• Dedicated to Susan Mullarky who passed away on February 3, 2003. Wherever she is, I hope she's enjoying the new season of Millennium.
• This is the 11th installment in the Millennium series and the first story in Season Two
• It was posted to the net on February 28th, 2003
• Some of you may be wondering why I started season two when I indicated I was finished with J/7. At the time I posted those comments, it was what I truly believed. What I had taken for a loss of interest in J/7, however, was actually a loss of interest in writing altogther because of painful associations.  It began when my girlfriend and I finished our relationship near the end of 2001, and then, I discovered Susan was ill.  In both cases, because they were long time readers of my work, I instinctively connected the pain, sadness and heartache with writing fan fic.  I hadn't lost interest so much in J/7 as it hurt to write or even think about the characters.  I struggled and pecked away during 2002, but there was little joy in it since the two people whose opinion meant so much to me no longer would or could read my stuff.  However, since December, 2002, when I managed to somehow get through and finish Millennium #9, I've found myself renewed, first by my beta readers, both old and new, who have worked hard to inspire me, and by learning how to celebrate Susan's life, rather than merely mourn her.  However, I had no intention of announcing anything until I was sure I had stories to be posted. I'm not sure how many will appear in the future, but for now, season two seems to be coming along quite nicely.
  

Beta Beginnings I
G. L. Dartt

She leaned casually on the cast iron railing that bordered a garden bursting with growth, the rich, red roses filling the air with their perfume. A tall woman with level green eyes and a short shock of dark hair, a single lock falling over her forehead, Kiara Kelly was dressed in a black uniform, the shoulders banded by slate blue with a wine-red undertunic. At the collar, three gold pips glinted briefly in the autumn sunshine. High cheekbones and fair skin bespoke Irish genes, while the feather draped from the curve of her right ear was decidedly non-regulation ... but then, the standards for which Starfleet had been known the past two centuries had been somewhat relaxed in the aftermath of a war that had reached into the very heart of the Federation.

Looking across the commons to the campus of Starfleet Academy, she watched the gray uniformed cadets go about their daily routine, heading for classes or more likely at this time, lunch. Before the Dominion war, the Academy was known for putting forth young officers who graduated after four years of the most demanding and challenging course load that could be devised. The best of the best. The cadets were still the best of the best, but now they were being sent forth into a fleet that had seen entire generations of officers depleted, and forced to fill holes that really belonged to more experienced personnel. Kelly herself, was only seven years out of the Academy, but where once it would have been unseemly and impossible for a woman of her relatively tender years to bear the responsibilities of command, now it was commonplace. She was one of the survivors and had been rewarded accordingly ... though one might wonder what reward there was in receiving a promotion only to be sent back to the front in charge of other young people, all looking to her to see them through safely.

Now, the war had ended and the healing process had begun. The ships being built in the Utopia Planitia shipyards orbiting Mars could return to making exploration and science their priority, rather than concentrating only on battle and tactical advantage. Not that the Federation would soon forget the lessons learned at the hands of the Founders. Even Starfleet's science vessels were currently outfitted with the latest in shields and weapons as they went about their business in a quadrant shaken both politically and territorially.

Kelly's eye was caught by an approaching figure, and she straightened respectfully, waiting for the small, energetic woman. Alynna Nechayev had been instrumental in the war effort in her sector bordering the Romulan Neutral Zone. In the aftermath, both she and Admiral Ross, who had been in charge of the Cardassian front, had found themselves in remarkably powerful positions within Starfleet Command. Kelly wasn't entirely sure of the politics involved, but the admiral had a way of coming out on top, making her a formidable ally and an even more dangerous enemy.

"Admiral."

"Commander." There was a hint of the Ukraine in Nechayev's cool tones. "Walk with me."

Obediently, Kelly fell into step with her, abbreviating her normally lengthy stride to allow for the older woman's shorter legs.

"I'm sorry we couldn't meet in my office." The Admiral's apology was by rote only. She smiled thinly. "I see the sunshine so rarely that I hate to waste any opportunity to spend some time in it."

"I understand," Kelly said, though she really didn't. All this open space around her made her slightly nervous. It offered a perfect line of fire for an enemy sniper.

"I assume you're anxious to receive your new orders."

"I wouldn't say, 'anxious', ma'am.  Merely curious."

That was a lie. She was actually full of anticipation. During the war, she had been forced to take command more than once, stepping up when her superiors were killed, in order to extricate herself and those around her from countless bad situations. She had even taken over a small Sabre-class vessel during the last part of the war, captaining a tight little crew of hardened veterans who knew well how to take apart a squad of Jem'Hadar fighters. In the aftermath of the peace accord, they patrolled the Breen border, keeping an eye on the mysterious aliens, and encountering more than a few skirmishes that kept their battle edge sharp. Being called to Earth was both inconvenient and a formality. She fully expected to be offered that extra pip to her collar to make her command official and the Grissom completely hers.

Nechayev handed her a padd and Kelly viewed the data as they walked the path winding through the park separating Command Headquarters from the Academy, meandering through the lush gardens tended lovingly by the groundskeeper, Boothby. To Kelly's surprise, it contained specs for a ship and a list of personnel. There were over a thousand names.

"Millennium? That's the new Fast Explorer, isn't it?" Kelly suddenly had a bad feeling. There was no way they were going to give her command of a ship that size.

"It went out to continue exploration of the Delta Quadrant," Nechayev explained. "It returned to port three months ago. Upon its return, the executive officer was granted command of USS Voyager."

Kelly looked at her, waiting for the punch line.

Nechayev smiled again, her Slavic features amused. "You're taking his spot. First officer under Captain Kathryn Janeway. Congratulations, Commander."

Kelly felt a trifle light-headed. In addition to the traditional impulse and warp drives, the Millennium was outfitted with something called the transition drive, an experimental propulsion system based partially on something called a slipstream drive, Borg transwarp coils, and the old transwarp theories that had been kicking around the starship design labs for almost a century. Even out on the border, Kelly had heard all about the ship as it was undergoing construction. There had been more than a few officers vying for the honor of taking it out on its maiden voyage.

Kelly had also heard all the rumors about its eventual captain, an old style starship commander whose family boasted a long history in Starfleet. Both Janeway's father and grandfather had been admirals. The daughter appeared cut from the same cloth, rising to the rank of captain in a timely manner, the road undoubtedly paved by cronies of her father. In her previous command, Janeway had somehow misplaced an entire quadrant, losing her ship in the Delta Quadrant for almost seven years. That meant she and her crew missed the war entirely, managing to avoid any kind of action involved in freeing the Federation from the Dominion threat. Despite that, Janeway had been awarded command of Starfleet's most coveted vessel upon her return. Kelly wasn't sure how it had come about, but she was certain it had to do with strings pulled by Janeway's associates in Starfleet Command, including the admiral standing next to her.

She was supposed to serve as Janeway's first officer?

"Admiral..." she began.

Nechayev held up a hand, stopping the protest. "Janeway's an excellent captain, and you're going to learn a lot from her."

Kelly sincerely doubted that, but she kept a tight rein on her tongue. She had learned enough to know that attitude, standard on the frontier, didn't necessarily work on the inner worlds of the Federation. The admiral glanced at her, and seemed to detect her feelings from her expression.

"There are a lot of people in Starfleet Command solidly in your corner, Kelly.  They seem to think you're ready for a command of your own."

"With all due respect, Admiral, I already have a command of my own," Kelly said tightly. "I've been commanding the USS Grissom for the past two years."

"Yes, out on the Breen border, where diplomacy is dictated by how big your phaser banks are, and scientific acuity is measured by how quickly one can rig an explosive device from spare parts. On a light cruiser with a crew of less than forty, every one of them cut in exactly the same mold as you. If that's all you aspire to as a starship captain, then we've severely overestimated your abilities. Starfleet expects better of its officers and wants them to reach their entire potential, not just a minor portion of it." She stopped, turning to face the young woman with ice blue eyes. "You're a diamond in the rough, Kelly, unpolished, unfinished, with little sense of how the Federation works as a whole. It's an unfortunate side effect of the war, not just for you but for those Starfleet officers like you, who have known nothing else for the duration of their career. That's the reality we both have to deal with. Janeway will knock off your rough edges and teach you how to react to situations with something other than shooting first and asking questions later."

"Yes, sir," Kelly said stiffly.

Nechayev eyed her. "You can, of course, refuse the promotion."

"This is a promotion?" Kelly blurted before she could stop the words from escaping her lips.

"It is, but you don't have a clue how significant it is, and possibly won't until it's over."

"Until what's over, Admiral?"

"Until Janeway has turned you into the sort of starship commander you need to be if you expect to rise any further within the ranks of Starfleet." Nechayev pierced her with a final look, raking Kelly up and down with the intensity of a phaser burst. "Report to Millennium at 0800 tomorrow morning. She's breaking orbit and heading for the Klingon border at 1300 hours."

"Admiral! That's not enough time to go over the specs of the ship, let alone familiarize myself with the position I'm expected to fill!"

Nechayev flicked an eyebrow at the padd, looking supremely unsympathetic. "Then I guess you'd better get started. Dismissed."

Astonished, Kelly watched as Nechayev turned to stroll briskly away, and then looked down at the padd in her hand. It was still set to the crew roster, the list seeming to go on forever, though all it displayed was the name, rank and species of each individual. It did absolutely nothing to prepare her for the personalities she would face, particularly that of the captain.

Belatedly, she lifted her head. Nechayev was still visible in the distance. "Admiral!"

Somehow, the woman heard her and turned back.

"What about my ship? What about the Grissom?"

"It's been taken care of," Nechayev called back. Then she was gone.

Considerably dissatisfied, Kelly started off in the other direction, her feet somehow taking her out of the Academy grounds and onto the walkway along the street. The crew quarters to which she had been assigned while on Earth were located in a hotel at the edge of the water. The salt tang in the breeze made her sneeze, and she was relieved to enter the lobby where the filtered air was somewhat similar to that of a starship. Making her way back to her room, she tossed the padd negligently onto the bed and took a seat in the armchair next to the window. Staring blankly through the transparency, she was oblivious to the spectacular view of the harbor and the transport center where silvery forms of shuttles lifted into the air like some odd form of metallic butterflies.

As the admiral said, Kelly thought painfully, she could always refuse the promotion. She would in a minute, if she weren't acutely aware of how much things had been changing around her for the past two years. Though her whole career had been spent as a soldier, she knew that, other than a few hot spots here and there, peace had inexorably returned to the Federation. Of course, the Romulan Star Empire made noise now and again, but when it did, it wasn't a Sabre-class vessel that handled it, but rather the large Galaxy and Sovereign-class vessels that patrolled the neutral zone, ships of a size on which she had never set foot. Scientific exploration and diplomacy were replacing the militaristic attitude that had dominated Starfleet when the war had been at its height.

Kelly felt an ache at her temples.

