• This is the 7th installment in the Millennium series.
• It was posted on February 15, 2002.

She woke before the computer signaled the beginning of morning watch, and sighed softly, rolling over to wrap her arms around the warm form beside her. Snuggling close, she let her mind drift in a determined attempt to go back to sleep before she was actually required to report for duty. However, her motion must have disturbed her partner because she shifted until she was facing her, and suddenly, there were lazy hands stroking over her body, caresses designed to incite and inspire delight. A growl rumbled up in her chest, half pleasure, half exasperation, but she responded quickly enough to the stimuli, blindly pulling the woman to her in a powerful embrace.

"Did I wake you?" Ro Laren asked.  Her lean whipcord of a body, all fine wire and steel, was a pleasant heat, intoxicating and alluring. Dark of hair and eyes, there were ripples on the bridge of her nose that denoted her Bajoran heritage. B'Elanna Torres found them almost unbearably cute.

Reluctantly opening one eye, B'Elanna glanced at the chronometer. There was time, but only if she skipped breakfast. Well, she thought, I can always live without eating.

"Wasn't that your intention?" she muttered, feeling her spouse nip at the soft skin of her neck before Ro licked the tiny hurt soothingly, the combination of pain and caress sending chills through the Klingon hybrid.

"Actually, yes," Ro admitted huskily.

B'Elanna laughed, a low sensual chuckle that abruptly cut off in surprise when Ro, with an interesting application of leverage, rolled both women over until she was lying on top of the Klingon, making it clear that she was to be in charge for this particular encounter. B'Elanna resisted the idea for a split second before surrendering utterly to her partner, her body catching fire beneath the Bajoran's strong hands and ardent mouth. Gasping as Ro's teeth raked over her nipple, B'Elanna arched as the sharp edges offered delicate sharpness against the tender flesh. Ro glanced up at her, smiled wantonly, and did it again before moving over to the other breast to repeat the caress. B'Elanna squirmed as she felt the Bajoran's fingers reach down between them to stroke through the dark thatch at the apex of her legs to maniupulate the Klingon's dual clitori. Bucking beneath the powerful caress, B'Elanna grasped at Ro, wordlessly demanding more, and the Bajoran complied, rising above her as she fit them quickly together, the sensation of Ro's f'lar touching her wetness causing the Klingon to howl from the sheer pleasure of the contact.

The trigger for a Bajoran woman's sexual stimulus, the f'lar were extremely sensitive ridges at the juncture of Ro's legs, lined with tiny orifices that produced lubrication during arousal. Possessing four, one more than average, they made the security chief far more sensual than her reserved demeanor indicated. Ro pressed them tightly against the Klingon in one of their favorite lovemaking positions, the sensation incredible as they rubbed over B'Elanna's more human-like anatomy, the wet friction producing a heat that could not be resisted. B'Elanna glanced up, witnessing an expression of total abandon appear on Ro's face as she undulated forcefully against her. In this moment of vulnerability, secure in the privacy of their quarters, the security chief held nothing back, and the Klingon was tremendously excited by the emotions displayed so openly by the Bajoran.

Increasing her motion in response to her lover's need, she reached up and cupped Ro's small breasts, massaging the nipples with their accompanying ripples with more tenderness than Klingons were traditionally known for. Part of the joy of inter-species coupling was finding the right things that worked, even when such caresses would be considered too weak to the other.

Ro responded to the caress with an incoherent sound of delight, her hands gripping B'Elanna's shoulders tightly as she pushed frantically against her, somehow finding a perfect rhythm as desire and passion threatened to consume them completely. For an instant, it seemed as if it would escape them entirely, and they quivered for a breathless second at the peak. Then B'Elanna cried out loudly as she plunged into the warm abyss, clutching at Ro urgently, hanging onto her as they jerked and shuddered and finally collapsed onto the bed in mutual satisfaction.

They lay motionless for several minutes, with B'Elanna keenly aware of the Bajoran's weight on top of her, pressing her heavily against the mattress. There had been a time when the Klingon would have resisted this sense of being pinned down and promptly pushed the woman off her as she had pushed others away in the aftermath. Ro, however, she hugged to her even more tightly, having discovered that this was not an imposition, but was, instead, comforting in some odd way, making her feel loved and protected.

Theirs wasn't a perfect relationship, the Klingon knew, but because it was based on a mutual respect and love born of much trial and error, it was very, very good. It had taken awhile for B'Elanna to realize the 'perfect' relationship didn't really exist, even though she had believed it of the captain and the Borg. It was only after she realized that the marriage was treated as a constant work in progress by both Janeway and Seven that B'Elanna understood what she needed to pursue in life. Fortunately, she and Ro had stuck together long enough for both of them to reach that conclusion.

"Mmm, that was good," Ro murmured finally, recovering enough to nuzzle into B'Elanna's neck.

"Very good," B'Elanna agreed. Her hands slipped lightly over Ro's back, tracing her spine in an aimless, but pleasurably lazy caress. She eyed the chronometer again. "You know, we really need to get going."

Ro groaned quietly, but obliged by slipping off the Klingon and rolling over until she was sitting at the edge of the bed. Raising her arms above her head, she stretched like a big carnivore, indolent but with restrained power, her muscles clearly defined beneath her smooth skin. B'Elanna watched the display with a quiet pleasure.

"Do you want me to make breakfast?" Ro asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"Do we have time?" B'Elanna was surprised.

"If we shower together," Ro invited, rising to her feet and gracefully crossing the bedroom to the ensuite.

B'Elanna didn't require a second invitation and threw back the covers, scrambling after her. Minutes later, beneath the cascade of warm water, Ro Laren kissed the Klingon, their nude bodies slick and wonderfully slippery. That incited actions that did little to advance the cause of preparing for duty, causing another significant delay that did not include breakfast. It was a breathless and somewhat hungry B'Elanna Torres who finally made it to main engineering twenty minutes late for the beginning of her shift. She glared warningly at a few of her crewmembers who had looked up at her tardy appearance, daring them to mention the lapse, then glanced around the room which was her domain. Extending above her for four decks, the dual power cores, separated by an ivory cooling tower, dominated the room, throbbing with contained energy as the ship slipped through space at the easy pace of warp seven. It afforded B'Elanna the same chill of anticipation and excitement that it always did when she entered her engine room, knowing that she was the one in charge of all that power.

Janeway may be in command of the ship, she thought with an internal grin, but I look after the stuff that makes it go.

"Chief?"

B'Elanna turned to see Ensign Laura Martin standing there with a padd, undoubtedly filled with reports needing the lieutenant's attention before the shift supervisor could log off duty. The Klingon stifled her sigh and accepted the padd, scanning the information held there.

"How are things?" B'Elanna asked quietly as she worked her way through the gamma shift data. Martin was someone the engineer was keeping her eye on, pegging her for a possible promotion from the transition core supervisor to the beta shift warp team. A robust woman, Martin was highly intelligent, with a talent for ferreting out phase variances, and a sense of knowing exactly what to do in a crisis. Her long, brownish-blonde hair, held back in a french braid, framed pleasantly rounded features that were pretty rather than beautiful. The constant twinkle in her dark eyes gave evidence of her dry sense of humor.

"It was a busy night," Martin responded. "During a manual inspection, the transition coolant tank's transwarp seals were displaying signs of progressive degrading. I had the seals completely replaced and then ordered a complete re-calibration of the transition drive's computer system, which took most of the shift. I had to pull some warp technicians off their duty."

"That's fine," B'Elanna said approvingly. "Even though we're not currently using the transition drive, we need to keep it well maintained, and I expect both teams to work together as a unit. This drive is our ticket home when the mission is over. Otherwise, we'll spend seventy or eighty years out here in the Delta Quadrant just getting back to Federation space."

"We're all aware of that, Chief," Martin said dryly.

B'Elanna cocked an eyebrow at her, trying to figure out if the other woman was teasing her or not, then decided it was unlikely. Though engineering tended to be a little looser than most departments on the ship, there was still the Klingon aspect of their chief that prevented a great many officers from daring to become too familiar with her. B'Elanna had yet to decide if she liked that or not.

"I'd like to take a look at the seals," she said finally, handing the padd back to Martin. Obediently, the woman followed as B'Elanna led the way to the section where the problem had originated. As Laura stood by patiently, the Klingon painstakingly went over the area twice before she was content it had been taken care of properly.

"Make a note in the log," she said. "Good work from your team. I'm curious why the beta shift didn't notice the degradation during their routine inspection, however."

"Maybe it wasn't visible until our shift," Martin responded. "As it was, we were lucky Valdez caught it."

"Maybe," B'Elanna said, not entirely satisfied with that explanation, but accepting that it was possible. She noticed that Martin was fidgeting, and realized that she had kept the gamma shift supervisor longer than she should. The Martins had a five-year-old son named Bobby. If Laura didn't log off duty soon, she would miss seeing him before he went off to school. "Okay, I've got it from here." She was about to say more when a sharp snap drew her attention, then the immediate shrill tones of an alarm filled her ears. With disbelief, she recognized the warning of an imminent plasma breach in the warp conduits.

"Clear the area," she shouted automatically, even as she knew that was the incorrect order for this particular vessel. Sprinting toward the source of the sound, with Martin only a step behind her, she was aware of surplus engineers and technicians heading rapidly for the exits, while others, drilled in this particular emergency, stayed at their posts, remaining at the consoles scattered through main engineering. Frantically, they began the necessary procedures to shut down the warp core and shunt the plasma away from the primary warp manifold, continuing to input commands even as a large visible crack developed in the main conduit and began to spew corrosive and radioactive green plasma onto the main engineering deck.

"Chief, look out!"

B'Elanna faltered in her run, slowing as she glanced around for the cause of Martin's warning. Then she left her feet as someone tackled her, the pair skidding across the deck. The leading edge of the plasma burst through the conduit and splashed down around them, burning their skin. B'Elanna held her breath, trying desperately not to inhale the toxic fumes as they skidded away from the deadly green puddle spreading out over the deck. Time seemed to slow down, and as she glanced down at herself, she could see the outer layer of her skin start to peel away in long strips beneath the smoking gaps in her uniform.

Then darkness claimed her, and it was a relief because then she didn't have to feel the searing pain she knew was about to hit her.

It had been so unexpected. One moment they were cruising at warp seven through the Delta Quadrant, expanding the Federation's knowledge of this area of space so far away from their home port of Earth, and the next, they had dropped completely out of warp. Not the usual dropping out of warp where the ship powered down in swift but measurable increments to impulse power, but rather, torn completely out of the warp bubble and dumped into normal space like a drunk being ejected from a station-side bar. The ship's internal integrity dampers had been stressed to the limit as it prevented the crew of the great starship from smashing into formless blobs against the bulkheads from the abrupt change in velocity. Even so, many in the crew had been tossed about violently, some sustaining serious injuries from impacting with assorted immovable objects.

Janeway had been sitting quietly in her command chair when it happened ... as opposed to pacing alertly around the bridge or working in her ready room, which was normally how she spent the alpha shift. It was a fortunate happenstance because an unexpected force field snapped up around her chair, holding her firmly in place. Janeway had remembered reading about the protective shields which had been installed around every station on the bridge, and meant to be activated during a violent, uncontrolled ship maneuver. It was why all the bridge stations on Millennium ... including ops, tactical and the auxiliary posts ... required the operators to be seated rather than standing, but this was the first time the captain had actually experienced the modification. Nor was she entirely sure it was such a good idea because, for several ludicrous moments in the immediate aftermath, no one on the bridge could move, literally immobilized in their seats until the computer had deemed the ship was safely drifting in normal space and not about to undergo any further ill-advised maneuvers.

