're really different after all," she said, a bit huskily.
Seven inclined her head and decided to change the subject, accepting that this one was far too uncomfortable for the two to discuss. "I wish to thank you," she said gently.
Hansen, slightly startled once more, leaned back on the couch. "For what?"
"Your donation of your genetic material," Seven said softly. "Those words are inadequate, of course, to express our gratitude. I simply want you to know how much it means to us, how very much it has impacted our lives."
Hansen squirmed uncomfortably. "It was just a few cells, Seven," she said. "It's not as if I missed them."
"No," Seven corrected firmly. "It is far more than that. It is Kathryn's and my future. Our children will be a part of you as well."
Hansen definitely looked uncomfortable now. "I'm ... glad I could help," she said lamely.
Seven studied her and realized that while she might not wish to show it, Hansen was cognizant of how important her gift had been to the Borg and the captain. It was sufficient.
"Have you considered children?" she asked curiously.
Hansen shook her head. "I'm not particularly the maternal type," she said, shrugging. "Besides, I'd probably be the same sort of parent mine were, and frankly, that's enough to scare anyone away from motherhood."
"I see," Seven said slowly, though she truly didn't.
"They're here, you know," Hansen said quietly.
Blinking, Seven regarded her, not quite understanding what she was talking about.
"My parents," Hansen explained, eyeing her oddly as if not sure how this news would be received. "Your parents, too, in a way, I guess. They're part of the scientific team we were escorting to Deep Space Five for the military conference there. I haven't spoken to either of them about you ... well, honestly, I don't speak to them much at the best of times ... but I bet they'd love to meet you. Particularly when they discover the Borg aspect."
Seven was suddenly aware that she was having considerable trouble breathing, to the point where her nanoprobes had to take over and regulate it, forcing her to take a deep breath, and then another. In a part of her mind that wasn't gibbering about in complete dismay and consternation, she idly wondered if this was why Hansen fainted whenever she received a shock ... she just didn't have the nanoprobes to force her to retain consciousness in the face of all the physiological responses to astounding news.
"Seven?"
The young woman managed to swallow. "Your parents are ... here?" she repeated.
"Yeah, on deck nine, section four," Hansen remarked. "I don't know if they're aware you're here or even that Voyager has been transferred to an alternate reality, but once they find out, they're definitely going to want to meet you."
Seven felt a rushing in her ears that could not entirely be from the blood in her veins ... it seemed far too loud for that.
"I shall ... consider that option," she managed finally.
Hansen frowned faintly as she looked at her, then must have decided to let it go for now.
"Let me know, and I'll set it up," she said mildly. She looked around her room. "I suppose Captain Janeway is right, I should get something to eat."
"If you would allow me?" Seven offered, wanting something ... anything ... to occupy her mind, which had not quite refocused yet.
Hansen managed a tired grin. "I was hoping you'd ask," she said, gesturing toward the replicator. Obviously, she remembered with great fondness, the meal Seven had prepared the last time the alternate counterparts had crossed paths. "By all means, be my guest."
Seven quickly complied, using the touch pad to input a combination of ingredients and food items to create a dish that she felt might be appropriate to the situation. Two bowls materialized on a tray and she carefully carried it over to where Hansen had cleared a spot on the table ... by brushing off the hard-copy specs and several padds onto the spare chairs, not seeming to notice when a few landed on the floor instead. Seven did not roll her eyes, but she wanted to as she placed the food on the table in front of the scientist who regarded it skeptically.
"Chicken soup? You're giving me chicken soup?"
Seven raised an eyebrow and took a seat herself. She was not particularly hungry, but she knew it was easier to make someone else eat when she shared their meal. At least, that had been her experience with both Kathryn and Naomi.
"Yes," she said, curiously. "Is there a problem?"
"It's a little cliché, don't you think?"
"Is it?" Seven asked, really not knowing what her counterpart was referring to.
Hansen regarded her for a few moments more, then shook her head and picked up her spoon ... which was all Seven really wanted.
"How is it you can make even chicken soup taste good?" the science officer asked as she dipped her spoon back into the bowl.
"Gretchen Janeway taught me how to recreate her recipes to give Kathryn a sense of home, and since my initial forays were successful, I continued to do so. Now, I find preparing our meals to be a relaxing and creative endeavor."
"Ah, another difference," Hansen said. "In our universe, Kathryn and her mother haven't gotten along very well since she returned from the Delta Quadrant and married Mark. I never understood why, exactly."
"That is most unfortunate," Seven said. "I found both Gretchen and Phoebe Janeway to be very warm and loving people."
"I met them once." The science officer shrugged. "It was at the official launching of Voyager when it was recommissioned with the transwarp drive. They came from Earth to wish Kathryn off."
"Did you speak with them?"
"Me? Oh no. I don't do well with parents, remember? Besides, Kathryn looked uncomfortable enough, so I stayed with the rest of the senior officers and shook hands with all the dignitaries instead."
"That is also unfortunate. I learned a great many things about Kathryn from both of them, and it has made me better able to care for her."
"Is that what cooking and making coffee is?" Hansen asked. "Taking care of her?"
Seven considered it. "Yes, I believe so. By preparing Kathryn's meals, I know that she is getting the proper nutrition at regular intervals which is important to her well being." The Borg paused. "But it is more than that," she continued thoughtfully, "Kathryn appreciates and is pleased by the foods I prepare which, in turn, makes me happy. I give her a thermos of coffee to take to her ready room each day, and she has told me on more than one occasion that she considers this to be a very loving gesture. These are not tasks that I feel obligated to do for her; they are gifts that I offer to show my love."
Hansen seemed to think about that. "So giving her a thermos of coffee is like letting her know you love her all day long, even when you're not together." A wistful look came over her face. "That's nice."
"Then I shall share with you some of Gretchen's recipes. There are several which are simple to make and require little preparation." Seven dared to look around the cluttered room. "And limited cleanup," she added.