As hard as it was to her personally, the young woman was smart enough to accept the fact that she was becoming an anachronism at only twenty-eight. If she didn't accept this posting, she would find herself remaining on the Breen border or its equivalent forever, limited to the tiny, heavily armored vessels that had no purpose other than to patrol the same stretch of space for months on end, maintaining the peace. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but she had anticipated so much more from her career when graduating the Academy. It just seemed so long ago that it was difficult to remember all those dreams and expectations.

Was it possible to return to that younger, more naive vision of herself?

She glanced at the padd, seeing the captain's name at the top of the crew roster. Could this Captain Kathryn Janeway really help her with that? Or would she turn out to be as staid and conservative a commanding officer as Kelly feared.

Kathryn Janeway leaned forward, elbows on the desktop, fingertips rubbing her temples vigorously. Tension threaded from them to tighten the muscles in her neck and make her jaw ache with delicate agony. "What are you trying to do to me, Admiral?"

The chime of her ready room door made her start, looking up so quickly that she felt a sliver of pain skitter down her spine. Her body's cry for attention was clear and without mercy. She needed a break. She just wasn't sure when she was going to get it since there were still a few hours before they broke orbit and set a course for the Klingon border in preparation for their transition jump.

"Come," she said, inhaling deeply and trying to relax.

Commander Ro Laren, promoted a half pip for Millennium's second mission, entered the ready room with a deadly grace. The slender Bajoran was carrying a stack of padds, each undoubtedly requiring the captain's undivided attention, and Janeway resisted the urge to throw her out. Not because of the woman, whom she rather liked, but because she knew her security chief was only going to present her with more problems.

"Captain?" Ro regarded her keenly. "Are you all right?"

Janeway leaned back in her chair and turned her computer console around so that Ro could see the file displayed on its viewscreen. "This is our new first officer."

Ro hesitated briefly, and then placed the padds on the desk, taking a seat in the chair opposite the captain. Frowning, she began to read. Her eyebrow rose accordingly as she worked her way through the data scrolling across the screen.

"She's rather young," she noted after a moment. "Lots of tactical experience. Seen more than her fair share of action in the war. It put her on the fast track to the top."

"Having your superiors killed will facilitate a quick rise in the ranks," Janeway said dryly.

Ro glanced at her, a little uncertain whether she should smile at that or not. She decided on prudence and kept her expression impassive. "She's also from Earth. Wexford, Ireland to be precise." She lifted a brow and glanced at Janeway. "I'm not sure I understand, Captain."

"I'm not sure I do either, but it's clear that she won't be able to take the conn when we make the transition jump. You're going to have to take us through."

Ro didn't flicker at the comment, merely dipping her head in acknowledgment, which the captain was profoundly glad to see. The Bajoran had recently undergone a certain crisis of faith in her abilities, unsure whether she could fulfill the position of Millennium's chief of security and its third in command. Janeway had simply told her to show up at her post when it was time. Otherwise, she instructed Ro to send a replacement, but in either case, the incident would not be spoken of again, assumed by both parties that it was settled and that Janeway could expect nothing less than Ro Laren's best, now and for the foreseeable future. When Janeway arrived on her ship, resuming her place on the bridge after a three-month leave, Ro was at the tactical station as if nothing had occurred. Janeway had been considerably relieved, though not prepared to share just how much with the Bajoran.

"I suppose it's too late to object," Janeway said thoughtfully, leaning her head back as she contemplated the ceiling, linking her hands behind her neck.

"The timing of the appointment does seem rather suspect." Ro tilted her head, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.  "I was under the impression we were to be assigned Commander Mendon, a Benzarian."

"The orders changing that appointment came down two days ago," Janeway said. "He's been transferred to the Titan. Captain Riker's scooping up seasoned officers all over the place, and somehow, he managed to divert that assignment. Apparently, Mendon served with him on the Enterprise at one time." She frowned. "I owe Will big for that one."

"The Titan is also where Ensign Marcos ended up, isn't it?"

Janeway nodded briefly, but she wasn't interested in where previous crewmembers had transferred, but rather in new ones who were transferring to Millennium. "I should have known Nechayev would take the opportunity to slip in another of her projects," she admitted with dissatisfaction. "That was one of the conditions I accepted when taking over this command: to make this a teaching ship as much as a scientific vessel."

"Is that so surprising, Captain? Your reputation for melding diversified individuals into a smoothly operating crew is legendary."

"Is it? I must remember to do something about my PR."

Ro finally did smile at that, a brief curve that touched the corners of her thin lips. "Certainly it's no more than other captains are experiencing," she offered as a form of reassurance. "Personnel is thin everywhere and sometimes you have to take what's available, rather than who's best qualified."

Janeway leaned forward and held up an index finger. "Don't fool yourself, Laren," she said darkly. "Nechayev goes out of her way to make my life difficult. This is just one more example of her getting back at me because of those damned fighters."

Ro's mouth twitched. "Yes, Captain."

"In any event, it's up to us to fit this Kelly into the crew." Janeway reached out and moved the console back to its original position. "She's clearly skilled in advanced tactical strategy, initially coming out of security. I suspect you and she will have a lot in common."

"Is this another lost sheep scenario?" Ro looked vaguely alarmed.

Janeway smiled briefly. "Not at all, but I think that every officer needs an ally when they board a new vessel. Zar quickly made friends with Seven. I suspect you'll be the natural choice for Kelly."

"If you say so, Captain." Ro was clearly not convinced. She seemed ready to say more when a chirp on her communicator interrupted her. She tapped it. "Ro here."

"Sir, a Commander Kiara Kelly has just beamed on board," came the low words of the transporter officer. "She wishes to know which officer is on watch."

Ro glanced at Janeway and the captain exhaled. "So it begins. Send her up."

Ro cleared her throat. "The captain wishes to greet her immediately. Direct her to the ready room."

"Aye sir."

Ro stood up, leaving the padds on the desk. "When you have time, Captain," she said, gesturing toward them.

Janeway merely shot her a gloomy look and settled back in her chair as the Bajoran vacated the room. A few minutes passed, and the chime sounded to herald the arrival of Millennium's latest first officer. Janeway folded her hands neatly on the desktop, settling her shoulders beneath the bands of slate-blue.

"Enter."

Janeway studied the rangy woman that walked into her room. Moving with Ro's sense of deadliness, but little of the Bajoran's grace, Kelly seemed rather out of place in these surroundings. Her hair was dark, but her skin was unusually fair with a decided hint of shipboard pallor, in direct contrast to Janeway who was deeply tanned after enjoying three months of Indiana summer. Kelly's eyes were a vivid green, and scattered across the pug nose were the tiniest hint of freckles. She looked about twelve going on forty, somewhat like a street urchin. The thought was disconcerting.

She came to a stop in front of Janeway's desk, dropped her bag on the deck, and snapped to attention, her boyish chest stuck out, eyes front and center.

"Commander Kiara Kelly reporting for duty, Sir!"

Oh dear, Janeway thought, observing this with some dismay. She's around the same age as Harry Kim. Not as green, but definitely used to one style of service and one style only.

"At ease, Commander," Janeway offered. "Please, have a seat."

"I'd prefer to stand, Sir." Kelly looked straight ahead as she linked her hands behind her back and spread her legs in the traditional parade rest posture.

Janeway's eyes narrowed, wondering if there wasn't the slightest bit of discourtesy involved here. Of course, the adherence to attention was the sort of attitude present on a military ship, but she knew the girl had been in command of at least forty officers. Was this what she had expected from her crew and, hence, believed Janeway would expect of her? Or had she willfully refused a seat when offered because of some kind of chip on her shoulder?

"Commander," Janeway said mildly, "I'm not going to develop a kink in my neck because you have some kind of aversion to chairs. Please, sit down." Her voice hardened on the last two words, making it an order.

Color darkened Kelly's fair complexion, turning it bright red as the officer promptly took a seat in the comfortable armchair. Janeway studied her for a few moments, allowing the silence to stretch on as she attempted to get a sense of the young woman.

"Is that ... cultural?" she asked finally.

Kelly blinked and reached up, touching the feather braided it into her hair.

"Uh, no, Captain. One of my officers came up with it to signify victory. Every time we destroyed a Jem'Hadar vessel, another bead was added to the shaft."

Janeway eyed the adornment, making a quick count of the tiny beads lining one end of the feather, raising an eyebrow at the number, but less than impressed with the officer's need for a primitive tally of death and destruction. It was the sort of militaristic inclination for trophies that the Hirogen had indulged, and in Janeway's opinion, had no place in an organization like Starfleet. She had no doubt that Kelly also sported a tattoo of some kind on that wiry frame, signifying her loyalty to her ship and crewmates first. Perhaps even a nickname of some sort, emblazoned beneath a barbaric emblem, like Grissom's Gang, to prove how tough the officers were. A talisman against evil, as if it would somehow protect them when the phaser fire began to fly.

"You won't require it here," she said quietly.

Kelly's face stiffened and there was a flash of what could only be resentment in those green eyes, but she did not object. "Yes, sir."

"I prefer Captain," Janeway told her. "Ma'am in a pinch."

Kelly regarded her. "Yes ... ma'am." The tone was even, but there had been just enough hesitation in it to indicate what the officer thought of the choice of appellations.

Janeway wanted to sigh. This was not going well at all, but then, had she really expected it to? She slowly let a breath out between her lips, feeling the throb of her headache radiate through her skull. Even Ro hadn't been as brittle and edgy as Kelly, or perhaps Janeway simply hadn't met the Bajoran early enough in her career.

"We don't just have Starfleet personnel serving on this vessel," Janeway explained, feeling as if she was reaching for conversation. It wasn't a familiar sensation for the accomplished Starfleet officer. "There are a large contingent of civilians, including families and children. Our mission is to extend the boundaries of Federation knowledge, and because of our unique propulsion system, we're able to explore further than any other vessel has managed before."

"Yes, ma'am, I went over the ship's specs before coming on board."

The tone was polite, but Janeway still felt an incredible urge to reach across the desk and slap the officer soundly across the head. The strength of that desire surprised and unsettled her, and she forced it back with an effort.

"Excellent," Janeway managed evenly. "Your quarters are on deck three. I suggest you take this opportunity to settle in. We're breaking orbit at 1300 hours. I want you on the bridge when we do."

"Yes, si...uh, Ma'am."

Better, Janeway thought darkly, but still not there. Yet, if Kelly was used to certain responses, had certain ingrained habits, then it would take a little time to adjust to Janeway's method of doing things. The captain decided that she just had to be a little patient.

"Thank you, Kiara. You're dismissed."

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"I would really prefer to be called Commander Kelly, or in a pinch, 'Number One' while serving as your first officer."

Janeway's blood pressure elevated perceptibly, but she managed to keep from rising from her chair and going after the young woman. The audacity was incredible. Janeway hadn't encountered such impertinence since ... well, since Seven first came on board Voyager five years earlier, and in truth, Janeway thought this was worse. Seven's attitude sprang from her Borg upbringing, imbuing the young woman with an innate sense of superiority and arrogance. The captain wasn't sure what Kelly's problem was, or why she felt she had one with Janeway.

