CHAPTER 24

“DiCampo, would you please join me in my office?”

The adjunct officer of Utopia Planetia’s Logistics and Supply department looked up from the PADD he was studying and rubbed his eyes. The request might have been politely phrased but was a command nonetheless. He rose and walked down the hall to his supervisor’s office.

“Yes, Commander? What did you need?”

“What I need, DiCampo, is my second-in-command doing his job. You were supposed to have the Praetoria and T’solek refit audits on my desk by this morning. Where are they?” To reinforce his point Lieutenant Commander Nixon rummaged through the pile of PADDS on his desk spreading them into a disorganized mess.

“Sir, I personally placed those reports on your desk this morning. If I may?”

DiCampo hesitated until Nixon nodded then reached into the pile and withdrew a PADD with a small red dot on its face.

“Here you are, sir. You’ll find both files on this PADD. Is there anything else you need right now?”

Nixon scowled at the younger man and snapped, “Not at the moment. What are you working on now?”

“I’m reviewing the preliminary Voyager requisitions. For some reason the incoming requisitions for that refit have slowed considerably in the past three weeks. Voyager was a top priority at the beginning of the month; all we saw were Voyager requisitions. Now we barely see any. I want to know why.”

Waving him out of the office Nixon growled. “All right, whatever. Just keep me posted.” Di Campo nodded and returned to his office.

At his workstation he keyed in commands to download all of the requisitions for the Voyager refit cross-referenced by issuing officer. While he waited for the final report to be compiled he walked into the office workroom and got a fresh cup of coffee. He noticed idly that McDeere’s mug wasn’t hanging in its usual spot. On his way back to his office he glanced into hers and saw her working at her terminal. In a way he was glad Nixon was as slippery as he was. That way, when he showed McDeere for the back-stabbing, disloyal bitch she really was he’d reap the rewards of giving Nixon what he had so desperately desired for the past three and a half years: McDeere’s head on a platter. DiCampo wanted the woman gone too but for entirely different reasons. He was ambitious and with McDeere out of the picture he was a lock to command L&S when Nixon moved on.

He had never forgotten the tirade Nixon had delivered when his repeated attempts to have McDeere transferred from his unit had been curtly refused, the final one with a formal reprimand for his ‘apparent inability to function within command strictures’. Granted, Nixon had been drunk at the time, but DiCampo knew that all the Aldebraan whiskey had done was loosen the usual restraints on his politically savvy boss’s tongue. Nixon had hated McDeere from the moment she reported for duty. There were several awards for valor on her dress tunic which further alienated her from the rest of the department. She had escaped the worst of Nixon’s wrath by maintaining a low profile and doing her job in an exemplary manner. When he was provided with no ammunition with which to discipline her, Nixon eventually backed off and ignored her as much as possible. But DiCampo could see what others in the unit couldn’t: Nixon still hated the woman. And now he was about to give his C.O. all the rope he would need to hang her out to dry and secure his own future at the same time.

Sitting back down at his desk he quickly scanned the requisition logs. From the time Captain Janeway had taken the L&S staff on the survey tour of the ship until a little over a month ago the requisitions seemed unremarkable. But just about six weeks ago the volume of requisitions seemed to drop off suddenly. And now he knew why. DiCampo quickly scanned McDeere’s logs and then went back to the top for a more detailed analysis. He’d found where the Voyager requisitions had gone: directly to McDeere who promptly gave all of them a grade one priority and sent them on.

Typically, a requisition sat in an “in” basket for at least a week while a clerk searched for the cheapest suppliers or those on the ‘most favored’ supplier list before routing the suggested supplier list to an authorizing officer. But it seemed as though all of Voyager’s requisitions were being routed to McDeere personally. She had then immediately authorized the Voyager requisitions and forwarded them to what the department called ‘premium suppliers’. They were suppliers who charged higher prices but whose quality control protocols were unimpeachable. So basically, McDeere was making sure that Voyager got the highest quality equipment and seeing to it that the supplies were expedited to boot. Both of which were against departmental protocols. A small smile touched his lips. He had her now.