"My family are scientists, not traditionalists. I don't think my mother would know what to do with raw protein much less fresh vegetables and a heating unit." Hansen took another spoonful of soup. "Still, if you could do it, I suppose it wouldn't kill me to try."
As Seven observed her counterpart getting some nutrition into her system, she tried very hard not to think of anything else ... particularly who was on deck nine, section four. That was something that she decided was too much to deal with at the moment.
With all the long-range sensors reporting no other ships within their vicinity, Voyager began helping the alternate universe crew put their ship back together. Janeway had discovered from peeking at logs ... something she did not officially have permission to access since they belonged to Johnson's vessel and not hers ... that the overwhelming majority of the crew were green cadets fresh from the Academy, with very few key positions covered by anyone with experience. Thus, despite the fact that Voyager II was technologically superior, Janeway's vessel boasted a more skilled and seasoned crew, putting her ship in command of the situation ... though she remembered pressing the regulation on the other side on at least one other occasion. To keep the confusion down, Janeway ordered only essential personnel be allowed to go from one ship to another, and then only after Tuvok had checked the manifests to make sure the crewmember's counterpart was not on the other ship. That was fine until Voyager II's chief engineer and Starfleet legend Montgomery Scott insisted on being allowed to review Voyager's engine room before he'd let anyone else touch his 'precious bairns'.
To Janeway's surprise, B'Elanna Torres, rather than being outraged by the implication of incompetence, had been astounded and tremendously flattered by the demand. Apparently, she had learned more than just what rules could be used to bypass other rules during her time at Starfleet Academy ... she had also developed an extreme sort of hero worship for certain famous engineers who had come before her. Not to mention, she was nervous about meeting such a personage. The Klingon had ordered her entire staff to scrub down every square millimeter of the engine room, and triple-check every system. When the snowy-haired Commander stepped off the transporter pad, B'Elanna was there in her full dress whites, her brown eyes wide with awe. Janeway thought the lieutenant's stance was stiffer than she had ever seen the Klingon at attention.
"What's this, Lass?" he asked in thick Scottish accent. "Ye look like a Klingon, but not quite."
"I'm half-Klingon on my mother's side, Sir," B'Elanna said respectfully.
Janeway's eyebrows rose above her bangs. Did her feisty engineer just say 'Sir'?
"Aye, and on your father's side?" he asked, not caring that he was holding everything up by carrying on this conversation. Then again, when it came to the engineer who kept the legendary Enterprise going under James Kirk, certain allowances had to be made.
"My father was Human, but I was raised Klingon, Commander Scott, Sir."
Now, Janeway wondered if she had been dumped in an alternate reality. Both Sir and rank in the same address? Perhaps Lt. Torres needed to be checked out by the Doctor.
"Well, now I once met a Klingon that was raised by Humans, Lieutenant...?"
"Torres, B'Elanna Torres," she said, holding her hand out. To her surprise and Janeway's amusement, Commander Scott tucked the Klingon's arm under his own and patted her hand.
"Well then, my dear B'Elanna Torres, why don't you show me your engine room? I've found a way of recalibrating the EPS manifold parameters that should boost your output by ten percent."
"I-I'd love to, Sir," the overwhelmed Klingon said.
"Please Lass, call me Scotty," he said.
Astounded, Janeway watched the two officers stroll away, disappearing through the door leading to the rest of the ship.
"Interesting," Tuvok said from just behind Janeway's ear. "I've never seen such a look of awe on her face before."
"You realize who that is, don't you Mr. Tuvok?"
"Of course, Captain. That is Commander Montgomery Scott, born 2222, enrolled in Starfleet Academy in 2242, highest rank obtained was that of Captain. Served as Chief Engineer under Captain James T. Kirk starting in 2264. Lost in transporter loop in 2294 and rescued in 2369 by the USS Enterprise under the command of Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Shall I go on, Captain?" he asked politely.
"No Tuvok, you've made your point. I should have known better than to ask you that question. After all, you did serve under Captain Sulu during your first career with Starfleet."
"Then, why did you?" he asked curiously.
"Beyond his Starfleet record, Commander Scott is a living legend when it comes to engineering," she said, ignoring his question. "Think about it this way, Mr. Tuvok. Suppose Ambassador Spock were suddenly to appear in the Delta Quadrant?"
"It would be ... most interesting," he allowed. "I believe I understand what you are trying to say."
"I'm glad you do," she said. "Now if you will excuse me, Commander Chakotay has the conn and I have some business that I need to take care of on the alternate Voyager."
"Understood Captain. Shall I prepare an escort for you? Lt. Ro perhaps?"
Janeway arched an eyebrow. "Even if she didn't have a counterpart over there, which prohibits her from going, I hardly need her, Tuvok. I'm going from my ship to my ship in my own universe. What could possibly go wrong?"
"Do you wish me to list them in order of probability or in descending degree of danger?"
"That's what I like about you, Mr. Tuvok," she said as she stepped up onto the dais. "You're such an optimist."
"Indeed," he muttered once the transport had begun, certain the captain was out of earshot.
However, he underestimated his captain's ears, keen even while dematerializing, because Janeway heard him quite clearly. She smiled all the way from Voyager II's transporter room to the medical center where she did a quick assessment of her counterpart, who was either asleep or still unconscious on the biobed.
"How is she?" Janeway asked as she walked across sickbay.
"Kathryn will be fine," Dr. Pulaski said, motioning toward her office. "Let's talk in here."
Janeway took a seat facing the desk, noting that the large brown leather chair Kate Pulaski sank into was not Starfleet issue. The captain ... who had faced the Hirogen and the Borg, who had discovered a fossil which guaranteed the Janeway name would continue in the history books, a capable and skilled daughter taking after her father, one of Starfleet's best ... felt twenty years disappear from her, once again a green cadet in her instructor's office. Kate Pulaski altered the windows, making them one way and allowing them a sense of privacy from the rest of sickbay.
"I assume your life mirrored my Kathryn's?"
