Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Paramount and were created by Kate Mulgrew, Jeri Ryan and the wonderful cast of Star Trek: Voyager. This is strictly a non-profit operation: the rewards are in the writing and feedback. If you’re under 18, or have a problem with consenting adults in a same-sex relationship, now is the time to find something else to read.

Rating: NC-17 (for Part 2, Part 1 is PG)

Acknowledgements: I cannot thank Laura (Knightstorm) or LZClotho enough for their phenomenal beta-reading skills, encouragement and late-night hand-holding. Sophia did the marvelous graphics and she truly captured the spirit of this story.

What the Heart Knows

By BeachBum

The Astrometrics Lab was darkened as usual during the Gamma shift. The only illumination was over the main console where Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix 01 still worked intently. She had begun life as Annika Hansen, child of Federation scientists researching the Borg. Unfortunately, their combined scientific curiosity and arrogance resulted in their assimilation by the Borg Collective….six-year-old Annika included. She had been raised by the Borg for eighteen years until Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager had attempted an alliance with the Collective to defeat Species 8472. Janeway had flatly refused a neural transceiver implant from the Collective and demanded a single drone liaison; Seven of Nine had been activated for that purpose.

In the ensuing battles, Janeway’s First Officer had severed the alliance and Janeway, her Engineering Chief and EMH had severed Seven of Nine’s connection to the Collective. She had floundered, terrified and alone for the first time in her memory. The medical and engineering staff of Voyager had worked tirelessly to remove her Borg technology safely and Captain Janeway had worked just as tirelessly to attempt to restore her humanity. While the removal of the technology was a success, many on Voyager still had doubts about the humanity part. Most of the time, only Janeway and the EMH doctor of Voyager saw the goodness and kindness in the former drone.

Seven stood six feet tall without her boots. Scandinavian genes were readily apparent in high cheekbones, fair skin and luxuriously thick blond hair. Her physical beauty was breathtaking, including blue eyes which ran the spectrum from icy to cerulean depending on her mood. Her skeletal frame was duranium-reinforced, and Borg implants afforded her almost super-human strength. A Borg cortical node controlled nanoprobes which enhanced her healing and immune response. She possessed an eidetic memory containing the collected knowledge, mores and memories of the thousands of species the Collective had assimilated.

She still retained several visible implants: an ocular implant comprised her left eye with an external piece surrounding the eye socket. There was a small starburst implant just in front of her right ear and another larger one on her right bicep. Her left hand was Borg; biometric mesh and metal comprised the appendage. This implant wound itself up her forearm halfway to the elbow. There were others, most of which weren’t usually visible, across her abdomen and down her left leg. When the medical staff had first removed the bulk of the external Borg armoring, the EMH had serious concerns about Seven’s biological functions. To minimize any negative impact, he had designed a form-fitting biometric suit which she was required to wear. While the suit served its purpose admirably, it was skin-tight and left very little of her physical form to the imagination. Since her physical form was usually likened to that of a Greek Goddess, the affect on Voyager’s crew was predictable. The EMH had lost count of the number of crew (men and women alike) who had walked into bulkheads and fallen down Jeffries tubes because they couldn’t take their eyes off the former drone as she walked past. Stunning beauty, frightening intelligence and immense physical strength.  To call her intimidating was understatement. Most of the Voyager crew usually used the term “terrifying”.

Her journey back to humanity was a rocky one. With superior intelligence and non-existent social skills, she was often unintentionally brusque and arrogant in her dealings with other crew members. She was incapable of lying and tact was a concept with which she was unfamiliar. She had no patience with the command structure of a starship and obeyed orders only when they made logical sense to her. This had resulted in frequent disputes with not only Captain Janeway but most of the crew on Voyager as well. What rankled most was the fact that Seven of Nine usually turned out to be right. They bitched and moaned about her, but were slowly learning that her recommendations wound up helping them and had, on several occasions, saved the ship from destruction.

What the crew didn’t realize was that Seven of Nine now regarded Voyager and all who served on her as her new Collective…and she gave to that new Collective her complete and utter loyalty. Seven of Nine would die without hesitation to save Voyager and her crew. She was incapable of less. From late-night philosophical discussions with Captain Janeway, she had absorbed the concepts of honor, integrity and the sanctity of life. She understood them to be the cornerstones of Starfleet principles and attempted to integrate them into her burgeoning humanity.

Human emotions proved more problematic. Her observations of the crew frequently frustrated her. She discerned no logic and little intelligence in many of their actions. Her frustrations were not reduced after questioning the EMH. Since he was a hologram, albeit a sentient one, his concept of appropriate emotional response was suspect at best. So she projected an aura of icy coolness and arrogance simply because she could not determine a more efficient manner of interaction. An innate shyness kept her from approaching her crewmates. Janeway, the EMH and little Naomi Wildman (the sole child on board) were her only friends on Voyager. It was a lonely life for the former drone.

But this lonely night was different for Seven. Earlier in the day, the EMH had run her weekly diagnostics routine and declared that she was to begin eating for the first time since her assimilation. She had been on Voyager since being severed from the Collective and had never before required food or drink. She had taken all her energy and nutritional requirements from her regeneration alcove in Cargo Bay two. She could perform at peak efficiency for over 72 hours on a single six-hour regeneration cycle. Now, according to the doctor, she was to begin taking nourishment in solid and liquid form in the mess hall along with the rest of the crew.

The EMH also decreed that her biometric suits were no longer necessary unless she would be unable to regenerate on a regular basis. Now Seven of Nine had to decide for herself what to wear. She was intently studying the monitor on the Astrometrics workstation, but not to plot star charts: she was examining the clothing available from the replicators on board. She had enhanced auditory functions and had, on more occasions than she was comfortable with, overheard comments from the crew on her appearance. They tended to be variations on a general anatomical theme. These remarks made her uneasy and she was determined to find clothing which would eliminate the more prurient comments about her physical attributes.

Since she was not a member of Starfleet, she would not wear their uniform. She was outside the command structure so she sought clothing which would fit in easily with the omnipresent uniforms and not draw undue attention as the biometric suits had. She finally settled on black cargo pants and a matching long-sleeved jacket with four cargo pockets. She chose black, standard-issue Starfleet boots and grey turtleneck shirts to wear under the cargo jacket. That would make her clothing as close as possible to Starfleet uniforms without actually BEING a Starfleet uniform. She would blend in with the rest of the crew. Since she rarely utilized the replicators and had amassed a large number of replicator rations, she requested three sets of clothing as well as calf-high combat boots for away missions, and several gray tank tops as an alternative to the turtlenecks. A new thought struck her as she keyed in the requisition: she now possessed a “wardrobe”.  But as she thought about the cavernous Cargo Bay she called home, she realized that she had no private place to dress.  This clothing thing was beginning to present more problems than it was perhaps worth. With a slight frown and a brief thought that being human was getting to be inefficient, she gathered up her new apparel and headed for Cargo Bay two.

“Computer, lights out.”

Kathryn Janeway rolled over and plumped her pillow for the twentieth or so time since retiring for the night. Once again, sleep eluded her. The ongoing stress of being responsible for 141 crew and Voyager alone in the Delta Quadrant was wearing on her yet again. The almost constant knot in her shoulders and frequent headaches were only some of the manifestations of the burden she carried. It had been her decision to destroy the Caretaker’s array and save the Ocampa home world that had stranded her starship and the Maquis ship they had been pursuing in the Delta Quadrant; 80,000 light years from Earth. She and Chakotay, the Maquis commander, had combined their crews and forged a family on board Voyager in the years they had been making their solitary journey toward home. It was a constant struggle fighting unfriendly alien armadas and constantly searching for the materials necessary to keep the ship flying. But they had succeeded in reducing a projected 75 year journey down to perhaps twenty with a bit of luck. The ship still held together, and Seven of Nine had added Borg technology to their propulsion, shielding and armament capabilities. They were in better shape now than they had been at the outset of their journey, but the senior staff and especially the captain were all too aware of how tenuous their position was in this hostile quadrant. They had fought Vidiians, Hirogen, the Borg, Species 8472 and countless other adversaries. Somehow Janeway always managed to come up with a solution that kept Voyager and her crew alive and headed determinedly in the direction of the Alpha quadrant. But the captain paid a price in isolation and loneliness for that continuing journey. Sometimes, the burden seemed too much to carry. Tonight was one of those times.

With a muffled curse, she threw back the covers, arose and walked into the adjoining bathroom. She quickly donned the neatly pressed uniform on the counter and then began the daily search for her pips and communicator badge. For some reason, she could never seem to keep track of her uniform hardware. It always irritated her when she was forced to replicate a pip or two when she lost some. She could keep a mental picture of a three-dimensional space battle of multiple ships in her head while shouting commands to her bridge staff during the worst of a firefight. You’d think she could keep track of four tiny gold rank insignias and her comm badge. She finally found the last of her errant pips on the floor next to her nightstand and completed her toilet by running a brush through her shoulder-length auburn hair a few times. There; Captain Janeway was presentable and ready for duty.

She strode out of her cabin and down the corridor to the turbolift. She entered the lift and gave the command for the mess hall. When she reached Voyager’s dining room, she noted that several of the Gamma shift were finishing up their meal break. She nodded and greeted the crew members and headed to the replicators for black coffee, her drug of choice. Mug in hand, she left the mess hall and began what was becoming an almost nightly stroll around her ship. It was quiet during the Gamma shift – the Earth-side equivalent of the graveyard shift. Alpha shift would not begin until 0700 hours when the bulk of the crew reported to their duty stations. She enjoyed the solitude of her nightly sojourns, but regretted the loss of sleep that usually caused them. At some point in time it was going to catch up with her and affect her ability to command, but she (like most starship captains of her acquaintance) held a healthy dislike of Sickbay and the ship’s medical officer. Not that she disliked him personally, but the implied weakness of reporting to Sickbay did not and never would mesh with her command persona.

She was fairly diminutive in stature; not even five and a half feet tall with a slender but wiry build. It was that command persona which made her seem larger than she was. She had built the persona from her experience on the vessels on which she served prior to Voyager as well as from lessons learned early in life as the daughter of Admiral Edward Janeway. Her command mask was flawless, and the “Janeway Glare” of various intensities could reduce even the most space-hardened officer to a quivering mass of plasma in short order. She was possessed of a quick Irish temper but usually managed to balance it with the lessons of command learned at Starfleet Academy and during her career. It was going to take every ounce of that command persona to get her ship and crew home in one piece.

