• Welcome to the first installment of the ST: Millennium series.  Like all Trek series which begin with a two hour premier, this is the first part of two which make up the 'pilot' episode (although, this does have an epilogue and is self contained.)
• This was first posted to the web on June 22nd, 2001.

The clawlike Cardassian construction of Deep Space 9 hung majestically against a backdrop of stars as ships of various cultures, including that of the Federation, made the station their main port of call in the sector. Belonging to the Bajorans and run in association with Starfleet, it stood sentinel over the wormhole leading to the Gamma Quadrant, and still maintained its frontier reputation, even after years of supposed 'civilized' maintenance. It was rumored that one could still find deals of the shadiest nature in its bars and kiosks, particularly in the establishment run by an entrepreneur named Quark.

The Promenade was busy this time of day, filled with a wide range of species who went about their business with bustling intent. On the walkway overlooking the main level, a Starfleet officer looked down on the people thronging the various shops and bars and wondered if any of their unknown concerns were as exciting ... or intimidating ... as the challenge he was about to face.

"Commander Zar."

Turning his whole body rather than just his head because of his prominent neck ridges, Zar Tulek discovered the thin, reedy voice addressing him belonged to a small Ferengi male. To the commander's surprise, he was wearing a Starfleet uniform. Ferengi were the robber barons of the Alpha Quadrant, a merchant race with a set group of rules directed to one ultimate goal; profit. It was surprising to see one of the snaggle-toothed, large-eared beings representing the Federation. On the other hand, Zar was hardly one to jump to conclusions. His unique background had dictated he face his own form of prejudice and misconceptions as he rose through the ranks of Starfleet.

"Yes?"

The young man seemed to falter slightly before visibly straightening his shoulders.

"Lt. Nog, sir," he introduced himself. "I understand you're the new exec on USS Millennium. I've been assigned to the ship's helm."

"I see." Zar did not allow his astonishment to show on his boney features. He wondered what kind of captain would willingly choose a Ferengi to pilot her vessel, particularly when the ship was a brand new, state-of-the-art Fast Explorer, boasting an experimental propulsion drive. Wouldn't a competent captain worry that the young man would take the opportunity to make some profit, specifically by selling the specs of the new drive to his brethren?

Yet, he was also aware that the ideals of the Federation were those of tolerance and acceptance ... otherwise, Zar would never have made it through the Academy, let alone served for as long as he had. Certainly, this young Ferengi would not be wearing the pips of a junior lieutenant unless there was far more to his abilities than what his surface appearance implied. If he wore the uniform, Zar reminded himself, that should be good enough for anyone, including himself.

"Sir, do you know when the Millennium will be arriving?" Nog prompted somewhat nervously when the commander didn't say anything further.

"I expect the vessel to dock by 1100," Zar responded shortly. He turned his attention back to the Promenade, dismissing the junior officer from his attention. Nog didn't take the hint to leave. Instead, he settled into the space beside the commander, leaning against the rail as if he had done it countless times before.

"Sir?" he asked, after a few moments.

"Yes," Zar responded, not particularly inviting Nog's continued companionship but not yet rebuffing it either.

"May I ask you a question?"

Zar's thin lips twitched. "I'm not Cardassian."

"Sir?"

"I'm Bajoran."

That was obviously more than the Ferengi was prepared to accept, but apparently, the lieutenant didn't want to call the commander a liar. Zar sighed. The offspring of the Bajoran civilians and their Cardassian oppressors had not been welcomed by either people. Considered unpleasant reminders by both species of the Occupation, they symbolized actions which were an political embarrassment to one side, and a horrific violation to the other. Most hybrids had been killed out of hand. Zar Tulek had not, but neither was he prepared to share his long and complicated story of survival with a junior officer.

"I'm a hybrid," he allowed finally.

"Ah," Nog responded. "I see, sir. In any event, sir, that wasn't my question."

Zar blinked. "Oh," he said, feeling vaguely stupid. "What was, Lieutenant?"

"I was wondering if, when Millennium gets here, I'm expected to report directly to the captain, or if the comm officer would be sufficient on board a vessel this size."

"The comm officer will be sufficient," Zar explained with a sigh.

"Yes, sir. I look forward to serving with you, sir," Nog managed before hastily making his departure, apparently aware he had bothered his senior officer enough for a first encounter.

Zar did not look after him, returning his attention to the crowds below. Born on Bajor and raised on a colony not far from Betazed, Zar considered himself a citizen of the Federation, but there was no denying that his looks were predominantly Cardassian ... except perhaps to another Cardassian who would note the Bajoran influence immediately. To the rest of quadrant, Zar was one of them. The Cardassian Empire had brutally occupied the peaceful world of Bajor, had instigated war with the Federation not just once, but several times, most recently in the alliance of the Dominion. Despite wearing the Starfleet uniform, despite having proven that he had earned it several times over, his dealings with others over the years had grown no easier, simply because of his appearance.

He turned from the railing, moving over to the nearest viewport. It looked out onto the Gamma Quadrant wormhole, the swirl of color and energy a wondrous sight every time a ship entered or exited the spatial anomaly. After the Dominion's defeat, the Alpha Quadrant maintained a constant presence on the other side, keeping an eye on their former enemies. Meanwhile, Klingon vessels patrolled the former Cardassian Empire, keeping them under close observation, inclined not to let them rebuild too quickly.

Zar was conscious of the people who passed behind him, aware of the looks they shot his way. It didn't matter where he went in the Federation, he was always the object of scrutiny. He expected to suffer it on the Millennium, but because the tour of duty would be a year or more, perhaps the wariness would ease over time. Would this assignment would grant him a command finally, or would it be just another deadend posting? He had always needed to work twice, even three times, as hard to receive a fraction of the respect accorded other officers. All he wanted was to be judged on his own merits, and not on his genetic makeup. Captain Janeway was purportedly a very good teacher when it came to command seasoning.

Let's hope she can get by the external appearance and accept me for who I am. But so far, he had met very few who could, even in the 'enlightened' Federation.

"Commander."

Startled, he looked sideways and saw a Bajoran colonel regarding him evenly. He hadn't even sensed her approach. Tall, with a short shock of reddish hair, he recognized the commander of the station, Kira Nerys.

"Colonel," he replied politely. She wasn't responding to him as being a Bajoran, obviously, but he was interested to see that she wasn't responding to him as being a Cardassian either. The pity that subtly touched her gaze made him stiffen in resentment. He didn't require anyone's pity.

"I wanted to let you know that the USS Millennium will be delayed. It's had to divert course to assist a vessel in distress, and won't be arriving until tomorrow at 0900."

He raised his chin. "Thank you, Colonel."

She didn't leave. Instead, she remained standing next to him, studying him covertly.

"Is there something else?" he asked, forcing himself to be civil.

"Which camp?"

"It's irrelevant," he said shortly, understanding that she was referring to the many internment camps the Cardassians had established to control the Bajoran citizens, and use them for forced labor. Where one had been incarcerated was often used as a form of identification by the survivors. "I left when I was one, smuggled out on a Bolian freighter by my mother who took me to live on the Federation colony, Verus Prime. I don't really remember much about Bajor or the Occupation."

She blinked, taken aback as she realized she had touched on a sore spot. "I'm sorry. It's just ... I knew someone like you. Tora Ziyal. I know what she went through."

He stifled his initial response. He was a Starfleet officer, he reminded himself firmly. "If she remained on Bajor, her experiences were not similar to mine." He paused before adding reluctantly in an attempt to be fair. "Undoubtedly, they were far more difficult. In the Federation, while others saw me as Cardassian, once they discovered the truth, some would try to accept me for who I am rather than what they initially perceived. I doubt that she received the same sort of acceptance ... from either the people of Bajor or Cardassia."

Her face altered slightly, shame coloring her dark gaze. "You're right, it was very difficult for her. But she was my friend, and I miss her."

He hesitated, sensing a tragedy behind her manner, but not wanting to pursue it. He'd had entirely enough aggravation in his own life, and didn't need to add to it by worrying about others and events about which he could do nothing, particularly when the colonel was speaking of this 'Tora Ziyal' in the past tense.

"Thank you for informing of the change in schedule for the Millennium," he said uncomfortably.

She stared at him a moment longer before she dipped her head and left. He knew that she had been reaching out, and he supposed he should have been grateful for it, but he had been burned too many times by Bajorans in the past to fully trust them. He understood from where their resentment sprang, and why they would release it on him, either deliberately or on a subconscious level, but he was not prepared to indulge it now ... not the night before he was to accept an exec posting on the most advanced starship in Starfleet.

Commanded by one of the most enigmatic captains in the fleet, he added to himself with a certain trepidation. Kathryn Janeway had literally been out of contact with the rest of the Alpha Quadrant for seven years, yet somehow managed to keep her starship intact ... a small Scout type, Intrepid-class vessel designed for short range missions only ... and had also melded a varied combination of Starfleet officers, Maquis outlaws, and Delta Quadrant natives into a formidable crew. Upon Voyager's return, the personnel who had served under her had been snapped up by captains all over the fleet, and their experience and skills had established Janeway's reputation as a captain who developed leaders, rather than just officers.

If she was half as good as the rumors purported her to be, his education under her command would be invaluable in any future professional endeavors. The only question that remained was: could she get by his appearance?

A soft hiss from the outer part of her quarters caught her by surprise, and she glanced up, her concentration broken as she watched her spouse of more than two years cross the bedroom, heading for the ensuite on the other side. Seven of Nine shot her a brief nod of acknowledgment as she passed, her narrow features offset by cybernetic implants adorning her left eye and cheekbone, her long blonde hair drawn back in an austere bun. Brilliant and beautiful, the young woman radiated a demeanor of icy efficiency that tended to keep most people at bay. Two gold pips of a senior lieutenant adorned the blue collar of her Starfleet uniform, a promotion received shortly before leaving Earth, and predicated upon Seven's accepting the position of Millennium's chief science officer.

Janeway frowned as she glanced at the chronometer, noting the time, and when she looked down at the padds scattered around her, she was displeased even more by what they represented. She was still frowning when Seven joined her a few moments later, her lush, curvaceous body delectably revealed as she slipped naked between the sheets.

"Annika?" Janeway murmured. "I need to speak with you."

Seven, in the process of settling down onto the mattress after retrieving a pillow from the captain's pile, paused and regarded her. Undoubtedly recognizing both the expression on her partner's face, as well as the intimacy implied with the use of her Human identity as opposed to the designation granted her by the Borg, Seven turned, resting on her side as she regarded the captain inquiringly.

"Yes, Kathryn?" Her tones were precise and cool, her ice-blue eyes warming perceptively as she studied the smaller woman.

"Where were you this evening?"

Seven blinked. "I was in conference with the civilian scientists with whom I will be working." She hesitated. "Why? I was on duty. I was not socializing." It was a bit defensive, as if she had detected some form of accusation in the other woman's voice.

Janeway exhaled, wondering if she had already started the conversation on a wrong note.