"Up until she chose to go around Borg space and I chose to go through it," Janeway said, wondering privately which Pulaski thought to be the right decision. "Any differences that might have existed up until that point were insignificant."
"And you're married to a Borg?"
"I married Annika over a year ago," Janeway clarified, not at all certain she liked the tone in her mentor's voice. But then, Pulaski had always pitched her tone in the most provocative way possible, eternally prodding whomever she was facing and taking their measure. "She was assimilated by the Borg when she was six, and was a drone for eighteen years until I severed her from the Collective three years ago. She does maintain several implants as a result of her assimilation."
"Yes," Pulaski said. "Your hologram made sure to upload his vast reports on Borg/Human physiology."
"One never knows when an obscure piece of information may come in handy," the captain said, recalling her mentor drilling that into her head back at the Academy.
"Very good, Kathryn," Pulaski said, relaxing into her chair. "Your..."
"'Counterpart' works well," Janeway offered.
"Counterpart," the doctor gave a small smile of thanks for the word, "has the same stubborn streak you had back at the Academy."
"I would like to think I have some of that left myself."
"You've been tamed, Kathryn ... and before you get yourself in a pique, I mean that in a good way." Dr. Pulaski opened a drawer and removed two glasses along with a unlabeled bottle of amber liquid, blinking as Janeway started to raise her hand in refusal. "A word of advice, Kathryn. When a chief medical officer brings you into her office and offers you a drink, don't turn it down. I suspect you haven't had a lot of that in the past few years. Holograms probably don't drink."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Janeway said, still feeling uneasy about being alone with her former mentor and wondering if she should try to defend her EMH. Meekly, she dropped her hand to her lap.
"I knew you learned something from me," Kate said, pushing the glass across the desk. "I watched you and Annika's counterpart..."
"Seven will do," Janeway said as she sniffed the golden liquid and tentatively took a sip. She realized instantly that this fine liquor was not synthehol, nor did not come from the ship's replicator. It was clearly a well aged brandy made the good old-fashioned way and she took another appreciative sip.
"Seven ... I watched the way you two are together. It's so different from the way my two stubborn girls act that I found it hard to believe that you and Kathryn are indeed the same person."
"In certain ways, we're not," Janeway said, assuming a relaxed pose in the chair as she smiled faintly. "Seven and I have learned that communication and honesty serve us best, whereas I'm not sure our counterparts have learned that lesson. Actually, with Seven, I didn't have much choice. The Borg don't utilize deception, there are no lies with them and she simply doesn't allow much dissembling for herself. As time progresses, she's also become very perceptive at knowing when I'm trying to dodge an issue." She regarded her glass idly and returned to the topic at hand. "I understand your Kathryn has been struggling with something for quite a while now," she ventured.
"You've become more perceptive yourself, Kathryn," Pulaski noted approvingly. "I'm worried about her. Kathryn Johnson battles with depression, and she doesn't let anyone in, not me, not even Lt. Hansen, while she does it."
Janeway nodded absently, remembering times when she had done the exact same thing. "Any insight on what caused this onset?"
"I'm afraid this is one area of medicine where my skills are lacking." Pulaski took a sip of her brandy. "I was hoping you might be able to help shed some light on the subject."
It was now clear why the captain had been summoned. "I'm not sure what I can do to help," Janeway said slowly. "Your Kathryn and I are separate people who now have years of differing lifestyle and experience behind us. Your Kathryn was married and divorced, a padd pusher for Starfleet. I've spent all that time here in the Delta Quadrant, in command of what has become a generational vessel."
"You're both still the same arrogant girl who dared to question me the first day of class." Pulaski's eyes twinkled for a moment. "And if all is equal in the universes, the same one who introduced There Once Was An Instructor Named Pulaski to the annals of Academy life."
Janeway flushed hotly. "How long have you known?" she asked, knowing better than to deny it.
"You thought you knew it all then, Kathryn. It took me less than a day to track it back to the padd in your quarters."
Janeway looked appropriately guilty. "I do apologize for that. It was immature of me in the extreme."
Pulaski laughed and leaned back in her chair. "That's the same answer I received when I reminded Captain Johnson about it just before we left space dock. You may have a different life experience now, but you're still the same Kathryn Janeway." The doctor's face sobered. "I just wish Kathryn Johnson could find whatever it is that Kathryn Janeway found ... before it's too late. Will you talk to her?"
Janeway considered it. "I don't know how willing she would be to listen. If she's anything like I was four years ago, I doubt I could even get her to admit anything was wrong. As soon as she's off that biobed, she's going to be right back on the bridge."
"I can fix that right now," Pulaski said, putting her glass down and resting her arms on her desk. "Computer, this is Chief Medical Officer Kate Pulaski."
"Identity confirmed."
"Computer, record that, as of this stardate, I have relieved Captain Kathryn Johnson of command due to unfitness. All duties are ceased until further notice. Authorization Pulaski three-five-eight-two-six-alpha."
"Authorization confirmed, so noted."
Silence filled the office for several minutes, both women understanding the implication of the chief medical officer pulling a captain off duty. In any universe, Kathryn would not be happy. It was a mark on their record that no captain wanted, especially the daughter of Admiral Edward Janeway.
"When can I talk to her?" Janeway asked, unable to stand the stifling silence any longer.
"Still impatient, are you? Finish your drink, Kathryn. She'll be sedated until late in the day tomorrow, and considering all the damage reports, we're not going anywhere for a while."
"Voyager II suffered a great deal of damage," Janeway agreed, having seen the reports earlier. "I've had to double the engineering detachment to help with repairs."
"Voyager II?"
Janeway did not change expression. "You're in my universe," she pointed out evenly. "If it were the other way around, my ship would be designated Voyager II."
"Of course," Pulaski said dryly. She took a breath. "As you are undoubtedly aware, most of this crew are still wet behind the ears ... or freshly released from Jaros II."