The captain appreciated that there was something to be said for bridge officers not being catapulted wildly about the command center during an unexpected jolt, but there was also a need for freedom of motion during a crisis. She decided that she would put a maintenance team on it to look into all the ramifications.

Assuming she had any spare personnel left in engineering, she reminded herself grimly. Millennium's engineering crew had not only experienced injuries from the sudden uncontrolled drop from warp, but had also suffered severe burns from a plasma leak when the main conduit ruptured. Janeway didn't know what had happened and needed answers quickly, but unfortunately, the person best equipped to provide her with them was one of those currently being treated.

Yet, the captain understood that B'Elanna had still been very lucky. Janeway wasn't sure of the details, but apparently, one of the engineering crew, using her own body as a sort of shield to protect the chief, had saved the Klingon from the full brunt of the plasma spill. At the moment, Zar Tulek, Janeway's first officer, and the ship's chief science officer, Lt. Annika Hansen, were supervising the repairs to the engines while at the same time, trying to figure out what happened.

"Doctor." Janeway called out as the snowy-haired Pulaski left the patient she had been working on. The tall, elegant woman looked weary, though a contrary spark ignited in her blue eyes at being made to pause in her duties.

"Does it have to be now, Kathryn?" she snapped as she moved over to the captain, motioning for her to enter the office before her. "I have a sickbay full of casualties, in case you hadn't noticed."

Janeway allowed for the exhaustive nature of the work the medical officer had been performing and did not snap back. "I need your report," she said quietly, pinning the doctor with an authoritative look. "When can I expect it?"

Pulaski hesitated, and then dipped her head. "All I can tell you at the moment is that we have seven dead," she said shortly. "Three more are critical. The rest of the burn victims should be fine, assuming there are no complications during the post-op recovery. The blunt trauma cases are all back on their feet."

"Lt. Torres?"

"She'll be back on duty before the week is out," Pulaski said. "She's currently in a regeneration tube having assorted parts of her skin and lungs regrown, as well as healing from a concussion."

"Can I speak to her?"

"The patient is better off sedated while undergoing this type of regeneration," Pulaski said, shaking her head. "You won't be able to talk to her for a few days."

Janeway nodded briefly. "Send the casualty list to my ready room," she said, turning away, conscious of the letters she had to write to the next of kin and not looking forward to it.

"Captain."

Janeway turned back, raising an eyebrow as she saw the expression on Pulaski's face. The doctor looked oddly determined, but reserved at the same time, obviously uncertain as to what kind of reception she would receive to her next words.

"Unless something miraculous happens, I'm going to lose those three critical patients," she said. "It's not a matter of if...only when, and it's going to be very soon."

Janeway caught her breath at the bleak certainty in the doctor's voice.

"I understand," she said, somehow managing an even tone.

"This ship doesn't have the necessary equipment to deal with burns this severe," Pulaski went on. She glanced up at Janeway. "However, the specialized plasma burn unit at the Starfleet Medical facilities on Europaea Prime does."

"Europaea Prime is in the Alpha Quadrant," Janeway said stupidly, not immediately comprehending what the doctor was implying. Then she firmed her mouth, a muscle jumping sporadically in her jaw. "You want the ship to return to the Federation," she said flatly. "Abort our mission here in the Delta Quadrant."

"It's a matter of life and death, Kathryn," Pulaski said, frowning at her. "If we can get these casualties to the proper facilities within the next couple of days, they might have a chance of surviving."

"I appreciate what you're saying, Doctor," Janeway said, keenly aware of her responsibilities to Starfleet and feeling cornered by her CMO. "However, as difficult as this is, I cannot justify ordering our return."

"Kathryn..." Pulaski began.

"No," Janeway said, interjecting more firmness into her tone. "First of all, it takes upwards of a week to properly prepare the ship and crew for a transition jump. Second, we're out of communications range of Starfleet, which would mean any return would occur without advanced warning to the Federation. That not only puts this vessel at risk, but any vessels that might be in the area of the exit coordinates. Third, and ultimately, we all knew and understood the risks of this duty when we accepted it. I don't want to be harsh, Doctor, but the mission cannot be aborted for the sake of a few individuals."

Pulaski's face underwent a myriad of expressions, none of which were pleasant, before she finally dipped her head. It wasn't any sort of agreement, Janeway knew, so much as a surrender to what was required of them.

"I will issue an official report," Pulaski said with brittle sharpness. "I intend to make it clear to Starfleet that I do not agree with your decision."

Janeway nodded, acknowledging the anger in the doctor's tone though she could not afford to indulge in it. "I understand, Doctor," she said, her tone clipped. "You do what you must. So will I." She turned and left sickbay, feeling the burden of command weighing heavily on her shoulders.

What does Pulaski expect of me? she thought resentfully.

Surely the doctor knew that what she was asking was impossible. The Europaea Prime system was located in one of the most densely trafficked sectors of the Federation. Even if Millennium could bypass most of the safety procedures in setting up the transwarp drive, making what was considered an 'emergency transition', the exit coordinates would have to be situated in a less populated sector. That would probably put Millennium so far away from the Federation's inner systems, it would take too long, utilizing traditional warp, to reach the medical facilities before the critical cases died. That was assuming that their warp drive would be repaired within the next few hours, which was not at all a certainty.

No, she thought unhappily as she strode briskly down the corridor, heading for the turbolift, there's no other choice. Starfleet certainly wouldn't accept any other decision from her. There was room for compassion, but there was also the required adherence to duty, and this was definitely a case of the latter. It didn't make Janeway feel any better inside, of course, but she had to be content that she had made the correct command decision. Stepping into the turbolift, she instructed it to take her to main engineering, wanting to get a first hand look at the damage her ship had taken. It bothered her tremendously that there had been no warning, no hint of trouble from engineering before the ship lost its warp drive, no indication that there was a malfunction. Things like that just shouldn't happen, and it made the captain considerably uneasy.

Main engineering was a flurry of activity. The environmental controls were set to ship standard, but the various equipment required for repairs of this nature tended to put out excess heat. There was also a great deal of physical exertion going on, and many of the crew had discarded their tunics and sweaters in order to work in their brief undershirts. As Zar Tulek came toward her, alerted to the captain's presence by a sharp-eyed crewmember, Janeway was struck by the prominent bone ridges in his shoulders and broad chest which were normally concealed by his uniform tunic. The Cardassian had never looked more alien to her, and she supposed it was because she had never seen that much of his body before.

Beyond him, on the catwalk above the main level, Janeway could see her science officer directing the repairs. Seven, of course, was in full uniform, looking completely cool and collected and not at all bothered by the environment.

"Captain."

"Report," she asked, frowning as she saw an entire section of conduit being lifted into place by four straining engineers.

"There were ruptures in the main and secondary plasma relays," he said succinctly. Close to six-foot-six, he towered over Janeway, and the captain felt a crick start to develop in her neck as she looked up at him. It was the same thing that usually happened with Seven, her spouse topping her by about six inches, and Janeway inevitably ended up staring at the Borg's rather prominent chest which, although exceedingly pleasant, wasn't necessarily polite. Janeway was struck by the odd thought that perhaps she should requisition a box to carry around with her in order to stand at eye level with her senior officers.

"How did it happen?"

"We're not sure yet," he said, his angled features appearing even more severe. "The truth is, it shouldn't have happened at all. Regular maintenance is designed to prevent just this sort of thing, and I can't believe that Torres runs so sloppy an engine room that defects in the conduit walls were overlooked long enough to cause a rupture."

"She doesn't," Janeway said with certainty, anger stirring in her chest. "You're saying that someone sabotaged the conduits."

Zar looked troubled. "Not exactly," he said slowly. "Captain, you know as well as I do that weird things can happen in space. I'm not ready to start pointing fingers or call a red alert just yet, although I expect Commander Ro's report to indicate we have a larger problem than just a plasma breach. I called her in as soon as I realized the nature of the damage."

Janeway inhaled. "Where is she now?" she asked. She had been slightly surprised not to see the Bajoran in sickbay with her partner, but upon further reflection, was reminded that Ro was just as dedicated to duty as any of her senior officers, despite her occasional rebellious tendencies.

"She's in the engineer's office, going over the gamma shift roster." There was a pause. "How is Lt. Torres, Captain?"

Janeway lifted an eyebrow, remembering that not so long ago, the engineer had loathed the first officer. However, the two, Cardassian and Klingon, had somehow resolved their differences and now were, if not friends, then at least no longer blood enemies.

"She's recovering," Janeway said shortly. "I'll want a full report when you're finished here, Commander."

"Understood, Captain."

She dipped her head and headed for the chief engineer's office, needing to speak to her security chief.

The Borg focused her attention on replacing the damaged piece of conduit with a new section. From her initial visual inspection of the damaged section, which had been set aside for further examination by security, it appeared that a defect had developed in the inner casing. The force of the plasma moving through the tube was enough to further rupture the weak area and, finally, to allow the plasma to spill through. However, the real mystery was what had caused the defect in the first place. It was certainly not a normal happenstance, nor should it have gone unnoticed with regular tricorder scans long enough for the plasma to burn its way through. Seven took a moment to retrieve a tricorder from a nearby compartment and examine the damaged section closer, intrigued to discover evidence of a transporter signature that was steadily fading, along with some undetermined trace element that was unfamiliar to her. It appeared to be dissipating even as she did a second, more extensive scan.

"Seven?"

The Borg glanced up to see Ro Laren approaching, accompanied by two more security officers. Seven wondered if the strain that appeared around the Bajoran's dark eyes was a result of her investigation, or the fact that her spouse was in sickbay. If so, then the Borg knew how she felt. She was good friends with B'Elanna, and regretted that her duties prevented her from visiting her friend in the medical center. For Ro, who was deeply in love with the engineer, it must be even more stressful.

"Commander, you should investigate this," Seven said coolly, handing the security chief her tricorder with the readings.

Ro stared at them, and quickly ran her own scan, her lips thin. "Good work, Seven," she said in a clipped tone, "if you had taken any longer or waited for us, we might have lost these traces."

"I am unsure what the readings indicate," Seven said, referring to the dissolving elements. "I am not familiar with that particular chemical compound."

"I am," Ro said tightly. However, she did not elaborate, even when Seven offered her a quizzical look. "Seven, I want my people to go over every millimeter of the affected areas. I realize this will delay the repairs, but it's critical we complete our scans as soon as possible."

"Of course," Seven said, dipping her head. "I shall redirect the engineering teams to begin work on the warp manifold seals which were compromised during the accident. It should not delay the repair project itself."

Ro shot her a look, almost as if she were about to say something, then shook her head. "Thank you, Seven."

"You are welcome," Seven said. She motioned at the technicians who had been waiting for further instructions, indicating that they should tackle the warp seals next.

"Seven?"

The Borg paused, about to follow her repair team, glancing back over her shoulder at the Bajoran. "Yes, Commander Ro?"

"How long until we have warp drive again?"

Seven lifted an eyebrow. "Assuming there are no unforeseen delays in the repair schedule, I anticipate returning the engines to full warp capacity in seven days."

Ro nodded soberly. "Understood. Thanks, Seven."

Seven wondered what Ro was thinking. It was obvious to her that the Bajoran had formulated certain conclusions as they had talked, but Ro seemed unwilling to share them with the Borg. Seven briefly debated whether to be offended by that, and then decided that Ro would not be a very good security chief if she was forthcoming with everything she knew or suspected, regardless of how curious Seven was. She would just have to exist without knowing, the Borg decided as she returned to directing the repair crew, setting them to work replacing the warp manifold seals.