She stopped and chatted briefly with the duty crew in the Shuttle Bay and the main transporter compartment before heading in the direction of the Cargo Bays. It was her private secret that she frequently came to Cargo Bay two during her sleepless nights and silently watched Seven of Nine regenerate in her alcove. She could not explain why she was drawn to watch the beautiful ex-drone during such a private activity as "sleep". If she was being totally honest with herself, she didn’t WANT to face why she secretly watched her newest crew member at rest. It was too threatening to the iron control she deemed necessary to maintain her command. So she pushed it to the back of her mind and steadfastly refused to examine her motivations.

As she entered the cavernous cargo area, she was surprised to hear sound and muffled mutterings from the area around the Borg Alcove. She walked around a large cargo container and was surprised to find Seven of Nine wrestling with a modular wall component. The fact that the wall component was usually handled by two to three crew members was not lost on the captain.

“Er…Seven? What exactly are you trying to do?” she asked.

With what sounded like a growl, the ex-Borg locked the final panel in place and turned to face her captain.

“Good evening Captain. I am attempting to fabricate a ‘room’ for my quarters,” replied her Astrometrics Officer. “I have decided that I require a measure of privacy.”

“I see,” said Janeway, mentally chastising herself for not considering that Seven needed her own space. “But why didn’t you ask me to assign you regular quarters? Surely that would have been easier than building a room by yourself.”

“I did not wish to trouble you because I do not require regular crew quarters. Furthermore, it would be inefficient for me to have regular quarters to myself and I do not feel that attempting to room with another crew member would be successful. This enclosure around my regeneration alcove will suffice.”

“Well, OK if that’s what you want. Do you need help with anything?” inquired Janeway.

The two women finished making the power couplings to the modular room and activated the door and locks. Seven of Nine programmed the entry codes using Borg encryptions and then stepped back to admire her handiwork. She keyed the entry code and she and the captain entered her new room.

Aside from the regeneration alcove, it was totally empty.

“Ah, Seven? Are you planning on putting any furniture in here? Or are you staying with this minimalist look?” teased Janeway. “And don’t you need a bathroom?”

Seven arched her optical implant almost to her hairline in response. A small upward quirk on one side of her mouth indicated amusement at the captain’s teasing.

“I do not require the conventional bathroom as do the other crew members. My biological functions are regulated by my abdominal implants. The only ‘bathroom’ fixture I might eventually require is a sonic shower. As to furniture, I have no experience furnishing a room and have not had time to adequately research the requirements necessary to do so. I was planning on conducting that research after my duty shift tomorrow.”

“I see. Well, let me know if you need anything else. You’ve done a lot of work tonight. When was the last time you regenerated?” the captain asked solicitously. “The Doctor will be seriously displeased with both of us if he finds out I helped you do something that kept you from getting the rest you require.”

“I had planned on regenerating when I completed the construction of the room.”

“Well then, don’t let me keep you,” said Janeway. “Go get some rest and I’ll see you at the senior staff meeting tomorrow morning. Have a good night, Seven.”

“Thank you for the help, Captain. And..." she considered the Doctor's lessons. "You have a good night as well.”

Janeway left Cargo Bay two and headed for her ready room off the bridge on deck one. As she exited the turbolift onto the bridge, Lt. Nicoletti who was manning the Ops station for Gamma shift called quietly, “Captain on the bridge” to the rest of the crew.

“As you were,” Janeway quickly replied. “I’m just headed for my ready room to work on some reports.”

She walked across the deck to her ready room and once inside headed to the replicator for a second cup of coffee. Fresh mug in hand, she moved to her desk and settled into her chair, deep in thought.

Why the hell didn’t I ever think that Seven of Nine would need personal space? God, am I that insensitive? I’ve tried so hard to help her realize her potential since she came on board, I can’t believe that I didn’t understand she was living….SLEEPING….in a Cargo Bay to which the entire crew has access 24-7! Fine friend you turned out to be Janeway. You just blithely forget that she might need the same considerations you and the rest of the crew take for granted. Does she complain? No, she just quietly goes ahead and does it for herself so she won’t cause YOU undue stress.  Dammit, she has a right to expect better than that from me. How the hell can I make this right for her?

A sudden idea came to her and with a deep chuckle she pivoted in the chair to face her workstation. She fired off a note to senior staff postponing their meeting until 1400 hours and then opened the requisition logs. What good was it to be Captain of a starship if you didn’t throw your weight around occasionally? She got to work with a wicked grin on her face. It wasn’t until she’d finished her task that she realized sadly she had secretly watched over Seven as she regenerated for the last time.

Seven of Nine completed her regeneration cycle and stepped down from the alcove. She gathered up one of her new outfits and paused briefly over the requisite undergarments. Underwear was not required with her biometric suits but lack thereof could be a problem with her new clothing choices. What was it the crew called it? "Going Commando", that was it. She wondered if anyone other than the EMH would notice. The thought amused her. She quickly dressed (underwear and all) and headed for the mess hall for her first attempt at breakfast.

Ten minutes later, she stared aghast at the tray Neelix had set before her with great ceremony. Nothing on it looked appetizing in the least and the sheer amounts were daunting as well.

“Well, dig in, Seven,” enthused Neelix, “It’s a Talaxian hot cereal made from leola root and Jerzel milk with assorted Caladean fruits I picked up last week.”

“Neelix, I am not accustomed to ingesting solid nourishment. Perhaps I should begin on a less grandiose scale until I become better acclimated to eating. Maybe a ration bar and a cup of liquid nutritional supplement #18?” Seven of Nine said hesitantly. She rather liked the ebullient Talaxian cook/morale officer and did not wish to offend him. However, she was well aware of how the rest of the crew regarded the bulk of his cooking and only the restrictions on replicator rations kept most of them eating in the mess hall regularly. Talaxian taste buds were decidedly different from most humanoid ones and the crew suffered because of it.  Neelix’s intentions were all good, but the entire crew had wound up in Sickbay at some point in time because of one of his recipes. The EMH was extremely adept at dealing with the resultant heartburn, nausea and digestive distress one of Neelix’s experiments might cause.

“Oh Seven, forgive me! I was so excited when the Doctor dropped off the list of your nutritional requirements yesterday and I wanted your first official meal to be a nice one. I just never thought of the fact that you hadn’t ever actually EATEN before this.”

“The presentation is aesthetically pleasing even if the quantities are more than I can presently ingest,” Seven said soothingly. “But the ration bar and liquid supplement would probably be more acceptable for me to start.”

“I’ll get right on it and be back in just a minute,” the cook promised as he bustled away.

Janeway entered the mess hall just then and quickly scanned the room for Seven of Nine. She looked the room over and only on her second pass realized that she had completely overlooked the ex-drone on her first glance. She made her way over to Seven's table after re-charging her caffeine supply.

“Good morning, Seven. I almost didn’t recognize you! I remember the Doctor sent me a message that you were going to start eating, but for some reason I missed the part about your biometric suits. I must say, you look very nice.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Seven replied shyly. “I tried to select clothing that would blend in with the rest of the crew.”

“Well, I think your new ‘look’ fits in extremely well,” she said with a smile. “They’re going to miss those biosuits though,” she muttered under her breath.

Borg-enhanced hearing caught every syllable. Seven of Nine was surprised when the question of whether or not Janeway would miss those biometric suits popped into her mind. She blushed a little at the thought and was saved by the return of Neelix with her ration bar and liquid supplement.

“Good morning, Captain! Here you go, Seven…breakfast as requested. Captain, can I get you something to eat?”

“Er, no, actually, I just came in for coffee,” Janeway said quickly.

“But, Captain, breakfast is the most important meal of the day! Let me get you…”

“Neelix? The Captain can have the breakfast you prepared for me,” said Seven sweetly. She slid the tray over in front of Janeway and gave the older woman a small smile. Janeway thought it entirely too devious.

“Well, that works out just wonderfully, doesn’t it?” enthused the cook. “Oh, there’s Ensign Patterson. I promised to get him some geerac juice this morning. Please excuse me ladies.” With that he headed in the direction of the tired looking engineer.

“Gee thanks, Seven,” said Janeway dourly, regarding the tray in front of her. “Dare I ask what Neelix had prepared for your first official breakfast?”

“Some kind of Talaxian cereal made of leola root and a fruit that I have never heard of,” replied the Astrometrics Officer. She nibbled on the ration bar daintily. It didn’t have much of a taste and the texture left a lot to be desired, but if she washed a small bit down with the liquid supplement it wasn’t too bad.

Janeway picked up a spoon and moved the food on her tray around a bit. Maybe if she rearranged it enough it would look like she actually ATE some of the slop. As well-intentioned as Neelix was, Janeway had a great deal of difficulty eating his food. Her mother was a Traditionalist and had prepared their meals from scratch for her entire life at home. Her mother’s meals showed every bit of the love and care she put into them. Janeway was hard-pressed to settle for what the Talaxian thought passed as good food. With a small sigh she gave up and pushed the tray away from her. We have GOT to get the replicators fixed before the crew dies of food poisoning she thought to herself. She wondered idly if the Borg had any replicator enhancements she could persuade Seven to install. Of course, since the Borg didn’t EAT it was probably a long shot at best. But, what the hell, it never hurt to try.

“Seven, do you think you might be able to check out our replicator systems and see if there isn’t something you could come up with to make them work more efficiently? I hate it that the crew is always being strictly rationed. If we could figure out some way to get a working power enhancement to them without needing more dilithium stores it would make life a lot easier on the crew.”

“I will look into the problem,” agreed Seven easily.

“Thanks Seven, I really appreciate it,” Janeway said, reaching over to cover the younger woman’s Borg-enhanced hand with her own and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll see you at the senior staff meeting later on. But right now I need to make my escape before Neelix comes back to get my opinion on his breakfast.”

She rose from her chair and with a final compliment on the way Seven of Nine looked headed back to the bridge and the Alpha shift.

After she left, Seven gazed briefly at her mesh and metal hand and wondered if it was damaged in some way. Why would the simple act of Janeway gently squeezing it cause that jolt of electricity that shot up her arm and into her midsection?