"I'm sorry." She reached over to put an apologetic hand on her partner's forearm. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I guess I was hoping you had been socializing rather than working."

Tilting her head slightly, Seven looked puzzled. "I do not understand."

"Annika, you and I both know that we can get lost in our duties, particularly when it's a new assignment and there's so much to do."

An eyebrow raised. "You feel I am working too hard."

"Not just you." Janeway motioned toward the stack of padds on the night stand. "As you can see, I also worked for hours after the alpha shift ended. We're both aware of how we've allowed ourselves get caught up in our professional duties to the detriment of our personal relationship in the past. We shouldn't allow it to happen again."

Seven's face cleared. "You are correct." Though the young woman had spent eighteen years as a drone in a hive mind collective, she had come a long way in her return to Humanity since Janeway had first met her five years earlier. She easily saw where this could lead.

Janeway sighed and leaned over, slipping her arms around her spouse as she relaxed against the side of the woman's six foot frame, nestling her head on the young woman's shoulder. "It's difficult to balance all our responsibilities, love," she said quietly. "There will undoubtedly be many times in the missions ahead of us when we'll be required to pull double, and even triple shifts. We need to avoid working extra hours when it's not necessary."

"I agree." Seven ran her fingers languidly through the captain's hair. "Yet, there is still much to learn about my new duties."

"I'm not arguing that point," Janeway responded. "But this is an important thing for us to work out before it becomes damaging."

"Perhaps delegation?" Seven suggested, her arm warm around Janeway's shoulders. "I have decided that Lenara Kahn would be an excellent person to head up the civilian scientists. Structuring how the civilians will be working with the Starfleet scientists in the various departments will dispel the need for my personal supervision in various sections. Indeed, that was the task requiring my attention this evening, a meeting to outline her responsibilities."

"Oh," Janeway allowed, feeling somewhat inefficient. Seven, she realized, had already been addressing the solution to the potential difficulties. "You're several steps ahead of me, it seems."

Seven smiled faintly. Not particularly effusive in her emotions, the tiniest alteration of her expression tended to speak volumes to her partner, and the captain squeezed her admonishingly.

"All right. So I'm a little slow in recognizing the problem."

"Perhaps in attempting to solve it as well?" Seven prodded gently. "What were you working on this evening?"

"Departmental reports," Janeway said, a bit warily as she abruptly perceived a trap.

"Duties that are primarily those of the first officer?"

"I don't have a first officer."

"At the moment." Seven squeezed the captain slightly. "Is it possible that you are already trying to make him less important to you since you know his posting is only temporary? Is that proper command behavior?"

Janeway started to reply, tensing stiffly before she forced herself to take a deep breath to compose herself. She recognized that the quick flash of anger was irrational, an instinctive reaction to her captain persona being questioned, even if it was by her spouse.

Seven lifted her head. "That was poorly phrased, Kathryn," she said quickly, obviously having sensed her partner's outrage through the alteration of the woman's body language. "I was merely attempting to make a point."

"I know," Janeway admitted, now slightly embarrassed at her reaction, or in this case, her overreaction. "That's why I'm taking a minute to answer it." She rubbed her cheek against the soft skin of Seven's upper chest, concentrating on the sensation of warmth that allowed her to relax as she considered the question. "Do you really think that's what I'm doing?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "It is possible that between you and Commander Ro, you will alleviate him of all his responsibilities?"

Now that she was forced to think about it, Janeway realized that she and the Bajoran tactical officer had been preempting a great deal of the first officer's duties in the guise of 'preparing for his arrival'. It had meant lots of extra hours for both women, and honestly, was not according the new officer any due.

"We just want to make the transition smooth for him."

"Leaving him with nothing at all to do is very smooth indeed," Seven pointed out dryly.

Janeway buried her face in her partner's neck bashfully. "All right," she mumbled, her voice muffled. "Your point is taken."

Seven chuckled, a small sound of amusement that reverberated through her chest, thrumming beneath Janeway's fingertips. Lifting her chin, the Borg instructed the computer to dim the lights, bringing them down to night standard, and the couple settled closer to each other.

"What do you think about Dr. Kahn?" Janeway tried to make it sound like a professional query. Here in the warm haven of darkness prior to sleep, their conversations tended to be more intimate, the couple more open to each other emotionally, and the captain tried to take advantage of it whenever she could. "I know that you have a great deal of respect for her as a scientist, but she's never pulled starship duty before. Do you feel she'll adapt to the Starfleet system of doing things?"

"She informed me that she greatly appreciates the organizational structure I put in place."

Janeway pursed her lips, wondering if she should pursue this. When she had first been introduced to the scientist, she had felt intimidated by Kahn's innate brilliance, particularly when Seven and the Trill subsequently lapsed into a technical conversation that quickly left the starship captain behind. Janeway wasn't used to feeling inadequate when it came to science.

"You really like her, don't you?"

"Very much," Seven responded with enthusiasm, apparently unaware of the unease prompting the question. "Her experiences from having lived several lifetimes through her symbiont are very intriguing to me. In some ways, it is similar to being assimilated and having the knowledge of ten thousand species to draw upon. Also, her theories on wormhole variance frequencies is fascinating."

"Should I be jealous?" Janeway managed in what she hoped was a light tone.

Seven paused, obviously surprised. "She is a very attractive woman," she admitted with her customary honesty. She dipped her head, rubbing her cheek against the captain's. "However, no one will ever be as attractive to me as you are," she added in a seductive murmur, finally realizing that her partner was feeling uncertain.

The captain felt the heat rise in her face, embarrassed once more. "I'm sorry, darling. I'm just being silly."

"Yes," Seven agreed fondly, "you are. Yet, I allow that a certain amount of jealousy on your part is ... flattering ... if ultimately in error."

Janeway smiled, relaxing as she snuggled closer, delighting in the warm curves of her spouse. "You're a very beautiful woman, Annika," she told the young woman. "Certainly, I'm not the only one who's noticed ... or is attracted to you."

Seven was unimpressed by the compliment. "I am attracted only to you, and that is all that should matter."

"I suppose it is," Janeway agreed. She yawned, feeling drowsy as her day caught up to her. "I have been overworking. A comment like that deserves to be rewarded, but while the spirit is willing, the body is feeling rather weak."

"Perhaps we have been married too long," Seven noted. "Obviously, all the warnings that I have received from B'Elanna Torres regarding the tedium of matrimony were accurate."

Janeway poked her lightly in the side. "Don't tease," she protested. "I'm much too sleepy to match wits with you tonight."

"Too sleepy for lovemaking, too sleepy for conversation ... is this an indication of what I must expect in our future?"

The captain kissed Seven's neck affectionately. "Not at all, darling. Now that I realize how much I've been working unnecessarily, I'll be able to make more time for us. In fact, I just had a wonderful idea. After we arrive at DS9, why don't you and I make reservations for dinner tomorrow night at that restaurant on the Promenade?"

"Where we dined upon our return from the Alpha Quadrant?"

"Yes," Janeway said. "It'll be fitting, don't you think? It will note our departure from the Alpha Quadrant, just as it did our arrival. We'll have a nice, leisurely dinner, go dancing at the club..."

"Initiate a brawl..." Seven interjected dryly.

Reminded of the incident which had occurred during their last visit to the station, Janeway was forced to laugh, rolling away from her spouse to put her hand over her eyes. "No, this time, we'll be on our best behavior and Colonel Kira will have no reason to hand us over to station security."

"Acceptable. I have no desire to spend more time in one of the station's holding cells."

"So, it's a date?"

"Yes. I will enjoy having dinner with you, as well as dancing. Perhaps we shall even be able to make love afterwards."

Janeway dropped her hands. "Now you're just being sarcastic. I haven't been neglecting you that badly, have I?"

"We have not made love since the night before we launched from Utopia Planitia," Seven reminded her. "That was six days ago."

Janeway's face altered as she glanced over at her. "So we haven't," she said with a touch of remorse. "I'm sorry, darling."

Seven shook her head. "It was not an accusation of any kind, Kathryn, merely an observation."

Janeway slipped her arm underneath Seven's torso, pulling the young woman to her.

"I truly don't mean to ignore you, darling. I've just been a little busy."

"I know. We have discussed our tendency to overwork."

"Yes, but we haven't discussed our lack of physical intimacy."

Seven lifted an eyebrow. "It seems the sort of thing that will take care of itself once we terminate our tendency to overwork," she noted.

Janeway chuckled. "I suppose it will." She paused, offering her partner a rueful expression. "I'm really tired tonight, Annika. I'm sorry."

Seven smiled and kissed her affectionately. "It is fine, Kathryn," she murmured. "I was merely teasing you."

"Honestly?"

"Yes." Seven drew her into her arms, the women once more arranging themselves so that they would both be comfortable for sleep.

"I promise I'll make it up to you," Janeway muttered, yawning.

"I know you will." Seven lifted an eyebrow. "In fact, knowing how well you can 'make it up to me' may leave me with the inevitable reminder to be careful what I wish for. You can be quite insatiable when you want to be."

Janeway didn't think that warranted a response, though a rather smug smile touched the corners of her mouth as she drifted off to sleep in her partner's arms.

With a touch of regret, she placed the artwork back on the shelf and glanced around at the other display cases, checking over the remainder of selection before leaving the store. She dawdled along the Promenade as she window-shopped, discovering a certain small pleasure at doing so. It was unfortunate that Janeway had not been able to get away to join her for an afternoon of leave, but that was the reality of being married to the captain of a starship. Janeway's time was limited, particularly while they were still in the preparatory stage of their mission, and what moments the couple could share were precious indeed.

She lifted her head as she heard a confrontation, and she turned to witness a Starfleet officer being challenged by a Bajoran in front of the station's temple. Her eyebrow lifted as she noted the officer was predominantly Cardassian ... species 3267 in Borg parlance ... which perhaps explained the antagonism directed at him, but he was also Starfleet, and at the moment, Starfleet was her Collective. A quick glance around determined that no one else assisting him, not even two officers from the Millennium who were looking on with crass fascination. She noted their identities with disapproval, and then moved purposefully toward the confrontation. Perhaps it was not her place to interfere, but since taking over as science officer for her new starship, she was more aware of being in a position of leadership, of feeling a sense of responsibility to others.

"State the problem," she demanded with authority.

Startled, both Bajoran and Starfleet officer turned to look at her, and belatedly, she realized that the Cardassian was wearing the three pips of a command officer, and thus, would hardly require the assistance of a mere lieutenant. However, she was committed now, and could not formulate a graceful way to withdraw. In any event, Janeway had once told her that if she assumed a position of authority, it was incumbent upon her to maintain that leadership unless someone formally relieved her of it. It was up to the senior officer to take command of the situation at this point, which he didn't seemed inclined to do. Instead, he was staring at her with a stunned expression, as if he had never seen a Borg before. For all she knew, perhaps he hadn't.

The Bajoran however, looked her up and down with more obvious appreciation, softening abruptly. Seven had noticed that her appearance sometimes had such an effect on men, particularly if they were much older. It had nothing to do with her abilities as either a Borg or a Starfleet officer.