"Yes, I saw Lt. Ro when we first came into Sickbay yesterday," Janeway said. "She's turned out to be a valuable member of my Voyager."
"Our Ensign Ro has a chip on her shoulder the size of Bajor," Pulaski said, refilling her glass and topping off the visiting captain's.
"Mine did as well, but it's been tempered over time. I truly believe she will make a good captain someday."
Pulaski looked dubious, but gave a small nod. "I'm sure if that's what you want from her, you'll find a way to make it happen. You always did."
Janeway took a mouthful from her drink, rolling the brandy gently around on her tongue as she found herself quite pleased by the compliment.
"I will admit, you do have some very important differences from my Kathryn," Pulaski continued. "It's more than just experiences. Your outlook and approach to things are different and I do mean that in a good way."
"I have Seven to thank for that," Janeway admitted. "She's the one that taught me to be honest and open with my feelings and to look at every situation from all angles, not just as a captain." She relaxed even more in her chair and crossed her ankle over her knee as she took another mouthful of the smooth liquor. She realized her earlier jitters at being around her former mentor had completely slipped away and a fond smile came over her face. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me and I love her with everything in my heart." It was rare that Janeway had anyone to speak so freely with about her feelings for Seven. "She makes me ... complete."
Pulaski had a wistful smile on her face despite trying to hide it behind her glass. "You are truly blessed, Kathryn. To have found the love of your life and been lucky enough to have that love returned. I've tried, and after three divorces, have come to the conclusion that it's just not in the cards for me." She looked out into the main area of Sickbay, and the person resting on the center biobed. "I know Annika loves Kathryn. I've seen her too many times sitting by that bed just holding Johnson's hand not to believe it. I also know that deep inside Kathryn loves her, too, but something is keeping them from realizing what you and Seven have."
Janeway waggled her glass. "Considering how long it took me to figure it out, I'm not optimistic," she noted.
"Yet, all we can do is try, Kathryn," Pulaski said, and fixed her with a glance which left Janeway with the sinking feeling that there was probably no way out of this one for her. No matter how much she wiggled and squirmed to get away.
Seven of Nine looked up as Janeway entered their quarters, judging how things were progressing by the expression on her face. Janeway was serious but not strained, sober, but not distressed, so the Borg supposed they weren't as bad as certainly, her counterpart was making them out to be. She put her padd down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch as Janeway stretched out, putting her head on Seven's lap.
"Tired?" Seven queried as she gently put her fingertips to her partner's temples and began to massage them.
"That's one word to describe it," Janeway admitted as she closed her eyes, the lines around them smoothing out as the Borg worked her magic. "Mmm, that's feels nice."
"It has been a long ... and very surprising day," Seven noted, her mind drifting briefly to the offer Hansen had made to her.
"That it has," Janeway allowed. "Voyager II maintains station-keeping off our port bow and for now, things seem to have settled down a little over there." She paused. "To be honest, they look like they've been through worse than we have in the past few months. It's almost as if they're enjoying this ... like this crisis is shore leave or something similar."
"Dr. Hansen did indicate as such," Seven allowed quietly. She tilted her head. "Their ship has encountered many volatile situations, and it appears that their Federation has become as dangerous a place as our Delta Quadrant. I am concerned, Kathryn. When we last saw them, Captain Johnson and Dr. Hansen seemed ... happy. I thought they would continue to progress as we did, increasing that happiness exponentially. But now I am under the impression that they are less happy than we have ever been at any time in our relationship ... including when you lost your memories."
"They haven't gone through the same things we have, darling," Janeway responded gently. "They don't realize what they have to lose ... or perhaps just my counterpart doesn't. Certainly, Dr. Hansen has had more than one occasion to see how close she's come to losing everything."
"Captain Johnson does not speak to Dr. Hansen the way you speak to me," Seven said, faint disapproval coloring her tone.
Janeway smiled slightly, a minor curl to the right corner of her mouth. "To be fair, Hansen doesn't communicate well, either," she pointed out. "Unlike your breathtaking preference for complete and total honesty, Dr. Hansen was raised differently. She was raised like the rest of us poor Humans with our immature desire to avoid emotional confrontations."
Seven considered that. "Perhaps spending time as a Borg drone is good for one," she offered.
"Possibly," Janeway allowed with humor. "However, I'm not sure you'd get her to volunteer to be assimilated just to improve her ability to communicate with Johnson."
Seven lifted her eyebrow, her implant glinting briefly in the low lights. "That is undoubtedly accurate," she agreed. She ceased the temple massage once Janeway seemed to be fully relaxed and rested her left hand lightly on the captain's chest. The other, she placed on the top of Janeway's auburn hair, her thumb idly stroking over Kathryn's brow. "Will you speak to Captain Johnson for her?" she added.
Janeway opened her eyes, the shade far more blue than grey, but still holding a trace of the lighter color to indicate her unease. "You're the second one who's asked me to talk to Johnson about her love life," she said with a touch of exasperation. "Honestly, darling, I don't know that it's such a good idea."
"But who knows her better than you?" Seven pointed out. "And with whom would she be more apt to reveal her innermost feelings?"
Janeway shook her head, looking slightly disgruntled. "I'm not going to say you're wrong in that," she grumbled finally, after searching futilely for some way to counter it. "But it might not be enough."
"That may be so," Seven noted dryly. She bent down and brushed her lips over Janeway's. "Yet, you may be able to reach her where no one else could." She paused. "I believe in you, Kathryn," she insisted.
Janeway just groaned. "I'm not going to win with this, am I?" she allowed, almost to herself. "When did I stop having control over these things?"
"This is not about control, Kathryn," Seven suggested helpfully. "It is about helping two people in need. Two people who are, in some unique way, our family. I will be speaking to Annika to assist her because I know in my heart that I am the only one who can truly understand her now. Would you do any less for your 'sister'?"
Janeway eyed her partner ruefully. "Fine," she muttered. "I'll talk to Johnson. But I can't promise anything."