It was quite late when she returned to her quarters, dismissed by Commander Zar who informed her that he had little use for a science officer who worked herself so hard that she would be unable to function. Seven did not agree with his assessment, remembering a time when she was capable of working around the clock for days, but she could not defy orders from a senior officer, as much as she might want to. On Voyager, she would have considered it. On Millennium, she had no choice. Slightly disgruntled, she entered the captain's cabin, surprised to see that Janeway was still awake, seated at the work station by the far wall, her gaze intent on the computer screen.

"Kathryn?"

Janeway blinked and looked up. She had been so involved in what she was doing that she obviously hadn't heard her spouse enter. Seven lifted an eyebrow, frowning as she wondered what had the captain so occupied.

"Hello, darling. What's the status with the warp drive?"

"It remains offline," Seven responded, moving closer to Janeway and putting her hands on the captain's shoulders as she looked over her head at the data displayed on the screen. "The repair teams remain on schedule, and we should have full function in six more days." She paused. "Kathryn, why are you studying the transition drive schematics?"

Janeway exhaled audibly. "It's my understanding that the ship should be traveling at warp 9.5 as it accesses the transition corridor, right?"

Seven dipped her head. "That is correct."

Janeway tapped the touch pad in front of her, her fingertips light on the smooth surface. "What about an 'emergency transition' utilizing a single power core?"

Seven lifted an eyebrow, feeling a certain qualm shiver through her. "What is it that you wish to know?" Having worked on the drive during her time on Earth with the Theoretical Propulsion Group laboratory, Seven of Nine was probably the only transition propulsion specialist on the vessel, despite B'Elanna Torres' familiarity with the engines.

"It's theoretically possible for a ship to access the corridor by activating the transition drive and raising the energy output to the same level that the warp engines put out at 9.5, right?"

"Theoretically," Seven agreed slowly, not sure she liked the direction of this conversation.

"So if I wanted to, say, return to the Alpha Quadrant within the next couple of days, even if we don't have both cores online, then it could be done."

Seven hesitated.

"Darling?"

"It is theoretically possible," Seven admitted. She squeezed the shoulders lightly, feeling the delicate, narrow bones beneath her fingers. "However, theory and reality are not necessarily the same thing."

Janeway looked up, tilting her head back until her bluish-grey eyes intersected with Seven's. "Indeed," she said flatly. "Explain to me all the ramifications of an emergency transition."

Seven released her hold and moved over to the sofa, sitting down gracefully, her hands folded neatly on her lap as she observed her partner. Janeway left the work station and moved over to join her in their living quarters' conversation pit, taking a seat opposite her on the smaller couch.

"To activate the transition drive without the simultaneous activation of both power cores would compromise the cooling system which maintains the integrity of the transition coil," Seven explained, studying her partner intently as she tried to determine why the captain wanted this information. "It would undoubtedly result in an overload that would completely destroy the coil's internal structure. Second, assuming that the energy output of the transition drive could be raised to the level of warp 9.5 utilizing only one power core, which is unlikely in my opinion, such concentrated power could rupture the antimatter containment field of both, resulting in a explosion that would completely destroy the ship and everything else within a light year. Third, the velocity of 9.5 was determined to be the most efficient method of accessing the corridor without placing undue stress on the ship's integrity field. To enter a subspace corridor at a lower warp, or at impulse, could compromise the shields, exceed the capacity of the inertial dampers, and result in a total shearing of the vessel's hull, which would shatter the ship completely."

Janeway, who had sat still for the entirety of the technical explanation, jumped to her feet, pacing about their living quarters animatedly, raising an elegant finger as if to emphasize her points.

"What you're telling me is that if we could get the transition drive running hot enough on one core to form a subspace corridor and somehow bolster the integrity and containment fields to prevent breaches, the transition coil would still be destroyed, making any such jump a one-way trip."

Seven did not quite wince at the gross oversimplification of the risks involved, but it was very close. "That is correct." She tilted her head, her ice-blue eyes narrowing. "There is also the problem of maintaining precise entry and exit coordinates while traveling the corridor at a slower velocity, as well as the much greater physical toll extracted from those possessing Terran DNA. Being in the transition corridor for an extended period of time would impose stress that no medication could counteract. An 'emergency transition' would be so damaging physically and psychologically that there could be a casualty rate of up to 25%."

Janeway stopped and put her hands on her hips ... never a good sign in Seven's opinion ... staring at the science officer with dark grey eyes.

"Approximately a third of the crew suffered some effect of the transition jump," she said in a tone that indicated she was having great difficulty with the figures Seven was presenting to her. "That was almost 400 officers and civilians who had to be sedated. You're telling me that an emergency transition, even with medical preparation, could kill about 100 of them?"

"That is the casualty rate estimated by the TPG in such an instance," Seven admitted. "Of course, an 'emergency transition' is very much a theoretical concept, Kathryn. It has never actually been performed." She paused. "Captain," she corrected herself, sensing that this was not a personal discussion despite the fact they were in their quarters with an agreement that ship's business should normally be left outside their doors. "Are you contemplating using such a transition as a kind of escape procedure?"

Janeway's brows drew down, her expression one of great unhappiness. "I just want to have all the angles, Seven. It's imperative that I know just what this ship can and cannot do in certain circumstances."

Seven hesitated. "The circumstances would be very dire to risk an 'emergency transition', Captain. The ship would have to be on the verge of total destruction. It would be a matter of 'last resort' only."

Janeway nodded. "I get it," she said, her tone slightly grating. "It's not something to do lightly. I should have examined this before now." She was silent for a moment, her expression one of deep thought. "Is there any way to speed up the repairs of the warp drive, perhaps take some shortcuts in bringing the engines and second power core back online?"

Seven frowned. "If certain protocols were bypassed, then the warp drive could be brought online in four-point-five days," she admitted unhappily. "However, that would mean compromising certain aspects of its normal operation which could result in a fatal malfunction at a critical time. It would be highly inadvisable, Captain. In my opinion, the ship would, again, have to be in grave danger of being destroyed for you to order it." She inhaled slowly. "Why are you asking me these things, Kathryn?" By deliberately using her name, Seven attempted to bring the conversation back to a more personal level.

Janeway's shoulders slumped then and she looked so weary that Seven rose in alarm, moving over to enfold the captain into her arms. "What is wrong, Kathryn?" she murmured against the rich, auburn hair. The woman suddenly seemed very small and fragile in Seven's embrace, very vulnerable in a way that was not normal for Janeway.

"Three more crewmembers are going to die," the captain explained raggedly. "Pulaski can't save them. She just doesn't have the equipment or the personnel. However, the burn unit at the Starfleet facilities on Europaea Prime does."

Seven pulled her closer, cuddling her as she would a child. "I comprehend now," she said softly, knowing how much every crewmember's life meant to the captain, and how much it hurt her to be unable to do anything to prevent a death, or in this case, three. "Kathryn, the potential risk to the ship and the rest of the crew is far too great for us to return to the Federation under these circumstances."

Janeway hesitated, then nodded. "I agree," she said. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're absolutely correct. Even if I were prepared to accept the professional consequences of prematurely ending our mission here in the Delta Quadrant, I can't justify the risk to my ship. I'm completely out of options."

And Seven knew that angered and frustrated her spouse most of all.

"I am sorry, Kathryn."

"So am I," the captain said softly, clinging to Seven, needing the comfort and security of her spouse in a way that she could never accept from anyone else.

"Damn it, so am I."

"Ensign, may I help you?" he said as he moved around her to his desk, where he sat down and hoped this wouldn't take too long. He had planned to stop by his office for only a few moments, just long enough to drop off some reports before heading down to engineering, but obviously, his morning was not working out as planned.

Of course, he was the one who had established the 'open-door' protocol for his office, he reminded himself. He had wanted it clear that any crewmember could stop by to talk to him any time. Nor had such a liberal policy imposed an undue burden on him. The offspring of a Bajoran refugee and an occupying Cardassian soldier, Zar's appearance was primarily that of his father's people. The Cardassians had been bitter enemies with the Federation for several years, and the wounds, both physical and emotional, were still evident in many of Millennium's officers who had fought in the most recent war instigated by them. Most of the crew remained leery of the first officer and rarely sought him out as a confidant or mentor. Tarn, however, had been thrown in close contact with the first officer on the bridge and had lost her wariness of him.

"Commander, I wish to apply for extra duty," she said, sitting up straight. A tall girl, Tarn had long red hair held back in a ponytail and bright blue eyes that conveyed an intelligent personality. A willful one as well, he knew, both arrogant and self-assured...except when she ran into an obstacle. Then she became sullen and uncertain. He was pleased to note that there was a definite spark of contrariness in her gaze at the moment, a sort of defiance which cheered rather than offended him.

"I see. Do you have a particular preference?"

"I want to apply to the fighter squadron as a substitute pilot. Failing that, I want to spend time on a security detail."

He eyed her dubiously. "In addition to your duties on the beta shift?"

She looked vaguely annoyed. "The beta shift is not as demanding as the alpha assignment."

He swallowed back a smile. There was actually a touch of antagonism in those words, and Zar was glad to hear it. He had been afraid this latest setback to Tarn's career would finish her as a Starfleet officer, but it seemed, as Janeway had hoped, that she was responding to the challenge.His respect for his commanding officer rose yet another notch.

"Very well," he said calmly. "I'll check with Lt. Paris and Commander Ro to see who requires additional personnel."

Tarn looked vaguely disconcerted, as if she had expected resistance and had her arguments marshaled, only to have no need of them. He wondered why, then decided that she probably thought that losing her place on the alpha shift meant the senior staff had completely washed their hands of her. He remembered a time in his own youth when everything was black and white, where if it wasn't one, then by necessity, it had to be the other. Only time and experience taught him the many shades of gray that truly existed in life, and that it was never as bad as he always expected it to be.

"Thank you, sir," she said belatedly.

"You're welcome." He paused. "Is there anything else, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir, I wish to know if--"

The door to the office hissed open, and she stopped in surprise. Zar frowned, wondering who was in such a hurry that they wouldn't first request admittance, blinking when he saw Lt. Peter Martin standing in the doorway.

"Commander, I need to speak with you. Now."

The normally pleasant young man looked haggard, his eyes reddened and swollen, his sandy hair in disarray as if he had not taken the time to comb it. Zar wasn't surprised. He knew Martin's wife was one of those who had been critically injured and would probably not survive. Her husband was undoubtedly devastated by the knowledge. Zar wondered what could be more important to Peter that he would be in the exec's office rather than with Laura during her final hours.

"Ensign, if you'll excuse us?" he said calmly.

"Of course, sir," Tarn said. She brushed past the geometrics officer with an expression of discomfort on her face. Zar wondered if it was because she didn't know what to say to the man who was obviously grieving, or if she was upset that her meeting with Zar had been interrupted. He preferred to believe that it was the former, despite how insular and self-centered the young, and particularly Ensign Tarn, could be.

"What is it, Peter?" he said.

"You have to go to the captain," Peter said, not taking the seat that Zar offered with a motion of his head. "You have to convince her to order our return."

Zar blinked. "Return?"

"We need to get to Europaea Prime," Peter said, every word edged with pain.

"Europaea Prime? In the Alpha Quadrant?" Zar wished he could stop repeating everything the officer said. He felt blind-sided, as if everyone else on the ship knew what was going on except for him.

"They specialize in plasma burns. In fact, the whole facility is dedicated to the research and development of new treatments for those type of injuries."

"Hold on a minute," Zar said, holding up his hands to slow the intense young man down. "Let's start at the beginning. What's this about the Europaea Prime facility?"