"I can appreciate you're wishing to defend one of your own," he allowed grudgingly, some of the anger dissipating. "But can you truly claim this as one of your own?"

Seven regarded the other officer who continued to stare at her with an expression of bemusement and astonishment.

"He wears the uniform," she said firmly. "No one wears it who has not earned it. He is also one of 'your own', sir. He is partially Bajoran."

The older man blinked and looked dismayed, granting the commander another look, much closer this time, obviously picking out the subtle genetic traits in the officer's features that had escaped him initially. Seven knew that the Bajorans were no more fond of the hybrids who were the result of the Occupation than were the Cardassians, but the pity combined with embarrassment that appeared in his eyes was better than open hostility.

Though perhaps not to the Starfleet officer. He frowned as the man offered a gruff apology before going on his way, and his eyes were angry when he turned to the young woman.

"I had things under control, Lieutenant," he said stiffly.

Seven lifted an eyebrow, but was certainly not about to argue with him. "Yes, sir."

He seemed about to say more before he hesitated, assuming a more neutral stance and linking his hands behind his back. He was quite tall, topping Seven by a few inches. "You are?"

"Lt. Annika Hansen," Seven replied promptly. She still wasn't quite used to introducing herself by her Human designation, though that was how she was identified on the Starfleet roster. "I am the chief science officer for USS Millennium."

He lifted his chin with what most would perceive as arrogance, but Seven immediately recognized it as an attempt to hide his uncertainty. It was a gesture she had refined shortly after being severed from the Collective and forced to adapt to a ship filled with confusing and baffling Humans. Obviously, as a hybrid on a Bajoran station, this individual also felt the need to present an exterior shell of confidence that perhaps, he did not feel internally. Seven was intrigued, feeling a certain kinship to him that she had not expected.

"I am Commander Zar Tulek," he said. "I'm your new first officer."

His eyes were almost challenging, and Seven wondered why. Was he afraid that she would react in some hostile way?

"I look forward to working with you, sir."

He blinked, seeming surprised at her lack of emotional response one way or another. Seven was not entirely sure why. Neither species, 3267 nor the Bajoran species 3271, were of particular note to the Collective, though the first maintained great strength while the later included both endurance and discipline. However, there were many species that boasted those particular traits, and possessed unique characteristics as well. She knew a Bajoran well, of course, due to her association with Lt. Commander Ro Laren, but she had never discussed the Occupation with her at any length, and thus had no 'Human' response to his being Cardassian.

"Thank you," he said finally. He exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "I am scheduled to report to Captain Janeway at 1400 hours."

Seven nodded. "You will find her an exemplary captain and a unique individual," she said, with a touch of pride. "Serving her will be a rewarding and beneficial experience for you."

He blinked, again surprised. "I ... see. You think very highly of her."

Seven resisted the urge to smile. "Yes," she said with complete honesty.

He regarded her closely. "You don't ... react as a Human." He lifted his head minutely, shifting his eyes, and Seven knew he was studying her implants. "Is that jewelry?"

"It is a cybernetic implant, as is the starburst on my cheek." She lifted her hand, revealing the mesh covering the her fingers and hand. "I am ... was ... Borg, until I was severed from the Collective five years ago."

Now it was her turn to receive an expression of combined pity and embarrassment, though she took no offense at it. It seemed to be the traditional response whenever she revealed her dual nature. However, it was interesting to her that until she stated it clearly, most defined her as a Human with unusual taste in facial adornment. She did wonder occasionally at this apparent need to 'label' individuals, but she presumed it was some kind of adaptability trait used to guide one's responses to new and different situations. That the trait sometimes caused individuals to act in unnecessarily negative and hostile ways, such as the Bajoran who had just left, was an unfortunate side effect.

Her only objection was when people insisted on maintaining their preconceived notions, even after they had been proven inaccurate. Janeway said this was 'bigotry' and that it was a result of beings wishing to retain their ignorance and fear, rather than adapt to any given situation with intelligence. Still, it seemed to her that everyone nurtured certain biases. She, for example, maintained decidedly negative reactions to Species 8472, as well as Species 5174 ... the Hirogen ... and the Entharan, for which the Borg had yet to identify as a species. It was not enlightened, but it was true.

"You're the transwarp scientist," he said, seeming to remember something. "You worked with the Theoretical Propulsion Group at Utopia Planitia under Dr. Leah Brahms." He appeared to relax. "I must say, I look forward to working with you, as well. I read your paper on Quantum Dynamics of Slipstream Enhancement to Warp Propulsion. I didn't realize that you were now serving on a starship."

Seven lifted her chin, her unconscious estimation of his intelligence taking an immediate upswing. Janeway had pronounced the paper somewhat 'dry' and difficult to get through for the average scientist, which was why Seven assumed she had never met anyone in Starfleet who had actually read it. She was aware of being  greatly flattered and pleased at being recognized because of her work.

"As the first officer of a vessel designed for deep exploration, you must have a background in sciences," she prodded. "Is it in engineering?"

"No." He smiled faintly, which altered his features and granted him a softer, more approachable expression. Seven wondered why he did not smile more often. "I majored in biometrics and exobiology at the Academy, but I did find the possible physiological and psychological side-effects of the slipstream conduit absolutely fascinating."

Seven nodded. "I have an interest in biometrics as well, though it is not the field in which I am most capable," she admitted. "I did include several theories in the paper, though obviously, my biometric research would not be as extensive as someone who has studied those fields exclusively."

He glanced over at a establishment across the promenade. "Lieutenant, since it's that time of the day, and I have a hour or so before I must report, may I buy you lunch?"

Seven was vaguely surprised, but realized it was an honest attempt to establish a friendly relationship with a new crewmember. Since she had nothing in particular planned until meeting with Janeway later that evening for dinner, she nodded. "Thank you."

He gestured toward the facility that turned out to be the bar belonging to a Ferengi named Quark. Seven was quite familiar with it, having patronized it on more than one occasion, particularly when a Bajoran orb accidently transported her, B'Elanna Torres, and Voyager's first officer, Commander Chakotay, to the Alpha Quadrant some years earlier. She had actually been arrested by the station's then security chief, Constable Odo, at the corner table. Still, such memories did not alter the fact that the food was usually quite good and the ambiance was ... invigorating.

She was aware of the looks directed Zar's way as the pair entered the bar and made their way to a relatively concealed table beside some framing supports. Deciding the scrutiny was similar to that she had experienced during her first weeks on Voyager, she again felt a sense of affiliation with the officer. They were both outsiders, and while she had managed to discover her place within the Federation ... professionally within Starfleet, and personally with her spouse and friends ... he apparently was still finding his way. She wondered if her experiences would provide her with the ability to assist him. If so, she was determined to become his friend in a way that others had befriended her when things had been so uncertain.

"What will you have?" he asked politely once they were seated and had brought up the menu on the padd embedded in the table.

Seven raised an eyebrow as she studied the menu. "I am unfamiliar with many of these dishes," she admitted, her experience with food primarily limited to Earth dishes that she prepared. Even while in the Alpha Quadrant, the captain and she had tended to visit predominantly Human restaurants, and Janeway's forays into 'alien cuisine' were decidedly Earth-based in their preparation. "Would you suggest something?"

He looked vaguely pleased at being asked, and reviewed the menu with renewed attention. "I would recommend the Kohlanese stew. It's Klingon, but not typical of their dishes, and difficult to do badly. It can be quite tasty when prepared properly."

Seven nodded. "That would be acceptable." She lifted a brow. "We shall see if it has been prepared correctly."

He smiled, and again she was struck by a sense of there being an entirely different persona behind the angular and foreboding features. "I'll have the same," he said, and punched in the request.

As they waited for their meal, they discussed Seven's paper, and the Borg was intrigued to discover that Zar was an extremely adept scientist. She thought that Janeway would find him a very useful and accomplished officer, particularly in his adaptability to new ideas ... a trait she discovered when the conversation moved onto the transition drive used by the Millennium. Over their food, she suggested that he spend some time with B'Elanna Torres as well, the chief engineer undoubtedly having a great deal to offer the first officer regarding the actual function of the drive.

The time passed quickly, and both were surprised when Zar's comm badge chirped with a reminder that it was time for him to report to his new vessel. He promised to look Seven up again as soon as he had settled into his new position, his tone exceedingly sincere, and as she watched him walk away, the young woman was vastly pleased by how the encounter had progressed.

Confident that she had made a new friend, and assisted him in his adaptation to a new and unfamiliar situation, Seven decided that it had been a most productive day at Deep Space 9 ... unlike most of her other visits to the space station.

In the years since, she had experienced several occasions when she regretted that decision most profoundly. Logic dictated that she had made the correct choice. Her heart, however, still ached, and later, upon hearing that Jadzia Dax had gone on to marry a Klingon Starfleet officer and was subsequently killed during the war with the Dominion, the regret had settled into a wound that felt as if it would never heal. Now she was to meet Dax's next host, the symbiont passed on to another female Trill when Jadzia had died, which was the way of their people.

Hesitantly, Lenara pressed the admittance chime near the door, waiting with trepidation until it finally opened to reveal Dax's new host. A great deal shorter than the statuesque Jadzia, Lenara towered over her, abruptly feeling awkward and ungainly. Ezri Dax looked more like a child than a woman, with short, black hair surrounding elven features, and dark eyes that appeared far too large for her face. Light brown spots, a physiological trait of the Trill, traced from her hairline down her temple and cheek, along the side of her neck until they disappeared beneath the blue collar of her uniform. A smile quirked one corner of her mouth, and for an instance, Lenara could see the hint of Curzon and Jadzia there, a devil-may-care sense before it disappeared and there was only the too young woman regarding her with very old eyes.

"Lenara Kahn," Ezri said formally. "It's so good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too," Lenara said, and for a moment, the grief was so strong within her that it was difficult to catch her breath.

"Come in," Ezri said, motioning her into the quarters. Moving as if under water, Lenara drifted over to the couch and took a seat, not sure if she had been invited, but certain that she needed to sit down before she lost her footing. The smaller Trill took a seat opposite her, her hands resting on her knees, regarding her closely. "I appreciate that this is very hard for you. However, I realize this is something that is very necessary for you to resolve."

Lenara looked at her dazedly, belatedly remembering what she had read about the young woman. This was the psychologist speaking. Ezri, an assistant ship's counselor on the starship Destiny, had been chosen to be a host in an emergency joining when the Dax symbiont, which was on its way back to the Trill homeworld, had taken a turn for the worse. Lenara didn't want to talk to a counselor, she wished to speak with Jadzia, to see her one more time ... to apologize for making a choice that had left her aching and empty inside for the past five years. It horrified her to think that if she had only stayed with the other woman, had accepted the exile and condemnation that would have followed, that perhaps the beautiful young scientist would still be alive, would have been somewhere other than where she had met her death, though Lenara had no way of knowing that for sure.