At 0830 hours, Janeway left her ready room to check on the maintenance requisition she had ordered during the early morning hours. She had scheduled the requisition to begin at 0800 hours assuming the department head would get the crew moving on time. She headed to Cargo Bay two with a spring in her step. With any amount of luck, Seven of Nine would get the surprise of her young life when she returned to her “room”.

The crew was hard at work enlarging the room Seven had constructed during the night.  Of course, since none of them could penetrate the Borg encryption codes on the door lock, they’d had to remove a section of wall to gain entry, but the plans called for the walls to be extended so that didn’t present a major problem. They were busy installing a sonic shower module and hydro sink module along with replicator and recycler modules and a miniscule counter and hydro sink to serve as a galley. The autoclean module was already installed. The workstation and desk was in place, needing only the data link to make it fully functional and furniture was stacked outside awaiting placement. The plans called for a bedroom that included the regeneration alcove and standard bed and closet with adjoining modified bathroom. The enlarged space then allowed for an additional living area, which contained standard-issue furniture, the tiny galley, dining area and workstation.

Voyager’s crews were nothing if not efficient and in less than five hours the renovations were complete. Where last night was an empty room around a Borg alcove there was now a (more or less) complete set of quarters. The lighting and environmental controls were fully integrated into the central processor as were the replicator and recyclers. There was carpet on the deck and the modular walls had been painted a light grey color. The deep blue of the upholstery looked good with the color and the overall effect was cool and soothing…just what Janeway thought Seven of Nine would like.

Janeway set about finishing Seven’s new quarters herself. Replicating as she went, Janeway made up the bed with the standard dark blue Starfleet-issue sheets and blankets and hung the towels in the tiny bathroom. She found the small pile of Seven’s new clothing by the regeneration alcove and hung them in the closet, arranging the boots on the floor. In the living room, she folded a fleece throw over the back of the sofa and added a couple of comfortable throw pillows to it for good measure. Extra pillows, linens and blankets were stowed in the storage unit beneath the sofa. She put a stack of new padds on the workstation and checked that the data link was up and operational. As a final touch, she went to the replicator and requested a dozen roses and a vase. She arranged the flowers and placed the vase on the counter. Before she left, she set a note in front of the rose-filled vase with a smile.

It was almost 2000 hours before Seven of Nine reached Cargo Bay two that evening. It had been a strangely frustrating and exhilarating day for her. There were ups and downs with this being human business. Eating was still a problem, and her diet for the day had remained the same as breakfast. While her new look had caused many of the crew to bemoan the loss of her biometric suits, several of the crew had made a point of commenting on how nice she looked. She had tried very hard to thank them in an appropriate manner and thought for the most part she had succeeded. They had all smiled and chatted with her a bit, which seemed like a positive sign to the inexperienced young woman. The entire senior staff had been complimentary, and the EMH had beamed like a proud father as he listened to them. When she entered the Cargo Bay, she frowned as she caught sight of her room. It was considerably larger than when she had left it that morning. She keyed the entry code and walked in with an astonished look on her face. She identified the flower vase filled with rosa provincialis on the small counter and picked up the note in front of them. As she read it, a smile with all the brilliance of a supernova grew on her face.

Seven wandered through the rooms with the glowing smile fixed in place. Captain Janeway had arranged for all this for her! Janeway had apologized for not realizing that Seven would want privacy and called her a valued member of the crew. The thought of those words caused her to shiver slightly and a strange feeling developed in her midsection as she neatly re-folded her tee-shirts and underwear into a drawer in the closet module.

The next morning, Seven of Nine entered the ship’s barbershop and discussed a new haircut with the barber. Her thick blond hair was slightly more than shoulder length, and she usually wore it in a neat french twist. But she decided that her new look required a new hairstyle. She decided on a much shorter cut that allowed her hair to flow back from her face to the nape of her neck. It was parted slightly to the left of center and a wave now came down over her right brow. The overall look was neat and easy to maintain. By the time she’d left the ship’s barber, many of the crew were once again walking into bulkheads as she passed. Seven of Nine was, without question, a knockout.

“Good afternoon Captain. How may I assist you?” Seven asked without looking up from her workstation in the Astrometrics Lab.

“You know Seven, one of these days you’re going to have to tell me how you do that. It’s positively unnerving,” said Janeway with a smile as she joined the tall woman at the console.

“I recognize your step, Captain,” replied Seven. She wasn’t about to tell the captain that what she really recognized was her perfume. Or the fact that she usually managed to know the captain’s whereabouts during the day via the ship’s computer.

Janeway chuckled. “Well, I guess we chalk up another one for Borg enhancements. I stopped by to see if you’d had time to check out the replicator systems yet.”

“I have. I downloaded the schematics last night and went over them. I need to check several power components in the Engineering section before I can make any decisions, but once I get those components checked I will be able to finish my report. I have not had time to get to Engineering yet,” Seven said with a hint of unease in her voice.

The captain knew why Seven was reluctant to go to Engineering. Janeway was well aware of the adversarial relationship between the Astrometrics Officer and her volatile Chief of Engineering, B’Elanna Torres. The two women were brilliant in their own rights but mixed like oil and water. Heated disagreements had escalated to near fisticuffs on occasion, and Janeway had called both of them onto the carpet in her ready room (separately of course) several times.

The last explosion had occurred less than a week ago when Seven of Nine had made some minor flow adjustments to a particular biogenic gel conduit without telling B’Elanna directly. Torres went ballistic when she discovered the change, and conveniently forgot to notice the message waiting on her workstation notifying her of the reasons for it. She also managed to forget that she had put a privacy shield on her comm badge and quarters except for emergency and was unreachable at the time. What she didn’t forget was that she didn’t LIKE the Ice Queen, as she referred to Seven of Nine, and stomped off to the Astrometrics Lab to make her unhappiness known to everyone there. She’d already made her feelings clear to the entire Engineering crew. It hadn’t taken long for Janeway to hear about the ensuing altercation.

In fact, she’d even gotten wind of a betting pool in the Exobiology section on who’d win if the two women ever did actually come to blows. Smart money was currently running in favor of the Borg over the half-Klingon engineer in a fair fight. But if B’Elanna ever brought out her prized Bat’leth all bets were off. Janeway wondered if maybe she shouldn’t just get some credits down in the pool and let the women have at it. Hell, they could probably charge admission and make a tidy profit.

With a heavy sigh, Janeway told Seven, “Get to Engineering sometime this afternoon. I’ll let Lt. Torres know to expect you. Maybe that will keep things calm. I expect you to act in a professional manner down there and please, please try not to antagonize B’Elanna deliberately. The warp core is being cranky again and the last thing I need is a pissed-off Klingon on the rampage. Try to get along with her, OK?”

“I will, Captain,” promised Seven, “and I will try to get there within an hour. That will give me plenty of time to finish up the report and have it to you before morning.”

With a few inconsequential remarks to each other about the replicators, Janeway took her leave of the Astrometrics Officer and headed back to the bridge.

“Chakotay to Captain Janeway,” chirped her comm badge.

She slapped her badge. “Janeway here.”

“Captain, long-range sensors have picked up some very large dilithium deposits in that warp-capable system Astrometrics briefed us on at the beginning of the week. I thought you ought to know.”

“I’m on my way back to the bridge now, Commander. Let Seven of Nine and Geology know and have them run the geology scans through the Astrometrics systems for us. They’re the more powerful scanners – we’ll get more accurate information on the deposits that way. And have Ensign Paris lay in a course for the system at best possible speed. Janeway out.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Large dilithium deposits on moons in a warp-capable system. What a lucky break. First contact possibilities as well as the idea of replenished dilithium supplies caused Janeway to speed up her walk back to the bridge. They could use some good luck right about now.

Seven of Nine entered the Engineering section with a large padd containing the replicator schematics in her hand. She looked around the large room and headed directly for the Chief of Engineering at one of the power flow control monitors.

“Lieutenant Torres, Captain Janeway has asked me to look at improving the replicators on board. I require an examination of gel pack conduits three and five to make my evaluation,” she said as she came up to the Chief.

“Well, excuse me, Your Borgness,” snarled the feisty Klingon hybrid, “but Captain Janeway didn’t tell me anything about your little project and I don’t have anyone I can spare to hold your hand while you prowl around my department. Come back another time.”

“Lieutenant, I promised the Captain that I would complete my report for her by tomorrow morning, and I must evaluate those conduits before I can do so. I will not require any assistance from your staff to make my examination, and Captain Janeway indicated that she would notify you of my needs prior to my arrival.”

“Too bad, Ms. Astrometrics. I said come back another time. Now beat it, we’re busy.”

Seven of Nine glanced at the console Torres was working on. “You have a .02% fluctuation in the warp core plasma injectors,” she commented.

“So what?” replied B’Elanna, “It’s within normal parameters. Now get lost!”

"I have been requested by the captain to complete these adjustments. I have informed you as she requested. Now I must complete my work." Seven made to move toward the appropriate console to begin her analysis.

The two crewmen who had been standing with Torres as the Borg approached suddenly remembered vital tasks that required their immediate attention on the opposite side of the Engineering section and beat a hasty retreat.

“That’s it! Somebody notify Sickbay that they’re about to have a casualty…I’m gonna kill you Borg!!!” She lunged at Seven of Nine.

Klingon rage and a solid, stocky build did not avail the Chief Engineer. As she got within roundhouse punch range of the Borg, Seven slid to the side and neatly grabbed her by the collar. Borg-enhanced strength easily raised the sputtering and wildly flailing Klingon two feet off the deck.

“Oh shit!” muttered Lt. Carey as he touched his comm badge. “Engineering to Tuvok! We need a security team down here RIGHT NOW!”

“On our way, Lieutenant,” responded Voyager’s Security Chief and Tactical Officer.

By the time Lt. Cmdr. Tuvok, a two-man security team and Captain Janeway burst into the Engineering section 45 seconds later, B’Elanna’s normally olive skin tone was decidedly purple. She was still flailing wildly, trying to connect at least one good punch to the Borg. Seven, for her part, was casually holding her aloft.

“YOU…ARE…A…DEAD…WOMAN…YOU…BORG…BITCH!!!” Torres managed to howl despite a distinct lack of oxygen in her lungs.

“Seven!! Put her down RIGHT NOW!!” thundered Janeway when she saw the tableau before her.