* * * * *

The tropical sun beating down on her made Kathryn drowsy as she lay on a chaise by the pool. The soft splashes of Seven swimming some laps were a dim background note to the rustling of palm fronds in the breeze. She wasn’t aware of when the rhythmic sounds of swimming stopped. It wasn’t until she felt the sunlight dim that she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at her dripping spouse.

Seven had been swimming in the nude and resembled Venus arising from the depths as water dripped off her body. She grabbed a towel and languidly began to blot the moisture off. Janeway just smiled and enjoyed the vision before her.

Seven’s smile approached a leer as much as any of her small smiles could. “Are you enjoying the view, Kathryn?”

“Very much so, darling. You never fail to take my breath away. Are you tired of swimming?”

“No, Kathryn. I wish to explore with you.”

“Explore what with me?”

“Come with me and I will show you.” Seven dropped the towel and extended her hand to Janeway. Without hesitation Janeway reached out for it and allowed her spouse to pull her to her feet.

They held hands as Seven led the way into their bedroom. She wrapped Janeway in her arms and kissed her softly. When they were settled on the bed in each other’s arms Seven began to explain her plans between lingering kisses. Everything was going well until…

“B’Elanna gave you a…a what as a wedding present?” Janeway sputtered.

“I am sure she intended it as a joke, Kathryn, but when I thought about it I realized it might be something that we would enjoy. It is, after all, a sex toy. You have often said that our lovemaking should be fun as well as meaningful. Are not toys instrumental in having fun?”

Janeway didn’t have a ready reply for that one so she let it go. “So let me see if I’ve got this right. B’Elanna gave you a…a dildo to take on our honeymoon? How the hell are you supposed to…to wear it? Didn’t they used to call those things ‘strap-ons’? Do you have to strap it on?”

“No, it is a strapless strap-on, Kathryn.”

“A what? That’s not…how does it…” Janeway surrendered before a massive headache hit. “Well, let’s see this toy, shall we?” Seven rolled away from her and withdrew something from the nightstand’s top drawer. When she rolled back toward her Janeway’s eyes widened sharply.

It was bright red in color and one end did vaguely resemble the shape of an erect male appendage – if the appendage in question was shaped like a long, slender dolphin. The other end had a bulbous protuberance and connected to the… dolphin… end with a series of ridges. It was one of the strangest looking things Janeway had ever seen.

“I know I’m going to regret asking this, but how does it work? Did it come with directions?”

“After suitable foreplay one partner inserts the bulbous part into her vagina. The ridges here allow for her clitoral stimulation as the toy is utilized. The other partner is pleasured with the long end and these small bumps here allow for her clitoral stimulation.”

“Uh huh. I see. And how do you plan for us to use it?”

Seven hesitated for a long moment. “I have never had intimate relations with a male, Kathryn, and you have said several times that I am somewhat…tight. I think that I can accommodate the smaller bulbous end if you can accommodate the longer one. Would you be willing to try?”

Janeway eyed the accessory again and realized how deeply she was committed to this marriage. “I’m game if you are. I don’t mean to be indelicate, but does it come with any additional lubricant? Not that you don’t arouse me sufficiently under normal circumstances, but it’s been quite a while since I needed to… accommodate something and a little extra lubrication wouldn’t hurt.”

“A jar of lubricant was included with the toy.”

Suppressing a hysterical laugh Janeway nuzzled Seven under the ear, teasingly licked across the starburst implant there and whispered, “Then what are we waiting for?” in her ear.

Gentle kisses became more intense and soft caresses drifted into deliberately arousing touches. Breathing quickened, temperatures rose and skin glowed with a sheen of sweat. Seven drew back from a kiss and regarded Janeway almost hesitantly.

“Kathryn, I believe…if we are going to…we need to…are you ready?”

Janeway’s reply was as much gasp as anything. “Yes, love. I’m more than ready.”