"Of course ... Number One." Unfortunately, the captain was unable to keep the sarcasm from lacing her tone, and was rewarded once more with a flush of crimson to Kelly's cheeks. The door slid shut behind the first officer with a mocking hiss, and Janeway looked skyward with appalled dismay.

"Oh. My. God."

"Kathryn, what troubles you?"

Janeway, on her way to the bedroom, paused. "What makes you ask?"

Seven lifted a brow. There were so many signs in the captain's body language and demeanor that she didn't know where to begin. She knew Janeway would become annoyed if she began to list them.

"Intuition," she said finally.

The response made Janeway blink and turn around to stare at her spouse. "It's a long story," she said finally, after contemplating Seven for a long moment. "I'll fill you in over dinner."

"You do remember that Laren and B'Elanna are coming over," Seven prompted gently.

Janeway's expression indicated that she had not remembered, but she didn't say anything else, resuming her course for the bedroom. Seven inhaled slowly and looked down at the cutting board where she had been slicing fresh vegetables for a platter.

This could be a long evening, she mused.

Arranging the carrot sticks, mushroom slices, broccoli flowers, celery and dip on the tray, she carried it over to the coffee table. A melodious ding gave notice that her guests had arrived, and after smoothing her hands down her crimson shirt that draped becomingly over her cleavage, Seven moved to answer the door. It hissed open to reveal Ro and the ship's chief engineer, B'Elanna Torres. A Klingon/Human hybrid, the volatile woman was dressed in a leather vest and trousers, her arms bare, the musculature rippling beneath the smooth, olive skin.

Seven accepted the bottle of spring wine that Ro offered as the couple entered the cabin. Married for a couple of years, they were good friends with Seven and Janeway, as well as trusted members of the captain's crew. Seven knew that despite Kathryn's mood, she would be glad to see them.

After directing them to the conversation area, the Borg carried the bottle over to the counter, finding a corkscrew to open the it and filling four glasses with the shimmering liquid. B'Elanna had already dived into the vegetable tray, crunching a carrot stick with evident pleasure.

"What's on for tonight, 'Nik?"

The shortened version of Seven's human designation, Annika Hansen, had only ever been used by B'Elanna.

"A poultry dish that Gretchen taught me during my leave," Seven explained as she handed the couple their wine. After returning from the kitchenette a second time, she took a seat on the sofa across from B'Elanna with two more glasses, sipping from one while placing the other on the table for her partner. "It is a fairly complicated dish, but I believe I have mastered the recipe."

"It smells fantastic," Ro assured her as she retrieved some mushrooms.

B'Elanna was regarding Seven with a quizzical tilt to her head. "What happened to your arms, Seven?"

Involuntarily, the Borg glanced down at her arms that were revealed by the sleeveless top she had chosen this night. Normally, the reddish rash currently pebbling the underside of her elbows and forearms was covered by her uniform tunic and thus, not readily available for discussion.

"An unfortunate reaction to dried grasses," she explained. "Dr. Pulaski is treating it with an ointment. I believe it will heal quickly."

"Dried grasses?"

A memory flashed into Seven's mind of Kathryn's and her final day on Earth, of being lured into the barn by her amorous spouse and pulled down into the fragrant mound of hay as Janeway pressed her attentions upon her in a most delightful manner. At least, that is, until the couple was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Gretchen Janeway in search of a garden tool. Her wickedly dry comment that she hadn't seen her daughter's 'tushie' since she was a child, caused considerable consternation to the captain as she scrambled to pull up her jeans, face crimson with embarrassment.

The rash decorating Seven's back, buttocks and thighs was actually much worse than that on her arms, but she decided not to share that piece of information with her friends.

"I spent my leave on Gretchen's farm," she reminded them instead. "There are substantial amounts of hay and straw stored in the barn."

"What were you doing in the barn?" B'Elanna asked. Fortunately, Janeway chose that moment to join the gathering, enabling Seven to avoid any further response.

"Ladies," the captain greeted as she took a seat beside her spouse, reaching for her glass of wine and draining half of it in a single swallow. Seven eyed her narrowly, and the captain exhaled audibly. "Rough day," she explained to her spouse's unspoken query.

"Our new exec?"  The ridge on Ro's nose crinkled becomingly as she observed the captain, and Seven knew the Bajoran was amused, though the 'why' was unclear.

Janeway shook her head. "I don't even want to talk about it."

Seven glanced back and forth between her spouse and the security chief inquiringly. B'Elanna was doing the same and less hesitant about digging for information.

"What are you talking about? What's up with our new exec?"

Ro lifted her chin. "Apparently, our new first officer is quite the pistol."

"Fully charged and aimed directly at my head," Janeway finished wryly.

"Really?"

B'Elanna looked intrigued and Seven blinked, somewhat bemused. The first officer's station was located next to the science post on the bridge. Seven had not observed anything untoward about the new officer while working with her, finding Kelly quite contained and efficient, almost Borglike in her attention to duty. The science officer did have to admit, however, that she had noticed an odd little mocking note in the captain's voice whenever she spoke to Kelly, particularly when using the appellation "Number One", which she had with unusual frequency.

Janeway lifted her glass. "Kelly will have to adjust." Seven recognized the tone as one the captain utilized whenever she wanted to be fair and was finding it difficult. "Her career to this point has been intense but somewhat limited in scope. She'll have to work her way into the position. In the meantime, the crew, including myself, will have to be patient."

B'Elanna appeared eager to pursue it, but a subtle nudge from the Bajoran's elbow forestalled her next question, and after a glance in Ro's direction, she subsided and changed the subject.

"Any word on the Orion Syndicate?"

Janeway shook her head. "Starfleet Intelligence has dispatched a team of operatives to take care of the problem, but we probably won't know the results until we return." She offered a thin smile. "It's just a relief not to have a security officer trailing me any more. Every time we left the farm, Seven and I had one accompany us everywhere."

"It was irritating at times, but necessary," Seven told them. A small noise from the direction of the kitchen alerted her that the timer on the heating unit had completed its countdown. "Dinner is ready. If you could escort our guests into the arboretum, Kathryn, I will join you shortly."

The four women enjoyed their meal in the cool surroundings of the green space attached to the captain's quarters. The small arboretum, containing flowers, bushes and even some short apple trees, provided a fragrant and fresh atmosphere for dining, and was a decided contrast to the very technical world of the starship. Utilizing her position as commander of the Utopia Planitia shipyards to implement the design alteration, the arboretum had been a Valentine's Day gift from the captain to her spouse. The Borg was certain that it was the best present she had ever received.

She was also pleased to see that Kathryn gradually lost the edgy temper that she had carried home, eroded away by the good food, good friends and the spring wine Ro had brought. The women found a great deal to discuss about their upcoming mission and the new crewmembers they had taken on, though Seven noticed the captain tried to stay away from any further discussion about their latest first officer.

But as the evening progressed, Seven grew steadily more uncomfortable. At one point, she caught the eye of her spouse and Janeway nodded briefly, easily reading the mute appeal in the Borg's gaze. Smiling, the captain finished up the story she had been telling and deftly brought the evening to a close. It was doubtful B'Elanna and Ro were even aware that they were being rushed out, such was Janeway's charm and subtlety.

Seven was already on her way to the bedroom before the door had hissed shut behind them, peeling the shirt over her head and shinnying quickly out of her trousers and underwear.

"Kathryn!" she called, her voice entreating.

"On my way darling," Janeway said, appearing in the doorway. "Lie down on your stomach."

Seven reached for the jar on the nightstand, quickly scooping out a liberal amount of the cream that she slathered over her arms. Dropping face down onto the mattress, the Borg almost cried out from the sheer relief as Janeway slipped onto the bed beside her and began to apply the oitment to Seven's back, buttocks and thighs, relieving the insidious, terrible itching that had been steadily building all evening. It had taken all of Seven's will power not to scratch, not to give into that exquisite torment, suffering the burning sensation for as long as she could before signaling the captain. She decided it was very fortunate she had such a perceptive spouse.

"I still don't understand why you had such a reaction," Janeway said with dissatisfaction as she spread the cream over the young woman's shoulders. "You've been exposed to hay before. God knows, you and Icheb were always transporting to Juan's ranch in Arizona and riding your horses. There had to be plenty of hay lying about there."

"Yes, but I had never rolled around in it naked prior to our romantic encounter yesterday."

"I'm really sorry, darling." The captain developed a decidedly rueful tone in her voice. "I guess having a roll in the hay is like making love in a Borg alcove; better in theory than in execution. I just thought it would be fun to try it before leaving Earth."

"It was fun ... until we were interrupted." Seven exhaled as the excruciating itch eased with the application of the cream. "Thank you, Kathryn. I was becoming most uncomfortable."

"I could tell. You were squirming quite a bit there at the end. I don't think Laren or B'Elanna noticed, though."

"I am glad," Seven said, sighing slightly as she relaxed against the bedding. Now that the itching had been relieved, drowsiness began to descend. "I would not want to have spoiled our evening."

Janeway leaned down, nuzzling her ear gently. "You could never spoil anything, love." She flicked the Borg's earlobe provocatively with the tip of her tongue.

Seven groaned. "Please, Kathryn, don't. You know I am unable to make love under these conditions. It is unfair to arouse me without the intention of satisfying me."

"That's not quite what I meant to do, my darling, but I promise, I'll be good," Janeway chuckled, kissed Seven's temple lightly, and rolled off the bed. "I'll clean up. You stay here and try not to itch. I'll be back shortly."

Seven shifted over to one side of the bed, still lying on her stomach. The ointment's effectiveness was relatively limited, and before the night was through, she could expect to be awakened again with an overpowering need to scratch. She considered herself fortunate that she had Janeway there to apply the cream to those areas she could not easily reach.

Of course, she reminded herself ruefully, were it not for the captain, she would not have developed the rash in the first place.

For that was their mission this year, with two additional directives. The first was to make the tentative beginnings of an official alliance with the Confederation of Species, a civilization similar to the Federation in social and political makeup. The second was to discover, if possible, the origin of a parasitic lifeform that had infiltrated Starfleet Command almost sixteen years earlier. Shortly before the mother creature's destruction, a communications signal had been transmitted to an area in the Beta Quadrant, and Millennium was instructed to track down who or what might have received it.

Relinquishing her post to another crewmember for a moment, Seven strode around the bridge, the last minute visual check on the other posts. In the absence of both the captain and first officer, the Borg was serving as the temporary exec.

"Time to jump?" Ro asked as Seven settled back at the science station.

"Two minutes," Lt. Nog reported from the helm. "The T'Korth remains on a parallel course aft and starboard."