Seven of Nine obliged by abruptly releasing her grip. Torres dropped to the deck and landed flat on her ass as Seven stepped away. Quickly the security team got between the two women before there were bloodstains for maintenance to remove from the deck plating.

“Tuvok, take both of them to the brig immediately!” said Janeway in a voice that dripped with menace. “They are not to utter a word to anyone before they arrive on the deck in front of my desk. I’ll expect a full report on this incident within an hour.”

“Aye Captain,” replied the Vulcan security chief calmly.

Orders rendered, Janeway whirled and stalked out of Engineering, headed back to her ready room. As furious as she was with her feuding officers, she was hard pressed not to grin as she remembered the sight of a wind-milling B’Elanna dangled negligently from that Borg-enhanced fist.

“I don’t give a damn WHO started it! I will NOT have this kind of behavior among my officers! I thought you two had declared a truce after your verbal dustup last week! I ought to court martial both of you for conduct unbecoming. Except you, B’Elanna, could care less about Starfleet charges and YOU, Seven, aren’t even IN Starfleet!!! Part of this is my fault. B’Elanna, I did ask Seven to look at the replicator system and I told her that I would notify you. It was on oversight on my part that I didn’t send a memo to you about it. Regardless, this constant battling must and will stop.”

Janeway was developing a massive headache as she regarded the two women standing stiffly at attention in front of her desk. She dropped her eyes to scan Tuvok’s incident report again. She mentally kicked herself for forgetting to tell Torres of Seven of Nine’s pending arrival in Engineering, but in the excitement of the discovery of the promising star system it had slipped her mind completely. What the hell was she supposed to do with these two?

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” she continued. “For the next month, every day from 0900 hours to 1100 hours Lt. Torres will work in Astrometrics with you, Seven. And for that same month, from 1300 hours until 1500 hours Seven will work in Engineering with you, Lt. Torres. You will do so under the watchful eyes of a security team. All verbal exchanges will be civil, polite and respectful. You will learn to work together or so help me; Lt. Carey and Ensign Celes will be promoted to department heads. Is that understood?” Her famous Janeway Glare was force ten at this point, and the paint on the bulkheads seemed to be peeling away.

“Aye Captain,” the women replied in unison.

“Get out of my sight!” commanded Janeway as the women nearly ran from the room. She gingerly rubbed her temple as she glanced at the impassive Vulcan seated next to her desk.

“God, Tuvok…what are we going to do with the two of them?”

“One logical solution would be to lock them up together in a small room and wait to see who walks out,” he commented.

Janeway managed a chuckle. “After today’s brawl, my money’s on Seven.”

“Shall I call down to Exobiology and place a bet in your name?” he inquired with one eyebrow slightly raised…the only indication of his amusement with the situation.

That got a genuine belly laugh from the Captain. “Is chaperoning them for the next month going to seriously inconvenience your security staff?” she asked.

“No. It has been a relatively quiet month to date,” he replied.

“Thank you, Tuvok. I appreciate your team’s quick response. God only knows what would have happened if we’d been delayed getting there.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Captain. Seven DID seem to have the situation well... in hand.”

That was all it took. Janeway collapsed in her chair laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Lord, Tuvok, if I live to be two hundred I will never forget the sight of B’Elanna flopping like a hooked trout from Seven’s fist. I imagine the Engineering crew won’t have to buy any drinks in Sandrine’s for the next week or so. They’ll be the toasts of the holodeck with a tale this good.”

“I should tell you, Captain, that Seven of Nine approached me last week requesting formal martial arts instruction. She said that she required the training to better equip her to multi-task on away missions. I confess that I saw no reason to deny her request at the time. But given the events of this afternoon I wonder if continuing is a good idea.”

“Martial arts training? Why would she want to learn to fight?”

“She felt martial arts, tactical and security training would give her skills which would benefit Voyager in an additional capacity. Again, I saw no reason to deny her request. Should I re-evaluate it in light of today’s altercation? I should tell you that she is a most gifted pupil. Her skills development has been amazing.”

“Is there any evidence that she used those skills this afternoon?” inquired Janeway.

“None, Captain. All the eyewitness accounts indicate she merely side-stepped B’Elanna and lifted her off the ground. Hardly the stuff of taolu or katas.”

“Well, if she was disciplined enough not to throw Torres into the warp core this afternoon I guess it’s alright to continue. After what I saw today, maybe we can use her on your security staff.”

“Captain, after what I saw today, I’m wondering if we can’t clone her for my security staff.”

“Oh God, Tuvok, don’t even THINK that. One Seven of Nine on this ship is enough!”

The next two and a half weeks passed without incident as both combatants maintained a strictly professional demeanor in each other’s company. Seven of Nine grudgingly realized that Torres possessed an innate feel for the starship’s engines and systems. The stocky Klingon was skilled in handling system failures. When something went wrong her responses were efficient and effective. Seven began to appreciate the knowledge, passion and skill that B’Elanna brought to her job. A small seedling of respect for the Klingon took root.

For her part, B’Elanna finally took an honest look at what Seven of Nine and Harry Kim had built in the Astrometrics Lab and realized what an impressive facility it was. The Astrometrics scanners were over four times as powerful as the Starfleet standard, all due to enhancements Seven of Nine had designed and implemented. She had known that Seven of Nine was possessed of the entire knowledge base of the Borg Collective. When Seven of Nine spoke, she wasn’t just blowing smoke; she had hard facts to back up her words. And she’d built a most impressive database to aid in her sector charting, utilizing that vast collective knowledge. Coupled with her own dazzling intelligence, the Astrometrics systems and the Astrometrics Officer gave Voyager and her crew a most decided advantage in the unknown Delta quadrant. B’Elanna also discovered (to her chagrin) that Seven of Nine knew her way around an Engineering section too. Between the two of them, they had devised a system of plasma feedback conduits and power amplifiers that improved replicator efficiency by 60%. That meant the difference between just getting by and actually having access to luxury items for the crew. Bottles of wine, familiar foods, new clothing (aside from their daily uniforms), and thousands of other previously unavailable items now made life for Voyager’s crew a bit easier. Surprisingly enough, attendance at Neelix’s mess hall did not drop significantly as a result of the new replicator protocols. B’Elanna and Seven of Nine agreed that there was just no accounting for taste.

Janeway kept abreast of the situation via daily reports from the security chaperones and decided that eighteen days was enough. She summoned both women to her ready room at the conclusion of their Alpha shifts.

“Well, it seems that the two of you can manage to get along if you really try,” she told them. “I’m suspending your ‘sentence’ effective immediately, but I warn you both right here and now. If there is even one teeny, tiny HINT of conflict you will both be thrown in the brig and I don’t give a damn what effect it has on the ship. Am I clearly understood?”

“Yes Captain!” came the reply in unison.

“Very well. Dismissed.”

Janeway leaned back in her chair and wondered idly if this might not be the beginning of a very strange and wonderful friendship.

Later that evening, B’Elanna, Harry Kim and Tom Paris sat at their usual table in the mess hall contemplating Neelix’s latest offering and discussing the events of that afternoon.

“So the Captain finally pardoned you, eh, B’Elanna? I’m surprised you made it almost three weeks working up close and personal with the Ice Queen,” said Paris. “Tell me, did you get frostbite in any important places?”

“Shut up, Tom. She’s not as bad as I thought. In fact, she actually made a joke yesterday. Not an especially good joke, but a joke nonetheless. I almost fell over in shock.”

“I think you’re both being unfair to her,” said Harry. “I worked with her a lot putting the Astrometrics Lab together and I think she’s just real shy. She doesn’t know how to relate to most of us and when she’s unsure of what to do or say she reverts to Borg-speak. I know you both think she’s got a stick up her…well, that she’s too stiff and formal. But I like her and I think she’s really trying to fit in. We ought to give her a break once in a while.”

“Jeez Harry, could you make it any more obvious you’ve got a major crush on her?” quipped Paris.

“So what if I do?” Harry shot back. “I mean, have you ever really LOOKED at her? She’s gorgeous…and really smart too. Hell, who on the crew DOESN’T have a crush on her?”

“Ummm, Tuvok and the Captain?” guessed Paris with a laugh.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about Tuvok,” B’Elanna replied.

“WHAT?” chorused Tom and Harry.

“Can you two keep a secret?”

“Of course we can B’Elanna!” Harry assured her. Torres was the unquestioned gossip queen of the crew. Somehow, she got the dirt first and had no qualms about disseminating the information to whoever was interested. Tuvok and Seven of Nine? It was too juicy to miss.

“About a week ago I was walking past Holodeck two one night when the doors opened and Tuvok and Seven of Nine came out. Together. Both of them looking distinctly rumpled and sweaty. I got curious and checked the holodeck logs and found that the two of them spend three or four evenings a week on the holodecks together. I tried to find out what program they were running, but it was a classified private holoprogram of Tuvok’s. Now you tell me…what would Tuvok and our resident Borg be doing for that long on the holodecks? When is Tuvok due for Pon Farr? I mean it happens every seven years and I’ve known him over five and he hasn’t had it yet. How much longer can it be? He needs a partner as physically strong as he is. She’s the only woman on the ship that could handle him in the Pon Farr state. I think he’s training her in Vulcan traditions and defense so she’ll be ready when his time comes.”

“B’Elanna, I think you’ve lost it this time. Tuvok and Seven of Nine? It’s unbelievable!” replied Harry.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Tom, “Let’s find out. She just came into the mess hall. Let’s ask her.” He stood up and waved to the Borg. “Hey! Seven! C’mon and join us why don’t you?”

Seven of Nine looked unbelievingly at Tom and hesitated briefly before walking to their table. She fully intended to keep her promise not to argue with B’Elanna, and was apprehensive about sitting with the three close friends. She was reluctant to lose the tenuous bond that had formed between her and the Engineering Chief during their enforced ‘sentence’. As she sat down, she tried to control her breathing.

“Good evening, Ensign Paris. Ensign Kim. Lt. Torres,” she said, placing her tray on the table with theirs.

“Hi, Seven,” said Harry, “What did you get for dinner? Doesn’t look too appetizing.”

“Ugh, ration bars? I gotta agree with Harry on that one, Seven,” said B’Elanna. “Those things are disgusting. The only reason I’d ever eat one is if I really was starving.”