"I'm sorry. This was a mistake," she said, gathering her composure. "I thought ... I shouldn't have come here."

"Lenara, I understand," Ezri said, reaching out to touch her arm. "Jadzia and Torias, they both loved you, and certainly, Dax will always care for Kahn."

Lenara looked at the small hand on her forearm, and she wanted to be anywhere, but where she was. "Of course." Her tone devoid of inflection. It was hard to accept, but looking at the young woman, seeing very little of what she had loved in Jadzia in the new host, she understood the true tragedy of the situation. It had been the scientist she loved, for whom she had developed the connection. It hadn't simply been a result of having loved Torias Dax as Nilani Kahn lifetimes earlier. Had it not been for the presence of the symbionts, she and the Starfleet scientist would have been wonderful together because they fit on some fundamental level.

Now it was too late.

She had imagined this moment for so long, had envisioned it ending countless ways, but for some reason, she had never imagined it would end because she felt nothing for the person standing opposite her ... just an echo of a love and a decision that still cut deeply. For the first time she understood that Jadzia was really gone. She stood up, feeling somewhat in control once more though she suspected that was a false assumption on her part. "I'm sorry I imposed Ezri. I just ... I had to see you again."

"Lenara..." Ezri began, her dark eyes concerned as she observed the other woman closely.

"No, I'm fine," Lenara lied. She forced a smile, altering her features into a pleasant assurance she didn't feel. "I hope that you're happy now."

Ezri nodded. "I am." She paused. "Do you remember Dr. Bashir?"

Lenara thought of the brash young doctor she had met, a handsome, if slight young man, and looking into the young woman's eyes, she understood why his name had been brought up.

"I'm very glad, Ezri," Lenara said with as much sincerity as she could muster. "I wish you all the best."

"That's all I've ever wanted for you," Ezri told her with apparent honesty. The young woman escorted her to the door, and somehow, Lenara maintained her frozen mask of graciousness until she was well away from the quarters.

She wasn't sure how she made it to the Promenade, abruptly finding herself walking amid a crowd of other beings, feeling completely and utterly alone. The part of her that was Kahn sorrowed for what could never be, but it was the host part of her that truly felt the devastation of knowing it was completely over. Perhaps because it had been predominantly the host part of her that had made the decision so long ago. The symbionts, after all, had less interest in the rules and regulations their humanoid hosts demanded of themselves. By the same token, however, the symbionts also knew when it was time to move on. Their entire existence was of surviving, of finding other hosts and living yet another lifetime when required.

"Lenara Kahn."

Taking a deep breath, though it lanced her as a dagger would, Lenara turned to discover Seven of Nine regarding her with grave concern.

"Lenara, are you ... all right?" Seven asked when the Trill did not respond to her initially.

"I ... yes, I ... I'm fine," Lenara managed.

Seven stared at her. "I do not believe you," the young Borg said flatly. She reached out, putting her hand gently, but firmly, on the Trill's arm, and Lenara did not resist as she was led to a nearby kiosk where she was directed to a chair.

Seven took a seat opposite her, sitting with perfect posture, her hands folded neatly on the table top. "Explain," she demanded. Lenara looked back at her, finding it difficult to speak, and Seven seemed to sense that, her narrow features softening somewhat. "Would you care for something to drink?" she added, in an obvious attempt to be less obtrusive

"Yes," Lenara croaked. "Aldebaran whiskey."

Seven lifted an eyebrow. "I do not believe this facility serves intoxicants." She paused. "I could return to the bar and retrieve the drink for you."

That seemed to penetrate the fog clouding Lenara's mind and she shook her head. "No, I'm fine." She paused, inhaling slowly. "A raktajino will do. Hot with a measure of kava."

Seven nodded soberly and rose from her seat, moving over to one of the nearby station replicators. Punching in her identity code so that the cost could be deducted from her credit account, she requested the raktajino and a jumja tea for herself. Carrying both mugs carefully back to the table, the young woman resumed her seated position and regarded Lenara intently. She did not speak, perhaps comprehending that it was up to the Trill to communicate what was going on when she was ready.

Lenara sipped her drink, feeling the heat slide down her throat smoothly, radiating out to loosen the chill that had settled within her. The stimulant within the Klingon coffee also served to chase away the last of the cotton filling her brain.

"Being here on Deep Space 9 is not easy for me," she began.

Seven lifted a brow, but she didn't respond. Her expression was expectant, clearly prompting the Trill to continue. Taking a deep breath, Lenara did so, explaining about Torias amd Nilani, and the subsequent relationship with Jadzia, of how it was frowned upon to reassociate after acquiring new hosts, and how she had walked away, even though Jadzia had been willing to give up everything for her.

By the time she was finished, tears were staining her cheeks, and she wiped them away, embarrassed to be so emotional, yet feeling somewhat better for having talked about it at length. Seven had been an attentive listener, radiating a sense of empathy and understanding that seemed unusual for someone raised as a Borg drone. Lenara realized she was glad that she had run into the young woman. She had always admired the young woman's brilliance. Now she was finding cause to be impressed with her kindness and compassion.

"I am ... sorry this situation has proven so difficult for you," the Borg said finally. "I cannot imagine what it was like to have loved someone so much, and be unable to be with them." She paused. "I think that it would be easier for you if it was truly death that had finished the relationship. With your species, however, you are burdened with the knowledge that part of the person you love lives on, yet in someone who does not necessarily feel the same for you."

"It's the reality of being joined," Lenara said bleakly. "I've certainly read of these situations, and it's one of the primary reasons to avoid reassociation." She sipped her raktajino, now cool and slightly bitter, making a face as she put it down. "I just never thought it would happen to me."

"I suspect no one does," Seven said reasonably. Her ice-blue eyes were gentle as they studied the Trill female. "Lenara, I am unfamiliar with the emotional repercussions of such things, but it is my opinion that you should ... let this go. I apologize if that sounds harsh. I do not mean it to."

"No," Lenara said, nodding. "You're perfectly correct, of course. I should have let it go five years ago. Indeed, I should never have allowed myself to entertain the idea in the first place."

Seven shook her head. "You cannot help whom you love," she said with certainty. "If you are very fortunate, that person will return that emotion, and you will have the opportunity to pursue a relationship together. You should never regret love, Lenara. However, you should not allow the inability to pursue that love to ... prevent you from living your life." She paused and looked rueful. "Kathryn would be surprised if she heard me say that."

Lenara didn't quite comprehend what had prompted the final comment, but she couldn't deny that the other woman's words made her feel better, though she didn't know why. Certainly, this was nothing that had not already been said to her many times before. Her brother, her friends on Trill, even her own conscience dictated that she move on, yet somehow, hearing it from Seven, listening to it stated in that precise, yet understanding voice, made it seep through. There was a lightening in her shoulders, as if an unseen burden had been given wings. Perhaps it wasn't even the advice of the young woman seated across from her that granted her this sense, but the memory of looking into Ezri's eyes and seeing no love for her in them, not as she had seen in Jadzia's gaze, not as she had dreamed about for five years. Perhaps her heart was finally listening as much as her head.

Jadzia was gone. Lenara had missed her chance. There would not be another. Somehow, she would just have to live with it.

She managed a wan smile.

"Thank you for listening, Seven," she said sincerely. "You're a good friend."

Seven nodded. "Thank you," she said gravely. "I wish to be a good friend to you. I respect you a great deal, Lenara Kahn, and it pains me to know you are experiencing emotional difficulty. I find that I wish to assist, though I am uncertain as to how."

"Just listening helped me a great deal, Seven," Lenara replied, smiling with more honesty this time.

The young Borg's tendency not to hide behind appearance was refreshing to the older scientist, particularly after spending so much time in the Trill Ministry of Technology. There, her colleagues had the experience of several lifetimes to draw upon when it came to being obtrusive and posturing, of considering career positioning and acclaim to be more important than genuine respect for others in their field. Seven was none of that, her simple, and occasionally brutal honesty making it easier to deal with her as a person, though Lenara knew that not everyone in Millennium's science section valued it. It was undoubtedly why Seven had arranged for the Trill to be her liaison with the civilian scientists. Yet, that beneath that icy exterior and efficient professionalism, lay a warm and generous heart. It simply wasn't shown unless it was required.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" Lenara asked, deciding that they were in dire need of a change of topic, and thoroughly sick of granting her pain so much attention. She realized that she had been nurturing it for so long, it had become a part of her, like another limb, which made it an effort to amputate it.

Seven lifted her chin. "I am meeting the captain for dinner this evening." Her voice lightened as it always did when she talked about her spouse. Lenara greatly envied both women in how they still generated such ready and apparent emotion in each other, even though she didn't think they knew how obvious they were. "Until then, I am exploring the station. I had hoped to meet with an ex-crewmate from Voyager, but I have discovered that she and her children are no longer assigned to this station."

"No?" Lenara prompted, surprised at the depth of disappointment in the young woman's eyes.

"She was transferred. Apparently, Samantha Wildman and her husband have separated. He must harbor a certain amount of resentment over the situation, because he was not especially forthcoming about her current whereabouts. I do not know where Naomi and Mezoti are."

"Naomi and Mezoti?"

"They are the children who were on Voyager," Seven explained. "I was ... am ... quite fond of them."

"I see." Lenara paused. "You know, I don't have any children with this host, but I've had several over the course of my lifetimes."

"Do you miss them?" Seven asked curiously.

"I've been very fortunate," the Trill admitted. "I've never lost any while they were still young. All my children were grown with lives of their own when my host died. I never felt any urge to ... check up on them later." She paused, wondering why she was telling Seven this, then realized she was still trying to come to terms with why she had felt the desire to reassociate. Now that she had let go of the emotion, the intellectual part of her was beginning to dissect it, to place it into proper perspective. She wondered if other people thought this way, or if it was only because she was a scientist.

Or a Trill.

Whatever else, she was a product of several lives and it was time she started cherishing that experience, instead of mourning something she could never have.

The person requesting admittance undoubtedly had to be her new first officer, and Janeway composed her face into a pleasant, if professional, expression, peering expectantly at the entrance. "Come," she requested.

She suspected that command mask slipped a bit as a Cardassian stepped into the room. The small image that had accompanied the personnel file had been fuzzy and slightly out of focus. Now she wondered if that had been deliberate on the part of Starfleet. Commander Zar's Bajoran extraction had been emphasized, while the connection to his father's people had been downplayed, so she had anticipated he would have more of his birthworld present in his physical appearance. It was an assumption that proved completely unwarranted. If there were Bajoran traits in the angular, boney features, they were not readily apparent to the starship captain. Taking a deep breath, Janeway stood up and extended her hand, offering a quickly manufactured smile of welcome.

"Commander Zar?"

"Yes, sir," he responded. "A pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," she said, wondering what the hell Nechayev was up to now.

The admiral, who was also Janeway's immediate superior in this sector, had personally recommended Zar to this position, and it was indicated in his file that the imposing admiral had acted as his mentor during his long and varied career. Janeway knew that meant his qualifications were above reproach since Nechayev tended to deal with only the very best, but the admiral must have known how difficult it would be for Janeway to absorb into her crew an officer who looked like a Cardassian.