"It is enough that you try, Kathryn," Seven remarked and kissed her again, with a little more overt interest.
"Mmm," Janeway murmured when they parted, "is that to be part of my reward for doing this?"
"If a reward is what you require," Seven allowed, smiling faintly. "But I am sure I can offer a more substantial one than merely a kiss."
"Darling, there is nothing 'mere' about your kisses," Janeway responded softly. "You know that."
Seven simply smiled and kissed her again, putting more of herself into it, pleased by how Janeway's hand came up to cup her cheek, the captain's knee bending restlessly as she half turned her body toward her partner. Then again, a slow, melting kiss that inspired a bit of a low purr in Janeway's throat. Idly, the Borg let her hand drift down, covering the captain's right breast, squeezing it through the tunic and sweater, inciting a low moan of pleasure into her partner's mouth.
"Hmm, we're going to have a late dinner again, aren't we?" Janeway asked, gasping slightly as their lips finally parted.
Seven's metal capped fingertips toyed with the tiny lump which had appeared beneath the material, circling it provocatively as her cranial implant sent a signal to activate her sonic emitters, the subtle vibration transmitting through the the uniform to the sensitive flesh beneath. Janeway moaned again, this time with appreciation.
"I can prepare dinner now if you prefer," the Borg teased, a heady whisper in her ear.
"Oh, I think ... I can wait," Janeway told her, her eyes deepening their shade to a sapphire, almost glowing as she drew back to regard her partner.
"If you are absolutely sure," Seven prodded, and Janeway laughed, rolling off the couch and standing in front of the Borg, reaching down to grasp her hands.
"Positive," the captain said, her voice lowering in timbre, sending a shiver up Seven's spine. She tugged her into the bedroom where slowly ... very slowly ... they undressed each other next to the bed.
As they sank together onto the crisp linen sheets, Seven noted that Janeway's body was warm, almost too warm, as it always was when she had worked hard. It was almost as if she became fevered in her weariness and Seven instinctively gentled her caresses, sensing that her partner required tenderness now, not aggression. Her kisses were slow and sweet as she made love to the captain with as much gentleness and soft touches as she was capable of, somehow knowing that her Kathryn needed as much comfort as passion this evening.
"Annika," Janeway whispered, low into the Borg's ear.
"Yes, Kathryn," she responded.
"I absolutely adore you. If I don't say it enough, please know it."
"I do know it, Kathryn," Seven assured her, knowing where this was undoubtedly springing from. She paused, drawing back briefly to look into the shadowed eyes. "You are not like Captain Johnson. Not even in our worst moments did you ever become so distant from me that I felt you were incapable of loving me."
Janeway studied her, eyes searching her face. "I hope so, darling," she said.
"It is the truth," Seven told her sincerely. Janeway looked at her a moment longer, then the greyish eyes darkened and she moved closer, kissing Seven with such emotion that the Borg felt it reverberate to her very bones.
She sighed a bit at the sensation of the captain's long length of warm skin against her, of soft curves and cushioning flesh which welcomed her like a homecoming. They kissed again, openly, allowing their passion to rise and ebb naturally, loving each other with a familiarity that never grew wearisome, but rather, seemed to intensify in both hotness and duration the longer they were together.
Janeway's hands moved restlessly over Seven's back, dancing over the spine in the way she loved. "I love you, my Annika," she whispered, pressing her entire length up against her. Then her arms were pulling Seven down, urging the Borg to put more weight upon her which the young woman did carefully, mindful of her greater mass. The captain's thighs parted, spreading wide to welcome her between them and Seven could feel the moisture bathing her upper leg where it pressed against her partner's heat. The Borg shifted position, lifting up to fit herself to her partner, pressing her own wetness against Janeway's, and it seemed that it was exactly what they needed, both crying out at the contact.
"Oh, god ... Annika," Janeway hissed, her head lolling on the pillows as Seven moved against her, rolling her hips with a controlled pace so that they would not lose the fragile connection of sensitive flesh against the other. "Oh ... you feel so good ... don't stop..."
"Kathryn," Seven gasped, reaching down to grasp Janeway's thigh, holding her in place as she undulated. It was only by the strongest of wills that she was able to keep from moving her hips faster as her passion increased. She threw her head back as she felt her partner's hands on her breasts, squeezing them lovingly, rolling the nipples between her fingertips. Then somehow, Janeway was able to curl up, putting her mouth on them, licking and nibbling the stiffened points, which inflamed Seven even more. The Borg tried to maintain control, felt it slipping away irrevocably and it was almost with relief that she felt Janeway jerk beneath her, spasming, allowing her to surrender to her own pleasure which fluttered a rush of moisture over her partner, heightening and extending the captain's own climax.
Afterward, curled up in tangled blankets and warm touches, Janeway nuzzled Seven's ear, purring languidly as she nibbled the lobe trapped briefly between her teeth..
"Don't you ever stop talking to me, darling," she commanded quietly. "Even when it seems that I don't want to hear what you have to say."
"I will not," Seven responded, knowing what the captain was referring to. She smiled and kissed her partner's forehead before asking what she knew Janeway did want to hear. "Dinner?"
"Mmm, sounds good," Janeway said, and chuckled, hugging her tightly, indicating she understood on a level that did not require verbal communication. "I'm going to take a shower, but it shouldn't take long."
"Very well," Seven allowed. She took a moment more to nuzzle her. "I love you, my Kathryn."
Janeway nipped at her nose. "You're all I will ever need, Seven of Mine," she assured her.
Seven kissed her once more, then rolled out of bed and pulled on a short, black robe before heading out to the living area. Sometimes, she thought, as she undertook the mundane, yet only too meaningful task of preparing dinner for her and her partner, it took looking through another's eyes to see what one really had.
Or, in the case of Dr. Annika Hansen looking through hers, didn't have at all.
Seven sighed as she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. As much as she was able to forget about the Hansens throughout the evening as she concentrated on her partner, she was unable to keep them from dominating her consciousness once she had settled down in an attempt to sleep.