Seven flushed faintly. “I am still having some…difficulties…in adjusting to solid nutrition,” she said. “These ration bars and liquid nutritional supplements are all that I seem able to manage.”

Much to his surprise, Tom Paris felt a flutter of sympathy for the beauty. For some reason she didn’t seem at all icy and intimidating this evening.

“Maybe you just haven’t tried the right kind of food yet,” he told her. “I mean I know that some of Neelix’s concoctions would drop a charging targ in its tracks, but maybe there are some alternatives you just haven’t thought of.”

“I have no recollection of consuming food. I have virtually no memories of my life before my assimilation…and the Borg do not eat. Somehow, it just seems…simpler to utilize the ration bars.”

“What you need is some good, old-fashioned comfort food,” he replied with assurance.

“Comfort food? Is that a particular type of cuisine?”

The three friends laughed. “No, Seven,” Harry said kindly. “Comfort food means the kind of simple food that a mother would make for a sick child. We tend to associate certain favorite foods with the feelings of security and happiness of our childhoods. Hence the name…comfort food. C’mon you guys…what are some of your favorites? If any three people can come up with something that Seven would like it’s us. What about it?”

“Hmmm…macaroni and cheese!” offered Tom.

“Banana pancakes!” B’Elanna chimed in.

“No, wait, I’ve got it!” Tom said enthusiastically. “Tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches!! Seven, wait right here.” He jumped up and headed for the nearest replicator.

“These nutritional items are not highly spiced, are they?” Seven asked almost fearfully.

“Nope, not in the least,” replied Harry reassuringly. “In fact, they were my absolute favorite lunch on cold, rainy days when I was a kid. I really think you’re going to like it.”

“Really Seven, Harry’s right. I think you’ll enjoy it,” said B’Elanna.

Tom returned to the table with a new tray that he placed in front of Seven of Nine. It contained a cup of a hot, thick, reddish liquid and what appeared to be two pieces of grilled bread with a yellow, viscous material apparently melted between them.

Seven picked up her spoon, dipped it into the hot red liquid and tentatively took a small sip. Her eyes grew slightly wider and that amazing smile began to bloom on her face.

“This is…very…flavorful,” she said, trying to find the correct words. “I like it very much. Thank you Tom Paris for introducing me to…tomato soup!”

The three friends laughed and began to show her how to eat the gooey sandwich without wearing most of the cheese. She managed to eat half the cup of soup and more than a third of the sandwich before becoming full.

“I am sorry, but I still cannot process normal amounts of solid food,” she told them. “But I thank you again for telling me about this wonderful meal.”

“Hang on a sec, Seven,” Tom said, pulling a small padd out of his tunic. “Here, I’ve sent the replicator program  parameters for tomato soup and toasted cheese to your home workstation so you can get it whenever you want. You just need to stick closer to us for a while and we’ll figure out a lot of good stuff you’ll enjoy eating. Meals ought to be pleasant, not some chore.”

 B’Elanna said smoothly, “OK, Seven, we did you a favor in finding something you enjoy eating. Now do us a favor and tell us exactly what you and Tuvok are doing in the holodecks every night.”

“Commander Tuvok is teaching me martial arts. It is an excellent method of focusing the mind as well as good physical exercise and will prove useful in dangerous situations on away missions,” Seven told them without hesitation.

“Martial arts? What do you need martial arts for? For Kahless’ sake, you can tie duranium in a knot without breaking a sweat. What do you need karate and kung-fu for?” asked Torres honestly.

“Strength is greatly enhanced when coupled with defense and the ability to utilize leverage against an opponent.” Seven regarded B’Elanna with her optical implant raised. “And while my strength DOES have its uses, it is not always the correct response in every situation. But just in case it is, I have also begun a strenuous strength-training regimen in the gym.” she said dryly.

Tom and Harry howled with laughter while B’Elanna managed a slightly embarrassed grin.

“Yeah, I know all about your strength. I’m not too sure my Klingon honor can withstand another dose of it. You ever dump me on my ass again and I just may have to kill you,” she said, dampening the threat's heat with a chuckle.

An hour later when Janeway stopped by the mess hall, she walked into a bulkhead in amazement when she caught sight of the four of them talking and laughing at their table. Strange and wonderful, indeed.

Seven was surprised and pleased when she found Tom and Harry waiting for her outside the mess hall the next morning.

“C’mon Seven,” Harry said, “we’re gonna find you something you’ll like for breakfast.”

“You do not have to feel obligated to help me…” she began cautiously as they guided her into the mess hall and to a table.

“Forget it,” Tom replied. “We’re on a mission now. But Harry and I were talking about it and we decided that most guys eat a lot more for breakfast than most women do. So we’re bringing in some experts to help. Hey, Megan! Jennifer! Over here!” He waved to the Delaney twins.

Once the young women joined them, Tom and Harry quickly explained the situation and enlisted their help in the project.

“We had a cousin who had some really bad stomach problems. What were some of the things she had to eat, Megan? Do you remember?” asked Jennifer.

Megan smiled her quiet smile and said “Yup. Give me just a minute and I think I’ve got the perfect thing.” She headed to the replicator and returned shortly with a tray.

“Seven, this is a soft boiled egg, a piece of lightly buttered toast and a glass of…”

“Tomato soup!” Seven interjected with delight.

“Uh, close. This is tomato juice. It’s very similar to tomato soup but it’s not as thick and it’s served cold. Now this breakfast should work really well for you if you like it. The egg has lots of protein, the toast has carbohydrates and fats, and the juice has a lot of vitamins and minerals. It has less acid than orange or grapefruit juices do and will be easier on your stomach. Even the Doctor would approve of this breakfast.”

Seven looked at the silverware on her tray in confusion. Megan smiled again and showed her how to use the spoon to eat the egg as well as the correct utilization of a napkin. Seven of Nine managed to eat all of the egg as well as half the toast and most of the juice. Megan downloaded the replicator parameters to Seven’s workstation and just like that, Seven of Nine’s recipe file grew again. Perhaps this solid nutrition wasn’t as difficult as she had previously thought.

A short time later, Janeway managed to avoid the bulkhead but spilled hot coffee all over her uniform tunic when she saw Seven together with Tom, Harry…and the DELANEY TWINS???

The star system they’d discovered six weeks ago hadn’t worked out well for Voyager. They had been met at the perimeter of the system by patrol ships and grudgingly allowed passage through the system, but not access to the prized dilithium they needed. A chance encounter with a deep-space trader a couple of weeks later had gotten them information about another system still ahead with a much more welcoming manner. Indeed, the trader had told them about a space station within the system that could not only provide a large variety of foodstuffs and badly needed supplies, but repair facilities for the ship and shore leave facilities for the crew. They were on course for the station at warp seven.

The senior staff met in the conference room off the bridge for their morning meeting.

“Captain, we’ve been hailed by the outer traffic controllers of Ryleos Station. We’ve been given our preliminary approach vector and expect to complete docking there by 1000 hours tomorrow,” reported Chakotay.

“How are we doing on shore leave rotations?” asked Janeway.

“We’ve got the final schedule set and have also worked up the station-keeping crew roster. Everybody should get three days on the station, even if they’re not all together. Tuvok has completed his security rosters for the shore leave as well.”

“Seven, what can we expect from the Ryleos system?” was the next question.

“The Borg regard species 296 as technologically unremarkable,” said Seven. “However, Neelix obtained some additional information on them from the trader we encountered.”

“Neelix? What can you tell us?”

“Well, Captain, they seem to be a commerce-based society. At least they are on Ryleos Station. We can expect a fairly heavy traffic flow from areas all around the station and a goodly number of deep space traders too. There are many restaurants and hotels on the station proper, and I understand that the Station Constabulary keeps good control over things there. The crew should be safe and from what I understand, they shouldn’t be robbed blind by most of the merchants located there. The Ryleos are mostly humanoid in appearance, but with the heavy traffic through the Station, we can expect to see a wide variety of species. Station Master Ry’trop will expect you to visit him in his office officially within a couple of hours of our docking. He should be able to tell us what repairs are available for Voyager on the Station then.”

“Thank you Neelix. That sounds like a fairly pleasant place for the crew to have a few days off. Is there anything else before we adjourn? No? Well then, dismissed.”

Docking at Ryleos Station was uneventful the following morning. Within half an hour of the docking arm getting hard seal and the umbilicals being connected, the first shore leave parties were exiting Voyager and heading into the station proper. Janeway wasn’t too far behind them as she and Tuvok headed for the Station Master’s office to deal with the official records and paperwork.

Tom, Harry and Seven of Nine walked out into the main concourse of the Station in search of a good restaurant. For some reason, B’Elanna had begged off this initial foray into the Station claiming a couple of stubborn gel packs that she wanted to replace, and promised to meet up with them for dinner on the Station. They wandered along the concourse, looking at the displays in shop windows until the smells emanating from a small bistro told them they had found their restaurant. The fellows ordered some type of roasted meat and all three agreed on what was described as a mild fish for Seven of Nine. They shared a bottle of a light wine, with Seven drinking less than a glass. She was well aware of the affect alcohol and synthehol had on her cortical node. Their meals were excellent and a couple of hours later they wandered back onto the concourse to further explore the offerings of Ryleos Station.

But B’Elanna didn’t have gel packs to replace. For some reason, she had been feeling distinctly…Klingon lately. At least she felt her Klingon half was asserting itself. She had decided to spend the afternoon in a local pub sampling whatever passed for beer in these parts. It hadn’t taken long for her to find the perfect place. Not too large, not too well lit, and not too respectable. The clientele was obviously all spacers determined to make the most of their limited time at the Station. She’d quickly downed three tankards of local ale and was developing a rather nice buzz when an alien who looked like a cross between an iguana and a rainbow trout appeared at her table and offered to buy her a drink. The alien was bipedal, fairly lizard-like in appearance and its skin was an iridescent teal color. Its most notable features were hands the size of hams. It was more than moderately drunk and decidedly bent on sharing B’Elanna’s company. She cheerfully indicated her full tankard and politely refused his advances. However he continued to lean heavily on her table refusing to take her pointed hints that his company was not particularly welcome. He was drunk, she was getting drunk and things came to a head fairly quickly with Torres leaping to her feet and telling him in no uncertain terms to take a hike. The last thing she saw was one of those ham-sized fists heading for the side of her head and suddenly she flew ass over teakettle across her table and onto the floor.