"When I was at the Academy, my roommate was Kevin Lawrence," Peter explained painfully. "He went on to specialize in plasmatology and thermal epidermatology. I've kept in touch with him all these years, and in his last letter before we left the alpha quadrant, he told me all about a new breakthrough they had made in plasma burn research at Europaea Prime. I know they'll be able to help Laura." He gulped for air. "And the other two," he added belatedly.

Zar inhaled slowly, the ramifications slowly becoming clear to him as he considered the officer's request. "Peter, there's no guarantee that they would be able to help her where our doctors can't."

"We have to try, dammit," Peter shouted, his voice echoing in the small confines of the room. His fists were clenched and his stocky body was a coiled spring on the verge of being released.

"Lieutenant!" Zar spoke sharply, trying to calm the young man. For a minute, he wasn't sure his tone had penetrated the fear and pain which were driving the officer's actions, then Peter seemed to collapse, slumping down in the chair as he stared at the commander.

"We have to try," he repeated huskily, his eyes lost and frightened.

"It's not that simple, Peter," Zar began. "Our warp engines are down..."

"We have the transition drive."

"Which requires the warp engines to function."

At least, Zar thought that was the case. The truth was, how the transition drive actually worked was a mystery to most of the crew. They understood some of the theory and all the preparations that were made prior to making the jump from the Alpha Quadrant, but he suspected that they weren't entirely sure about the mechanics of it. While he understood the connection between the warp engines and the transition drive on a theoretical basis, it wasn't clear to him why the ship had to be going warp 9.5 before the subspace corridor could be accessed. He didn't even know if a transwarp conduit could be created by just using the transition drive. He supposed Seven would know since she had helped design and build it, and decided to ask her as soon as he had a spare moment.

However, that didn't tell him how he should deal with Peter Martin right now.

"Lieutenant, I'm not sure what you're asking is possible, even if the captain would be willing to abort our mission and return prematurely to the Federation," Zar said awkwardly.

Peter leaned forward, his hands trapped between his thighs as if he were afraid that having them loose would result in him doing something unfortunate with them. "She's going to die, Commander."

Zar stared at him helplessly, seeing the profound pain in the other man's eyes. "I understand," he said softly. He swallowed hard. "I'll bring this to the captain's attention. That's all I can do."

"Thank you, Commander," Peter said, the relief and gratitude evident in his expression.

Zar felt horrible. He had offered the young man a hope, and it was entirely unlikely that there was any hope at all. Furthermore, he was ashamed because he knew he was essentially passing the buck, putting the decision to destroy Peter's hope fully on the captain's shoulders.

If only he knew more about the transition drive and how it worked. He had meant to discover everything about the experimental propulsion system while serving on Millennium, but time had slipped away from him since coming on board the vessel. Instead of engaging in a hopeless and futile crush on Seven of Nine, including showing up every evening in the Nexus so that he could see her in social surroundings, he should have been occupying himself with reading the engineering manuals.

"I'm very sorry about Laura," he said soberly.

Peter shook his head as he stood up. "Don't be," he said harshly. "She did her duty. Now make sure the captain does hers."

He left the office without being dismissed. Zar didn't call him back, sitting silently in his chair for a moment as he tried to regain his bearings. He could only imagine what it was like to love someone dearly, to see them in pain and know they were going to die, yet believe that there was a possibility they could be saved. Peter was being remarkably composed, Zar decided, though he could see trouble looming. Even if the transition drive was accessible, and could be used to return Millennium immediately to the Federation, he did not believe any starship captain would abort an assigned mission for the sake of one individual or even three of them. It just wasn't done. Every Starfleet officer on board had understood and accepted the risks when accepting the posting on the prototype vessel.

On the other hand, Janeway was not like other starship captains, Zar reminded himself. She was known for unconventional command technique, and she had told him on one occasion that no one on her vessel was expendable. Of course, that could have been slight hyperbole on the captain's part, and what was offered in casual discussion was not necessarily practical in real application. Zar shook his head, feeling it ache as he leaned forward to punch in a formal request to see the captain as soon as she had a free moment. He suspected that this would require a certain amount of her time, and he didn't want to try to catch Janeway in a spare moment between all else that was going on. This was a conversation for her ready room, and not something to be brandied about in main engineering or in a corridor where passing crew could overhear. It was a potentially explosive situation that could involve the entire ship before it was over.

He rose from the chair and headed for the turbolift, hoping that the captain wouldn't delay in requesting his presence. The sooner she was aware of what was happening, the better.

"Apparently, he's friends with one of the research physicians," Zar said, tilting his head as he sat stiffly in his chair. "He's quite familiar with the work being carried out at the facility." Janeway was considerably relieved by his words, fearing that the CMO had gone behind her back to Martin, and slightly ashamed that she had thought so little of Pulaski. "You already know about this, Captain?"

"Dr. Pulaski suggested that Europaea Prime might have the equipment and personnel to deal with the more severely injured cases currently in sickbay." Janeway leaned forward to pour more coffee into her cup. "I told her that aborting our mission to return to the Federation at this time would be impossible."

Zar absorbed that quietly. "Is it?"

Janeway exhaled as she picked up her mug and sipped the dark liquid slowly. "I'm afraid so, Commander. We just don't have that option." She felt a very real pain in her chest as she told him that.

"You once told me that no one is expendable."

She looked up sharply at him, resentful of her words being thrown back in her face. He raised his hands in surrender, an expression of compassion softening his boney features as he regarded her. "I'm not trying to be offensive here, Captain, honestly. I'm just trying to understand how you're reconciling this in your own mind. I think I've come to know you well enough to realize you must hate everything about this situation."

"You're right. I do," she said gratingly. She paused. "I've already looked into returning, Commander. I thought that maybe we could make a transition jump into the Bajoran Sector near the Badlands which has little in the way of ship traffic. I could dispatch a shuttle with the injured to DS9 where they could be transferred to Europaea Prime. Meanwhile, the Millennium could return to the Delta Quadrant without anyone being the wiser."

Zar nodded in apparent understanding. "That way, you wouldn't have to answer to Starfleet about aborting the mission for the sake of a few crewmembers. It would only be a minor interruption in our exploration of the quadrant."

Janeway took a breath. "Seven tells me that an emergency transition jump would be a one-way trip," she said. "If we ever had to use that method to return to the Federation, assuming we survived it, the ship would be looking at a long stay in dry dock at the nearest Starfleet facilitiy. I couldn't justify doing that unless it was the most extreme of circumstances. Starfleet would take my commission, and rightfully so."

Zar lifted a brow. "Forgive me, Captain, but I doubt that professional consideration is your number one priority in making this decision," he said.

Janeway snorted. "Don't kid yourself. I'm not about to surrender my command so easily. I just got it back." He regarded her with steady dark eyes, and she sighed. "If the option were available, I might consider accepting the professional repercussions," she admitted. "However, it's not. The potential threat to the ship is too great to order an emergency jump to return under these circumstances. Unfortunately, by the time we get our warp drive back online, the injured will most likely be dead."

"What about stasis chambers?"

"I asked," Janeway said, shaking her head in negation. "The progression of this type of radiation damage is not slowed by the stasis fields. They'd go in but they'd never come out." She paused. "It would be a less painful way to die, however."

"Is it really that big a risk to the ship?" He looked oddly dissatisfied. "I don't know as much about the transition drive as I should."

"Neither do I," Janeway said unhappily. "I'm only starting to learn about its capabilities. I'm afraid I was regarding it as a sort of security blanket, a drive that could pop us out of trouble at a moment's notice and bring us back again unscathed, and I'm afraid that's just not the case." She repeated to him what Seven had told her could happen if they attempted to use the transition drive without both antimatter cores operating at full capacity. "It's just too big a risk," she concluded. "I can't order it."

He hesitated, as if contemplating his next words very carefully. "There are some who will say that you've risked the ship under similar circumstances."

"They'd be wrong," Janeway said flatly.

Zar blinked, obviously surprised. "Captain, I've read Voyager's logs. There was more than one instance where you clearly risked the safety of the entire ship in order to rescue one or two crewmembers. For example, the incident where Lt. Paris and another crewmember named Neelix were kidnapped by an alien species."

"The Spurnge," Janeway clarified.

"There was another time when you went after the Borg," Zar continued tentatively. "With all due respect, Captain..."

"Don't you understand, Zar?" Janeway interrupted him. "The ship was never at risk."

He stared at her as if she had just grown another head. "Captain?"

She exhaled, searching for the words to explain this. "Zar, I realize that in hindsight or from observing the situation as an outsider, it might appear that I was risking the ship unduly, but that wasn't the case. I never placed my ship or crew in a situation that we couldn't handle. Therefore, there was never really a risk."

He lifted his head, a skeptical expression in his eyes. "That seems a somewhat simplistic way of looking at things, Captain," he objected.

"It is," she agreed, "but at the same time, it's the absolute truth, Commander. I don't know of any captain who had taken his or her ship into a situation believing in their heart that they wouldn't find a way to get out of it. Even in what turns out to be suicide missions, I honestly believe that the captain goes in with the confidence that he or she is going to pull off the impossible, and if they don't, it's just because they didn't come up with the right solution at the right time. No captain resigns themselves to what others might consider the inevitable. It just isn't done."

"You're talking about the Kirk Phenomenon," Zar said, obviously recalling his classes in Psych 101 at the Academy. "The captain believes it, so they find a way to make it happen." He frowned. "They shade the odds in their favor. They cheat."

Janeway smiled widely. "If you prefer to look at it that way," she said. She sipped her coffee. "You mentioned the Borg, and my going after them to rescue Seven." At his nod, she lifted a brow. "I resigned my commission and took a shuttle after the Borg Queen, or rather, what turned out to be a hologram of her. As it were, I was damned lucky that Seven was able to rescue both myself and Tuvok. However, Voyager was never at risk because I wouldn't put her at risk. Myself, however, is a different story." She took a breath. "Zar, there's a fine line in command, particularly during a crisis, and sometimes you cross it, either by doing too much or too little, but you never cross it believing you'll be sacrificing your ship as a consequence."

She sobered. "I'm certainly not going to cross it now. I accept it when Seven tells me that, at the least, a hundred people will die if I make an emergency transition jump back to the Federation. I accept it when she tells me that a jump like that might destroy the ship. It's a truth that's lodged itself into my mind, into my heart, and into my soul. I fully acknowledge that there may come a time when the sacrifice of 100 individuals is necessary for the sake of the other thousand or so. There may even come a time when I'll have to weigh the potential destruction of an emergency jump against certain destruction if I don't order it. This isn't the time or place. I want to save those poor souls suffering in sickbay, but I won't kill anyone else in my crew to do it. I can't. I wish the circumstances were different. I wish I had the option of only risking professional suicide. As it stands, I will not order our premature return to the Federation, Commander. "

Zar exhaled audibly, clearly shaken by her words, or perhaps he was just accepting the inevitability of the situation. Janeway knew how he felt, having gone over all the arguments with herself several times before arriving at her final decision. It didn't make it any easier to accept, however.

"What if it were Seven lying in sickbay right now?" he asked softly.

That struck Janeway with the force of a phaser blast. Dumbfounded, she stared at him, feeling as if she had been ambushed by the officer she had trusted.

"Forgive me, Captain," Zar said seriously, leaning forward in his chair. "I'm asking you because I know others will ask it. I just wanted you to consider your answer ahead of time. I'm truly sorry to bring it up, but better me than someone else."

She stared down into her coffee cup, not at all happy with what she was feeling but allowing that Zar was only covering all the bases. She would be able to deal with this better if she acknowledged all the consequences ahead of time. She wasn't going to fool herself into thinking that this decision wasn't going to get around the entire ship in one form or another, and many on the lower decks wouldn't understand the reasons for it. Not that she really had to justify it to anyone, not even Zar at the moment, but it could still cause a certain amount of dissension. Some would believe that the ship had the option of returning home to save those casualties and the captain just didn't choose to exercise it.