Growing up on Earth should have granted her more enlightenment than this. Yet, even with all her profound belief and faith in the ideals of the Federation, Janeway had a purely visceral reaction to Zar's appearance, flavored by the fact that she had lost the best part of her father, a Starfleet admiral, in his constant dealing, with Cardassian encroachment. Later, as an ensign, she had fought Cardassians face to face during one of the conflicts between their empire and the Federation, and had even been captured by them on one extremely unpleasant occasion. She was keenly aware that Millennium's third in command, Lt. Commander Ro had, as a child, seen her father tortured to death by the Cardassians. Janeway's chief engineer, Lt. Commander Torres, was originally Maquis and had fought against the Cardassian presence in the demilitarized zone created by the treaty ... a treaty they had not honored. The rest of her crew was liberally spiced with veterans of the Dominion war who had fought against the Cardassians in some of the most bloody and vicious battles in recent history.

All in all, this was not going to be easiest challenge she had ever faced as a starship captain.

She hoped that none of her uncertainty and dismay showed in her features, but she suspected that something must have since his dark gaze developed a somewhat sardonic expression.

"Is something wrong, Captain?" he asked, and his tone was deliberately provocative, slightly challenging.

That's definitely Cardassian, she thought to herself. That sly, insidious way they had of ferreting out a weak point in an opponent and trying to take advantage of it. It was practically second nature to them. Then she realized what she was thinking and buried it, embarrassed to be so influenced by old prejudices and ignorance. If she couldn't deal with it, how could she ever expect it of her crew?

"I was just thinking how potentially complicated this is going to be," she said honestly, noting that her ready response seemed to catch him off guard. She decided that he wasn't used to someone being so blunt, and immedicately decided that such honesty would be the best way to handle him. She found it ironic that Ro Laren also appreciated such straight-forwardness, and wondered if her first and second officers had more in common than was apparent at first glance.

"I ... uh, suppose it will be," he said, his voice a little less artful.

"Obviously, it's something that you've experienced in previous tours. Did you find the adaptation most difficult on your part ... or for the rest of the crew?"

He blinked. "I think, probably, a little of both," he admitted. "First impressions can be powerful, and as you can see, the first impression of me is ... disturbing for a great many people in Starfleet." He eyed her narrowly. "Will that be a problem, Captain?"

Janeway considered it carefully. "Not for me," she decided finally. "I try very hard to look beyond surface appearances, and while I'm Human enough to experience difficulty now and again, it won't affect our professional relationship. I'll make sure it won't. There's no doubt in my mind that you wouldn't be assigned this post unless you were fully qualified."

"No, sir," he said, his dark gaze thawing perceptibly. "Thank you, sir."

"Captain," she corrected. "Ma'am in a pinch."

"Aye, ma... Captain." He paused. "The rest of the ship, however, will undoubtedly experience a certain ... unease."

"I'm sure they will, and I'm also aware that certain members of such a large crew will simply not be able to adapt. But that's their problem, and I'm more than prepared to grant them an immediate transfer off my ship. The standards on board my vessel are clear and I'll accept nothing less." He dipped his head respectfully, and Janeway inhaled slowly as she realized her tone had become a little sharp. "In the meantime, I suppose now is as good a time as any to start testing that. I think a brief tour is in order, Commander."

He smiled suddenly, and Janeway blinked as his entire face changed. It was nothing like the sneering grins that most Cardassians she had encountered possessed. Janeway quickly gave herself a harsh mental shake, again reminding herself to stop perceiving him only as a representation of a species. He was her exec, and it was time to start treating him like one.

She rose from her chair and gestured toward the door. "Please," she invited.

She supposed the sideways glances on the bridge were to be expected , and she noticed that Ensign Tarn seemed particularly disconcerted at Ops. Deliberately, she led Zar over to the young woman, making that her first stop on the tour.

"Commander, this is our alpha shift operations officer, Elisa Tarn." Janeway regarded the solid, crimson-haired girl with mild amusement. "Ensign, this is Millennium's first officer, Zar Tulek."

"Sir," she said, trying not to stare at his features, yet at the same time, attempting not be obvious in looking away. It resulted in her eyes darting back and forth between him and the console until Janeway was almost dizzy.

Stifling a smile, the captain turned and gestured to the rest of the bridge. Since they were docked at the station, only a minimal support staff maintained tactical and one of the auxiliary engineering posts. She introduced Zar to those junior officers, pleased when they seemed relatively friendly, and then showed him the conference room and staff room before leading the way to the turbolift.

"Deck six," she instructed. She glanced at him. "Have you stopped by your quarters?"

"I had an ensign from the transporter room drop off my bags," he explained. "I came directly to your ready room."

"They're on deck three. Aside from VIP quarters, yours and the captain's quarters are the only living arrangements set up there. I trust you're a quiet neighbor. Not in the habit of wild parties or anything?"

He smiled again. "No, Captain." He paused. "What's on deck six?"

"Sickbay. As I said, this is going to be a brief tour. I want you to meet our Chief Medical Officer, as well as our wing commander. I would introduce you to our security chief and science officer, but since neither is on board at the moment, I'm afraid you'll have to meet them later."

He nodded. "I've already met your science officer on DS9."

"Indeed." Janeway made a note to ask Seven about it later.

"I think the Millennium is very fortunate to have such a renowned scientist at that post," he added with measurable enthusiasm in his voice. "Lt. Annika Hansen could, in my estimation, have her pick of vessels."

Janeway felt absurdly proud at this assessment of her spouse, as if she had something to do with Seven's innate intellect and capabilities. The captain's estimation of the first officer went up a few notches. "She's very knowledgeable," she agreed lightly as they stepped off the turbolift and proceeded down the corridor. "A fine officer ... though she has been known to bend regulations now and again."

He frowned. "Is that something I should make note of?"

Janeway laughed. "No, it was just a comment. Seven's Borg background grants her a unique perspective at times. However, it doesn't affect her performance ... merely her attitude at times."

"I see," he said slowly. He paused. "She served with you on Voyager."

"Yes," Janeway said, and for a moment, her mind was back on the small Intrepid-class vessel, and the woman who had altered the captain's life so profoundly. As the captain indulged herself in the pleasant memories, they passed two female lieutenants who nodded politely at Janeway and experienced a distinctive double take with the first officer. Janeway suspected that would be the norm for some time.

"Captain," Zar asked suddenly, "what are your protocols on crew fraternization?"

Janeway wondered which of the ensigns had caught his eye. "Obviously, I can't be too rigid." He glanced at her, and she lifted an eyebrow. "I'm married, and my spouse is a member of the crew."

"Ah," he said, blinking. "I didn't know that."

She wasn't surprised. Such detail wasn't considered an important factor in an officer's professional file, and few people had reason to access the personal record of a captain that deeply, not even someone who would be acting as her first officer. She was impressed that he didn't ask who the other officer was. That meant he automatically assumed the situation was such that it wouldn't be an issue in terms of how that person would conduct him or herself as a member of her crew, or how Janeway might deal with that officer on a professional level. Otherwise, Starfleet would have arranged it so the couple could not serve together on the same vessel.

"In any event," she continued, "as long as such relationships are conducted in a professional and discrete manner while on this vessel, I have no objection. Only if it affects the functioning of the ship should you or I step in to mediate the situation. After seven years in the Delta Quadrant, I've learned to keep my nose out of the crew's personal lives unless I have absolutely no other choice."

"I suppose being lost was a unique situation."

"Not so unique," she warned as they entered the medical center. "After all, Millennium is expected to officially perform the role that Voyager found itself doing by accident; exploring quadrants where no other Starfleet vessel has ventured. Most of the time, we'll be out of immediate communications range with the Federation."

He looked thoughtful as they paused just inside the gleaming, fully equipped medical bay. The ship's roster of medical personnel included a full staff of eight nurses and three doctors, two of whom were Starfleet while the other was not quite a civilian. Dr. Kate Pulaski, a statuesque woman with snowy hair, approached the two command officers, her keen blue eyes assessing the young man in the black and grey uniform.

"Oh, brother, Kathryn! What are they trying to do to us now?"

Janeway glanced at Zar, wincing slightly even though she was very used to the medical officer's brashness. It was a decided difference from her last chief medical officer, though he had also possessed a bit of an irritating attitude at times.

"Dr. Pulaski, Commander Zar Tulek, our new first officer," Janeway introduced. "Zar, this is our CMO, and I'll warn you now, she's not in the habit of mincing words."

"Since she holds more seniority than both of us put together, I'm not surprised," he said without missing a beat, grasping the hand the CMO offered.

Pulaski blinked, and then grinned, obviously appreciating the sly if accurate comeback. "You must have had a hell of a ride to get to this point, Commander. I guess I need to brush up on my Cardassian anatomy."

"Only partially, Doctor," Janeway said.

Zar lifted his head. "I was born on Bajor."

Pulaski sobered a bit. "Ah, a hybrid. You're probably aware you have a unique set of medical possibilities to deal with."

"Most hybrids do," he agreed.

"Doctor Pulaski, I'd like you to consult with ... well, the Doctor, on this," Janeway said. "He's included an extensive subroutine on mixed species medicine."

"About ... him, Captain," Pulaski began, and Janeway felt the beginnings of a headache start to feather along her temples. "He really has to choose a name. I mean, we can't keep referring to him as 'the Doctor'. It's damned confusing. There are three of us here, after all, and we've all earned the title."

"Have you spoken to him about it?" Janeway asked meekly. In seven years, the Doctor had not picked a name on Voyager, but it hadn't mattered since he was the only one functioning as a medical officer. Here, however, he was the low man on the roster, and if Pulaski was coming to Janeway about this, then obviously, they had not settled anything between them. The captain could only imagine the intensity of those discussions, knowing both individuals to be strong-willed... one might even say, hard-headed.

"He's taking it under advisement," Pulaski said in an exasperated tone. "Honestly, Captain..."

Janeway held up her hand, forestalling the woman's next words. "He's your responsibility, Dr. Pulaski,. Deal with it." She glanced at Zar. "I think we should check out the hangars next."

"Of course," he said, his eyes bright as he observed all this. As they left sickbay, he looked at her. "I'm aware she's technically an admiral and I know CMO's enjoy a certain ... informality ... with their commanding officers at times..."

"But Pulaski is in a class all her own," Janeway finished for him with a sigh. "Worse, she was my instructor at the Academy, which grants her a certain advantage over me that is uncomfortable, to say the least. But you know the personnel situation as well as I do, Commander."

Zar nodded, sobering slightly. The Dominion War had been costly, and Starfleet had been particularly hard hit. At the moment, starship rosters tended to be made up of very young, inexperienced crewmembers and older, extremely experienced officers, with few mid-range personnel in between. That particular level of age and experience had been expended in the worst part of the conflict, with Starfleet losing up to 1500 officers a day before the Romulan Republic had allied itself with the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Essentially, the better part of an entire generation of Starfleet was gone, sacrificed in the protection of the Alpha Quadrant.