"What's wrong?" came the sleepy mumble as Janeway rolled over, wrapping herself around her wife and providing some much needed tactile comfort.
"I am having trouble ... collecting my thoughts," Seven offered. "You require rest."
"I require being there for you whenever you need it," Janeway said as she pushed herself up on one elbow, their voices alerting the ship's system to raise the illumination in their bedroom one eighth and allowing her to see the confusion on Seven's face. "What's bothering you, darling?"
"I am having trouble with certain choices which have been presented to me," Seven responded. "Perhaps I should have told you earlier in the evening when we were speaking of our counterparts, but I had yet to clarify things in my mind." She paused, looking slightly rueful. "I am still not clear, but I find that perhaps I cannot achieve a decision on my own."
"So why don't you roll on your stomach and I'll rub your back while you tell me about it?" Janeway ran her fingers over Seven's shoulders, surprised at how tight the muscles were. "Darling, I've never seen you this tensed up," she said with a touch of alarm.
"It is ... disconcerting," Seven said as she allowed her smaller spouse to nudge her over onto her stomach. "Annika Hansen wishes me to meet her parents," she said, clearly troubled with the words.
"Parents?" Janeway repeated, her voice heavy with astonishment. "How is that even possible?"
"Doctors Magnus and Erin Hansen are part of the civilian attachment to their ship that was being ferried to Deep Space Five to assist in a scientific endeavor there. They are currently housed on deck nine section four."
"Oh." Janeway took a deep breath. "How do you feel about that?"
Seven gave a small smile. "That is why I am not asleep right now," she said simply. "I do not understand how I feel."
The captain nodded, her face pensive. "I guess that makes sense. Let's start by getting these muscles to relax a little bit, okay? I'll be right back." Janeway rolled off the bed and entered the living room, pausing briefly to check on Jake, who was sleeping contentedly on the couch. It took a minute for her to find what she was looking for in the replicator programs but when it materialized she knew it would be worth the wait.
"What did you require out there?"
"You'll see," Janeway said, pointedly ignoring the wary look in her wife's eyes. She straddled the Borg's hips, secretly enjoying the tickling sensation as her vulnerable flesh brushed over Seven's buttocks. She twisted the knob at the end of the container and after carefully squeezing a few drops on her fingers, Kathryn set the tube down and ran her hands lightly over Seven's back.
"Oh." The blonde woman's head came off the pillow in surprise. "What is that?"
"Heated oil," Janeway said, using the tube to put liberal amounts over Seven's back now that she was sure it was not too hot.
"I smell spice."
"It's scented. Now put your head down and close your eyes." As gently as she could, Janeway ran her oil soaked hands over the smooth skin, still amazed by how tense her Borg was. "So Dr. Hansen's parents, who are essentially the same people as your own parents, are on the other Voyager." She did not have to look up to know she could see the other ship through the viewport above the bed. "Are you afraid to meet them?"
"I am not afraid ... yet, at the same time, I am experiencing a certain reluctance to encounter them. Does that make sense?"
"It makes perfect sense, love," Janeway said, increasing the pressure of her fingers as she felt the muscles reluctantly give way to her expertise in relaxing her wife. "It would be a very emotional encounter for you."
"And I am still troubled by the Mimic," Seven said.
Janeway winced as she worked out the tenseness along one shoulder.
"I suspect that it will be a long time before you are completely over that," she allowed quietly.
"I suspect that is an understatement," Seven said, with a touch of dryness. She was silent for a few moments, obviously enjoying the sensation her partner was providing her. When she spoke again, it was in a very thoughtful tone. "Annika indicates that she has a negative relationship with her mother, and her interaction with her father is at best, barely civil." The Borg picked her head up and glanced over her shoulder at Janeway. "Dr. Hansen harbors much anger and hostility toward her parents. They have yet to interact since arriving on Voyager."
"Why?" Janeway asked, honestly curious.
"The Hansens are not proponents of Starfleet," Seven explained. "Indeed, when Annika chose to work with Starfleet on her transwarp project, they were most upset and were positively outraged later when she chose to accept a commission. That is when her mother stopped speaking to her. Then, the Hansens were 'drafted' by the Federation into the war effort and apparently accord further blame to Annika about this." She sighed. "I believe this only adds to my counterpart's lack of ability to deal with Captain Johnson. It appears to be all tied together."
Janeway took a deep breath. "You're probably correct," she said, prodding at a particularly difficult knot. "I know from experience that nothing can aggravate an already volatile situation than by adding a few relatives to the mix."
"Indeed, you cannot be speaking of Gretchen," Seven objected. "She makes an intolerable situation much better." Her memory of being transported to the Alpha Quadrant, of being lost and frightened, crossed her mind, and the comfort she had found in the presence of Janeway's mother had possibly been the only thing that had gotten her through it.
"That's because she's not your mother," Janeway grumbled, almost to herself, then grinned, bending down to briefly kiss her partner's shoulder blade. "Sorry, darling, don't get me wrong; she adores you almost as much as I do. You're probably the daughter that she should have had. But believe me, she can get to me as easily as the Hansens can get to Annika ... or that Mimic, in impersonating your mother, got to you. Parents can pull emotional strings in their child that no one else can."
"Do you think Dr. Hansen's parents could pull such 'strings' with me?" Seven asked. "One might say that they are my parents as well, in some odd sense."
Janeway considered that carefully. "That's hard to say," she allowed slowly, working her way through it and wondering why Seven would ask such a thing. "You certainly don't have the same history and as individuals, well ... you grew up not really knowing them as parents at all. They, on the other hand, will look at you and see their 'daughter', with significant differences that they ... their counterparts ... were directly responsible for. It's a hard one to call, darling." She paused and ran her thumbs along Seven's spine. "In any event, you know you don't have to do anything that you don't want to do. If this is something that will be too difficult for you to handle, then stay away from them. I don't think it's crucial that you get to meet them."