For a sad, terrifying moment, she allowed herself to imagine that Seven was the one lying in sickbay with such terrible burns, on the verge of death and with only a faint hope of salvation in the form of facilities thousands of light years away in the Federation. Of course, Seven's nanoprobes would undoubtedly make her chance of survival much greater than most, and her Borg implants gave her a greater immunity to radiation, but Janeway was aware that she was just skirting the issue and not facing it head on.

Come on Katie, she said to herself harshly. What if Seven were the one dying in these circumstances? What would you do?

The answer, when it came, did not make her feel any better. In fact, it made her feel sick, lying heavily on her heart and stomach, and she wasn't sure if it was because of what she knew she would do or that she could make such a decision in the first place.

"Under the same circumstances, I would not risk the ship," she said bleakly. "Seven would die."

He made a small sound, one of astonished dismay. She knew how he felt, but she could no longer avoid this knowledge, could no longer shake this certainty that if it truly came down to it, she would sacrifice her partner's life for the good of the ship. She had never believed it of herself, or rather, she had never allowed herself to actually face the possibility before, but now she was confronting it, and the truth was hard to bear. How many times had she told Seven that she would give up everything for her?

Janeway swallowed against the lump in her throat. She would sacrifice a great deal, she thought. Her happiness, her career, even her own life if it meant Seven's well-being, but in this moment of clarity, Janeway knew she would not give up the lives of the crew for whom she was responsible. She would not risk the starship she commanded for the life of her spouse. She couldn't. It would violate everything she was, both as a Starfleet officer and as a human being.

And the knowledge was like a brand on her heart. She sat in cold contemplation as Zar quietly dismissed himself and left the ready room, murmuring something about being needed in engineering. She didn't lift her head to watch him go. There was little else she could say at this point.

Oh god, she thought, her chest full. How can I ever tell Seven this? How could I ever let the woman I love know that she comes second to my ship and always will?

She was not surprised to see Ro Laren sitting quietly next to the tube containing her spouse. The security chief looked weary, as if she had not been sleeping a great deal. Seven suspected that was due more to B'Elanna being injured than the stress of her current investigation. The impression that Seven had of Ro was that she took her professional life in stride, quietly and competently carrying out her duties, but when personal emotions were involved, she tended to have difficulty. Ro did not display her feelings easily, but those she had were both deep and passionate. Seven thought the two of them, Borg and Bajoran, were similar in that manner.

"Commander Ro?" Seven spoke quietly.

Ro jerked slightly, as if she had been so involved in her thoughts, she had been unaware of Seven's approach. That was unusual enough that Seven paused briefly in surprise before moving around the tube to look down through the clear plexiglass to the sedated Klingon within. B'Elanna looked very young and vulnerable, her prominent head ridges standing out in sharp contrast to her skin that seemed grey rather than the olive shades it normally possessed.

"What is her progress?"

"She should be waking soon," Ro said, her voice unnaturally quiet. Obviously, the injury to her partner had struck her harder than most realized. Seven wondered if she should speak to Janeway and suggest that perhaps another officer be put in charge of the investigation until B'Elanna had recovered. She discarded the thought as quickly as it surfaced. Even if Janeway overlooked the violation of protocol and did not issue Seven a much-deserved lecture on tampering with the command structure, the Borg thought she knew Ro well enough to understand the Bajoran would be furious over such inappropriate interference.

"Is she in pain?"

Ro shot a sharp look at the Borg, almost angry, and then seemed to realize that Seven was not being as insensitive as she sounded. The Borg was just not always as tactful as she could be in certain circumstances.

"I don't think so," she said, schooling her tone to gentleness. "Dr. Pulaski tells me that the medication blocks the nerve endings so that she doesn't feel a thing, but she has to be unconscious so that she doesn't move during the healing process."

Seven nodded. "That is unfortunate," she said. "It would be helpful to speak with her regarding the repairs. I do not possess a comparable skill with the warp engines, nor are the remaining assistant engineers as helpful to me as I had anticipated."

"That's not a surprise," Ro said, half prideful, half exasperated. "B'Elanna has a real gift, Seven, but I don't think she's very good at passing it on to those who work under her. They can do their jobs, but they don't have her instinctual flair for the engines, nor are they as capable as she is at taking charge."

"It is not possible to pass on talent," Seven said regretfully, reminded of a few officers in her section who seemed, to the Borg, to be quite slow and limited in their abilities. However, except for Lenara Kahn and a very small number of the other scientists, few beings possessed Seven's innate brilliance. She supposed it was the same for B'Elanna. There was a small pause as both women regarded the slumbering Klingon in the tube, sharing a moment of affection for her. Seven glanced at Ro. "How are you, Commander?"

Ro managed a weak smile. "I'm getting by, Seven," she said. "Thank you for asking."

"And the investigation?" Ro's face abruptly closed up, and Seven lifted an eyebrow. "I am merely curious, Commander," she added hastily. She wondered what was making the Bajoran so defensive. What had she found out that caused her to be reticent with Seven, who was as much a friend to her as anyone on the ship?

The only reason would be because what Ro had discovered was so sensitive, only the captain or the first officer could be privy to it. Seven did not like that thought. It meant that there was something going on that could prove as dangerous as Section 31 on Earth had been. Seven still shivered internally when she thought about how close she had come to being recruited by them, how close she had been to violating everything Janeway had taught her about ethics and morality.

"Seven, the investigation is proceeding as expected," Ro said unhelpfully.

"Indeed," Seven remarked and let it go lest she force the security chief into the uncomfortable position of telling her to go mind her own business. She glanced around the sickbay and recognized Peter Martin, one of her science officers, who was sitting next to the bed of yet another patient. Seated next to him was Kes, the ship's counselor, undoubtedly making an attempt to help him feel some hope in what was an admittedly hopeless situation. With a shock, she realized that one of the critical patients whom Janeway had claimed were going to die was the officer's wife. In all that had been going on, she hadn't actually checked the casualty list. Peter and his wife had a son whom Seven had met on various occasions when he came to visit his father in biometrics during class trips, a cheerful little boy who had utterly charmed the Borg.

"I did not realize that Laura Martin was one of the casualties."

Ro lifted her head, following the Borg's gaze. "Yeah," she said. She swallowed hard. "You know, she saved B'Elanna's life. If she hadn't tackled her out of the way of the main spill, B'Elanna would have been burned far worse than she was. The radiation might even have penetrated to her internal organs as it did with Laura. It doesn't seem fair somehow."

Seven took a deep breath and headed for the CMO's office. Inside, a tired-looking Dr. Pulaski looked up as the Borg entered the room.

"Seven?"

"Doctor, would my nanoprobes assist in this situation?" she asked hastily. "I could increase the production of my cranial implant and you could bleed off the excess to inject into the most damaged patients. It is a procedure that was performed on Voyager and the Doct---Dr. Lewis is familiar with it."

Pulaski's face underwent a myriad of emotion before she finally settled on a sort of weary patience. "I appreciate the offer, Seven. However, I doubt very much that assimilation is the answer."

Seven was stung by the comment but she didn't let it stop her. "I am not suggesting assimilation. It is simply an--"

"Seven, what happened when there were accidents of this nature on a Borg cube?" Pulaski asked bluntly, cutting the young woman off before she could finish her thought. "What happened to those drones who came in direct contact with the radioactive plasma?"

Seven hesitated. "The nanoprobes repaired the damage."

"All of it?"

The question took Seven off guard. "Not entirely. The epidermal searing was repaired."

"What did the Collective do with those drones who sustained excessive organ damage?"

Seven had difficulty meeting her eyes. "They were...deactivated," she admitted in a whisper.

"So even nanoprobes can't repair this kind of damage," Pulaski pointed out, sounding somewhat kinder than she had at the beginning of the conversation and slightly regretful. "Seven, as I said, I truly appreciate the offer, but in these circumstances, it would be...well, futile."

Seven felt helpless. It was not a pleasant feeling, and she understood why Janeway railed against it so much. "Doctor, is Laura Martin going to die?" She suspected the answer but she still needed the CMO to confirm it.

Pulaski opened her mouth to answer, paused as if reconsidering, and dipped her head. "Yes. The radiation has caused a degenerative disintegration of her respiratory system. We just don't have the equipment on a starship to grow all the necessary organs to replace those that are being destroyed, and even if we did, we don't have the time to grow them before the progressive cell destruction becomes fatal. We're too far away from a Federation biometric bank where sufficient amounts of compatible genetic material could be transported in time to save her."

Seven sat down slowly in an available chair. "The Martins have a son," she said softly. "His name is Bobby."

"I know." Pulaski returned her attention to her computer screen, suddenly brusk. "Is there anything else, Seven? Aren't you helping out in engineering?"

Seven blinked, then nodded. "Yes, Doctor," she said, rising to her feet. "I must report immediately." She hesitated. "You will inform me if there is anything I can do to assist you."

Pulaski nodded. "I promise, Seven," she said, not looking up. "Thank you."

Seven exited the office, heading for the door, and was in the corridor when a voice hailed her. Surprised, she stopped and waited for the man who was sprinting after her. Peter looked much different from the officer she was used to seeing around biometrics. His uniform was rumpled and stained, as if he had not changed it since this tragedy began. Hair awry, eyes bloodshot, there was a faint odor emanating from him that was unpleasant, indicating he had not bathed in some time.

"Lt. Martin," she said. She knew her voice was cool and contained even though that was not how she was feeling. It was difficult for her to always indicate how she truly felt. Her spouse and closest friends understood her reticence and were able to get past the coolness to what she really meant. She could not expect such understanding from one of her scientists, particularly one with whom she worked only rarely. "I am sorry about your spouse. This is a most unfortunate situation." She looked for something else to say, something that would be helpful. "Please consider yourself excused from duty until further notice. I will speak to Lt. Wildman personally."

"You mean, until Laura is dead?" Seven flinched and he immediately looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant to say." He raked his hands through his blond hair, making it even more disarrayed. "I appreciate the time off. I want to be with her until...until..." His voice broke and Seven felt very uncomfortable.

"Take as much time as is required," she said lamely.

He nodded jerkily, then peered at her with eyes brimming with moisture. "Has Janeway given the order to return to the Federation?"

Seven remembered the night before, how long it had taken Kathryn to get to sleep, and how restless that sleep had been. The captain may have accepted that returning to the Alpha Quadrant in time to save the remaining casualties was not an option, but that didn't mean the acceptance came easy. The Borg did not understand why Peter was oblivious to the reality, then thought that perhaps he was unaware of the difficulties involved. Certainly, the captain had been unfamiliar with everything that went into the safe utilization of the drive, so it was not so difficult to believe that a biometrics officer would be equally as uneducated.

"I do not believe the captain will give such an order," she said, and held up her hand as he began to protest. "It is not because she did not consider it," she added, realizing that it was probably more information than he should have about Janeway, but deciding it was necessary to be that forthcoming with him. "It would be an unwise procedure." As she explained all the ramifications involved, his face became more and more bleak. It produced an ill feeling at the pit of her stomach, but it was imperative that he understand why Janeway had made the decision she did.

However, when she had finished, all he did was look at her with burning eyes. It was as if he had not believed a word she said. As if he could not believe it.

"Lt. Hansen, if you were the one lying in there waiting to die, we'd already be back in the Alpha Quadrant," he said flatly. "She's not going to risk her career for some nobody in engineering. We all know it would be different if it were someone she loved."

He turned on his heel and returned to sickbay, leaving Seven considerably astonished and completely disconcerted by a viewpoint that was so different from what she considered reality.