Seven took the toy and opened the jar of lube. Dipping her fingers into the silky substance she covered the bulbous end and reached down to insert it. She stopped when Janeway grasped her hand.

“Let me, darling,” she rasped and gently inserted it into her wife, jiggling it a little to make sure it was firmly in place.

Seven’s eyes widened as she gasped, “Kathryn!”

Janeway drew back in alarm, “Did I hurt you?”

Seven pulled her back in close. “No, Kathryn, you did not hurt me. The feeling is…intense, that is all. The ridges are extremely efficient in accomplishing their task.” Janeway noted a distinct flush on Seven’s features and she was definitely breathing faster. She began to think that this might be more fun than she had originally thought.  Dipping back into the jar she began to coat the length of the toy with lubricant. Seven’s breathing intensified into small pants as she did so.

“Are you all right?”

“I am…fine. It is just…each time you move the toy it stimulates me.” Seven gulped quickly, pulled Janeway down and kissed her deeply. When their lips parted she whispered harshly, “I want you, Kathryn. I want us to climax together in each other’s arms. Now, Kathryn. Please?”

Janeway’s blood pounded in her ears both from the kiss and from Seven’s desire. She straddled her wife and gently pressed the long end against her vulva. She slid it forward to touch the bundle of nerves that were crying out for attention then back to her inner lips and eased it inside. She gave a small gasp as the head slid across a particular place inside and then settled her weight on her hands as she sank down to accept it fully.

“Darling, please don’t move for a minute. I need a moment…oh, God!”

Janeway couldn’t help herself; she began slowly sliding herself up and back down the shaft. Seven was moaning softly and reached up to fondle her breasts, her fingertips pinching and squeezing the hardened nipples. Janeway thought the top of her head might blow off as she and Seven found the primal rhythm and began to move together smoothly.

“Darling, I’m so close…I can’t...” she gasped.

“So am I…don’t stop, please!” Seven gasped as their pace increased. Janeway felt her belly clench and looked down at Seven as she reached her summit and froze for one endless moment before collapsing as the orgasm swept her away. A moment later Seven cried out beneath her. Janeway’s arms nearly gave way as the spasms eased and felt Seven wrap her arms tightly around her. Smoothly, without any hesitation, the taller woman rolled Janeway beneath her and began pumping steadily, driving the toy. Janeway felt her passion rise again and she reached to draw Seven into a kiss. Reason fled as each surrendered to the heat of the other.

Lost in the sensation, lost in each other, lost in their passion the women sought release and found it together, their cries fading as they collapsed nerveless together in each other’s arms.

* * * * *

Admiral Chapman was finishing up a routine conference call when an alert icon began to flash in the upper right corner of his screen. Knowing his technical chief wouldn’t cut in on a meeting unless the matter was urgent, he quickly wrapped the business up and disconnected the video link. Fingers dancing over the control surfaces of his workstation he hailed Rekar.

“Garan? Do you have something for me?”

“Yes, Admiral, I do. I’ve discovered something extremely interesting. Would you mind coming down to the labs? It will be easier to demonstrate my discovery with the equipment we have here.”

“Give me a couple of minutes to clear my desk and I’ll be down.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Ten minutes later the door of the Intelligence Directorate’s technical division whirred open to admit the highly decorated Admiral.

“What did you discover, Rekar?”

“It appears to be adapted technology, Admiral. The base technology appears to have been modified from the Founders. It may originally have been issued to the Jem’Hadar during the War. This is a personal transporter, Admiral. And it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before. I’d say it was alien technology except that the activation and programming interfaces are pure Starfleet.”

Chapman’s command mask hid his dismay. “Starfleet?”