"My only option for CMO was either choosing a doctor fresh out of Starfleet Medical, or luring an experienced senior officer out of semi-retirement," Janeway continued. "Given our mission, I wanted the latter, and I'll accept any attitude in exchange for the security of knowing the ship's medical needs are going to be taken care of competently."

"What about this ... 'him' you were both referring to?"

Janeway offered him a smile. "Oh, didn't you know?" she asked lightly. "We have a sentient being serving on board who happens to be a hologram, so as you can see, between Borg science officers and holographic doctors, you should fit in just fine, Commander."

Zar stopped in his tracks as Janeway continued on her way to the turbolift, doing her best not to laugh out loud at the expression on his face.

"Yes." Seven glanced across the table at her spouse. Around them, the subtle noise of the elegant restaurant provided a background hum to the couple's conversation. "We had lunch together."

"Lunch?" Janeway looked vaguely surprised. "He didn't mention that."

"He seems ... lonely," Seven said, picking lightly at her meal. "Much as I was when I was first severed from the Collective. I wished to show him that it would be easy to make friends on the Millennium."

"He'll probably be facing similar obstacles as you did in how the rest of the crew reacts," Janeway agreed, lifting her glass to sip her wine thoughtfully. "People will have to get past their initial perceptions. I admit, even I felt a bit of a jolt when I first met him."

"Because he appears predominantly Cardassian."

Janeway made a bit of a face. "Frankly, I was expecting more Bajoran in his features, or, at least, for it to be more evident that he's a hybrid. Sometimes, I can't imagine what Nechayev has up her sleeve when she does things like this to me."

Seven smiled faintly. "Do you believe it was deliberate on her part?" she asked. "To aggravate you?"

Janeway eyed her narrowly, as if suspecting the Borg was somehow having a bit of amusement at her expense. "Let's just say I wouldn't put it past her to find the situation one she could exploit."

Seven chewed her seafood slowly, savoring the delicate flavors. "It is probable she merely wished for him to learn command technique from the very best. What other captain would she choose?"

The corner of Janeway's mouth lifted in a crooked grin, looking pleased and flattered at the assessment. "You think?"

"I know," Seven said with conviction.

"Sweet-talker."

Seven smiled and took another bite of her dinner.

"I will say, he seemed quite taken with you," Janeway continued.

"Who?"

"Commander Zar. He seems to think I scored a significant victory by luring the esteemed Lt. Annika Hansen away from the TPG."

"He read my paper," Seven said proudly.

"At least that's one person," Janeway offered glibly, and then flinched as Seven shot a look at her. "Sorry, my darling," she apologized sincerely, reaching over to touch the Borg's hand fleetingly. "Bad joke. I was teasing, and I shouldn't have when it comes to your professional endeavors. You certainly don't needle me about my captaincy."

"You have Dr. Pulaski for that."

"More true than you realize." Janeway offered a vulnerable expression to her spouse. "In any event, my new exec obviously has good taste in science papers ... and in scientists."

Seven knew the captain was merely trying to make up for her previous ill-attempt at humor, but for the moment, she was willing to accept it. "I am aware it was a ... complicated paper," the young woman allowed. "Even Dr. Brahms found it difficult to follow."

"For a first paper, it was impressive," Janeway insisted. "As you write more, you'll learn to make it simpler for the average layperson like me."

"You are hardly a 'layperson', Kathryn." Seven tried her spring wine. "You are correct, however. I must learn to make my work more accessible to others. Otherwise, it will become lost."

"Well, Zar was impressed, so it must be accessible to him." Janeway scooped up more of her Delavian lamb, chewing it with evident enjoyment. "Either that, or he's a better scientist than his file indicates. I guess it won't be too bad. Considering the eclectic crew I have now, what's adding someone who looks like a Cardassian going to do?"

"Shall I record that as 'famous last words'?" Seven prodded her sea bass delicately.

"Beast," Janeway said placidly.

Seven flicked an eyebrow at her, and Janeway smiled as they finished their meal. Later, after the immaculately garbed waiter brought coffee and dessert, the captain reached over and entwined her fingers with her spouse, this time, with more intimate intent.

"Shall we go dancing now?"

"I would like that," Seven said readily, "but not on the station."

Janeway blinked, looking vaguely surprised. "Where did you have in mind?"

"The arboretum," Seven said, referring to the special garden Janeway had arranged next to their quarters on the Millennium. "We have been so busy since leaving Utopia Planitia, we have not had a chance to utilize it. If such a place is not enjoyed, it becomes inefficient to maintain."

"All right." Janeway shrugged lightly. "I suppose the computer can pipe music into there as easily as anywhere else on the ship." She squeezed her fingers gently. "I promise I'll spend more time with you, love. I miss being with you."

"I miss being with you, as well."

"Are you finished with dessert?"

Seven glanced down at her cheesecake that had yet to be touched. "No," she said firmly. "Be patient, Kathryn."

Janeway laughed and leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee as the young woman consumed her dessert, and then motioned to the waiter to settle the bill once the Borg was finished.

"Sometimes, you can be too amorous, Kathryn," Seven noted as they strode back to the ship, the captain almost tugging her along by the hand.

Janeway slowed, and then stopped, regarding her partner bashfully. "I can, can't I?" she said ruefully. "I'm sorry. I should take the time to appreciate things, and not try to rush them." She tucked her arm in Seven's, resting her hand on the young woman's forearm. "Proceed."

Seven leaned over and deposited a kiss on the captain's temple, and with more stately grace, they continued on their way to the ship. Their quarters were dim, set for night watch standard, and the couple left them as they were, moving into the arboretum where starlight and the lights of the station poured through the large windows to illuminate the greenery with a silvery touch. Janeway instructed the computer to play a selection of music from her collection, and there, under the apple tree by the fountain, she moved into Seven's arms, fitting herself into the long lanky body as they began to dance.

"Hmm, you were right," she murmured after several blissful moments had passed. "This is much better than any club on the station."

Seven brushed her lips over her forehead. "I suspected it would be." Inhaling deeply, she enjoyed the scents of the growing things around her, the roses that climbed a nearby lattice, the loamy fragrance of earth. The sound of the water tinkling over the artfully arranged stones made a pleasant counterpoint to the soft strings and sax in the background, and she could feel Janeway gradually relaxing in her arms, losing the tenseness that had been keeping the captain's shoulders square.

She had recognized from Janeway's body language throughout dinner that she had been keyed up for the evening ... too keyed up. Sometimes the captain approached her personal life the same way she approached her responsibilities for commanding a starship ... full speed ahead without regard for anything else. Seven knew that it was better for both women when Janeway could relax enough to give up that control, to surrender to her spouse, and allow the Borg set the pace. Since it had been so long since they had spent intimate time together, Janeway had still been in command mode, and only by bringing it here, as far away from the bridge atmosphere as possible, was she able to remember that it wasn't always necessary to be in charge.

"Sometimes I think you know me too well."

"You say that as if it is a bad thing," Seven remarked with amusement.

"No," Janeway said, smiling softly as she tilted her head back, looking up into her partner's face. Her eyes were a gentle blue, far from the steely grey glint they normally held. "It's just still surprising to me. You always know when to slow me down, even when I don't recognize that need in myself."

Seven considered that. "When I am paying attention," she admitted with a touch of regret. "After our ... difficulties on Earth, I have made a point of observing you with closer scrutiny. It has become easy for me to see when you submerge too far into your command."

"I think you find it easier only because you have less intellectual stimulation on a starship. Without so much information bombarding you, you tend to concentrate on looking after me as your first priority. While I appreciate and love that aspect of you, is it fair of me to take up that much of your attention?"

"It is my choice to do so, Kathryn," Seven reminded her. "I enjoy looking after you. In fact, I believe that it is my true function on Millennium, rather than my role as a Starfleet officer. You care for the ship and the crew. I care for you."

Janeway's expression became vulnerable. "But is that fulfilling enough for you?"

Seven blinked. "I cannot imagine anything more fulfilling." She paused, understanding that her spouse sometimes worried that she was being held back professionally by being married to a starship captain.

"Kathryn, I have been thinking about this a great deal during the past few months, and I have come to the conclusion that this is the best life for me. I know that you do not always believe this, but when I was pursuing a career of pure scientific research, I was never truly complete. I am aware that I said I was happy, I even believed it to a certain extent, but now I think that was only because I was continually told I should be, not only by you, but by the people around me at the TPG. There was a satisfaction in scientific discovery, yet inevitably that satisfaction was brief, leaving behind a ... an emptiness. I tried to fill it by immediately moving on to the next project, or pursuing different lines of research, but the end result was the same." She paused, straining for words to describe something that she wasn't sure she entirely understood herself. "Perhaps it is because of the type of person I am, Kathryn. You, as captain, seem to be able to compartmentalize yourself, focusing on many things at once while you command a starship."

"Juggling." At Seven's raised brow, Janeway elaborated. "It means having a lot of things in the air at once. You might say that's exactly what a starship captain does."

"Yes," Seven agreed. "You 'juggle'. Furthermore, you enjoy that method of problem solving. You seem to be able to work on several things at the same time, and grant them equal attention without losing yourself ... very often. Sometimes, as we are both aware, you can go too far, and put too many things 'in the air' at once, but normally, you thrive on the challenge. That is how I tried to be on Earth. I tried to compartmentalize all my professional responsibilities in addition to all my personal ones ... but, there were so many, Kathryn. There were my duties with the TPG, additional duties with Starfleet, requests to speak at various scientific functions, my correspondence with other scientists ... meanwhile, in my personal life, there was you, and Gretchen, and Phoebe, and my friends, and the children I wished to stay in contact with, but never managed, while at the same time, learning as much as I could about Earth and the Alpha Quadrant..." Her gaze became distant as she stared at the leaves of the tree, twitching slightly in the breeze of the air reclamation system. "I was no longer compartmentalized ... I was becoming fragmented, Kathryn."

"I see," Janeway said, her voice gentle. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did not realize it was happening," Seven admitted. "Not until I was working on Millennium and evaluating my life over the previous year. Only then did I see how easily Section 31 was able to manipulate me. Anyone could have at that point. It was just one more influence in addition to the countless others requiring my attention."

"What's so different on Millennium?" Kathryn's gaze was intent on her spouse, encouraging her to continue, obviously wanting and needing to hear this.

"It is not necessarily Millennium, but any Starfleet vessel on which I serve," Seven explained. "Everything is in my immediate area on a starship. I can concentrate on one thing at a time, which is more in my nature. When I am on duty, I can focus only on the tasks required to carry out my responsibilities to the ship. When I am not on duty, I can focus on my responsibilities to you, and my friends who are only a comm hail away. My universe becomes ... much smaller, and I find that I prefer it that way." She paused, an expression of embarrassment crossing her face. "That is not how I should be, is it?"