The captain regarded her intently, waiting until the Bajoran had taken a seat opposite her in the chair backed against the rail and refused the tea she offered. "Report."

"Someone transported an explosive device into the warp plasma conduit," Ro told her. "It detonated as soon as it finished materializing. The compound was dilithium-based, radiating an energy discharge that masked both the transport signature and the compound itself. In the Maquis, we used a similar sort of compound on Cardassian ships to cause breaches in their warp cores. The compound, which comes in a form similar to clay or plastique, is difficult to come by but it can always be dealt for on the black market if enough credits are involved. Its value lies in how quickly the trace signatures disappear, and if you're not looking for them within hours of the explosion, they're very easy to miss. We're extremely lucky Seven did a scan as soon as the damaged section was removed, and that she was curious enough about the readings to pursue it. Otherwise, we might have chalked it up as an inexplicable, but freak accident."

"I see." Janeway's face was still, carved from stone. "This is a Maquis trick?"

Ro shook her head. "We used it, yes, but so did a lot of other organizations, including the Orion Syndicate." Janeway looked alarmed and the Bajoran held up her hand. "I'm not suggesting anything," she added. "I'm just telling you that it is accessible to a lot of agencies, including Starfleet if they wanted."

"What are you suggesting?" Janeway asked.

Ro exhaled slowly. "We traced a transporter signature around the same time to a shuttle in the Gamma Hanger. However, the internal sensors did not detect any unusual activity in the area. It's possible the shuttle was only used as a relay, and that it was activated from another station on the ship, possibly even with a delayed timing sequence."

"In other words, you've lost the trail," Janeway stated, eyeing her narrowly.

"At the moment, we're checking various leads," Ro said defensively, embarrassed at how little progress security had made to date. After all, this was a closed environment. There were only 1200 people on board Millennium, and only so many places for a perpetrator to go.

Janeway frowned. "I see," she said, and Ro was left with the uncomfortable feeling that she did. The captain was silent for a moment, her expression one of deep thought. "Have you checked the alibi of our 'bartender'?"

Paryk was a stowaway on Millennium, coming on board at Utopia Planitia and finagling his way onto the ship's roster as a bartender, a position that was not listed in the ship's personnel deployment. So far, he appeared to be exactly what he said he was, an ethically questionable, yet quite charming individual who just wanted to visit the various quadrants with the prototype vessel. The captain and security chief retained their suspicion of him, however, not at all ready to accept him at face value or forget about how he had arrived on the vessel.

If only he were the prime suspect, Ro thought ruefully. That would make everything so much easier.

"I checked it out immediately," she said. "Paryk was where he usually is, behind the bar at the Nexus serving brunch. There was no trace of a transporter signature originating from that section of the ship."

"He could have disguised it," Janeway objected. She was still offended that Paryk had not only stowed away, but that he had also charmed Tom Paris, the ship's Wing Commander, into helping him remain on the ship. The captain had dealt with the situation in a manner that did not necessarily reflect protocol, and had opened herself up to a certain amount of criticism around the lower decks ... something she was keenly aware of.

"He could have," Ro agreed. "So could someone else. We need more to go on, Captain."

Janeway started to speak and was interrupted by a hail over her comm badge. Ro settled back in her chair as the captain responded.

"Janeway here."

"Captain, this is Dr. Pulaski." The CMO's voice was cold, and not at all pleasant, but then, what she said next explained that to a certain extent. "Ensign b'Renth passed away at 1123 hours."

b'Renth had been one of the critical cases. Ro saw a bleakness in Janeway's eyes before she covered it up with her command mask.

"Understood, Doctor," the captain replied shortly. "Janeway out."

There was a brief pause, then Ro leaned forward. "Captain, about my report," she said, wanting to move on from this unpleasant moment as quickly as possible.

Janeway inhaled deeply. "What do we have?" she asked, accepting the necessity to move on. "Why would anyone commit this form of sabotage?"

"If we knew that, we'd know where to look for them," Ro said. She paused. "It's possible that they needed Millennium to make an immediate return to the Alpha Quadrant."

Janeway stared at her. "Explain," she said, sounding very much like her spouse in that moment.

"The truth is, spilling that plasma would have created a feedback flow into the warp manifold that would have been irreparable," Ro said. "On most ships, the engineers evacuate the engine room entirely during a plasma spill, waiting for the area to be swept clean before going back in to determine the extent of the damage. No one would have been hurt, but the traditional warp engines would require a complete replacement. Someone may have assumed that the only option left for Millennium at that point would be to use the transition drive to jump back to the Federation."

"That's insane," Janeway said tightly. "Utilizing the transition drive without the power from the primary warp core is incredibly dangerous."

"I know that, and so do the engineers, Captain," Ro said. "That's why B'Elanna's people stayed at their posts to divert the feedback flow from destroying the primary warp manifold. That's why so many were burned. However, I don't think everyone knows how the transition drive works. In fact, I think most crewmembers assume it's just a secondary drive designed to pop us back to the Alpha Quadrant whenever we need it."

Janeway exhaled slowly as she considered her security chief's words. "You're right," she admitted finally. "Even I thought that to a certain extent. Obviously, we in the senior staff haven't been as knowledgeable as we should, relying on B'Elanna and Seven to be our experts, nor have we educated the larger part of the crew in the reality of how this new propulsion system works. It's similar to how people react to the warnings issued during every inter-atmospheric shuttle flight about what to do in an emergency. No one really listens, nor do they really accept the extent of the consequences if something does go wrong." She sighed. "Those that do probably don't fly. I'm afraid it's the same attitude here, and that needs to be rectified as soon as possible."

"In any case, if that was the reasoning behind this sabotage," Ro continued, bringing the conversation back on topic, "that eliminates practically everyone who works in engineering. They know how necessary both warp cores are in the performance of a safe transition jump. That's undoubtedly why so many stayed at their posts even as they came in direct contact with the plasma."

"Did you know how necessary it is to have both cores?"

Ro nodded. "B'Elanna filled me in." She paused, her face thoughtful. "Not specifically, you understand. You just pick up certain things from each other when you're married. After all, she originally helped install the system while we lived on Mars, so I heard about every aspect of the drive." She lifted an eyebrow. "In turn, I'm sure she has a lot more inside information about security than the average engineer."

"But not every spouse knows what you do," Janeway said fretfully, a troubled expression in her greyish eyes. "Peter Martin, for example, seems to think we should be able to pop back to the Federation immediately. His wife certainly didn't fill him in on the details of how dangerous the transition drive could be without both cores."

Ro shrugged. "Not everyone has an interest in their wife's career. And not everyone spends dinner talking shop as B'Elanna and I often do."

"That's possible." Janeway bent her head, looking somewhat weary. "If going back was the reason behind this attack, then why now? Our scheduled return is only in a few months."

"Assuming there is some kind of infiltrator on board, either from the Orion Syndicate or Section 31 or the Romulans or just someone with their own agenda, something must have happened recently to make them want to go back now," Ro said thoughtfully. "Something that the ship has encountered lately perhaps?"

She hesitated, unsure whether to bring it up but deciding that sharing it might give her a handle on something that had been bothering her, even if it was to have Janeway dismiss it out of hand. "Captain, this may be nothing, but a week ago, Seven reported that the container of 'souvenirs' from our encounter with the 'planet freighter' had been accessed without authorization. It wasn't really a break-in, just the panel showing minor signs of tampering, as if someone without proper clearance had tried to use a few simple tricks to get past the security seal. It could have been nothing more than mere curiosity on someone's part, and certainly, if it hadn't been Seven who discovered it, it probably wouldn't have been mentioned to us at all, but now I wonder."

"You think there's a connection?"

"I don't know," Ro said slowly. "Nor do I know why I suddenly thought about it, but that was a very unusual away mission, Captain."

"It was," Janeway agreed. "The artifacts are very unusual as well, comprised of elements we still can't identify." She put down her coffee cup and stared at Ro. "They're the sort of things that the scientists in Starfleet can't wait to get their hands on. I suspect that may be true of other organizations for less benevolent reasons."

Ro shook her head. "Still," she said fretfully, "it doesn't explain why now. As you said, we're going back in a few months anyway. Why is it so pressing that we return now?"

"I'm sure we'll find out," Janeway said. "Which concerns me greatly. What if this unknown tries again?"

"I've stepped up the security teams in all the departments," Ro said. She paused. "It might have been a one-time attempt. It's possible that once it's made clear how much damage could have been done, it will scare them off."

"I don't want them scared off, Commander, I want them found so I can deal with them."

Ro did not flinch at the steel in the captain's voice, but she suddenly felt a minuscule bit of pity for whomever it was that was behind this accident. Janeway's tone did not bode at all well for them. It was the same sort of tone she had once used when dealing with an officer off the USS Equinox. Ro didn't think the captain would have let the Ensign Lessing die in Voyager's cargo bay, but on the other hand, she didn't have any real reason to believe that Janeway wouldn't have, either.

"I understand," she said. "I'm doing everything in my power to make it so."

Janeway contemplated her for a few moments, then nodded, a swift dip of her head. "Very well," she said. "I'll leave this in your hands. Keep me updated periodically." She held up a hand as Ro started to rise from her seat, accepting that as a dismissal. "Before you go, fill me in on B'Elanna. How's she doing?"

Ro felt a warmth inside her. Janeway was not a standoffish captain, and she had a personal interest in her crew, some more than others. The volatile engineer was someone for whom the captain had always held a soft spot.

"She'll be fine," Ro said softly. "Pulaski says she should be awake by this time tomorrow."

"I'm glad," Janeway said. She tilted her head, the eyes altering to a blue shade of compassion. "What about you? How are you dealing with this?"

"Me?" Ro was surprised. "I'm fine." She stood up. "Captain, I'm going to find out who did this. Count on it."

She descended the stairs, her mood one of sheer determination.

You're damned right I'll find him, Captain, she thought as she exited the ready room, an image of her spouse lying in that regeneration tube foremost in her mind. For my own sake as much as yours.

She inhaled sharply, bringing her thoughts under control. Rising from the sofa, she moved down to the lower level where her desk was situated, calling up the security files on her computer. After a few moments perusal, she left the ready room and went onto the bridge. Commander Zar was in engineering, of course, while Ro was hot on the investigative trail, so she supposed she shouldn't be surprised that the operations officer had been left holding the conn. However, Lt. T'Shanik had joined the alpha shift only a few weeks earlier, and it made the captain blink when she saw the Vulcan in her command seat.

Well, she thought. Zar knew the personnel best. She did note that he had never left Tarn in that position. He must have had more faith in T'Shanik's abilities. That, or the Vulcan's level of command experience was greater than her record indicated.

"I'll be in astrometrics," she said as the slender, dark-haired T'Shanik rose to her feet at the captain's appearance. "Have Lt. Hansen meet me there."

"Aye, Captain."

In the turbolift, Janeway tried not to fidget as it descended. In astrometrics, she nodded politely to Lenara Kahn, who was supervising the department while the chief science officer was down in engineering, and went into Seven's office.

As she waited for her spouse, she glanced around, realizing that she hadn't been here for awhile. The decor had not really altered. On the shelf behind the desk, there was still the sculpture that Janeway, even after considering Seven's taste, had deemed too ugly to tolerate in their quarters. The image on another shelf was of the couple and Jake, their pet Irish Setter, taken on a planet in the Delta Quadrant during their time on Voyager. They had spent a shore leave there, enjoying the surf and the sand. Those had been such carefree days, it seemed, in comparison to what she was now responsible for.