The last time, it had been a Starfleet vessel escorting them to the departure coordinates, acting as both honor guard and observer of what had been a historic occasion. Since they weren't far from the Klingon border, the Empire had dispatched a Negh'Var Class Dreadnought to see Millennium off. It was a gesture of respect by the Federation, asking for their assistance in what was still considered a somewhat highly classified mission. It offered the Klingons the sense that they were still trusted allies, even though having been so decimated by the war, they were no longer a significant political power in the Alpha Quadrant.

"All hands," Ro said, activating the ship-wide channel, "prepare for transition,"

"Engineering reports warp engines at full," Ro's assistant security chief said from his place at tactical. Lt. M'reek's slender, almost frail form belied the fact that he was a formidable hand-to-hand fighter, as well as adept with bladed weapons beyond anything Ro had ever encountered. Neither skill was particularly useful at the moment, however. "Shields at maximum."

"Current speed is warp seven," Nog reported. The Ferengi's hands were steady as they moved over the helm.

"Increase to warp factor nine, Lieutenant," Ro commanded.

"The T'Korth encourages us to fight well," T'Shanik reported from Ops. The Vulcan's voice was even, indicating none of the anticipation that the rest of the bridge crew was displaying. "They're reducing speed and falling off."

"We are at warp nine. Increasing to warp nine point one." Nog's high, piping voice was a decided contrast to the Vulcan's.

"Structural integrity field at one hundred percent," T'Shanik added.

"We are at nine point two."

Ro took a deep breath. "Activate transition drive."

On the viewscreen at the front of the bridge, a spatial distortion appeared. Millennium sped toward it eagerly. A small jolt indicated the conduit had been accessed, and the stars disappeared as a swirling corridor of light and color surrounded the starship.

"Exit coordinates laid in," Nog announced. "ETA is seventy-three minutes."

There was a subtle sense of relaxation that swept over the bridge. This would be a slightly longer jump than the one that took them to the Delta Quadrant a year or so earlier. Ro settled into her chair, hoping it would go smoothly.

"Sickbay to bridge."

Ro started slightly, hoped no one had noticed, and lifted her chin. "Go ahead."

"We have a medical emergency on deck three," the EMH, now Lt. Lewis, explained. He was in command of sickbay while the ship's CMO, Dr. Pulaski, was sedated. "Sensors indicate it's Commander Kelly. I'll update you as soon as I have more."

"Understood."  Ro cut the channel, frowning as she regarded the viewscreen. What the hell had happened with Kelly? Had it been some kind of reaction to the medication or had she ... she wouldn't have ... would she? Was it possible that the new first officer had actually been that stupid?

Minutes passed as Ro waited impatiently, hearing only the low sounds of the ship in jump, the crew attentively covering their posts, soft chirps and beeps underlying the somewhat disturbing hum and vibration of the transition drive. When the doctor finally contacted her, Ro jumped again and knew she was a bit on edge. With an effort, she took a brief second to calm her nerves.

"Let's hear it, Doctor."

"Commander, apparently Miss Kelly decided to see if she was immune to Transition Jump Syndrome. She's been transported to sickbay. We're treating her now."

Ro winced. "How is she?"

"Quite frankly, a mess. You do know that there is a certain loss of bodily function involved?" Lewis paused. "She seems to have had a most hearty breakfast. I don't imagine she'll be one of Maintenance's favorite people for awhile."

"I'll dispatch a team to her quarters to clean up," Ro said, acknowledging the hint. She paused, vaguely interested. "Will she survive, Doctor?"

"Of course, but she'll probably wish she hadn't. The physical symptoms are quite severe."

Of course, this was all before Janeway got a hold of her, Ro thought. She shook her head, wondering how the kid could have made it so far in Starfleet, and still not have a clue how to operate. The protocols put forth regarding the transition jump had been created for a reason, and anyone who presumed to violate them was ripe for serious repercussions. Then the Bajoran realized what she was thinking and became wryly amused. When did she become such a strict adherent to protocols and regulations? It wasn't that long ago that Ro had played the lone wolf with unsatisfying results. Who was she to judge someone else's lapse in judgement?

"Doctor, how long will she be incapacitated?"

"She's severely dehydrated from the loss of bodily fluids," Lewis replied. "She also pulled a few muscles while seizing. If you absolutely need her once we're through the jump, Commander, I can get her back on her feet utilizing a combination of stimulants and metabolic enhancers, but I'd really prefer to have her come out of it naturally. I'd also like to keep her under observation for a few days, especially since the full impact of TJS isn't fully known. We don't want to be in the position of overlooking something that previous case studies haven't encountered."

Ro considered it and finally decided that whether they needed the first officer right away should be left up to the captain once she came out of sedation. "There's no pressing need to get her back on her feet, Doctor," she confirmed. "Carry on." Aware of Seven glancing over her shoulder at her, she shrugged lightly, leaning forward to make their conversation private. "I guess some people just don't know their limitations ... or refuse to acknowledge them."

Seven nodded, lowering her voice. "Apparently." She paused, lifting a brow. "Does Commander Kelly's attitude not remind you of someone else?"

Ro's lips twitched, a brief smile appearing. "Perhaps, but I'm smart enough to know that pointing it out wouldn't be appreciated."

"You are correct," Seven agreed and turned back to her board. "Transition at fifty percent completion."

Halfway there. Ro hoped that Kelly's imprudent decision-making would be the worst thing she'd have to handle during this jump. She amused herself by wondering how angry the captain would be and what form of punishment she would devise for the young exec. That passed several moments, and before she knew it, it was time.

"All hands, stand by for jump completion." The rest of the bridge crew perked up. "Tactical?"

"All weapons are online," M'reek said. "Phasers are standing by." It wasn't as if they would have time to use them, of course, should something nasty be waiting for them on the other side, but Ro was aware it provided a tiny, psychological sense of security. "Shields at maximum."

"As soon as we're clear and the conduit has collapsed, power down completely, Lt. Nog. Take up station keeping at those coordinates. Ops, prepare to send standard greetings upon reaching normal space."

"Understood, Commander."

"Approaching exit coordinates," Nog commented.

"Brace for exit." Ro's fingers tightened on the arms of the command chair.

"Sensors detect no obstacles," T'Shanik noted, though it was too little, too late. The sensors simply weren't fast enough to detect anything at this speed. By the time she said it, they were already past the farthest point the sensors could discern.

There was another jolt, smaller than the first, as the swirling colors and light on the screen dissipated with a bright flash of light. Abruptly, they were back among the stars, tearing along at warp nine, though as soon as they were clear, Nog immediately began to power down until they were at a complete stop.

"Transition jump complete," Seven said, a touch of satisfaction in her voice. "Subspace conduit has collapsed."

"Exit coordinates verified," T'Shanik said. "Millennium has entered the Confederation. Standard greetings are being transmitted on all subspace communication channels."

"Stand by," Ro said. "We should receive a response eventually. Well done, people."

She wondered how long it would take before the Confederation noticed the sudden arrival of a Starfleet vessel in their space.

Near the end of their fourth year in the Delta Quadrant, Voyager had encountered a wormhole. To their disappointment, it did not lead home, but rather to the Beta Quadrant, in a sector of space further away from the Federation than where they were located in the Delta Quadrant. Despite that, Janeway was encouraged by her crew to take a chance on passing through the wormhole, for no other reason than to see what was on the other side. Since exploration for purely scientific purposes was a rare thing for the Intrepid-class vessel, the captain agreed, and Voyager was the first Starfleet vessel to dip its hull into all four quadrants. If things worked out as they hoped, Millennium would be the second.

On the other side of the wormhole, Voyager had encountered the Confederation StarScout vessel, StarRunner. The StarScouts were close to Starfleet in structure, and the similarity between the two cultures, with a species known as the Elthanians apparently fulfilling the role Humans had in the Alpha Quadrant, made the lost Voyager crew feel quite at home.

At the time, in fact, there was even some talk about remaining, of starting their lives anew as Confederation citizens, but in the end, Voyager returned through the wormhole with its crew intact. As attractive as the Confederation was, the crew still wanted to take their chances in the Delta Quadrant, still believed that their remarkable captain would somehow find a way to take them home. Their confidence in Janeway was not misplaced, and now, a few years later, some of them were back to renew ties with the gracious people who had befriended them.

Ro was put in mind of a particular StarScout captain who had been the first to encounter Voyager. Tazna Jade was a remarkable individual, tall, charming, very beautiful, and possessing the sort of demeanor that impressed even those fiercely loyal to Janeway. In fact, there had been more than a few rumors that the Elthanian First had been spending more than the appropriate amount of time with Seven, even though the Borg had been newly involved in a romantic relationship with the captain. Ro hadn't been in the loop at the time, so she didn't get all the details, but she wondered if B'Elanna had. Perhaps she would ask the chief engineer about it, now that they were back in this area of space.

She checked the console on the arm of the chair. "Seven, what's the status of the wormhole?"

Seven touched some controls on her science station. "There is no sign of it, Commander."

Ro nodded. So the Confederation had destroyed it after Voyager's departure, after all. It was probably a wise choice. There were some things on the other side of it, like Hirogen and Borg, which the Elthanians didn't want nor need stumbling into their space as the Federation vessel had.

"Commander?"

Ro glanced at ops. T'Shanik was looking over her shoulder at her. "We're being hailed."

"On screen."

The viewscreen flickered from the blackness of space to reveal an Elthanian male, quite handsome, with silver hair drawn back in a ponytail, and startling sapphire blue eyes. Two feathery antennae wafted from the inner corner of each eyebrow, and the pointed tips of his ears were similar to that of a Vulcan. He was a mythological elf come to life.

"This is the Confederation starship SilverStar, en route to your position, Breeden Welf, First in Command. Please identify yourselves."

"This is the USS Millennium, from the United Federation of Planets," Ro replied promptly. "We bring greetings and salutations to the people who aided one of our own five years ago. I am Commander Ro Laren, chief of security and third in command."

There was a pause as Breeden absorbed this, looking over as if receiving confirmation of data from someone else on his ship.

"The same Federation of Captain Kathryn Janeway?"

"She commands this vessel," Ro explained. "But due to the propulsion system we employed to reach this space, both the captain and the first officer are temporarily indisposed. Please be informed that we are here as official representatives of the Federation, hoping to open formal diplomatic ties with your Confederation."

Breeden looked extremely interested. "Understood, Millennium. We shall rendezvous with your position in approximately twenty-seven of your hours."

"So it begins," Ro offered.

Seven dipped her head. "So it does."

The real question, of course, was; where would it end?

"So this SilverSun is on its way here?"

"SilverStar," Ro corrected gently.

"Of course." Janeway swallowed again, bringing some of her steel determination to bear on her contrary innards, settling them down through sheer force of will. "Anything else?" Ro seemed to hesitate, and Janeway frowned. "Commander?"

"There was a medical emergency on deck three. Commander Kelly is recovering in sickbay."

"What happened?"