"You are who you are, darling," Janeway told her reassuringly. "You're the one who has to decide what kind of life suits you best, not anyone else ... not even me. If my encouraging you to try to attempt so many things on Earth was wrong, then I'm very sorry. Besides, it's possible that I also like my universe to be smaller, which is why I'm a starship captain." She tilted her head. "I never looked at it this way before, but ... I wasn't completely happy and fulfilled on Earth, and I wonder how much of it was because so many things were beyond my control, leaving me feeling helpless. Certainly, I realize I can't truly control everything on Millennium, particularly in what we'll face on our mission, but it's obviously a more controllable environment for me."

"One in which you are the ultimate authority."

"Yes." Janeway smiled bashfully and buried her face in Seven's neck. "Goodness, I don't think I'm supposed to admit that as a Starfleet captain, particularly to someone of a lower rank."

Seven nuzzled her hair. "I promise not to report you."

Janeway laughed and kissed the Borg's throat lightly. "God, you make me think of things in a way I never would without you. That means so much to me. Furthermore, I can talk freely about them without worrying what it might make me sound like. I don't think there's another starship captain in the 'Fleet who has that advantage ... or that security."

"Actually, I think that is what a ship's counselor is for," Seven pointed out.

"Do you honestly believe I would ever open up to a counselor the way I do with you?" Janeway asked. "Even with Kes?"

Seven thought about it and smiled briefly. "No. If other captains are like you, then you are correct; you are very fortunate to have me."

"I'll try not to forget it."

Seven pulled her closer. "This was a good discussion. We need to dance more often in the arboretum."

"Funny, I thought we came in here for foreplay," Janeway muttered, nibbling at her chin.

Seven smiled. "That, as well." She raised an eyebrow. "Is it not possible to do both?"

Janeway chuckled. "Well, for us, possibly. Serious discussions tend to make us feel emotionally closer to each other, and feeling emotionally close is very important for the physical aspect of our relationship."

"It makes it better," Seven agreed with certainty. She ran her hands over the captain's back, slipping them beneath the uniform tunic, feeling the warmth of her through her sweater. "Shall we retire to the bedroom, Kathryn?"

"I think that would be a wonderful idea, Annika," Janeway responded. "And next time?"

"Yes, Kathryn?"

"Let's just have a picnic in the arboretum rather than dinner on the station. It would be more efficient."

"Yes, Kathryn."

"So this was where the Akorem Resettlement camp was located," B'Elanna Torres said gently.

Ro sniffed hard and nodded, her vision blurred as she regarded the area where she had grown up, the place where she had seen her father tortured to death before her eyes.  With help from the Federation, the Bajorans had reclaimed the valley for crops, covering the scars of old buildings and damaged soil with vegetation, and changing what had once been a place of despair and death to one of hope and new life. Initially, the security chief hadn't wanted to return, only relenting to the journey at B'Elanna's urging. She hadn't realized how much leaving her home so many years ago had affected her, but now, sitting on this rock of Bajor, breathing the air of her homeworld and looking out at the place where she had grown up, it was almost more than she could bear. She was unable to keep the tears from spilling down her face, feeling as if she were seven years old again.

She felt B'Elanna's arm slip warm and comforting around her waist as the Klingon perched on the boulder beside her, the engineer's dark eyes concerned.

"I'm all right," Ro managed finally. She wiped at her face. "I didn't realize this would affect me ... so deeply."

"I understand." B'Elanna's hand rubbed the small of the Bajoran's back soothingly. "Do you want to leave?"

"No," Ro said. "This was important, Lanna. It was necessary I do this, though I didn't fully understand that until now."

"Then I'm glad I talked you into it."

Ro managed a brief smile and took the woman's other hand, entwining her fingers with those of her spouse. The couple had been through a great deal, both separately and together, first in Starfleet, then in the Maquis, then on Voyager, then in the Alpha Quadrant. Now both served on the Millennium, and it would be some time before their vessel would be back to Bajor. Despite her emotional response, or perhaps because of it, Ro was glad she had taken the opportunity to return now, rather than later.

B'Elanna lifted her chin as she viewed the valley. Shorter than the Bajoran by almost a head, her body solid and muscular, the dark-haired engineer radiated barely contained energy, though it was no longer accompanied by the rage and unhappiness that had been so much a part of her when Ro first met her. Proud head ridges and olive skin denoted her mother's genetic heritage, though her father's Human traits were revealed in the soft planes of her face, and the curve of her jaw. Ro leaned over and gently kissed the line of that jaw, suddenly loving her so much it hurt.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she said softly.

B'Elanna smiled, showing slightly pointed teeth. "You're welcome." She gestured toward the field. "Do you want to go down and see if there's anything left at all?"

"Maybe we should," Ro allowed, standing up and brushing some of the dust from the seat of her uniform trousers.

For the next few hours, the couple wandered over the valley, finding little that remained of the internment camp beyond a pile of stones here and there, or a few discarded pieces of building material. B'Elanna listened attentively, speaking little as the Bajoran shared her memories of the place, of things that had happened in her youth, not all necessarily bad, and by the time they had returned to the rise, Ro felt a kind of peace permeating her soul. Lifting her head, she offered one final glance at the greenery before turning and headed back to the hovercraft resting on its landing struts some distance away.

"What would you say to dinner in the city?" she offered over her shoulder. "My treat."

"I thought you'd never ask," B'Elanna replied amiably as she caught up to the Bajoran and slipped into the passenger side of the vehicle. "I wouldn't mind trying that timnance again."

"I'm sure we can find a restaurant which serves it," Ro said, pleased that her partner had remembered the Bajoran dish that she had introduced her to the last time they had been on DS9. "Afterward, however, we should probably think about returning to the station and our ship rather than staying another evening at the hotel. I have beta shift duty tomorrow night, and besides, I should meet our new first officer."

"What do you know about this guy?" B'Elanna asked as they lifted from the grassy turf and glided back toward the city in the distance, lights glittering in the approaching dusk. Silver trails above the distant skyline indicated the presence of the spaceport where they had left their shuttle, and the streaks of red over the western horizon indicated the lateness of the hour in this particular planetary time zone.

"Only that he was born on Bajor," Ro admitted. "His name is Zar Tulek, and from what Janeway has told me of his record, he he's had a slow rise to command, particularly in the past few years, which is very odd considering how fast and furious the promotions were happening during the war. He's been assigned to a lot of isolated and obscure posts."

"I wonder why?"

Ro shook her head. "I don't know." She flashed her spouse a grin. "Maybe I'll ask him."

"That would be good," B'Elanna said dryly. "Get off on the right foot immediately."

"Despite his list of odd postings, he's considered to be one of Nechayev's particular favorites," Ro added as they entered the city and she had to slow to allow for traffic. "The captain told me that the admiral has been his mentor from the time he was at the Academy."

The Klingon whistled soundlessly. "Means he's one of the best, which doesn't make sense when you consider his record."

"Being a good officer doesn't necessarily mean he knew all the political moves to make while working his way up," Ro said thoughtfully, looking for an explanation that would satisfy her. "Or that he will be especially likeable. It's doubtful he'll be anything like Chakotay."

"No," B'Elanna said, obviously thinking of Voyager's first officer who was currently teaching at Starfleet Academy on Earth. "But then, very few officers are."

Ro brought the hovercraft to a stop in front of their hotel and parked it. "I'll check us out and find out from the clerk which is the best restaurant in the area. Is there anything you need from the room?"

B'Elanna shrugged. "We replicated our uniforms, and all our toiletries were provided by the hotel. The towels weren't worth liberating."

"I shouldn't be more than a few minutes," Ro promised as she slipped out of the hovercraft.

Inside, the hotel clerk was busy with new arrivals, and the officer took a moment to glance around the lobby. She knew that a good percentage of the Bajorans who had left the planet during the Occupation had joined Starfleet, but it was a big organization, and Ro had seldom run across many of her people during her travels over the past few decades. It felt decidedly odd to be surrounded by them, to be distinguished from the crowd only because of her uniform, rather than her facial features.

"May I help you?"

Startled from her woolgathering, Ro looked at the clerk and lifted a brow. "I'd like to check out," she said, offering the key to the room. While he took care of the formalities, deducting the cost from her credit balance, she took another look around, realizing it would be some time before she would have the chance to be on her homeworld again. After retrieving the information on the best restaurant between the hotel and the spaceport, she left the lobby and returned to the hovercraft. To her surprise, B'Elanna wasn't there, and bemused, she stood beside it, searching the area visually.

Finally she spotted the Klingon striding briskly across the parking lot, and when B'Elanna saw her partner waiting for her, she hastily stuffed a small package into the inner pocket of her tunic.

"Sorry," the engineer said breezily as she flashed a brief smile at the Bajoran. "I meant to be back before you were."

Ro waited, but no further information was forthcoming, and she offered her partner an odd look as she activated the hovercraft. "You're not going to tell me?"

"A girl has to have some secrets," B'Elanna returned, her face serene, and her partner knew she had to be content with that. From the engineer's expression, however, whatever the mysterious package had been, the odds were very good that it was in the form of a gift, undoubtedly to be revealed to Ro when she least expected it. It was one of the more charming habits B'Elanna had developed since their wedding.

The recommended restaurant turned out to be every bit as good as the clerk had indicated, and the couple ate their fill of Bajoran food prepared from organic ingredients, washed down with frosty bottles of ale from Kendra Province. Feeling as if they couldn't eat another bite less it made them explode, they tottered back to the hovercraft and started for the spaceport.

"Mmm, maybe I shouldn't have eaten so much," B'Elanna muttered as they approached the expansive space transport area. "I don't know that I'll appreciate liftoff."

"I'll make it as smooth as possible," Ro promised with a smile. They turned in the hovercraft to the rental kiosk, and then took a port pod to their shuttle. Inside, the Bajoran settled into the pilot's seat and began the activation sequence, acquiring a launch window from port control. B'Elanna stretched out in the co-pilot's seat.

"I think I may take a nap."

"Wait until we're at least clear of the atmosphere," Ro suggested as she initiated the engines and lifted off.

Once they were in space, B'Elanna promptly dozed off, her face smoothing out into sleep. Ro glanced over at the Klingon fondly now and again as she navigated the vessel to DS9. The station had originally been in orbit over the planet, but had been moved near the Denorios Belt once the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant had been discovered. Now it was three hours away, and freed of having to concentrate fully on the helm as the automated navigational controls took over, Ro was left alone with her thoughts. The recognition of the emotions laid to rest by the day's visit to the internment camp made her realize how far she had come since then, particularly under the aegis and guidance of Captain Janeway. While on Earth, Ro had become involved with a covert operation for her previous captain, Jean-Luc Picard. In the course of it, she had been required to keep certain information ... in particular, data regarding danger involving Seven of Nine ... from Janeway, for whom she was serving as adjunct. It had left a division between the two women, both professionally and personally. The professional rift had been mended somewhat, with Janeway requesting that Ro serve not only as her chief of security on her new vessel, but also as third in command. The personal rift was somewhat more difficult to mend.  B'Elanna and Seven's friendship often threw the four women together in social situations, and though Janeway continued to treat Ro civilly, a palpable tension remained. Ro realized in the aftermath that Janeway had considered her a personal friend, independent of their spouses, and the Bajoran's actions had betrayed that friendship on a profound level. The captain might not allow Ro to ever get that close again.