She was suddenly bemused. When she started looking at being stranded in the Delta Quadrant, 70,000 light years from home, and with no one to rely on during the long and dangerous journey home but a small Intrepid-class vessel and 150 varied and unusual crewmembers, as being 'carefree', she knew she was in grave danger of losing all perspective. She exhaled audibly and reached out, touching Seven's face in the image, loving her deeply and hoping that it would be enough as they traveled through their life together.

"Captain?"

Janeway turned to see her spouse framed in the doorway. The Borg no longer wore the form-fitting outfits that she had on Voyager, replacing them with the uniform of a Starfleet science officer. Was that what made her suddenly expendable to the starship captain? Janeway had difficulty swallowing the thought back.

"Seven," she husked, pausing to clear her throat and dipping her head at the door. "I need to speak to you privately."

Seven moved into the room, the door hissing shut behind her. "Computer, secure the door to my office, authorization code theta blue, zero five slash two zero."

"Authorization code accepted. Door is secure."

Seven took a seat behind her desk and regarded Janeway curiously. "Is there a problem?"

"I could give you an entire list," Janeway said dryly, "but for now, I need you to put the artifacts from our away mission to the 'planet freighter' in a safe place, and program a Borg encryption code on the lock. It should be accessible only to you, me and Commander Ro."

Seven blinked. "That will make it extremely difficult for my personnel to continue their examination of the artifacts," she protested.

"I understand that, but I need those artifacts secured," Janeway told her. "I'm sorry that your people won't be able to pursue their research, but the scientists at Starfleet Command will just have to continue it."

Seven frowned, obviously puzzled. "Captain, does this have anything to do with the tampering I recently detected?"

"It might," Janeway said. She pinned Seven with a somber look. "Darling, this is one of those instances where I'm giving you an order with the expectation that you will carry it out with no questions asked. Not yet, at least."

Seven returned her gaze for a moment, studying her eyes, before she nodded briefly. "Very well." She was still not happy about it, but obviously accepting, if not the necessity of the order, then Janeway's need to issue it.

A moment passed and the captain realized that she was just sitting there, staring at her spouse. "I don't want you to tell anyone about the encryption code either," she managed finally. "Just that the artifacts have to be secured until our return to the alpha quadrant. If there are any further attempts to access them, you are to contact security immediately."

"Yes, Captain."

Janeway hesitated, strangely reluctant to leave.

"Kathryn?"

The word was soft, as if Seven wasn't sure this was the time or place to be informal with the captain but obviously sensing something in her spouse's manner. Janeway felt a tightness in her chest, knowing that she couldn't afford to talk with Seven so long as they were both on duty. She wanted to be in their quarters, where it was safe and private and no one could walk in on them. Where she could be who she was without this command mask acting as a barrier between them.

"Over dinner," she said shortly. There was enough conveyed in that short phrase for Seven to understand that there was something troubling Janeway but that it could wait for a later, more appropriate time. The Borg dipped her head in silent acknowledgment, apparently content with that. Janeway wondered how accepting the young woman would be once she heard what the captain had to share.

Abruptly realizing that she had called Seven away from engineering for something that probably could have been communicated over a secure channel, Janeway decided to get a progress report as well, so that her visit to the science section was more along the lines of official business rather than her need to spend a few moments in the presence of her spouse. "Give me an update on the repairs."

Seven lifted an eyebrow. "The repairs continue on schedule. The estimated time of completion is three days from now."

"Are you still needed down there in a supervisory position?"

Seven shook her head. "I have thoroughly examined the transition drive and there was no harm done to it beyond superficial cosmetic damage to a few consoles. Commander Zar is more than capable of overseeing the final repairs on the warp engines, and truthfully, I have duties in this department which require my attention." She paused. "It is unfortunate that B'Elanna and both assistant chief engineers were incapacitated. The beta shift supervisors are not as adept as perhaps they should be in assigning repair priorities."

Janeway considered that. "Once B'Elanna has recovered, I'll drop a word in her ear about bringing her other supervisors up to code," she said seriously. "In all fairness, you shouldn't have been the one to oversee the repairs. Someone in engineering should have been placed in that position, but I wanted you to oversee the project. Your work with Leah Brahms gives you a knowledge of the transition drive and its connection to the warp engines that others don't have." She paused and added in a softer voice, "I needed you there, Seven. I didn't know the other assistants or their capabilities, and I didn't have B'Elanna around to tell me which one would be suitable. I couldn't waste the time finding out." She didn't know why she felt she needed to justify her instructions to Seven. Perhaps because there were so many other things she couldn't explain.

"I understand, Captain," Seven said. She tilted her head. "You have not reconsidered your decision to return to the Federation?"

Janeway blinked. "No," she said, wondering why Seven was asking. "We can't risk it, and frankly, by the time the warp engines are back online, it'll be too late to worry about it."

"What if it is not?"

Janeway expelled her breath with a short sound of surprise. "What do you mean?"

"What if the casualties survive that long?"

Janeway felt pain start to radiate along her temples. "Then I guess I'll have to review my options at that time."

Seven nodded, as if this answer had been what she expected. Janeway decided that she had better get back to the bridge before the science officer offered her anymore difficult questions. That had always been one of Seven's most annoying...and oddly endearing...traits for as long as the captain had known her. Right now, she wasn't prepared to deal with it.

"I'll see you at dinner," she said, rising from her chair and hastily making her escape. As she walked through the corridor leading to the turbolift, she tapped her comm badge and informed Zar that she had taken Seven off the repair assignment and released her back to the science section. He didn't make any objection, so she knew Seven had been correct when she said she wasn't needed down there any longer.

In the privacy of the turbolift, Janeway leaned against the wall and reached up to the back of her neck, massaging it gently in an attempt to get the stiffness out of it. This was such a large ship, she thought wearily. There were so many people counting on her to make the right decisions at the right times. She remembered her eagerness for a larger challenge after Voyager, for a vessel with more responsibility, but at times she wondered if perhaps she shouldn't have returned to what she knew. Maybe she should have resumed command of the Intrepid-class vessel rather than holding out for what she considered the bigger and more desireable prize.

She closed her eyes as she breathed slowly and steadily, shoving the incertitude and insecurities deep inside herself, just as she had so many times before. It was almost second nature to her, stifling the doubts before they gained an inescapable hold on her emotions. She could deal with them later, face them when duty no longer demanded her attention. Then she could work them out in her own heart and mind, hopefully with the help of her spouse. Her shift would only take a few more hours, she thought. Surely she could survive until she could be with Seven in the safe haven of their quarters.

What an advantage I have, she thought gratefully. How many captains could walk through the door of their cabin and find shelter in the arms of someone who loved without restraint, offering her complete and total support both personally and professionally? How many knew that no matter what happened, there was one person on board their vessel who understood perfectly the burden command placed upon them, and who stood by, ready to lighten it just with their presence.

How could you ever think to sacrifice that? she asked herself bitterly.

She had her command mask fully in place by the time she stepped onto the bridge. She faltered for a brief second, taking a step toward her ready room before changing her mind and angling toward her command chair instead. T'Shanik immediately rose and moved to the ops station to relieve the ensign there, not requiring anymore than that to relinquish the conn to Janeway. The captain mulled it over as she settled into her chair, regarding the Vulcan through lidded eyes. On one hand, that was how Janeway handled the exchange of the conn with her more senior officers, a well-choreographed dance of professionalism that did not require any formalities between experienced personnel, but on the other, T'Shanik was a junior lieutenant and new to the alpha shift. It bordered on presumption in the young lieutenant's conduct. Yet, Janeway reminded herself, T'Shanik was Vulcan, and their demeanor while attending their duties was not the same as would be evident in another species under similiar circumstances.

Janeway wished Tuvok was there. She missed her old friend desperately at times, not because Ro wasn't a perfectly capable security chief, but because Janeway had valued his opinion so greatly, both as a member of her senior crew and as her friend. She could ask his opinion of T'Shanik and discover how much of her attitude was just that, attitude, and how much was simply the difference between Vulcans and Humans in performing her duties.

T'Shanik was very confident, she decided. Perhaps it was time to see if that confidence could be shaken. As she leaned back in her chair like a queen on a throne, the absolute ruler of all she surveyed, Janeway set to work devising a plan to see if T'Shanik could be taken down a notch. If it kept the captain from thinking about other things, like the two remaining casualties in sickbay waiting to die, and what this situation had taught Janeway about her own priorities when it came to her ship, then that was all to the better.

Sometimes one just had to forget her immediate problems for awhile in order to gain a proper perspective on them.

The soft chime requesting admittance shook her out of her thoughts and she straightened in her chair.

"Enter."

Lenara Kahn slipped through the door, and without waiting for an invitation, sank gracefully into the chair where Janeway had been sitting only moments earlier. A statuesque woman from Trill, Lenara had been one of those special individuals who had been surgically joined to a symbiont. Although she looked to be in her late thirties, possessing a classic beauty with elegant spots that traced down from her temples to disappear beneath the collar of her lab coat, she actually possessed the experience of over three hundred years. It showed in her soft brown eyes and the calm, timeless aura that surrounded her.

"Are you back to the science section or just visiting?"

"I have returned to my duties here," Seven confirmed. "Lenara, I am required to secure the 'Freighter Artifacts'. Would you please gather them up from the lab and bring them here. I have orders to secure them until our return to the Alpha Quadrant."

Kahn blinked. "You can't be serious?" Seven lifted an eyebrow and the Trill lifted a hand. "Of course you're serious. Why do we have to secure the artifacts?"

"I have my orders," the Borg said evenly.

Kahn sighed. "All right.". She paused. "What did the captain want?"

Seven felt one corner of her mouth twitch upward. "Are you attempting to elicit the information by essentially asking the same question in many different forms in the hope that I will eventually become confused enough to respond more truthfully than I should?"

Kahn stared at her, then her mouth twitched as well. "That was a highly successful approach," she said ruefully, "in the first few months I was here."

"Yes," Seven said, feeling a twinge of embarrassment that she had fallen prey to it so many times before she realized what the Trill was doing. It was a useful verbal trick and she had added it to her own repertoire. However, she doubted she would ever wield it with the masterful subtlety that Kahn had managed over several lifetimes. She raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so intrigued?"

"Some rumors are starting to float about the labs," Kahn said seriously, "which means they're already running rampant on the other decks." Seven stifled a sigh. The speed with which gossip and innuendo flew about the ship never ceased to astonish her. If there had been a way to harness that speed, there would be no need of warp engines or transition drives. Starfleet vessels would be intergalactic explorers rather than merely plodding about the four quadrants making up the Milky Way.

"Elaborate."

"Well, the biggest speculation is that three of the most seriously wounded are going to die," Kahn offered. "There's no way to prevent it."

"That is, unfortunately, true," Seven said somberly. "It is my understanding that one has already perished." She had been present when Zar announced the death of Ensign b'Renth, a cheerful quantum specialist from the Argaya system, the news casting a pall over the repair teams. She had actually been glad when she received instructions to meet the captain, escaping the stifling sense of grief permeating main engineering.

"There's also talk that Janeway is refusing to return to the Alpha Quadrant where they could receive proper treatment."

Seven lifted an eyebrow. "You know that is incorrect, Lenara," she said sharply.

Kahn held up her hand. "I know. I'm aware how critical it is to have both cores online when activating the transition drive. I'm also quite clear in my explanation when responding to these rumors...for those willing to hear it. However, there are those who are too stubborn to listen, Seven. They don't want to know that the captain has little choice in this situation."

"No, she does not," Seven agreed quietly, thinking that was what frustrated Kathryn the most, her lack of options.

"Besides, it's not as if she'd do it, even assuming she could order a transition jump," Kahn added casually. "If a starship returned to its home port every time there were casualties, nothing would be accomplished."

Seven blinked. "That is rather harsh," she said mildly.