“The original technology is alien, but has been modified to accept a standard Starfleet tricorder and PADD interface. You can program the beam-out destination using either the tricorder or a PADD in advance. Then, if you get into trouble you just hit the activation interface and you’re gone. Right to where you programmed it to send you. The unit is so small that it can be concealed in the hidden pocket of a pair of trousers or even in the cuff of a tunic or jacket sleeve. One quick touch on the activation interface and you’re somewhere else. We haven’t had time to really break down the programming parameters, but I’m willing to bet that you could program as many as three destinations and using a tapped code on the activation interface, tell the transporter which one you want to use. We’ve got nothing like this available to our operatives and it would be immensely useful to them.”

“Where do you think it comes from, Garan?”

The Dokkarian looked Chapman directly in the eyes as he responded. “The Intelligence Directorate hasn’t got anything close to this. Neither does the Research Directorate or Starfleet Security. The only place it could come from is Section 31. They were the only operation funded well enough to develop something this advanced.” Unspoken communication passed between the men. Chapman nodded.

“Keep working on it. I want to know everything about how it works and if we can duplicate it for our own use. Needless to say this information is classified Top Secret. Keep your notes on a secure PADD and your communications limited to my office on the omicron channel only.”

Rekar nodded. “Understood, Admiral.”

Once back in his office Chapman stared unseeing at the vista outside his windows. His worst fears had just been confirmed: it was very likely that they hadn’t disbanded Section 31 on Mars. They may not have even damaged the clandestine unit. Chapman had suspicions that the capture of the operatives and data terminals on the Mars facility was almost too easy. Granted, Janeway and her crew had been prompt with their rescue mission, but the ease of their operation was telling. Chapman feared that Starfleet had been fed a red herring when they captured that medical facility. The reality was that Section 31 was alive and well and hiding in plain sight.

* * * * *

Later that afternoon, Admiral Chapman extended an innocuous dinner invitation to Admiral Merritt Ross, head of Starfleet’s Tactical Directorate. The two men met at a venerable and discreet private club in the financial district. Both wore civilian clothes and gave every outward appearance of being middle-aged bankers having a routine business dinner. But the topic of their conversation was about as far from banking business as it could be.

“So I gave the device to Rekar and he worked on it until he had a good idea of what it is. It’s a personal transporter. Looks like something the Founders came up with that’s been adapted with Starfleet interfaces.”

“Starfleet interfaces? You’re kidding, right? And your department has had nothing to do with any technology like it? I know we haven’t.” Ross’ handsome face was clouded at this news. “That means…damn!” He looked across the table at his dinner companion. “Then our gut feelings were right. We didn’t shut them down, did we?”

Chapman shook his head. “I think it may be worse than that. I think what we found may have been a red herring to throw us off the track. I’m afraid that we didn’t even put a dent in their operation. That Section 31 is stronger than ever and still operating right under our noses.”

“So a Starfleet Rear Admiral was just a front? Richardson was just a sacrificial lamb to make us think we’d broken them?”

“I’m beginning to think so. I’m sure they were behind the assault on the Free Borg at Medical the other day and I’d bet Rob Patterson is thinking the same thing. He got very quiet when I called him with the information on the transporter this afternoon.” Chapman threw his napkin on the linen tablecloth.  “Merritt, we’re going to have to take some precautions. If we’re right and Section 31 is still an operational entity then this whole Borg incursion will be a call to arms for them. Seven of Nine will be in even greater danger and I’d bet that Janeway is on their hit list too. If nothing else they’d use her to get to Seven now that they’re married.”

“Do we have assets in place to start working on this?”

“I’ll put out a general alert to our operatives to watch for indications. But I can’t shake the feeling that they’re close to us; that the safest place for them to hide is out in the open. And the bastards are arrogant enough to be working right under our noses.”

“I’d agree with you. They’re probably keeping a low profile but I’d suspect that they’re closer than we’d imagined too. I’m going to have my people do a sweep of the Headquarters complex and of the larger Starfleet facilities in the area. We probably need to cover Utopia Planetia and McKinley too.”

“I’ve got a good man undercover on Mars. He’s been keeping a weather eye out but I’m going to bring him in and brief him fully. He needs to know what he might be up against.”

“Alan, should we bring Rob Patterson and Owen Paris in on this? Don’t you think we need all the manpower we can get looking for Section 31?”