A muscle twitched in Ro's jaw, and the captain wondered if the Bajoran was angered or merely amused. "Apparently, Commander Kelly decided she didn't require sedation, even though she's Terran."

Janeway bit off the curse hovering on the tip of her tongue, knowing the bridge was not the place to indulge her sudden fury. "I see," she said coldly. "I'll be in sickbay, Commander Ro. You have the bridge."

"Aye, Captain."

Janeway fumed all the way down to deck eight. The anger chased away the last of her nausea and she blew into sickbay with the wrath of angels on her shoulders, fully prepared to teach Kelly exactly what it meant to go outside protocols on this vessel. The sight of the young woman lying on the biobed, her skin decidedly greenish, her eyes surrounded by dark circles and sunken into her head, stopped Janeway in her tracks. The young woman looked like death warmed over.

"Dear God, is she all right?"

Pulaski laughed, a short bark of amusement as she moved from her office to the captain's side. The older woman, hair snowy, wrinkles prominent in those classic features, seemed completely fresh, as if she had just risen from a nap rather than the heavy sedation required to go through a transition jump. Janeway, half Pulaski's age, knew a moment of honest disgruntlement at the comparison between how she felt and the Chief Medical Officer looked.

"She'll be fine. Sore, sick as a dog when she wakes up, but ultimately fine. Dr. Lewis is treating her."

"Where is he?"

"Off line. His duty shift ended when I came back."

Janeway glanced at her uncertainly. "You didn't turn him off?"

Pulaski lifted a brow, eyes gleaming at the thought. "If only I could," she said wistfully. "No, he turned himself off to get some 'rest'."

Janeway hesitated, and then looked back at her first officer lying on the bed, her mouth firming. "What on Earth possessed Kelly to do something so stupid?"

"I have no idea. I guess she didn't have a Borg wife around to prevent her from trying it."

The captain looked sharply at the doctor, stung by the reminder. On Millennium's initial jump into the Delta Quadrant, the captain decided to go without medication, certain that the warnings and recommendations didn't really apply to her. A stern lecture from both the doctor and her spouse, as well as Seven standing over her like a disapproving kindergarten teacher while the captain administered the hypospray, was not one of Janeway's prouder moments. She shifted her feet on the deck and tried to think of a proper rejoinder. The doctor, apparently realizing that she had won this round since the captain was lacking something to say, smiled slightly.

"How's Seven's rash?"

"The same." Janeway hesitated, then accepted the change of subject. "The jar of ointment you provided is almost empty."

"I'll get you some more." As Pulaski went into her office to retrieve another jar, Janeway followed her in.

"I have a question, Doctor. Why didn't you repair Seven's rash with a dermal regenerator? Why this archaic application of an external cream?"

"The ointment seems to be working quite well at blocking the itch," she added in a soothing tone. "I just want to see if Seven's natural immunity clears this up. If she still has it after another day, then we'll look into more extensive treatment, including replacing the epidermis."

Janeway firmed her jaw. "Is this indicative of something more serious?"

"I'm not sure," Pulaski said honestly. "It may be indicating that the nanoprobes are no longer programmed to heal non-life threatening conditions. It's perhaps another adaptation as Seven becomes more Human." She offered a small smile. "You can't have it both ways, Kathryn. You can't want her to develop her Humanity, and then become upset when she's subject to the same frailties all the rest of us are."

"I suppose you're right. You'll keep me updated?"

"I will, provided Seven wants me to."

Janeway frowned, but Pulaski was unmoved.

"As for Commander Kelly?"

"Yes?" The doctor regarded her inquiringly.

Janeway took another long look at the young woman. "As soon as she's fit to have visitors, let me know. I have a few things to say to her."

"I bet you do," Pulaski muttered, but she nodded. "I'll have Lewis contact you as soon as she's strong enough to face you."

That wasn't quite what Janeway had in mind, but she accepted it was the best she could hope for from the medical officer. Leaving sickbay, she stopped off briefly in her quarters to leave the extra jar of cream on the nightstand where Seven would find it, and then used her command code in the turbolift to take her directly to her ready room. There was a lot of work to be done between now and the next day when the Confederation ship arrived. Janeway doubted the crew of the SilverStar would be prepared to open formal diplomatic proceedings, but they would undoubtedly be ready to escort Millennium to those who were.

This wasn't the first time the captain had represented the Federation in diplomatic matters, but it was the first time that the civilization involved was this large and complex.  Janeway's primary responsibility was to convince the Confederation to allow Millennium's crew to construct an array, similar to the Pathfinder Project, in their space. The long-range communications grid would allow the Confederation and the Federation to speak directly, the diplomats handling the bulk of all future negotiations. It would also provide Millennium with a subspace relay that would keep the ship in closer touch with Starfleet than they had during their first mission into the Delta Quadrant.

All this would be much easier if her first officer had been in a position to assist, instead of flat on her back in sickbay. Janeway and Ro were suddenly forced to handle details for which Kelly would normally be responsible, and both worked long into the evening.

If Janeway hadn't been furious with the young woman before, she certainly was by the time she wearily entered her quarters at 0200 hours. It was fortunate the commander was tucked away safely in the ship's medical center. If the captain had encountered her while in this mood, there would be little left of Kelly for the doctors to treat.

Janeway began peeling off her uniform as soon as she stepped off the turbolift. Shrugging out of her tunic and sweater, she carried both draped over her arm as she detached the comm badge and pips. As she passed through the bedroom, she noted that Seven was already tucked cozily away for the night, sleeping peacefully on her side of the bed. Janeway bestowed a fond smile upon the slumbering Borg as she placed her pips on the nightstand and then finished undressing, running her uniform through the replicator before placing the clean and pressed outfit on the sink counter in the ensuite. She cleaned her teeth, threw on an oversized t-shirt, and moved back into the bedroom, slipping between the sheets. Seven's back was to her, prominently displayed, the sheet draped casually over the Borg's generous hips. The captain thought the rash was subsiding, no longer appearing as red or lumpy. Apparently, Seven's natural immunity was beginning to heal it just as the doctor had hoped it would. It still looked rather itchy, however.

Seven stirred, undoubtedly alerted to the captain's arrival, and Janeway immediately reached for the jar on the nightstand. "Stay still, darling," she instructed quietly.

Seven made a soft sound, but remained as she was while the captain applied another soothing layer of cream over her back, working it into the skin gently. "Thank you, Kathryn," the young woman whispered. "I had trouble earlier covering the entire surface area."

"That's why you got married, darling," Janeway told her with gentle humor. "So someone could take care of all those hard-to-reach places."

"Indeed." Seven waited until the captain was finished, and then carefully turned around so that she was facing her spouse. "A long day for you."

"Yes, and another one tomorrow." Janeway yawned as she moved into Seven's embrace. She kissed her tenderly and then rolled over so that Seven could wrap herself around her from behind. "I need to be fresh for that meeting with the Confederation ship. I should sleep until 0900."

"I will try to make sure you are not disturbed for anything less than an emergency," Seven assured her.

Janeway closed her eyes, trying to relax into this warm, pleasant place. She always felt so safe lying next to her spouse, so loved and cherished in these arms. It was an advantage that most starship captains lacked, and one that Janeway tried never to take for granted.

"I'm so glad you're here, darling." She could smell the delicate fragrance of the young woman, mild, with the faintest hint of metal. It was a familiar and comforting smell, filling Janeway with an incredible sense of peace.

"Where else would I be at this hour?"

"I meant in general." Janeway yawned again. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life."

Seven pulled the captain closer, nuzzling her hair. "It is I who is the fortunate one."

"The First Night party is planned for tomorrow evening in the Nexus," Janeway went on, thinking about the traditional ship event where new crewmembers and civilians had the opportunity to introduce themselves and get to know the established crew under social circumstances. "I thought I'd also invite some of the SilverStar crew and offer the officers from both ships a chance to mingle a little." She wasn't sure why she kept talking. She supposed it was part of settling down for sleep. She was tired but unable to relax completely, her mind swirling with plans of tomorrow and what still had to be done. "I'm not sure if we should go with dress whites in that event."

"Perhaps our dress whites should be saved for the more diplomatic occasions with the Confederation authorities," Seven suggested quietly. She knew what her spouse was doing, understood that she was unwinding verbally, and would willingly continue her part of the conversation until Janeway no longer responded. "Regular uniforms and civilian clothing have always been suitable for First Night parties. If you wish to provide a more elegant atmosphere, Kathryn, then you could stipulate that formal civilian attire be worn."

Janeway filed that away, too tired to pursue it. "That Breeden First is a good looking young man," she mumbled sleepily. "I noticed it when I reviewed the earlier transmission. His ship will rendezvous with us around 1400 tomorrow ... or is today already?"

"The Elthanians are generally an attractive people."

Janeway, reminded of the last Elthanian she had encountered and who had been far too interested in the young Borg, frowned slightly. "Just so long as he keeps his distance from you."

She could not see her face, but she could tell the Borg was smiling. "Go to sleep, Kathryn," Seven said with persuasive tenderness.

Janeway exhaled, drowsiness overcoming her, as if the order from her spouse was all she needed to let go of the last of the thoughts running around in her mind. Tomorrow was another day, and with any luck, she'd be able to accomplish all she needed to before the Confederation starship showed up and the real work began.

"M'rrrowl."

Seven blinked and looked at Lenara Kahn who was standing beside her. The joined Trill was staring at the SilverStar's commander with what appeared to be predatory interest, and Seven was certain that the sound the scientist had made was quite animalistic.

"Lenara?"

"Why are they all so damned good looking?"

Seven lifted a brow. "Genetics? Some form of predisposition that simulates all the traits that Humans find attractive."

"Not just Humans," the Trill informed her, sipping her champagne.

"I have noticed that Vulcans hold the same fascination for some in the Federation," Seven continued with scientific dispassion. "As do Deltans and Betazeds."

"Deltans are ... well, Deltans," Lenara said. "Betazeds are telepathic and have a reputation for being very sensual. Vulcans offer a challenge. You know, once every seven years? Who wouldn't want to think they're sexy enough to bypass that."

"And the Elthanians?"

"Surely you've noticed how wonderful they smell. There are a lot of pheromones in the scent a body emanates. It's a natural mating lure."

Seven thought back to her interaction with Tazna Jade. There had been a fragrance around the woman, vaguely reminiscent of cinnamon and spice, of something more elemental beneath that. She had not really noticed it at the time, other than that it was present and part of the female's being, nor was she particularly affected by it. Seven frowned. Pheromones were something of which she had cause to be extremely leery.

"Or maybe, they just send out their best looking people," Lenara continued, eyeing the Elthanian Second, who's voluptuous proportions rivaled Seven's.

"Starship duty can be physically onerous," Seven noted. "It requires individuals to be fit and healthy. That is considered attractive in most species." She paused. "Why so interested in their physical attributes, Lenara?"

The Trill smiled, a sort of smile that Seven found unfamiliar, at least with this woman. "Let's just say that I'm through pining for what can never be," Lenara explained. "I'm willing to play the field a little bit."