Seven, Tom and Harry were strolling along the concourse when Seven’s enhanced hearing picked up what she immediately identified as B’Elanna’s voice shouting insults. She grabbed Tom and Harry and the three of them dashed to the entrance of the nearby pub, arriving in time to see a body in a Starfleet uniform sail over a table. The insulted alien moved around the table and hauled B’Elanna up by her uniform tunic. He drew back a huge hand and she watched dizzily as it was launched toward her face in what seemed like slow motion. But just before it connected with her nose, a Borg metal and mesh hand grabbed the hand, wrenched the attached arm around and with no apparent effort hurled the alien through the air and into a wall. It landed with a rather sickening crunch and didn’t get up. But the problem with drunken spacers is that they always have crewmates who don’t take too well to strangers beating up their friends. Suddenly, Seven of Nine was facing three more iridescent aliens with ham-sized fists. Tom and Harry waded in and B’Elanna found her feet again to lend another set of hands. It was like a warp-core breach. In seconds the entire clientele of the pub was swinging at who or whatever was close to them.

Janeway and Tuvok were headed back to the ship when then saw a small rodent-like alien fly through the window of the pub they were passing, crash into a kiosk then scurry back into the fray. Janeway felt her evil side let out a whoop and moved to the door to watch the fun. It stopped being fun in two or three seconds when she saw three Starfleet uniforms and a set of black cargo pants right in the middle of the brawl. Shouting to Tuvok to get their security teams there pronto, she dashed into the fight.

Tom, Harry, Seven and B’Elanna were barely holding their own without much organization to their efforts. Tom caught sight of their diminutive captain out of the corner of his eye but when he turned to look, got pasted on his left ear and wound up on his ass. He felt Janeway grab the back of his tunic and help haul him to his feet. That’s when they saw a huge spacer grab B’Elanna and turn to drag her away from her friends. Janeway didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a wine bottle from the nearest table, whirled and smashed it over the alien’s head. He folded like a cheap suit.

“Gods and planets! Don’t they teach you kids how to handle yourselves in a bar fight at the Academy any more?? Back to back…use covering fields of fire to hold them off!!” Janeway bellowed to her troops. The five of them formed a loose ring and the youngsters soon realized the benefit of this arrangement. Each of them could cover the other’s blind spots, and nobody could get behind them. Their dignified and elegant Captain apparently knew her way around a bar brawl.

The five Voyager crewmates successfully held off all comers until a group of aliens grabbed a table and rushed Harry. He fell into Janeway and she stumbled out of their protective ring. Then all they saw was their Captain sailing through the air and over the bar. Seven let out a roar and smashed the table into kindling with one swing of her left hand. A second swing left the aliens who had been wielding it unconscious lumps bleeding on the floor. Seven fought her way to the bar and vaulted over it.

“Captain!!! Captain!!! Are you damaged???”

Janeway looked up at the stricken face above her, grinned despite the blood oozing from a badly split lip, and reached up a hand for help rising.

“Nah, I’m OK. The floor broke my fall.” Seven hauled her to her feet, only to push the Captain back down a moment later and deliver a Borg-enhanced left hook to the face of an alien who thought he could get behind Janeway. He was out cold before he hit the deck several feet behind his original position.

“Nice punch!” said Janeway admiringly.

As the two of them climbed back over the bar to rejoin their comrades, the Station Constables and Voyager security teams arrived to restore order. Apparently, pugilistic mayhem was a frequent occurrence in the establishment, because the Constables quickly corralled the owner and determined who was responsible. The four lizard-like aliens were revived and rousted by the efficient Constables who forced them to cough up the required damages for the pub’s owner before hauling them off to the local brig. Another indication that fights were a regular feature of the place was the fact that within minutes all the broken tables, chairs, tankards and bottles had been swept up and replaced from what seemed to be a large supply in a back room.

Normalcy having been restored, the bruised and bloodied patrons decided that the Voyager crew were their new best friends and immediately fresh tankards of ale appeared in their hands. Toasts were shouted and drunk, and when Tuvok attempted to take Janeway and her bloody band back to Voyager she shrugged him off.

“Now Tuvok, we don’t want to be rude to our hosts. We’ll just stay a bit to be friendly.”

Several hours later, four delightfully drunk Voyager crew members and their plastered Captain staggered back up the docking arm under the amused but watchful eyes of Tuvok and a security team. As they approached the hatch, Janeway turned to face her crew and swayed unsteadily as she told them to be quiet.

“I don’t…want…Chakotay or the Doctor to shee…see us like thish,” she slurred. “Shhhhh!”

As she turned around she caught sight of her First Officer and EMH standing in the hatch with arms crossed on their chests and matching frowns on their faces. Another unsteady pivot and she was facing her victorious troops again.

“Whoops….busted…” she managed before toppling forward into Seven of Nine’s arms. The ex-drone was none too steady herself, although she gamely tried to hold her Captain upright. They were saved by the timely intervention of the security team who assisted all of them to Sickbay. Their EMH was at his worst, badgering all of them non-stop on safety, protocol and proper behavior as he moved around the biobeds administering antibiotics and patching up the bloodied warriors. Janeway exercised command prerogative and got a hypospray injection to counteract the alcohol. The chastised crew members and thoroughly un-chastised Captain were then unceremoniously dispatched to their quarters to sleep it off.

Somehow, during the medical interlude, it was determined that since Seven of Nine had never before been drunk, it would be prudent for her to sleep on the Captain’s couch where a bathroom and waste disposal unit were available if needed. As they entered the quarters, Janeway steered Seven to the sofa and headed for the replicator.

“Stay here and I’ll find you something to sleep in,” she said as she went into the bedroom. Guessing at the size, she requested a large tee-shirt for Seven from the replicator and returned to the living room area. Somehow, she got Seven on her feet and pointed toward the sonic shower. While Seven showered, Janeway recycled her clothes so they would be fresh for morning and took them into the living room where she made up the couch. When Seven staggered out of the shower she got into the tee-shirt and Janeway helped her back onto the couch and tucked her in.

“Seven, if you start to feel sick, holler for me, OK?” she instructed before the ex-Borg passed out cold.

Janeway then took her own hydro shower, donned a sleep shirt and crawled into bed. As she gave the computer command to lower the lights, she couldn’t resist a grin. It had been a good day. That lasted for about an hour until she was awakened by Seven moaning, “Captain…I don’t feel….too….”

Janeway leaped out of bed, grabbed the young woman by the scruff of the neck and hustled her to the waste disposal unit just in time. Seven of Nine upchucked what seemed to be everything she had eaten for the last month plus a little bit more while Janeway held a cold washcloth on the back of her neck. When the retching ceased, Janeway got her up and let her rinse out her mouth before helping her back to the living room and the sofa. Oblivion was not far behind.

Janeway looked down at the beautiful young woman and for a moment let down the carefully constructed command mask she wore. If only there weren’t regulations. If only there wasn’t her command and ship and crew to consider. If only there wasn’t fear…

Kathryn Janeway gazed at the woman she loved and wondered how she’d gotten to this point. She’d never before been attracted to a woman. She’d never before even contemplated a relationship with a member of her crew. When had it happened? How had she come to love this innocent and inexperienced young woman? And what could she possibly do about it?

With a sad shake of her head and a soft sigh she decided probably nothing, turned, and went back to her lonely bed.

The following morning was an agonizing first for Seven of Nine. She awoke and immediately knew she was seriously damaged. She had not regenerated, and seemed to have been unconscious for a considerable period of time in a strange room. That it appeared to be on Voyager was encouraging, but the continued malfunction of her cortical node and nanoprobes was cause for considerable concern. She attempted to slap her comm badge to summon the EMH but discovered she was not wearing one…nor could she locate it. She swung her legs down to the floor and attempted to rise only to collapse back onto her makeshift bed clutching her head with both hands. A deep, soft chuckle sounded from across the room.

“I won’t say ‘good morning’ because I know it’s not. Let me call the cavalry and we’ll get you settled.” There was the brief chirp of a comm badge followed by “Janeway to Sickbay. She’s awake Doctor. You’d better get up here.”

Seven of Nine slowly raised her head against the agony shooting through it and saw Captain Janeway regarding her with an amused smile from the room’s workstation. The Captain was dressed in soft, faded jeans and a tee-shirt and didn’t look at all like the formidable commander she was.

“I….where….what happened to me?” Seven managed to croak out. Her mouth tasted foul and she wasn’t quite sure she recognized the shirt she was wearing.

Any reply Janeway would have made was deferred by the arrival of the EMH, hypospray in hand. The badgering lecture on Starfleet behavior expectations, safety and the evils of demon rum that had begun the night before in Sickbay continued unabated as the EMH bustled around Seven injecting her with medication to counteract her massive hangover. Once the meds took effect, the EMH ran quick diagnostics on her cortical and optical nodes to determine if either had suffered damage in the brawl. Neither apparently had. Janeway finally herded him out the door and silently thanked any deity in the neighborhood for the resulting quiet.

“So, are you feeling better?” she asked Seven of Nine.

“I’m not…I don’t… remember…where…these are your quarters, Captain?”

Janeway laughed. “Yes Seven, you’re in my quarters. In a nutshell, you went to B’Elanna’s rescue in a tavern brawl last night. I got sucked in too and you, Harry, Tom, B’Elanna and I apparently defeated the forces of evil in this sector or at least the worst of the drunks on Ryleos Station. When the smoke had cleared, we were hailed as heroes by one and all and toasted by the patrons of the pub. Seven, you got drunk last night. What you’re suffering from this morning is called a hangover. The meds the doctor gave you will help with most of it, but you still need to rest a lot today and drink plenty of water.”

“But why am I here?” Seven asked plaintively.

If she hadn’t been so earnest in her inquiry, Janeway would have doubled over in laughter. As it was, she was going to have to treat the young woman with a lot of compassion and keep reminding herself that for Seven, this was the first time she’d ever experienced the joys of overindulgence.

“One of the aftereffects of getting drunk can be the violent purging of what’s been drunk by the body.” At Seven’s confused look Janeway decided that bluntness might be needed. “Seven, I’m talking about vomiting.”

“Vomiting…” Seven said in horror.