“You’re probably right. How do you feel about a game of golf tomorrow afternoon? I’ll get a tee time at the Presidio course and get Rob and Owen to come along.”

Admiral Ross nodded in agreement. “It’s time to put an end to Section 31 once and for all.”

* * * * *

The next afternoon the four admirals met in the clubhouse at the Presidio Golf Course. The round of golf was unremarkable for all of them, but the topics of conversation during the game were anything but. When the golf game was complete, they adjourned to the bar for sandwiches. The discussion continued there.

“So you’re convinced that what we uncovered on Mars was just a smokescreen?” asked Owen Paris. He and Rob Patterson were fairly upset at the news Admirals Chapman and Ross had delivered to them during their round.

“I don’t want to believe we were taken in like that, Owen, but events of the past couple of days make me think that we were. I’m afraid those files and so-called ‘operatives’ were just cannon fodder to be sacrificed. You’ve been interrogating those people since the raid on Mars. Have you uncovered anything substantive in what they’ve told you?”

Admiral Patterson spoke up. “We’ve obtained information that is being checked out. But I think that’s part of the smokescreen. Everything they tell us requires us to expend time and resources to check out and until we do we’re just spinning our wheels. Have we obtained anything substantive? In truth, no, I don’t believe we have.”

“So you think they’ve sent us on a wild goose chase too?”

“Yes, Owen, I’m afraid I do,” replied Ross. “But instead of getting upset that we were taken in, I suggest we get together and figure out how to uncover what Section 31’s really up to. But that raid on Mars wasn’t useless. We can use that as a smokescreen too. If Section 31 is convinced that we think we’ve broken them they’ll begin to operate in the open again. If we’re ready then we can uncover and destroy their operation once and for all.”

“So we just play dumb? Act like we’ve taken their bait?”

“Well, not dumb, exactly. But yes, we act like we’ve accepted that their operation is finished. In the meanwhile, we utilize our most trusted people to keep digging to uncover where they’ve gone to ground. I’m convinced that Section 31 is right under our noses. If we keep behaving like we’re convinced we found them and very quietly have just a few of our best people working on finding them and reporting only to us then I think we can spring a trap and really shut them down.”

“Are we in agreement? That there’s a viable threat here?”

All four men nodded. “All right then, we’re in agreement. Now we have to decide where to start. Section 31 is operating a lot closer to us than we think. They’ll want to be as near to the power centers of the Federation as they can. They’ve been so successful in the past because we had our forces scattered all over the quadrant searching frantically for them. What safer place to be than right here where we’d assume they couldn’t operate undiscovered?”

“How close do you think?”

Chapman considered his reply carefully. “I’d almost bet that their base of operations is located somewhere in the Starfleet Terran triangle: the headquarters complexes here in San Francisco, our McKinley Station and Trident Moonbase complexes and finally Utopia Planetia and the bases on Mars. Think about it: the traffic between those three locations is very heavy; starships come and go all the time and personnel are rotated in, out and through those facilities in huge numbers. What better place to hide clandestine operations? Their operatives would just blend into the Starfleet background. They’d be lost in the shuffle.”

“So we focus our investigation in those three areas? That’s a good idea. At least for a start.”

Ross suggested, “We need to confine the investigation to only our most trusted operatives. Select secret operatives reporting only to us. If we let it get beyond that the risk that we’ll alert Section 31 is just too great. No chain of command, no paper trail. The four of us coordinate. Perhaps a weekly golf game?” His eyes twinkled at the prospect. “Who knows…if we don’t find Section 31 right away maybe we’ll get in enough practice that one of us will beat Neil at the annual golf tournament.”

* * * * *

Captain Martin noticed Max when he boarded the shuttle. Grinning at the younger man he settled in the next seat and strapped in.

“Hello, Lieutenant Timmerman. Headed to HQ?”