"Ah." Seven was glad to hear it. When the Trill had first come on board Millennium, she had been desperately unhappy, despairing over a love that she had given up five years earlier. A love that could never be recaptured because the host, Jadzia, had died, though the symbiont, Dax, lived on in another. Fortunately, surrounded by good friends and shipmates on Millennium, the Trill had once again found her equilibrium. Seven supposed it was not unusual for her to also seek out romantic partners. For a time, she thought Lenara and the Doctor would make some kind of arrangement, though being involved with a hologram could prove to be futile in the long run. Then, there was some talk going around the lower decks of Lenara and the ship's first officer, the Cardassian/Bajoran hybrid, Zar Tulek. However, he had been awarded a promotion upon their return to the Federation, and had moved on to command his own vessel. Lenara offered no indication of wanting to follow him, or even missing him a great deal.

Seven glanced over at her spouse. Kathryn was currently in her most charming persona, mingling with the crowd and taking the time to speak with each member of the SilverStar crew attending the party. It had been decided that the StarScout vessel would escort Millennium to Hearthstone, a highly trafficked space station on the edge of Elthanian space that provided a central port for many of the species in the bordering sectors. There, Janeway would meet with Confederation officials and lay out the groundwork for the communications array. The captain appeared quite lively and bright, though Seven knew Janeway had received less than four hours of sleep the previous night, having been called from her bed at 0600 for a matter only the captain could handle. As far as the Borg knew, Janeway hadn't slowed down one iota since then.

"What are they doing?"

Seven blinked and glanced in the direction Lenara indicated. The Nexus had been altered for this reception, its usual nightclub-like atmosphere lightened considerably, while its bar had temporarily been transformed into a huge buffet. Paryk, acting as caterer rather than in his customary bartending role, kept the dishes full from the large replicators behind him. At the low dais near the dance floor, a group of crewmembers were assembling, each individual holding an instrument.

"I believe they are a band." The sound of music floated over the crowd, not the pounding beat normally heard in the lounge but something far more refined and classical.

"This will certainly keep the SilverStar crew busy. The crew are already filling up their dance cards." Lenara lifted her hand, palm up. "However, I claim the first few dances with you, Seven."

The Borg hesitated, glancing across the room. Janeway was completely involved in her conversation with the SilverStar's Healer. Besides, the captain had moved past her irrational jealousy of the Trill long ago. "Of course," she said graciously.

They moved out on the dance floor and began swaying to the music. Lenara was a rather good dancer, Seven discovered, though she had a propensity to lead. It made for a bit of awkwardness in the beginning, but eventually they worked it out. She was not surprised, however, when only a few minutes into their third dance, there was a tap on Lenara's shoulder.

"May I cut in?" Janeway smiled charmingly at the Trill. Since the captain had been dancing with Breeden, Lenara was not at all averse to switching partners, and moved off with the Elthanian First with some enthusiasm.

Seven took Janeway into her arms, feeling the captain sag a little. She pulled her close and supported her as they moved around the floor. "Kathryn?"

"I'm fine, darling." Janeway snuggled into the Borg's embrace. "I just need a moment or two."

"I understand." Seven brushed her lips along the captain's cheek, pausing by her ear. "You are very beautiful, tonight."

Janeway, outfitted in a shimmering dress of slate-blue, raised her head and smiled winningly at her. The lights of the lounge put highlights of pure fire in her auburn hair. "So are you, my love. I'm so glad you suggested we go with civilian attire."

"Yes." Janeway's gaze darkened. "It's too bad Kelly isn't here. She would benefit greatly from spending some time in more elegant surroundings than a Sabre-class mess hall. At the very least, she could be covering the bridge, and Ro could be here to monitor the situation directly."

Seven, who knew her spouse remained severely annoyed with the absent first officer, merely kissed her lightly on the ear and took her for another spin around the dance floor, delaying the moment when Janeway would have to become the diplomat once more.

But eventually she had to give up Janeway to one of the officers from the SilverStar. Dr. Lewis was nearby, ready to claim Seven as the music began again. The EMH had once tried to teach the Borg to dance, though he had much less luck with it than had the captain. He had taught the Borg to sing when the captain claimed she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, and after hearing her spouse's attempts in the shower, Seven saw no reason to disagree with the assertion.

"You've come such a long way, Seven."

"Doctor?" Seven looked at him curiously, surprised to see he was regarding her with an expression of great fondness.

"I watched you out here with the captain, and I couldn't help remembering that Borg drone who first came on board Voyager. You would have found all this to be completely irrelevant, not to mention extremely annoying if forced to attend. Now, you fit in as if you had been doing it all your life."

Seven considered that. "We have both come a long way, Doctor," she told him as she allowed him to lead her about the dance floor.

Later, she thought about just how far as she undressed for bed, placing the silver dress carefully in the closet for another time. Moving into the bedroom, she brushed out her long, blonde hair, wondering if the Doctor felt as if he'd been left behind. Certainly, his progress had not been as advanced as hers, but then, Annika Hansen had always been a Federation citizen, even while she was Borg. The EMH had been forced to fight for every concession and right he had achieved.

She glanced in the full-length mirror that hung on one side of the room, noting that the last vestiges of her rash had finally disappeared. She would certainly not miss the itch or the greasy ointment she had been forced to use to counteract it. She was also aware that the captain was disturbed by the failure of Seven's nanoprobes to deal with the allergic reaction in a more timely manner, but the Borg suspected that the microscopic machines were merely responding to her own subconscious desires. She did have some control over her cortical implant, after all, and her wish to become more human was surely detected by its processing nodes as they programmed the nanoprobes. Still, minor skin inflammations and growing toenails were not exactly what she had in mind.

She slipped between the smooth sheets of her bed and lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling. Janeway was undoubtedly occupied with saying her farewells to the SilverStar crew. The hiss of the outer door made her smile and she shifted her eyes to the doorway, waiting as her spouse passed on her way to the ensuite. Time passed with agonizing slowness as Janeway completed her ablutions, but finally the captain joined Seven, flopping into bed beside her.

"God, I'm absolutely beat," Janeway murmured as she exhaled noisily. She had her hands over her eyes, her mouth slack.

"Mmm, what are you thinking?"

Seven blinked, realizing that her partner had uncovered her eyes and was staring at her. The truth was on the tip of her tongue, but she knew if she said she was feeling amorous, Janeway would feel compelled to do something about it, as much a matter of pride as from wanting to keep her partner happy. Seven judged that Janeway was too tired to be intimate, so she leaned over and kissed her temple lightly.

"I love you, my Kathryn," she said softly, nuzzling her hair. "Good night."

"I love you, too, darling." The captain smiled and immediately wrapped her arms around the Borg's waist, pulling her close. "Your rash is much better. I noticed it at the dance. That dress went all the way down to here." She touched the base of Seven's spine, stroking lightly. "This doesn't irritate your skin?"

"Not at all." Seven inhaled deeply, enjoying the rich fragrance of her spouse. It took her a moment before she realized her partner was continuing to stroke her back, tracing the bone and muscle with light fingertips.

"And this?" Janeway asked in a throaty tone that the young woman recognized immediately.

Seven tried to pull back. "You need to sleep, Kathryn."

"I need to make love to my wife. Are you objecting?" Janeway kissed her passionately as she tightened her embrace. Then smiled and bit lightly at Seven's neck. "Particularly when I know you want me to so badly?"

Seven frowned. "I do not believe I indicated any such thing."

Janeway ran her hand down to the Borg's buttock, squeezing it provocatively.

"You just keep telling yourself that, darling," she said with a husky chortle. "I'm sure one of us will believe it ... eventually."

If only Janeway hadn't made her so angry. The captain had been insufferably condescending ever since the first officer came on board, and Kelly had felt an irresistible need to prove that she was a lot stronger and smarter than Janeway realized ... than Janeway was herself. Kelly couldn't imagine a captain who would cheerfully submit to sedation and let a subordinate officer take her ship through a crucial and delicate navigational process like the subspace jump to the Beta Quadrant.

Kelly wondered bleakly how strong and smart the captain thought her first officer was now?

"Commander."

Kelly didn't want to open her eyes. The room spun most unpleasantly whenever she did, and she wondered why TJS resembled a hangover. Actually, the most excruciating hangover she had ever experienced was shortly after graduating Starfleet Academy. This was five times worse, and acquiring it certainly wasn't as much fun as that drunken night spent with her fellow students in the downtown bars of Marsport.

"Doctor," she managed. Her voice was a rasp, painful against a throat made raw from vomiting.

"How are we feeling?"

Kelly wondered if the doctor was normally that irritatingly pleasant, or if he was just putting it on for the commander's benefit. If the latter, she wished he'd stop. "Awful."

"That's to be expected, I'm afraid. Maybe this will help."

Kelly was forced to open her eyes when the doctor held forth a glass full of some thick liquid. It was green and appeared repulsively slimy. Kelly felt her stomach turn over, though she doubted there was anything left to come up.

"Oh God, take it away."

"Don't be childish," Lewis insisted. "Drink it. I promise, it'll make you feel better."

Kelly eyed him suspiciously but accepted the glass. Holding her breath, she gulped it down, relieved when it didn't taste as bad as it looked. To her surprise, she actually did feel better once she had finished swallowing.

"Why not a hypospray?" she asked, handing the now empty glass back.

"That wouldn't do anything for your esophagus and throat." A sparse man, with penetrating eyes and a fringe of dark hair around a bald head, his manner was fussy, yet somehow reassuring at the same time. Kelly was glad he was attending her. The ship's chief medical officer frankly intimidated her, and it wasn't only the knowledge Pulaski was actually an admiral rather than a commander as indicated by the three pips she wore on this mission.

"How is she?"

Kelly felt a little queasy again as she saw the aforementioned CMO looming over Lewis's shoulder. He frowned and shrugged, as if trying to brush the admiral off. "Do you mind?"

"No," Pulaski said flatly. "It is my sickbay, after all."

"And this is my patient."

Pulaski bristled and then subsided, as if there were some kind of line implied by his words that couldn't be crossed. "I just want to know if she's well enough to talk. If so, you have to report it to the captain."

Kelly felt like throwing up again, and the sympathetic glance the doctor threw in her direction did not quell the feeling.

"Why not ask her, then, instead of acting like she's not even here?"

Pulaski didn't roll her eyes, but Kelly had the impression she wanted to. The CMO looked forbiddingly down at the young woman. "Are you ready to get up, Commander?"

"I think so, Doctor," Kelly said meekly. She had a great respect for medical personnel after passing through more than a few MASH units on the Dominion front. The work the medical personnel had performed to keep countless wounded Starfleet officers alive had left a lasting impression on anyone who witnessed it firsthand.