"I'm only speaking the truth," Kahn said, raising an eyebrow, and Seven wondered how much of the gentle host was speaking and how much of it was the more pragmatic symbiont. "We all knew what was involved when we accepted this posting. This is a science vessel on a deep space assignment. We're in the frontier, having the opportunity to boldly go where no one has gone before. Sometimes explorers get their nose bloodied by poking it into the places they do, but that doesn't make them turn tail and run home."

"Perhaps it does if you possess the 'nose' in question," Seven pointed out. "Or were the one emotionally invested in the individual with the 'bloody nose'."

Lenara considered that. "Point taken. However, I have no idea why some people actually expect the captain to abort the mission. It was a tragic accident, yes, but to quit before we complete our assignment is not what I would expect from the pioneer spirit the civilians on this vessel brought on board. It's certainly not what I would expect from Starfleet officers who know where their duty lies. You sound as if you actually would consider returning, Seven. That surprises me."

Seven thought about the grief and deep-seated pain she had witnessed in the eyes of Peter Martin, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the woman he loved perished. She understood and respected Kahn's take on the situation, but she also believed that she understood Peter's insistence on trying to save his wife. Certainly, Seven would not hesitate to do whatever was necessary to save her partner, regardless of the consequences. Of course, she was Borg, and did not approach her responsibilities and emotional ties in quite the same manner that others did.

"What would you order?" Seven asked idly, honestly curious.

Kahn shrugged lightly. "I'm not in charge, of course. However, a few of my previous hosts have commanded vessels, and I don't believe any of them would issue the order to abort the mission for anything less than a class one emergency."

"What if it were someone you loved, Lenara? What if it had been your spouse who had been injured and could be saved only if you pursued a course of action that could threaten the survival of the ship?" Seven did not like that scenario, but it was the one Peter had presented to her, so she passed it on to her friend.

Kahn blinked. "Ouch." Seven was unsure why the Trill was indicating physical pain. "I guess that would make it a lot harder decision." She paused and shot a look at Seven. "Do you believe Janeway would choose differently if you were the one in sickbay right now? I don't think anyone would blame her for that."

Seven shook her head. "Kathryn would not make such a decision," she said with complete certainty. "She would perhaps be more...inventive...in pursuing her options. She would undoubtedly become more desperate in her attempt to find alternate solutions, but ultimately, I do not believe she would risk her ship for me."

"You seem pretty sure of that," Kahn said, frowning slightly.

Seven considered that. "She is, and always has been for as long as I have known her, a true proponent of Starfleet with all that entails," she said calmly. "She would not risk her ship for personal gain which, truthfully, my life would be to her. She would attempt to change the rules, of course. She would willingly sacrifice her own life in exchange for mine, but no, she would not sacrifice her ship for me."

Kahn shook her head. "You seem so calm about it."

"Should I not be?" Seven asked, honestly confused.

"I thought Janeway loved you." Kahn's tone was slightly argumentative.

"She does. What does that have to do with her making a command decision regarding the safety of the ship?"

"My god, Seven." Kahn raised an eyebrow, and Seven tried to understand what was causing such precipitant outrage in her friend. "That's rather cold."

Seven stared at her blankly. "Why?"

"Because when you love someone, you should put them first."

Seven lifted a brow. "You did not," she pointed out. "You chose your professional reputation and your ties to your homeworld over your love for Jadzia Dax." She realized that had been a rather poor choice of argument when she saw the expression on Kahn's face. "I am sorry, Lenara," she added hastily and with honest regret. "It was not my intention to offend you."

The Trill took a couple of deep breaths. "You didn't," she said, which was patently a lie in Seven's estimation, but the Borg was not about to argue it any further. "You're right; sometimes decisions are made based on things other than love and commitment to a life-partner, but that doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt deeply."

"Nor would the captain be unharmed if she were forced to make a choice between my life and the continued existence of her ship," Seven said, suddenly understanding the Trill's objection. Her rational assessment of the situation had made it appear that the captain would make a decision in the same manner ... that it would be easy for Janeway ... when in fact, the exact opposite was the case. "Indeed, it would hurt her in ways that I suspect I am, as yet, incapable of imagining, but she would still choose the survival of her ship over my life. That is who she is, both as the commander of Millennium and as a Human. I understood and accepted her nature when I married her."

Seven found it intriguing that this was the second time in as many months that she was explaining to someone that she embraced Janeway totally, accepting all her personality traits, as if they, with all their greater life experience, were completely unaware of what a romantic relationship required of the participants. Perhaps that was why both Pulaski and Kahn had a history of failed or tragic romances. However, she did not share that thought with the Trill.

She lifted her chin. "Lenara, I believe that Kathryn loves me as she has loved no one else, and to lose me would damage her greatly in many ways and on many levels: emotionally, intellectually and spiritually. However, it would not destroy her. I am the one who would be destroyed if she were suddenly gone from my life. I am the one who could not go on without her at my side."

She smiled briefly, aware that this could be considered a 'romantic' aspect of her bond with her spouse, the aspect that others sensed and were attracted to, that they admired even though they did not completely comprehend what it meant. For it to be understood, she needed to present the other side of such an all-consuming love, the side that the captain had come to recognize in Seven and occasionally despair of.

"I am the one who is incapable of choosing the 'greater good' over Kathryn Janeway's well-being," Seven continued evenly. It had taken a while for her to understand that truth about herself. Originally, it had been a certainty born of instinct and something she presented without thinking, but then, as time progressed and she was exposed to other viewpoints such as Janeway's, she questioned it, waffling on exactly what she would do in such an event. Lately, however, she had become more comfortable with who she was. She would never be fully Human, despite what her partner might want for her. She was learning to know the other aspects of herself, and accept them as fully as she did Janeway.

"I am the one who is incapable of making the correct choices under emotional duress when her life is at stake. Lenara, I am Borg. Kathryn comprises the largest part of my personal Collective. I would willingly, and immediately, terminate the life of every individual on board this vessel, including yours if need be, if it meant saving hers. That is why I shall never be a starship captain. My nature is such that I could not be trusted in such a position to do what is 'right'. Kathryn can. She will do what is best for a crew who depends upon her abilities for their continued existence regardless of any personal cost. She will make the difficult decisions in the difficult situations that so many others cannot. The crew knows this, despite any rumors or gossip in which they may temporarily indulge. That is why they will follow her to the ends of the galaxy if that is where she chooses to lead them."

She felt the corner of her mouth lift slightly, vaguely amused at the expression on Kahn's face, and very proud of her spouse in a way that many others could not understand.

"She is the Captain."

Janeway held court in her command chair, leaning back in her seat as she radiated that quiet aura of confidence that made working on the bridge so easy while she was there. The alpha crew were inspired to match that professional competence, to conduct themselves in a manner that would make her proud. Ro was always aware of it, but it amused her nonetheless. She had witnessed it in very few other captains. Picard of the Enterprise was one.

The Bajoran was curious why Janeway kept eyeing Lt. T'Shanik with such a speculative expression, suspecting that the captain had something in mind for the Vulcan. Ro had served long enough to know that a junior officer did not want that keen eye turned on them for any length of time, although T'Shanik currently seemed oblivious to Janeway's scrutiny.

Ro wondered if she should warn the young Vulcan. After all, she was the senior officer who had recommended T'Shanik for the position of alpha shift operations specialist. It would not reflect well on the Bajoran if Janeway managed to find some flaw in the Vulcan's performance, particularly since she had performed so admirably up until now. Besides, if there was one thing Ro wouldn't wish on anyone, it was a session with the captain and her 'you've disappointed me' speech. Those cut right to the bone and Ro still winced when she thought of similar versions she had received from the captain over the past few years.

The slight hiss of the turbolift door sliding open alerted the Bajoran of a new arrival, and she immediately turned her head, looking over her shoulder to see who had entered the bridge. She rose immediately to her feet when Peter Martin, along with his five-year-old son, exited the turbolift. There was an expression on the man's face that made Ro uneasy, though the little boy looked absolutely thrilled at being on the bridge ... an area of the ship that was strictly off-limits to most people, especially the children.

Ro quickly moved to intercept Martin as he approached the captain, imposing her body between his and Janeway's.

"Hey, Pete," she said, keeping her voice nice and easy, for the sake of the child as much as needing to keep the situation under control. "Lose your way?"

His face was rigid with anger. "I want the captain to tell my son what's going to happen to his mother."

Ro was aware of the captain moving over to flank the security chief. Janeway offered a warm smile of welcome to the child, and then, in the next instant, pinned the geometrics officer with a force ten look that would have incinerated a five-star admiral, let alone a junior lieutenant.

"Mr. Martin, it's obvious you have something to say to me," she said in a tone that would terrify Ro if it had been directed at her, and the Bajoran was not the sort to be easily terrified. "I suggest we take it into my ready room where we can discuss it in private. There is no need to involve your son in this. It's an additional trauma that he simply doesn't require."

He hesitated, fury and guilt at using his son as a weapon warring for dominance on his face, and then he dipped his head jerkily. "Fine," he said gratingly.

"Lt. T'Shanik, if you would please grant our young visitor a tour of the bridge?" Janeway said, glancing briefly at the Vulcan at ops who looked vaguely alarmed at this assignment. "Then return him to deck two. I assume he would normally be at school at this time."

To T'Shanik's credit, however, she rose promptly to her feet. "Aye, Captain," she said, once more completely composed as she moved over to take charge of the young boy who, if not entirely oblivious of the tension radiating from the adults surrounding him, seemed willing enough to go along with the lieutenant, eager to see the rest of the bridge.

Ro escorted Martin and Janeway into the captain's ready room, waiting until both were seated before whispering a quick request into her comm badge to send some backup to the bridge, just in case she needed it. Then she slipped a mini-probe from the inner pocket of her tunic and surreptitiously scanned Martin, making sure he had no weapons. Both actions took only a few seconds and neither of the pair noticed the security chief's precautions. Assured she had the situation under control, Ro linked her hands behind her back and took up a position within arm's reach of Martin, prepared to subdue him at an instant's notice if it became necessary.

Janeway folded her hands neatly on the smooth surface of her desk and granted the grieving young man her complete and undivided attention. Ro noted that the captain had assumed a physical position of power, however, establishing her authority and separating herself from Martin with her desk. The Bajoran was glad. She would have been more concerned if the captain had chosen to take this confrontation to the conversation area on the upper level. Ro did not want the captain within striking distance of Martin's fists. Theoretically, he could lunge across the desk and get in one good shot, but that would require the Bajoran to be napping.

Ro did not feel the least bit drowsy as she regarded the opponents staring at each other.

"Why haven't you ordered our return to the Federation?" Martin husked. "My wife is going to die."

"I am aware of that, Mr. Martin, and I am sorry." Janeway was extraordinarily controlled, completely composed. "However, even if it were possible, this vessel cannot abort its mission, nor risk its existence, simply for the sake of a few individuals who were fully capable of understanding the risks that putting on a Starfleet uniform entailed. You dishonor the casualties, including your wife, by coming here in this manner. You dishonor the engineers who made the ultimate sacrifice in protecting this vessel. They understood perfectly what they were doing when they remained at their posts even as the plasma spilled around them. They understood the sacrifice they were making for the sake of their ship, which would have been placed in an untenable position had the damage to the primary warp core been more extensive. They did it because they knew a transition jump could not be executed safely without those warp engines. Yet, you expect me to disregard their sacrifice. You expect me to attempt an ill-advised and extremely hazardous emergency jump which would risk everything that they gave their lives and health to prevent, all for the sake of treatment for your wife that may or may not prove successful, even assuming we got to it in time."

She leaned forward. "You don't