Seven was silent, thinking about it as Janeway continued her massage.
"But you still believe I should," Seven said finally.
Janeway stifled her sigh. "I'm saying that I don't know what to advise you about this," she admitted. "Darling, I can see this as having a great deal of potential to hurt you and you know I would never want that. But I also realize that not doing it, also has the potential to hurt you. I'd hate to have you look back a few months or years down the road and regret you didn't take the chance to interact with your parents ... even if it was only by proxy."
Seven peered over her shoulder at the captain. "Your choice would be to 'take the chance'," she noted. "It always seems to be."
"But you're not me, my darling," Janeway told her. "This has to be your decision." Privately the old insecurity and fear crept up on her, the same feeling she had when the Mimic had her convinced that she was dealing with her mother-in-law. How would Erin Hansen deal with the knowledge that her daughter, in any universe, was in love with a Starfleet captain almost twenty years her senior? Sensing her partner was relaxed now, she changed the massage to a back scratch which made Seven wiggle with pleasure. "Why do you want to know if the elder Hansens can pull your emotional strings?"
She could see Seven's cheek and right eye, the Borg's head turned sideways on the pillow. The young woman blinked sandy lashes, light shadows on her pale skin.
"I believe Dr. Hansen has an ulterior motive for wanting me to meet her parents," Seven noted carefully, after a moment.
Janeway was surprised. Seven seldom had such 'hunches' but they were rarely wrong, perhaps because she had to feel them quite strongly before she would ever comment on them.
"What makes you say that?"
Seven shifted beneath her, indicating that she wanted to roll over. Janeway obligingly lifted up, and once Seven had settled herself, stretched out beside her, resting her head on the young woman's shoulder as the Borg wrapped her left arm warmly around her. Janeway drew the covers up around them both and brought the lights down once more.
"I do not know, Kathryn," Seven admitted finally. "Perhaps because of the way she looked at me when she made the suggestion ... as I look to you when I need you to do something for me, despite knowing you will not wish to. Yet, I still require you to do it because I am unable to accomplish it myself."
Janeway worked her way through that. "You mean, she might think you can get through to them where she can't?"
"Perhaps," Seven allowed. She paused. "I do not believe they know of her intimate relationship with Captain Johnson. Annika knows that I would never hide my relationship with you. That could be significant."
Janeway chuckled. "Oh, I get it. She wants you to test the waters first, see how they react to you about their 'daughter' being married to a Starfleet captain and if it's not too extreme, then she can decide whether to tell them about Johnson or not."
"This does my counterpart little credit," Seven said unhappily. "She is apparently manipulative."
"Hmm, maybe she's just a little more devious than you." Janeway reached up and rested her fingertips on Seven's chin. "Darling, you are developing a bit of a fondness for the art of manipulation, yourself, remember? Are you so surprised to find that your counterpart has also learned its usefulness?"
Seven sighed. "Now, perhaps I understand why you do not like me to utilize it. It makes one feel ... uncomfortable."
"Well, if you do decide to meet these people, Annika," Janeway said, yawning, "do it for your own reasons, not anyone else's."
Seven squeezed her lightly. "I will, Kathryn."
Janeway closed her eyes, relaxing into the comfortable feeling of being curled up against her wife. "I love you," she told the Borg quietly. "And no matter what you decide, I'll be here for you."
"I love you, my Kathryn," Seven said, brushing her lips over the auburn hair. There had been a distinct increase in proclaiming their love to each other verbally since encountering the other Voyager. The young woman understood what was motivating it of course, but what surprised her is how often she wished to reaffirm it physically as well. "Kathryn, I know that we already made love this evening and that you are tired..."
Janeway laughed, a low, husky chuckle. "Are you 'in the mood' again, Seven of Mine?" she asked playfully.
"I feel an urge to share intimacy," Seven told her honestly. "It is a constant desire since encountering our counterparts." She tightened her embrace slightly. "It is as if I am afraid that somehow, we will begin to act as they do if we are not careful."
"Hmm, I don't think there's much chance of that," Janeway murmured, sliding her hand over Seven's hip. "But if you need to be reassured, then I'm certainly not adverse to ... helping out." Her fingertips trailed over the Borg's stomach, tracing delicate lines of sensuality along scars so faint as to be nonexistent.
Seven inched closer to the body next to her. "Kathryn, if you are not..."
"Shh," Janeway interrupted, silencing her with a quick kiss. "Love, just lay back while I show you how much I utterly adore you."
Seven hesitated, then did as she was told, relaxing under the long elegant fingers which stroked her so languidly, moving from her throat down over her breasts lightly, teasingly, along the line of muscles in her abdomen and combing luxuriously through the thin blonde triangle, dipping down fleetingly to touch her tender area before moving up again. The Borg's respiration deepened and quickened, the sensation flowing through her nerve endings like a plasma wash through a warp conduit.
"This feels good," she murmured.
"Oh, I want you to feel good, love," Janeway promised in her most provocative tone, her lips mere millimeters from Seven's ear. "I love your body, the way it responds to me. I can make you so wet, so ready ... just by touching you like this." Her tongue flicked out, exploring the lobe, enhancing the words which flowed so easily from her lips. Without involving her own desire, Janeway was able to remain coherent ... and quite explicit ... throughout the pleasure she was providing to her partner who swallowed and sighed, surrendering utterly to the captain's hands and mouth.
Did Johnson ever made love to Annika this way? Seven thought muzzily, then realized that it was unlikely ... no one was as loving or as competent in their skill as her Kathryn. She arched slowly as Janeway touched her, sheer pleasure searing her skin as if it were on fire and she wondered how much of it was a result of the oil Janeway had utilized earlier that still remained on her fingertips.