“Good morning, Captain. Not HQ, but close. I’m due for diagnostics on my legs at Starfleet Medical.” Max had lost his legs in a plasma explosion on his first starship posting. The cybernetic limbs he’d been fitted with disqualified him for starship duty but allowed him to remain on active duty in a staff posting. “How about you?”

Sighing heavily Martin replied “’A MIDAS Array Interlink Software Upgrade Seminar’. I don’t know why they insist we attend these things in person; I suppose the idea is for us to have hands on. Personally, I’d rather just download the information to a PADD and let my comm personnel figure it out and teach the rest of us. Waste of a morning if you ask me. Unfortunately though, I don’t make those decisions. So here I am, on my way to HQ.”

“I didn’t see you in the Commissary this morning.”

“No, I had some cereal and coffee at home. I’m still getting used to the concept of having my own quarters off base. I’m too used to BOQ for my own good. The realization that I can program my replicator to have a full breakfast ready for me before I head to my office still amazes me. I roll out of my rack; take my morning run, shower, dress and poof! Breakfast is waiting for me in the kitchen when I finish. Blows me away.”

Max laughed. “Just so you don’t get too used to it. Ethan and I would miss your company if you did.”

The two officers conversed easily on the short shuttle flight. At the Transport Center they headed in separate directions after agreeing to meet for dinner that evening.

Martin entered the Headquarters complex and checked the directory for the location of the Education and Training workshops. He took the ‘lift to the third floor and joined a line of officers registering for the seminar. Just before he got to the registration screens he was jostled and felt the burn of hot liquid on his arm. Looking down he watched as steaming coffee soaked the sleeve of his tunic.

“Oh damn! I’m sorry, Captain. I’m such a klutz!” He glanced down at the mousy-looking young woman holding a half-empty mug next to his sopping arm. Hunched shoulders and jerky motions only served to accentuate the myopic blinking of her eyes and her stained lab coat gave ample evidence of her claim of poor coordination. A nest of various styli, pocket rulers and writing instruments in the chest pocket of her lab coat brought one ancient word to his mind: nerd. He suddenly realized where the word came from. The impression only enhanced by the owlish look of her eyes behind thick glasses.

“It’s all right, Ms…?”

“Glenn, …Rebecca Glenn. I’m so sorry, Captain. My lab is…is right around the corner; would you like to use my replicator to take care of your tunic?” Blinking rapidly, she stammered out her offer.

Looking down at the rapidly spreading stain he made a quick decision. “That’s very kind of you, Ms. Glenn. Thank you.”

She pivoted away from him and started off down the corridor. Quick, bird-like steps reminded him of a small creature scurrying away from a predator. Two doors down the adjacent corridor she stopped suddenly and punched in a security code on the door pad. She quickly entered the lab. As the door shut behind him, she turned back to face him.

“I’m sorry, Captain, the replicator is just over here.” She pointed to a wall unit on his left.

“Thanks.” He quickly shed his tunic and pressed his thumb on the biometric scanner. Once his identity was confirmed the computer accessed his personal files for the correct programming parameters of his uniform tunic and decorations. While he waited he turned back to his young escort.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but why do you wear glasses? Can’t your vision be corrected?”

“I’m allergic to the drugs and the surgeries only seem to help for a little while. It’s just simpler to get thicker glasses when things get blurry.”

“I see.” He turned away and took his fresh tunic from the replicator. Shrugging into it, he turned back to her. As he did she reached up and slowly removed her glasses.

It was as if she shed an outer skin. Shoulders squared, hunched back straightened. Nondescript eyes now flashed with humor and what had seemed like shaggy hair in need of a trim suddenly seemed bouncing and healthy. He took a cautionary step backwards.

“What’s going on here?”

“Let me introduce myself, Captain. I’m Lieutenant Commander Hunt of Starfleet Security. Admiral Patterson asked me to make your disappearance from the seminar unnoticed. You can come out now, Paul.”

From behind a side door a young officer of roughly the same size and physical appearance of Martin emerged, dressed as a Marine Captain and carrying a lab coat.