Sitting up gingerly, Kelly clasped the sheet around her, realizing only then that she was naked. She wondered where her uniform was, and then suspected it had probably been cut off her, soiled as it was. She felt a flush of humiliation run through her, suspecting she'd never be able to fully recover from this stain on her reputation of being as tough as nails.

Pulaski seemed to notice her unease and nudged Lewis with her elbow. He hesitated, and then nodded, moving over to a nearby replicator. He brought back a uniform, complete with pips and a comm badge.

"The captain wants to have a word with you," Pulaski told her as she dressed.

"I'll bet she does," Kelly muttered.

The older woman's eyes narrowed as the flippant tone. "Can you blame her? Because of your lack of foresight, Lewis was busy helping you when he would normally be monitoring the ship for real emergencies. Not to mention the fact that..."

"Don't you have something else to do?" Lewis interrupted brightly. "Since you're a doctor and not the captain."

Pulaski shot him a look that would have seared flesh if it could, but she subsided. "The captain wants to see you in her ready room immediately," she said shortly and headed for her office.

Kelly would like to have showered and rid herself of the harsh, medicinal scents clinging to her body, but she suspected that delaying her appearance would only compound her transgressions in the captain's eyes. Undoubtedly, the CMO would alert Janeway that the first officer was finally up and around. Swallowing hard, Kelly headed for the turbolift, instructing it to take her to the bridge. There, she discovered Ro Laren holding the conn. The Bajoran turned the command chair around in order to observe Kelly as she crossed from the lift to the doors of the ready room.

"Go right in," Ro said, not unkindly, as the first officer reached for the admittance chime. "She's expecting you."

Kelly did so, coming to a stop in front of the captain's desk, stiffening to attention. This time, Janeway did not ask her to take a seat. Instead, she stared at her with an expression on her face that Kelly was hard-pressed to identify. It was midway between exasperation and a sort of weary patience, as if Kelly was a particularly balky child. The young woman felt resentment at the condescension surge strong within her, and she had to force it back so that it wouldn't display itself in her face.

"I understand you fancied yourself as some kind of a captain, Kiara," Janeway said finally, in a very mild tone that Kelly knew couldn't be truly indicative of what the captain was feeling.

"Yes, Captain," Kelly said, managing to remember Janeway's preference in terminology. Her satisfaction in pricking that pompous directive during their first encounter hadn't lasted long. Being referred to as Number One in the tone Janeway used was oddly worse than any demeaning name bestowed upon her by previous commanding officers. "I commanded the USS Grissom on the Breen Border for two years."

Janeway contemplated that, her jaw moving slightly, as if she were chewing over the words she was about to say. "Then perhaps you could tell me what you would do if, through sheer thoughtlessness, one of your officers deprived the ship of his services for four days."

Kelly inhaled sharply. She hadn't realized it had been that long. "I guess I would have to strip him of rank and throw him in the brig," she managed to respond.

Janeway lifted a brow slightly. "I suppose you would," she said dryly, in a way Kelly didn't like at all. "That would be the easiest method for dealing with this. However, it isn't a very pragmatic solution over the long term. I'd need security monitoring you constantly. I'd have to make sure you're fed and exercised at reasonable times. And the regulations for prisoner care even require that a certain amount of entertainment be provided for you. A year is a long time to have to carry around that kind of useless personnel, don't you think?"

"Yes, ma'am." Kelly could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She wondered if the captain could hear it. Surely, she could see the vein throbbing in her neck.

"There's always the nearest airlock, of course."

Janeway's tone was completely casual as she threw that out. Kelly's eyes widened, despite her best effort to remain impassive. She knew a captain's word was law in space. Technically, Janeway would be completely within her rights to space anyone she deemed a threat to the ship, and answer for it later to a Board of Inquiry ... not that the findings of such a board would do the person being spaced much good. It was a joke of sorts around Starfleet, and obviously, the captain had meant it that way, but at the moment, Kelly didn't find it particularly amusing.

"I do have one question."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What possessed you to refuse the medication? Surely you'd been informed that the transition jump had adverse effects on Humans born on Earth."

Kelly swallowed. "Yes, Captain, but I haven't been on Earth for almost ten years ... not including the meeting with Admiral Nechayev prior to being assigned to the Millennium. I believed that such long-term distance would be enough for me to withstand the effects." She faltered. "I had planned to administer the hypospray if the symptoms became too severe but ... I couldn't reach it when the seizures began."

There wasn't much Kelly could say to that, though she felt the deep sting of humiliation once more settling deep into her abdomen like acid eating away the lining of her stomach.

"You also occupied the attention of a medical team during a crucial stage of the jump when they should have been monitoring the well-being of the crew as a whole. Commander Ro has been forced to fill in for you, in addition to her regular duties, making for some very long days. That's a responsibility she's prepared to accept at any time, of course, but for her to have to do so because of a selfish, short-sighted decision made by someone who was supposedly informed and just didn't pay attention, is quite annoying to me."

"Yes, ma'am."

Janeway exhaled and leaned forward, her hands folded neatly on the desk as she peered at Kelly intently. "I supposed what it's proved is that your judgement is somewhat suspect. I don't know that I can trust you in the position you're in."

Kelly stiffened her jaw. She would love to be back on the Breen border where her crew not only trusted her, they did so with their lives, but all she said was "yes, ma'am" again, for what seemed like the hundredth time. She hated the fact that she felt so small, that Janeway was making her feel this way for what was no more than a command decision that hadn't quite panned out. No one was hurt but Kelly. She took full responsibility for that. Surely the high and mighty Janeway had made her share of mistakes.

Of course, a proper, stick-up-her-ass commander like Janeway probably hadn't moved an inch away from protocol during her entire career, being strictly by-the-book from day one. It was her type that had been killed off so early in the war, and worse, had taken a good portion of their crew with them. In fact, a captain with a demeanor similar to Janeway's had been Kelly's first CO. After Captain Felicity Cartwright and most of her senior staff had been killed during an imprudent skirmish with a Cardassian dreadnaught, Kelly and the rest of her security squad had made it to the bridge, managed to restore main power, elude the patrolling Jem'Hadar fighter and return to port, saving the rest of the crew trapped deep in the vessel's engineering section. Kelly had been promoted to lieutenant for that, but the cost, in her opinion, had been far too high.

Janeway was the last type of commander Kelly wanted to serve under or certainly ever wanted to be.

"For some reason, Starfleet thinks you deserve a chance." Janeway pursed her lips. "I suppose it's up to me to see that you get it. But I warn you, Commander Kelly, another mistake like this, and I'll seriously have to consider relieving you of duty, or at least, demoting you to somewhere where you won't do any harm. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Janeway exhaled. "Relieve Ro at the conn. She needs some rest." She dipped her head. "Dismissed."

Kelly turned on her heel, intent on walking out with her head held as high as she could. Despite her outward demeanor, inside she was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, absolutely furious. It wasn't until she accepted the conn from the security chief that she realized Janeway hadn't raised her voice once in the ready room, always maintaining the well-bred, modulated tone of Victorian prissiness that her first commanding officer had possessed.

Kelly wondered what kind of sorry-assed officer was impressed by it.

"Damn it." She dabbed ineffectually at her sleeve that had caught some of the random droplets. "Come."

Ro Laren entered the ready room, regarding the captain expectantly.

"You're off duty, Commander," Janeway said shortly. "Go get some sleep while you can. We'll be at Hearthstone in a couple of days, and there'll be no time for rest for either of us."

"Captain, if I may, I'd suggest the same thing for you." For Ro, it was a very daring comment, but the captain wasn't in the mood to pay attention to it.

"Is that what you came in here to tell me?"

The Bajoran lifted a brow. "No, I actually came in to ask if you and Seven would be our guests for dinner."

Janeway blinked. "Tonight?"

Ro winced slightly. "That would require B'Elanna or I to cook, and I don't believe that's a particularly good idea. We were thinking about when we arrive at Hearthstone. We'd like to treat you both to a really extravagant meal, the best they have."

Janeway leaned on her elbow, regarding Ro intently. "Thank you," she said finally, her anger temporarily waylaid by the unexpected invitation. Since Ro had reported for duty, she had been more open toward the captain,friendlier and even sociable to a certain extent, though the reticent Bajoran was never going to be effusive. Janeway wondered what the security officer had learned about herself to make her act this way. Perhaps the captain would have Seven ask B'Elanna about it. She'd have to be subtle about it, though. Seven had learned discretion over the years, though it had required some hard lessons at times.

"And I'm curious."

Janeway blinked. "About?"

"I know you must have done something about Kelly, but she didn't seem particularly scorched when she came out ... merely annoyed."

Janeway felt her jaw clench. That was the last thing she needed to hear. Perhaps she had been far too contained while dealing with the woman, overcompensating when what she really wanted to do was pick Kelly up by the scruff of her neck and toss her ass into the brig. "Well, that's just perfect."

"You know, Captain, maybe you were correct. Maybe she does need a friend in the senior staff."

"To gang up on me?" Janeway's tone was sour.

Ro smiled faintly. "To figure out how she perceives you. I mean, with all due respect, Captain, your reasonable little lectures can peel the paint off a bulkhead. If it had no effect on her, then it has to be because she doesn't know exactly what she's dealing with."

"I'm her commanding officer," Janeway barked, and was immediately embarrassed to have shown that much anger to her security chief. "She should respect that if nothing else."

"In the Starfleet we know, then yes, but I wonder if that's the same Starfleet she's familiar with." Ro tilted her head. "A lot of things changed during the war. Not only are the ranking officers a lot younger, they saw and did some really horrible things. Subtlety can become lost on them."

Janeway, confronted with this differing perspective, took a moment to consider it. "Perhaps you're right, Commander." She lifted her eyes to meet the Bajoran's dark gaze. "Maybe I do need to find more about what makes her tick."

"I'll speak with her, Captain. It's possible that she won't feel as ... threatened by me."

"Frankly, Laren, I'd be thrilled if she were threatened by me. That would be an improvement over the ... lack of respect I sense from her. I have no idea where it's coming from."

"I'll find out."

Janeway thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "All right," she said, hoping she wouldn't have cause to regret it.

As she returned to her quarters, she was disappointed to discover that Seven wasn't home yet, undoubtedly working on settling in the new members of her science department and developing the organizational structure for this second year of exploration. Falling back onto an old remedy, the captain went into the ensuite where she drew a hot bath, filling the large, lavish tub that was her one concession to luxury on board Millennium. Various oils and salts were added with the precision of a chemist creating an explosive compound, and after lighting a few candles, retrieving a glass of wine, and programming a selection of low music over the speakers, Janeway slipped into the silky water with a sigh of pure bliss. This never let her down, she thought. Stress didn't stand a chance against this kind of pampering.

That was how Seven found her when the Borg finally returned home. Standing in the doorway of the ensuite, hands linked behind her back, Seven observed her spouse with quiet pleasure. Janeway, leaning back against the smooth surface of the tub, gradually became aware of the scrutiny and opened her eyes lazily.

"Hello, darling."