"You are all mine, my darling," Janeway whispered, stroking Seven fully, immersing her hand in the moisture she found, slipping into her with ease. Seven gasped as she was penetrated in all places, two fingers thrust deep within her, Kathryn's smallest finger easing into her from behind, the captain's thumb pressing insistently on the sensitive nodule and she knew that she had to keep herself from moving too much, aware of how easily it would snap Kathryn's wrist if she became overly enthusiastic. Forcing herself to remain intensified the sensation, drawing out the pleasure as Janeway continued to murmur the most astounding things in her ear. As it strengthened, Seven found it harder and harder to control the undulating movements of her hips.
"Kathryn..."
It was both a whisper of love and a plea which Janeway understood, moving over so that her torso was covering the Borg, pinning her in place. Seven gratefully surrendered to the mouth that sought out her breasts, the captain's lips covering the closest nipple possessively, sucking on it hard. Seven's moans were swallowed in the darkness as the first wave hit her, then another, unable to prevent the spasms from shaking her, but the comforting weight of her wife on top of her kept them from becoming too violent. The restraint on her body prolonged her sensation, the tremors rippling strong throughout her nervous system and Seven could only whimper helplessly as she clutched desperately at the metal bar set in the head of the bed. Her left hand twisted it harshly as the captain's fingers drew her climax out until there was nothing left, the sound of tortured metal squealing harshly into the night.
"Oh, Kathryn," she whispered, swallowing hard when everything ... fingers, mouth and ecstasy ... finally released her. "Thank you."
"Mmm, don't thank me, darling," Janeway muttered with amusement as she kissed her way up to the Borg's lips. "I enjoy having my way with you like this every so often. Gives me something to think about during those boring staff meetings while Neelix is going over his messhall allocations." She nibbled Seven's bottom lip gently, then settled against her once more, draping her arm heavily over the Borg's body. "Go to sleep, Annika. Tomorrow will be just as busy as today was."
"Yes, Kathryn," Seven mumbled, feeling drowsiness seep over her as her body, completely relaxed now, made its own demand for slumber. "Good night."
"Night, my love."
Sickbay was quiet when Seven arrived, having checked with the ship's computer as to Lt. Hansen's location after beaming over. As expected, she was sitting on the stool next to Captain Johnson's biobed, taking advantage of the lack of other patients to hold the smaller hand within her own.
"Seven," Hansen acknowledged as she approached.
"Annika Hansen," she returned, no matter how odd it sounded on her lips. "Has there been any improvement?"
"Some." Annika reached over to run her knuckles over her lover's cheek. "Her vital signs are improving and other than being weak and sore for a few days, Kathryn should be fine."
"That is good news," Seven said.
"Were you looking for me?"
"Indeed. I have made a decision regarding your offer for me to meet your parents." Seven paused, taking a deep breath as she once again questioned if she had made the right choice. She had wanted to speak with Sek about it, but the fledgling counselor was busy helping the inexperienced and shell shocked crew of Johnson's Voyager, since they did not have a counselor of their own. Seven knew, if she told Sek it was of extreme urgency, that the holographic Ocampa would make time for her, but she decided her dilemma was not of the same priority as helping a crew which might not get a chance to see a counselor again for some time. Instead, Seven had sought out the advice of B'Elanna, her best friend and, combined with her own feelings and Kathryn's words, she made her decision. "I wish to meet them. Do they wish to meet me as well?"
Hansen leaned against the stool. "I don't know," she said, seeming somewhat surprised. Perhaps she had not anticipated receiving a response so quickly. "I haven't talked to them."
"They must not be deceived into meeting with me," Seven said. "I will not ...surprise them. You must tell them about my assimilation and find out if they wish to meet me." She paused, catching Annika's eyes in a stern gaze. "You must also inform them that I am married to Captain Janeway."
"Of course," Annika responded without a flicker and Seven knew that she had been right about her 'hunch'.
Seven was torn between being pleased that her intuition about the situation had been accurate, and outraged that her counterpart would attempt to manipulate her in this manner, but she did not say anything. For one thing, she did not think that, in the end, Annika's own intent was particularly relevant to Seven's meeting the Hansens, and for another, the Borg had her own reasons for wanting to speak with them. If, as a side effect, she somehow smoothed the way for a new line of communication to be opened between her counterpart and her parents, well then, was that any less than what she should be doing anyway?
She glanced over at Johnson, feeling a twinge at seeing that familiar face so vulnerable and battered, having to restrain herself from reaching out and brushing back a lock of auburn that had fallen over the proud brow. Even as she thought about it, Annika reached out and tenderly lifted the strand back into place, then she looked at Seven and for a moment, something profound and deeply moving passed between them, an instant of total and complete understanding.
"She does love you," Seven said quietly. "That love is worth fighting for. It is irrelevant what others think, it is even irrelevant what emotions such as pride and ego demand of you. She needs you in a way that perhaps she may never really comprehend herself, but that you must always hold in your heart. Without you, she will ultimately lose herself and in doing so, will bring about your undoing as well. Only by bridging this gap between you, will you both find true happiness."
Annika swallowed visibly, her eyes shining as moisture rose in them. "I know," she said huskily. "Somehow, no matter what else happens, that knowledge remains with me."
Seven nodded. "I will help you in whatever way I can," she said. "I swear that to you." She smiled faintly and reached out, putting her hand on Annika's shoulder. If it felt odd to be literally, touching herself, it was a sensation that Seven steadfastly ignored. Annika reached up and put her hand over the one on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly, with a touch of affection.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything. Every time I see Kathryn injured, I feel so alone and helpless. You and Janeway being here has really helped make it all ... bearable."
Seven dipped her head and carefully released her. Then she inhaled slowly and broke contact with those pale eyes.
"I am assisting Lt. Torres with repairs in this Voyager's engineering section. If you require my presence today, that is where you can find me."
"I'll set up the meeting as soon as possible," Annika promised.
With one final look at her and Kathryn's counterpart, Seven exited sickbay, unaware that she was being observed with keen interest by the chief medical officer in her office, the elder woman looking quite thoughtful as the Borg left.