Yet, Ro was determined to recapture the friendship, though she didn't know how exactly. Perhaps there was no one specific thing she could do to balance the scales between them. Perhaps it would simply be a matter of serving Janeway with the utmost honor and integrity for a period of time, proving to her that the captain's trust in the Bajoran was warranted on all levels. Eventually, Janeway might accept Ro back into her life on a personal level, instead of regarding the security chief as merely another of her officers, or as B'Elanna's spouse whom she had to tolerate in social situations for Seven's sake.

Inhaling deeply, Ro forced herself to occupy her thoughts with other things. A quick glance over at her sleeping partner provoked an uncharacteristically tender urge, and reaching over, Ro gently removed a stray strand of wavy hair from B'Elanna's face, tucking it neatly behind her ear. Her fingertips lingered gently on the engineer's cheek, delighting in the softness of her olive skin, and the Bajoran was rewarded by the faint curve of the young woman's expressive lips, the Klingon detecting her spouse's presence even in her slumber. Ro smiled and drew back, not wanting to disturb her beloved any further.

Knowing that the onboard computer would alert her to anything untoward, Ro uncoiled from the chair and moved to the rear of the shuttle, running some diagnostics on the engines just to keep herself occupied. Lithe, with a dancer's body, Ro was restrained from moving freely in the close quarters of the class four shuttle, and she felt a slight sense of claustrophobia. She forced herself to concentrate on the readings scrolling down the viewscreen, relieved when the computer finally chirped to indicate they were within range of Deep Space 9.

She returned to the pilot's chair as B'Elanna, disturbed by the sound, stirred, yawning and stretching as she brought her seat up from its reclined position.

"DS9, this is the Millennium shuttle, Heinlein," Ro informed the station. "We'll be docking directly with our starship."

"Understood," came the response from the DS9 operations. "Transferring traffic control to Millennium."

"Heinlein, we have you for approach vector gamma," the next voice said, and Ro thought she recognized Ensign Tarn. The gamma vector indicated that Ro needed to bring the shuttle into the hanger located in the lower, aft part of the vessel, at the rear of the teardrop-shaped engineering section.

"Acknowledged Millennium," Ro said crisply, altering course to comply with her instructions.

The massive vessel loomed before her, growing larger with every passing second until it filled their viewport. Bringing the shuttle through the open doors of the rear hanger, a brief flash in the corner of Ro's eye indicated that they had penetrated the protective force field that separated the atmosphere within the hangar from the vacuum outside. Had Millennium not known they were coming, or had the proper codes not been transmitted automatically by the tiny ship to the larger vessel, the force field would not grant them passage. If the encroaching vessel was lucky, the hangar field would be set for containment, and it would become stuck like an insect in amber with its power disrupted and taken offline, leaving the pilot trapped and helpless until a security team arrived. If Millennium's shields had been raised, however, the shuttle would have simply impacted on the invisible barrier, and exploded into a rapidly expanding ball of gas, organic material and machinery.

It was not a good idea to try to board a Federation starship if one didn't know what one was doing.

The shuttle dropped lightly on its struts onto the deck, within the area marked for the class four shuttles, and Ro shut down the engines, disengaging from the helm. With a smile, B'Elanna touched her shoulder.

"First one back to our quarters runs the bath," she challenged, and then was gone.

Laughing, Ro scrambled out of her chair in pursuit, though even if she lost, the evening still promised to be delightful.

When Seven finally did stir at the subtle motion, it was mostly intuitive, pressing herself closer to the tantalizing caress as she reacted to the arousal rising within her. Janeway loved the young woman like this, all instinct and physical response, aware only of the sensation drawing her from unconsciousness, but not necessarily knowing where it originated from. Rather than analyzing the captain's emotional state or her own as she did while fully conscious, Seven instinctively reached out to satisfy the hunger within. It made this type of lovemaking more intense for Janeway. Seven wasn't as careful with her caresses, nor as controlled in her passion, and the captain found the raw desire charming in the extreme.

Moaning, Seven moved further on top of the smaller woman as she buried her face in the auburn hair, her respiration rasping harshly in Janeway's ear as she arched against the fingers plying her, spreading her legs wider to provide greater access. Her purely carnal behavior, her wordless demand for more, granted the captain a sense of being necessary to the young woman on all levels. She felt not only loved, but desired, lusted after hotly. It was something that Seven didn't always convey in their intimacy. Quickening the pace, Janeway reached around to tenderly probe the Borg's rear channel, working her finger in carefully until she was finally able to move in and out with perfect rhythm to the young woman pressing against the captain's fingers that had become trapped between their pelvic regions. Janeway was barely able to flex them over the little ridge, fingertips brushing lightly over it in a teasing manner that must have inflamed Seven further, inciting her to undulate faster, groaning in pleasure.

When Seven finally began to shiver, to make little, inarticulate sounds of passion, Janeway became firmer in her penetration, moving deeper inside until finally, Seven lifted her torso, bracing herself with her arms, her head going back in a silent cry of delight. Her body was one great shudder of release, the channel squeezing Janeway's finger almost painfully, held for an instant of perfect rapture before Seven exhaled and relaxed, collapsing onto the captain. Janeway struggled momentarily for air, understanding and accepting it was part of the risk she took when she woke her partner this way, but still feeling squashed and not a little defenseless. Seven finally gathered enough of her composure to realize it wasn't just random pleasure she had surrendered to, but that there was someone squirming helplessly beneath her greater mass. Promptly, she rolled over onto her side, carrying the captain with her and allowing Janeway room to breathe freely once more.

"Kathryn," Seven murmured as the computer provided the wake-up announcement in the background, indicating it was time for the couple to rise. "What were you doing?"

"Waking you for your duty shift," Janeway gasped, wincing slightly as she shook out her arm which had been squeezed mightily towards the end between their bodies, pins and needles lancing up and down it. She supposed she should be grateful it had ended as quickly as it had, or she'd have no feeling in her right hand whatsoever.

Seven's hand immediately began to smooth over the small breasts of her spouse, but the captain caught her wrist, grasping it gently, but firmly. "I'm fine." She drew upt he hand so that she could kiss Seven's palm. "I just wanted to pleasure you this morning. Besides, we don't have time." She leaned over, kissed Seven sweetly on the lips, and wiggled out of the young woman's grasp, leaving the Borg blinking sleepily amid the tangled bedding, a perplexed expression in her ice-blue gaze.

"You do not want to make love?"

"I just did," Janeway countered with a grin over her shoulder as she headed into the ensuite. "Consider it my version of a 'wake up call' for you, darling."

Vastly pleased with herself, she activated the shower and stepped beneath the triple hydro spray that splashed warmly over her body. She was not especially surprised when she was joined a few moments later by her spouse. They didn't have to speak as Seven gently soaped her all over, washing her lavishly, and amid the lather and suds, Janeway discovered that gratitude for a 'wake up call' didn't have to be verbal or even sexual, but could be quite delightful nonetheless.

Afterward, dressed in their Starfleet uniforms, the couple moved out into the living area where Seven prepared their breakfast; eggs Benedict with asparagus, one of Janeway's favorite dishes. Sipping from a mug of black coffee after she had eaten, Janeway eyed her spouse across the table, feeling pleasantly stuffed and quite content with her world, regardless of how small it might have become since taking command of the Millennium.

"What are your plans for the day?"

"I am meeting with Lenara to determine the allocation of computer time to the varied scientific departments," Seven explained as she rose from her chair and took their emptied plates over to the replicator to be recycled. "I must also arrange a training schedule for those civilians who may find themselves on away missions." She raised her eyebrow as she looked back at the captain. "You?"

"The ship's new helm officer reported yesterday, but I didn't have a chance to meet with him," Janeway explained. "I want him to be checked out on the auxiliary fleet, so I need to speak to Tom about that. The rest of the day will be taken up with making sure everything is taken care of that needs to be. When we activate the transition drive and leave the Alpha Quadrant, we can't just pop back and pick up anything that we might have left behind. Activating the transition drive seems too complicated for that."

"I am aware of the demands of the transition drive," Seven reminded the captain with a certain dry humor. She busied herself at the kitchenette counter, preparing Janeway's thermos, a tall, silver cylinder that had survived Voyager and the Delta Quadrant, and would be accompanying Janeway to the bridge on Millennium. The captain rose and moved over to her, slipping her arms around her waist and nuzzling the Borg's neck.

"Have a good day, my darling," she murmured.

Seven hugged her tightly. "I shall." She bussed the captain gently and went off to the bedroom to finish her remaining tasks prior to reporting to duty.

Janeway scooped up the thermos before moving over to the private turbolift access. A special command code allowed her to take the turbolift directly from her quarters to her ready room, though most crewmembers were unaware of that. It vastly entertained the captain to walk onto the bridge, seeming to appear out of nowhere to witness the expressions of consternation on crew's faces who had no idea she was even on deck one.

Dropping her thermos on her desk, she strode out onto the ship's command center, noting that a small male Ferengi was at the helm, with Commander Zar leaning over his shoulder pointing things out. This was undoubtedly Lt. Nog, and the two officers appeared to be getting along quite well. Janeway was glad to see it. Both would undoubtedly find things difficult in the beginning, simply because of the misconceptions and beliefs surrounding their respective species. Perhaps one day, we'll be evolved enough to take people on an individual basis every time, Janeway mused, rather than having to struggle to reach past surface appearances.

"Commander," she greeted.

Zar twitched briefly and the lieutenant started abruptly before rising to his feet, their reactions forcing Janeway to stifle a grin. The Ferengi only came up to the captain's nose, something that made the compact Janeway feel decidedly odd. She wasn't used to being taller than her crew. Most of the time, she was the one looking up at whomever she was talking to and developing a crick in her neck.

"Lt. Nog?"

"Ah, yes, Captain," he said, standing firmly at attention.

"Welcome to Millennium," she said, her eyes raking him up and down, assessing him keenly. "You have an impressive record, Lieutenant. I'm pleased to have you on board."

His eyes seemed to glitter. "Thank you, si--Captain."

Janeway noted the self-correction and realized that Zar had informed him of her preferences. She liked that. It was a small detail, but she knew that a person who paid attention to the small things was usually someone who could be counted on to be prepared for the big situations.

"I want you to be checked out on our fleet vessels as well as the helm," she informed him. "Have you had any opportunity to visit the hangars yet?"

"I've studied the schematics of the ship and its auxiliary fleet," the young man responded in his high, piping voice. "But, no, Captain, I haven't yet had a chance to drop by."

She nodded. "I'll take you down and introduce you to Mr. Paris. He's our wing commander." She glanced at the first officer who retained the con. "If you need me, I'll be in Alpha H