"You look very comfortable, Kathryn."

"Oh, I am." Janeway stretched her arms above her head, feeling the trickles of moisture slide sensually down her skin. She eyed her partner measuringly. "Care to join me?"

Seven smiled briefly. "I fear you have been in there long enough. Your fingers have become wrinkled."

Janeway sighed and examined her fingertips as Seven disappeared. Before long, delicious scents wafted from the direction of the living area, tickling the captain's nostrils and luring her from the haven of hot water. After wrapping herself in a fluffy, terrycloth robe, she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers and shuffled out to the living area where Seven already had the table set and dinner prepared. Janeway didn't mind replicated fare for a change. Seven's programming skills were still vastly superior than any other source of nutrition on the ship, certainly better than her own.

After dinner, Janeway continued her favorite methods of easing stress by moving into the bedroom with an old fashioned book, curling up under the covers as she perused the adventures of a feisty young woman in 17^th Century England and a pirate captain who was intent on capturing her heart, along with various other parts of her anatomy. Seven found such literature puerile, but accepted her partner's taste in reading material in much the same manner that Janeway viewed the various sculptures decorating their quarters: with amused tolerance. While Janeway read, the Borg caught up on some personal projects at the workstation. She strolled into the bedroom just as Janeway finished a particularly steamy passage involving heaving bosoms, throbbing shafts and lots of warm, wanton womanhood ablaze with fevered passion.

The Borg paused at the foot of the bed as Janeway's eyes lit upon her, accurately judging the expression in her spouse's gaze. Without saying a word, Seven slowly began to remove her uniform, dropping each item of clothing deliberately on the deck and lingering briefly before going onto the next. A slow smile spread across Janeway's face as she tossed the book aside on the nightstand and leaned back against the pillows, observing the striptease with considerable enjoyment and anticipation.

This was her favorite stress reliever of all.

"What is it you wish me to be tonight?" Seven asked when she finished undressing, standing completely nude before the captain.

"Your lovely self will be more than fine, darling."

"Not a pirate captain or the kidnapped damsel?"

"Were you reading my book?"

"It is not necessary to read it," Seven said with a touch of disdain as she crawled onto the bed from the bottom, her narrow features altered into something predatory, causing a thrill to resonate throughout the captain. "The cover image is quite indicative of what it is about."

Janeway slipped her arms around Seven's neck, drawing her down onto her and capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss that would match and supercede any described in her novel. Seven settled onto her with a light pressure, her body warm even through the blankets that suddenly felt too restrictive.

"Umph, Seven, the sheets."

Seven rose briefly and abruptly the bedding was on the other side of the room, leaving Janeway lying exposed on the mattress. The captain's t-shirt soon followed, in three separate pieces. That was why the captain had given up wearing delicate sleepwear and silk nightgowns, tired of choosing one with an eye for feminine appeal only to have it end up in tatters. It wasn't even Seven's fault. The captain usually lost her head in the heat of the moment and demanded the Borg remove the garment as expeditiously as possible. The t-shirts were much easier to tear and took less of the ship's energy to replicate.

Seven straddled the captain, pinning her to the bed as she correctly assessed her mood and determined that Janeway wanted her to be aggressive this night. Her juncture rested on Janeway's loins, and the captain could feel the wet heat of it moistening her triangular mat of auburn hair. Running her hands restlessly over Seven's thighs, she felt the soft skin over firm muscles that flexed as the Borg undulated slightly, stimulating herself. Looking up at her, Janeway was struck by the sheer beauty of her spouse, of the intent expression on her narrow features, the blonde hair falling loose over her shoulders like a golden waterfall.

She inhaled sharply as Seven covered the captain's breasts with her hands, teasing the tips with her palms. Janeway's lips parted, mouth open as she arched, pressing into the caress, her nipples hardening with almost painful intensity.

"Kiss me," she demanded breathlessly.

Seven smiled and leaned down, covering her mouth possessively, kissing the captain as hard as she could without hurting her. Janeway tangled her hands in the Borg's hair, holding her head to her, her tongue exploring Seven's mouth deeply, suddenly needing her so much, it made her feel faint. Seven released her mouth and began to trail down her body, pausing at the captain's breasts to lick and suck them, tonguing the nipples roughly. Janeway tolerated it for as long as she could, the sensation deliciously maddening, and then touched the Borg's cheek, urging her downward.

Seven smiled, turning her head to briefly kiss the captain's fingertips, and then nibbled a delicate trail over Janeway's stomach, spearing her navel briefly with the stiffened tip of her tongue. Janeway squirmed and moaned, responding to the young woman as Seven parted the captain's legs with firm hands, her breath a searing rush of air over the sensitive flesh, alerting it to the delight that would follow.

Clenching her fists, Janeway covered her eyes with her forearms as Seven tasted her, the young woman's tongue probing firmly, then laving the captain lovingly, alternating long, slow strokes with darting flutters over the sensitive nodule that swelled beneath the provocative caress. Seven's strong hands cupped Janeway's buttocks, holding her off the bed as she continued the loving assault. Suddenly, the Borg found that magic combination of oral manipulation that drove Janeway completely over the edge. Tensing, the captain cried out, the sound muffled by her arms, shuddering as the pleasure rippled through her body.

Inhaling deeply, Janeway felt the tremors subside as Seven let her go, moving up to find the captain's mouth and kissing in the way she knew her spouse needed to be kissed in that moment. Tasting herself on the Borg's lips was incredibly arousing, and Janeway reached down with her right hand, sliding it between their bodies to touch Seven, unsurprised by the lavish moisture she discovered that covered her fingers with silky essence. Seven groaned quietly and pressed against the captain's hand, increasing the contact.

"Look at me."

Janeway's tone was soft but compelling. Seven raised her head with helpless passion, captured by the captain's intent gaze, boring into the brilliant blue irises. Janeway watched as the young woman's eyes grew darker, the pupils expanding, becoming more unfocused as her fondling of Seven steadily increased in both tempo and firmness of stroke. Finally, it became too much for the Borg and she closed her eyes, her head falling back.

"Kathryn," she said, the word a hiss through clenched teeth. The sinews in Seven's neck were taut cords of tension, her jaw quivering as the spasms rippled through her. Her right arm, curved around Janeway's shoulders, pulled the captain to her, while the other, bracketing Janeway, palm flat on the sheet, pressed deeply into the mattress.

Janeway rode it out, squeezed against the lanky body of her spouse, her fingers never stopping in their tender regard as she guided her partner through her climax. Finally, Seven released her and the captain took a deep breath as the Borg relaxed against her side, her head falling onto Janeway's shoulder.

"Kathryn." A whisper, almost lost against the warm skin of the captain's neck.

Janeway hugged her, cherishing this brief moment of togetherness when she knew the Borg was completely hers, mind, body and soul.

"That was most wonderful, Kathryn."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." She cupped Seven's cheek, kissing her tenderly. "You're so beautiful at that moment, so very vulnerable."

"So are you," Seven told her with a touch of amusement. "I believe that if any of the crew saw you just then, they would finally know the true Kathryn."

"Then, it's a good thing they can't. There are entirely enough people on this ship who want to challenge my authority."

Seven considered the words, so lightly said, but suspecting a deeper meaning. "Who is challenging you, Kathryn? Commander Kelly?"

Janeway was silent, as if regretful that she had revealed that much. "I don't want to go into that now, darling," she said finally. "We're still working things out and it isn't appropriate for me to discuss it with you."

Seven considered that. The note in her partner's voice was the sort that was very specific. She wasn't going to talk about it and pressing her would only make her angry without providing the information Seven required. "Very well, Kathryn."

Janeway lifted her head, eyeing her speculatively. "I'm more curious about someone else."

"Who?"

"Ro Laren. I've noticed that she's been a lot more relaxed and forthcoming since returning to Millennium."

"That is to be expected." Too late, Seven realized that was exactly what her partner had been fishing for: an indication that the Borg knew what was going on. She squeezed her partner admonishingly and Janeway laughed softly.

"Well?"

Seven exhaled audibly. "B'Elanna tells me that Laren felt as if she had let you down regarding the investigation with Peter Martin," she revealed. "When you spoke with her on Mars, you indicated failure, or even the perception of failure, was not the important thing. It was in the attempt that a person is judged. Ro deemed that very significant. B'Elanna also helped her realize that the aspects of the case where she felt she had failed, were those where she operated on her own, such as interpreting information, or going after the perpetrator in the Gamma Hangar."

Janeway's expression became pensive. "Ro isn't an investigator.  Not like Tuvok, or someone in Starfleet Intelligence. She's wonderful at gathering information. She's wonderful at acting on it when she knows what it indicates, but she's not as good at interpreting it, not like you and B'Elanna. You two can look at information and intuitively understand what it means and what the best way to handle it would be. That's not a failing in Ro, it's just a unique gift that you and B'Elanna share. I should have involved both of you in the investigation sooner."

"Perhaps." Seven thought about it. "Laren needed to learn how to call on all her resources, including her crewmates and her superiors. B'Elanna believes that Ro finally understands she is a part of a larger whole, not just intellectually but in her ... I believe B'Elanna referred to it as her 'gut'. It was that understanding that allowed her to return to this vessel." She studied her spouse's face. "Your visit to her was very important, Kathryn. Ro needed to know you believed in her. She needed to believe in herself. What concerns me is that on Millennium, we become so isolated by virtue of our various departments. I rarely work in engineering, B'Elanna rarely has the opportunity to pursue scientific endeavors, and Ro does not have the opportunity to do either, yet we each have abilities that would be useful in areas other than where we ordinarily function."

"That's how the chain of command works," Janeway said quietly. "You've each become the head of your respective specialties. That added responsibility prevents you from doing everything that you could on Voyager."

"But those traits, the ability to be more than just an ordinary officer in a single specialty, is why we were placed in positions of authority." Seven was honestly confused. "Would it not be more prudent to leave us in positions where our unique abilities can be applied to any problem at any time?"

Janeway was silent for a long moment. "I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe you're right. Maybe that's the inherent flaw in the chain of command. As you go up the ladder, the less freedom you have in applying your skills. Instead, you're expected to pass on those skills to others, to direct those who serve you to apply their abilities in the same way you would."

"Is there no way to have both?"

"I'm not sure." A muscle jumped lightly in Janeway's jaw. "I'll have to think about it. You're right when you say the ship is deprived of your skills in certain areas simply because of the way it was structured. I can't believe that's good for us. Yet, that's the way it's always been." She dropped her head to Seven's shoulder. "Of course, Starfleet hasn't encountered anyone like you before. Having you around makes me the most fortunate captain in the fleet, and it's not just for your unique abilities." Idly, she reached up and cupped Seven's breast, holding it in her hand as if weighing it, evaluating its texture and firmness.

"Is that one of other reasons?"

Janeway blinked and then laughed sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I guess my hand isn't quite connected to my brain."

Seven pressed into the warm grasp. "So your body is responding to something