“Lieutenant Commander? What are you…twenty? There’s no way you can be a Lieutenant Commander!”

Her laugh was engaging. “I’m older than I look, Captain Martin. Put the lab coat on over your tunic. Give it two minutes after Paul and I return to the seminar and go the opposite direction down the corridor from the seminar room. Take the first ‘lift you come to up to the fifth floor. The Admiral is waiting in room 522.”

The young operative waited until Martin had donned the lab coat. She nodded briefly and slipped on the thick glasses once more. Just that quickly the vibrant Security officer was replaced by the science nerd and she and the ersatz Captain left for the seminar.

Martin counted off the two minutes and followed her directions. Room 522 was at the end of the corridor on the fifth floor. He knocked once and was told to enter. Admirals Patterson and Paris were waiting for him.

“No problems finding your way then, Captain?”

“No, sir, Lieutenant Commander Hunt was most efficient. Her persona is…remarkable.”

“Yes, Bex is one of my best people. She has the unique talent of making herself virtually invisible if she chooses. A human chameleon; I’ve never seen anyone who can fade into the background like she can. Makes her invaluable for undercover work. But we need to get started; we have a lot to cover and not a lot of time.” He gestured to a waiting chair.  “Sit down, Jim.”

Across the complex at Starfleet Medical, Max Timmerman checked in with the registration clerk on the Rehab floor. The waiting room was crowded with veterans of the Dominion War all waiting to have their replacement limbs fine-tuned. When his name was called, he limped along behind a cybertech orderly and followed him into a small exam room. When the door was closed the orderly turned and quickly stripped off his scrubs.

“Get out of your uniform and into these scrubs, Max. We don’t have much time.”

“What’s up, Tommy? I’ve never been recalled this urgently before.”

“Don’t know. But the Admiral’s waiting so get a move on. He’s up one floor in the Bionic Grafting lab. I’ll wait for you here.”

When he’d put on the scrubs and grabbed a chart Max left the room and strode quickly down the corridor to the stairwell. Gone was the limp that had characterized his walk and he sprang up the stairs with little effort. The Grafting lab was opposite the stairwell doors.

“Hello, Admiral. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Sorry for the cloak and dagger recall, Max, but we’ve got a situation you need to know about.” Admiral Chapman didn’t waste words and briefed the young intelligence operative quickly and thoroughly.

That night at dinner neither Max nor Martin realized they had been briefed about the exact same threat.

* * * * *

On St. Lucia the mood of the newlyweds had turned decidedly downward.

“Kathryn, do not wiggle around. The dermal regenerator does not work effectively on a moving subject.”

“I still can’t believe this happened. I used to run around outside on the farm all summer and never burned.”

“Really?” The exasperation in Seven’s voice became more apparent with each passing minute. “And just how often during those summers did you run around the farm bare-breasted?”

“You know what I meant. And it’s not my breasts that are the problem.”

“Not for the moment, but they will be in another six minutes. I will get to them as soon as the burns on your buttocks are healed sufficiently to allow you to sit. Stop fidgeting!”

Janeway craned her neck around to try and see what Seven was doing. “Don’t use the regenerator at full magnitude. I want to be tan when we get home.”

“Yes, Kathryn; I understood the instructions the first three times you gave them. Try to sit up and face me.”

“I still don’t understand…you’ve been in the sun just as much as I have. You’re tan. Why aren’t you sunburned too?”

“What is there to understand? I am not sunburned because I have configured my nanoprobes to tan my skin and resist the ultra-violet radiation beyond a moderate level. Had you utilized the sun block as I requested neither of us would now be facing the very real possibility of your nipples peeling.”

“Oww! Easy with that thing! It’s not fair; I want nanoprobes too.” Janeway complained as her wife moved the dermal regenerator in a small circular motion around her extremely painful left nipple.

Seven glared at her spouse in frustration as she shot her assimilation tubules from her implant. “That can be arranged, Kathryn! Now hold still!”

* * * * *