“Yes, vomiting. Blowing chunks, hurling, yakking….there are many words to describe that particular process. But basically, what went down comes back up. Since you’d never been drunk before and your three friends are all hardened veterans of the morning-after wars it was decided that you spend the night in my quarters so someone would be there to help you if you needed it.”

“And…did I….require this…assistance?” Seven asked in a small voice.

“Yes, you did.” This was delivered in a gentle tone. “You remembered what I told you before you passed out and when you felt sick you woke me up and I got you to the waste disposal in time.”

“You…witnessed…me…vomiting?” The horror in her question would have been funny in other circumstances.

“Yes, Seven, I did. Believe me, it wasn’t the first time I’ve held someone’s head over the bowl while they threw up. Don’t worry about it. What’s important is that your cortical node and optical implant are both fine. What we need to do now is get you cleaned up a bit more and get some food in you.”

“I…never…want…to…eat…again,” Seven bit out in a succinct whisper.

“I know you don’t. But believe me, I’ve been through this before myself and I know what you need. For starters, I’m going to get you a mug of herbal tea. I want you to drink as much of it as you can.”

“You have been…hung over?” Seven asked quietly. She could not reconcile the visual image of Captain Janeway feeling like she currently did. Nor could she even contemplate an image of Janeway…vomiting.

“On more occasions than I should ever count,” laughed the older woman. “Seven, don’t be upset. Getting so drunk you pass out and being hung over are all parts of growing up in our world. Most Academy cadets experience it many times before they graduate. It’s all part of being human.”

“I do not care for this aspect of humanity,” said Seven, holding her head together with both hands.

“OK then, learn from it. Don’t ever drink until you get sick again. That’s also part of learning to be an adult in our world. Learning from our mistakes is one of the best parts of being human. Now, have you ever had a bath?”

“Immersion in water? No, I have not.”

“Will your implants tolerate immersion? You won’t rust or anything will you?”

“It would be…inefficient…if the Borg ‘rusted’,” said the former drone dryly.

Seven of Nine was treated to the Captain’s full-bodied laughter.

“Well then, it seems that today is going to be filled with firsts for you, Seven. Follow me.”

Janeway led Seven back through the bedroom into the bathroom. She programmed the large tub to fill with hot water, tossed in some bath salts and handed Seven of Nine her recycled clothing.

“I want you to climb in that tub and soak for at least half an hour. Don’t worry; the tub is programmed to keep the water temperature constant. When you’re nice and relaxed, get out, use one of these towels to dry off with and get dressed. We can try some breakfast when you’re ready.”

With that, Janeway walked out of the bathroom closing the door behind her. Seven regarded the steaming tub with a certain amount of apprehension. How exactly was this supposed to make her relax? How would she know when she was relaxed? Was there some specific time period allotment to relax? Were there any specific activities she needed to perform to relax? It was a bit confusing. Since she had utilized only a sonic shower previously, she was unfamiliar with bathing protocols. It did seem logical that she should remove the shirt she had slept in before entering the tub and she did so. As she gingerly put one foot into the water she detected a scent rising from the tub. It took her a moment to cross-reference the scent with her botanical data files. Lavandula angustifolia…she had it now. Common lavender…flowering plant of the mint family…indigenous to the Mediterranean and tropical regions of Africa and India on Earth. She eased down into the hot water and cautiously leaned back against the tub. As she did, the lavender scent became stronger. It was…pleasant.

A minute later Janeway knocked and entered with a large mug of herbal tea. The sight of the Borg in her bathtub froze Janeway in her tracks. A little voice inside her head began to chuckle.

Ohmygod…she’s naked! Of course she’s naked, you idiot, did you think she was going to take a bath in clothes? You knew she’d be naked when you came in. But I didn’t think the sight of her would render me speechless. Christ, my knees are like jelly. Damn, you’re a starship captain…get a grip on yourself. Grip…OK...but you sure as hell don’t want to get one on yourself. That beautiful woman in the tub is want you want to get a grip on, regulations be damned…admit it Katie girl…you got it bad.

“Uh, Seven, uh here’s that herbal tea. You uh, need to drink, um, as much of it as you can,” Janeway managed to get out. “The jet controls are there on the wall next to you if you want them.”

“Jet controls? Are the propulsion modules interfaced in your bathroom?” Seven responded in confusion as she took the offered mug from Janeway.

“Water jets, Seven. The tub has hydro spa jets built in. Here, uh, let me show you.” You can do this. You are a Starfleet officer, Captain of Voyager and you’ve kicked the ass of every aggressive alien species that have even looked cross-eyed at your ship. You are perfectly capable of leaning over this tub and activating the water jets. It took every ounce of control and strength Janeway possessed to lean over and activate the jet controls without looking directly at Seven of Nine who was regarding her with curiosity, completely unaware of the effect the sight of her in the tub was having on her commanding officer.

The water jets surged to life causing a layer of bubbles to form on the water. Janeway straightened up and backed toward the door, thanking the local deities she hadn’t made a bigger fool of herself than she had.

“OK, there you go. Enjoy it. I’ll, uh, get some breakfast together when, uh, you finish…” And with that she stumbled out the door trying to get enough oxygen into her lungs to make it back to the living room before her knees gave out completely.

Interesting, thought Seven of Nine regarding the newly closed door. The captain’s respiration rate had increased by 32% and she had seemed to suffer a mild verbal apraxia. Seven of Nine allowed her sensory implant to record the ambient temperature of the room. It didn’t appear to be elevated enough to account for the flush that had appeared on the captain’s face. Perhaps the captain was ill. She settled back into the tub and sipped her tea reflectively, her cortical node working overtime.

Janeway never knew how she’d gotten through breakfast with Seven of Nine, but had managed to get some food into her Astrometrics Officer and send her on her way. She wasn’t sure what the fallout of their adventure of the prior day would bring, but it was a safe bet the word of their escapade would spread through the ship with warp speed. She was afraid that her participation would erode her command authority with the crew and wondered how she would re-establish it. She needn’t have worried.

Seven of Nine found Harry, Tom and B’Elanna in the Mess Hall after she left Janeway’s. The three of them stared at her with open mouths when she described what had happened to her since they’d left Sickbay.

“There’s a Jacuzzi tub in the captain’s bathroom?” said Harry in amazement. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I was IN it. Captain Janeway turned on the jets for me when she brought me a mug of tea.”

“The Captain brought you a mug of tea while you were in the tub AND cooked you breakfast? How do you rate, Seven?” asked Tom. “Jeez, I’ve never even been invited to the Captain’s quarters for dinner let alone breakfast.”

B’Elanna was curiously quiet during the conversation, but her mind was going warp nine. Remembering an earlier gossip session she wondered if perhaps she needed to restructure her thoughts on exactly who didn’t have a crush on Seven of Nine. Janeway had certainly given Seven of Nine some VERY personal attention. It was beginning to look like maybe Tuvok might just be alone in his virtue. She would have to keep her eyes and ears open. This was just getting better and better.

As the four friends chatted other members of the crew came in and everyone seemed to know about the bar fight of the previous day. It came as no surprise to any of them that Lt. Torres had gotten into a brawl, but the fact that Seven of Nine had joined in to help her caused much talk. And when word got out that THE CAPTAIN had waded in to rescue her beleaguered crew it was the talk of the ship. Janeway in a bar fight! And she’d taught the crew how to brawl! Tom admitted, when pressed, that the Captain was possessed of an awesome right cross and swung a mean wine bottle to boot. Harry recounted to anyone who would listen how the Captain had felled a seven foot tall alien with a swift kick to the nuts. Seven was forced to describe Janeway’s flight over the bar more times than she wanted to remember.  B’Elanna made sure that everyone knew that the Captain had personally drunk half the bar patrons under the table. To make matters worse, the crew who was currently on shore leave at the Station was hearing the same stories from the pub patrons. By the end of the day, the Voyager Five were the heroes of Ryleos Station and Captain Janeway was on the verge of becoming a legend. By the time Voyager undocked and left the system three days later, the legend was solidly set.

The ensuing month presented Voyager and her crew with no further excitement. It was a singularly peaceful and unremarkable area of the Delta quadrant through which they were passing. Because of their resupply efforts on Ryleos Station, the ship was fully stocked and life was good for Voyager and her crew. Seven of Nine, Paris, Harry and B’Elanna continued to forge a solid friendship, and Seven now knew of many delicious foods thanks to their (and the crew’s) efforts. Eating solid food was no longer a chore, and Seven was genuinely enjoying taking meals with her friends. As the rest of the crew watched the former adversaries become close, their attitudes towards Seven of Nine began to change too. Now it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see her smile, and many of the crew had actually heard her laugh quietly. She seemed less terrifying and more approachable. For Seven’s part, she was discovering that her innate shyness seemed less a hindrance in the company of her friends and began to relax around the crew. As she did, her dry sense of humor began to assert itself which only further delighted her companions. Life was much less lonely for the ex-drone and she was thankful for that.

One morning at breakfast, Paris asked Seven what her plans were for the evening.

“I am scheduled for my regular checkup with the Doctor at 1400 hours and I had planned to analyze the most current Astrometric scans to plot a more direct course to the Alpha quadrant. There are several systems which I need to evaluate to ensure we do not encounter hostile forces any more than necessary. Why do you ask?”

“Well, Harry, B’Elanna and I were planning on going to Sandrine’s tonight and we wanted you to join us. Have you ever played pool?” said Tom.

“I have been to Sandrine’s on two occasions for parties,” said Seven, “but I have never played pool before. Will I require a bathing costume?”

B’Elanna roared in laughter. “Seven, pool is a pub game, not like swimming. We’ll meet you there at 1800 hours for dinner and an evening of billiards and dancing at Sandrine’s. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Seven agreed to join them with pleasure, and soon after the group broke up, headed for their respective duty stations. Seven logged into the Astrometrics workstation and began her analysis of the upcoming systems in the sector. She reported to Sickbay at 1400 hours for her checkup.

“So, how are you feeling, Seven?” inquired the Doctor while he ran a tricorder over her.

“I am functioning acceptably.” replied Seven, “I have plans to join Ensign Paris, Lt. Torres and Ensign Kim at Sandrine’s tonight for dinner, dancing and pool.”

“Seven, that’s wonderful that you’re finally making friends among the crew. I’m delighted that my socialization lessons have been so successful.”

Seven of Nine wasn’t as certain that her newfound friends were the result of the EMH’s social skills lessons, but was sensitive enough of the hologram’s feelings that she refrained from speculating on the subject.

“I have never played pool before. Do you know what the game entails?” asked Seven of her mentor.

“No, when I frequent Sandrine’s I prefer to play the piano,” said the Doctor with just a hint of asperity in his tone.

Captain Janeway entered Sickbay at this moment and greeted the two of them. “And how’s our Astrometrics Officer today, Doctor?” she asked with a grin, “All systems functioning normally?”

“She is in tip-top shape Captain,” replied the EMH, “but I’m afraid she needs a tutor before this evening.”

“A tutor? Why do you need a tutor?”

“I have a date to play pool tonight with Tom, Harry and B’Elanna at Sandrine’s and I have never played before,” Seven told her commanding officer.

“Never played pool? Well, it’s lucky I stopped by. I happen to be an excellent pool player. I’d be glad to give you a few pointers before tonight.” said Janeway. “Are you finished here?”

“We certainly are. You two go have fun,” responded the EMH.

“Well then, let’s head to Sandrine’s and I’ll teach you how to shoot some stick.”

“Seven, one more thing before you leave,” said the EMH, “Your eating is coming along nicely. The next thing I’d like for you to try is sleeping for a couple of hours every day. We’ll need to monitor you for several weeks, but I think that a regular sleep schedule might alleviate some of your regeneration needs. I’ll put together the protocols for you and we can start in a couple of days. Well, nights actually.” He chuckled at his joke.

“All right, Doctor, I will try to…sleep, if I must. But it does seem like an extremely inefficient activity.”

Janeway’s laughter accompanied them out the Sickbay doors.

The Sandrine’s program was already running when they arrived at the holodeck, with only a couple of Beta shift crew eating before reporting for their duty tours. Janeway and Seven had no difficulty in commandeering the pool table. Janeway showed Seven of Nine how to select a cue, racked the balls and explained the rules briefly. She leaned over the table and neatly broke, pocketing two balls in the process.

“It’s all a game of angles and relative force,” she explained, “You hit the white cue ball and drive it into the ball you select. You can apply some ‘english’ or spin to control the path of the cue ball like this.” And demonstrated a couple of draw and follow shots. When she told Seven to give it a try, the young ex-drone attempted to mimic the Captain’s position. She managed to connect with the cue ball, but sent it flying off the table and into the nearby wall. Chuckling, Janeway retrieved the errant ball and brought it back to the table.

“OK, that wasn’t bad for a first effort. Here, let me show you how to hold everything so you can control the amount of force you apply.”

She moved around Seven and told her to assume her shooting stance. Janeway then leaned in close and arranged Seven of Nine’s fingers to more easily control the path of the cue. She leaned over Seven’s back and placed her hands around Seven’s on the cue.

“Now just move the cue smooth and easy and see what happens,” she said, wondering if she was ever going to be able to breathe again. She certainly couldn’t now. But it WAS delightful to have her arms around Seven, even if it was only teaching her to shoot pool.

Seven of Nine, for her part, heard virtually nothing the Captain had said after she had reached around her and leaned against her back. The contact between them was causing Seven’s stomach to jump madly and her hands trembled. She could feel her pulse in her temple, was breathing faster and felt a sheen of perspiration on her forehead. Obviously, her nanoprobes were malfunctioning yet again. For the first time, Seven realized that her nanoprobes always malfunctioned when the Captain was close to her. This was disconcerting and would require some research to determine the cause.

Seven of Nine was nothing if not a quick study and malfunctioning nanoprobes notwithstanding had soon grasped the fundamentals of the game of pool. So much so, that in the third game she and the Captain played, she handily defeated her commanding officer.

“Oh, Seven, where were you when I was hustling pool at the Academy? We could have made a fortune together!” laughed Janeway, delighted at her pupil’s progress.

“I was on The Raven with my parents while they were researching the Borg. Even if I were not there, I was only five years old and not tall enough to assist you in ‘hustling pool’ while you were at the Academy,” said Seven in some confusion.

“Yes, thank you, Seven, for reminding me of how much older I am than you,” rejoined Janeway dryly.

“I meant no disrespect. Even though you are somewhat older and I am younger, stronger, quicker and more agile, you still beat me when we play Velocity. I do not believe the difference in our ages is that much at all,” said Seven in an attempt to counter what she determined was an insensitive remark to the Captain. She wasn’t at all sure she had succeeded, and wisely decided to say no more for fear of compounding the situation.

“Well, there is that,” conceded Janeway with a smug grin. “Just goes to show you that old age and guile CAN overcome youth and skill on occasion. I think you’ll be just fine playing pool tonight. Remember, if Tom Paris wants to bet replicator rations on a game, let him win the first one, increase the bet and clean him out in the second game. You should make out just fine.”

With that, the two repaired to their respective duty stations to complete the shift.

That evening at Sandrine’s Seven of Nine won two months’ replicator rations from Tom (much to the delight of Harry and B’Elanna). Additionally both Harry and B’Elanna taught Seven of Nine to dance. She discovered under her friends’ tutelage that she not only had an aptitude for it, but enjoyed it immensely.  Seven of Nine returned to her quarters humming and set about building her own music files in the central computer.

She was busily engaged in this task when her door chime sounded. “Enter,” she called, and was surprised to see Captain Janeway enter her living room.

“Good evening, Captain, how may I assist you?” she inquired politely, rising from her workstation.

“Hi Seven. I was just wondering if you’d be available for a Velocity match tomorrow at 1700 hours? I know it’s not our regular night, but I got the extra holodeck time and I thought we might have dinner together afterwards if you’d like.”

“That would be acceptable,” replied Seven with a smile. Acceptable was a bit of a misnomer. Seven of Nine was always delighted when Janeway suggested they engage in off-duty activities together. The captain could have suggested a walk on the hull minus environmental suits and Seven would have been just as delighted to accept.

“OK then, Velocity and dinner it is. I’ll meet you at holodeck one at 1700 hours. Have a nice evening, Seven,” said Janeway, turning toward the door.

“Captain, do you like to dance?” blurted the ex-drone suddenly.

“Dance? Of course I like to dance, Seven. Why do you ask?”

“Because tonight I discovered that I am capable of dancing and I thought it might be something else we could do together in our off duty hours.”

“You want to go dancing with me? Well, um, I suppose we could consider that some time. Of course, there are Mr. Neelix’s regular get-togethers. There’s usually dancing there. But as Captain, I shouldn’t go out dancing with the crew. It isn’t exactly against Fleet regulations, but it could undermine my command authority if I’m perceived as too close with the crew. You understand, I’m sure,” replied Janeway uneasily.

God, dancing with Seven of Nine!  YES!!! Janeway was having enough trouble not staring at her beautiful Astrometrics officer during their regular staff meetings. If she ever went dancing with her, Janeway was sure she’d lose all control and make an ass of herself. Nothing like falling all over one of your officers to insure you’re respected by the crew, not a good idea at all! Oh, but it IS a good idea the little voice in her head shouted gleefully. It’s a GREAT idea Katie!!!  A perfectly delightful idea…to dance in Seven of Nine’s arms. To hold that beautiful Borg in your arms and feel that unbelievable body pressed up against…Stop this right now! Get a hold of yourself!!

“I understand, Captain,” said Seven with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“Very well, Velocity it is. I’ll see you tomorrow evening then.” With that, Janeway made a hasty exit and fairly fled the Cargo deck wondering why that little voice in her head always sounded so damned much like her younger sister Phoebe.

After she left, Seven of Nine returned to her workstation and music files. Why wouldn’t the Captain dance with her? Was it because the Captain was afraid she would hurt her? Maybe that was why the Captain sounded so flustered when she’d suggested it. Seven would have to explain that she had learned how to dance and had not injured anyone. Harry and B’Elanna had taught her to lead and to follow as well as the steps to several dances. She had been awkward at first, but became graceful with a little practice. Tom Paris had declared her a regular ‘Fred Astaire’; obviously another of his obscure twentieth century earth references. Meanwhile, she had an extra Velocity game to think about. She needed to focus on how to beat the undefeated Captain of Voyager. She suddenly remembered a remark B’Elanna had made about how easily Tom Paris was distracted. Distraction? Hmm, maybe that was something else she could bring to her Velocity arsenal. And courtesy of Tom, she had two extra months’ replicator rations. She closed the music files and began searching the “Clothing; Athletic” section of the replicator files.

Seven of Nine returned to her quarters at the conclusion of her duty tour the next afternoon. She changed into the new Velocity outfit she’d replicated the night before, packed her athletic bag with her phaser, towel and water bottles and headed to the holodeck. On the way, she ran into B’Elanna and Harry on their way to Engineering. As they stopped to chat, Seven noticed that Harry was unusually silent and rather bug-eyed.

“Harry, are you functioning normally?” she inquired.

“Fine, fine. I’m fine,” was all he could stutter.

B’Elanna laughed. “Seven, that outfit ought to be illegal. You’ll be lucky if there aren’t serious injuries by the time you make it to the holodeck. So who are you playing anyway?”

“I have an extra match with Captain Janeway,” replied Seven of Nine. “I have never beaten her and I thought this outfit might provide me with more freedom of motion. Maybe this will give me the edge I need to win.” As she said it, she was grinning inside. Judging by Harry’s response to it, her outfit would provide far more than freedom of movement.

Kahless! thought B’Elanna, She’s wearing that for Janeway? The Captain would be lucky not to have a heart attack when Seven walked into the holodeck. This WAS getting more and more interesting.

“Well, good luck.” She grinned and pulled the transfixed Harry along with her. Seven headed in the opposite direction.

As she entered the holodeck a few minutes later, Janeway was already there practicing. Seven walked to the bench at the side of the court and dropped her bag, pulling out her phaser. Janeway turned to greet her as she entered the court and stopped dead, speechless.

“Good evening, Captain. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” she said with a shy smile.

Janeway was still staring and required a conscious effort to drag her eyes off Seven of Nine’s body and up to her face. By the time she had refocused her eyes she still hadn’t managed to get any sound out of her throat. Holy shit! Where did she get that outfit…and why hasn’t she worn it before this?? chortled the little voice in Janeway’s head. Katie, you are really gonna enjoy this match, yessir!

“N-no, you haven’t kept m-me waiting. I believe you’re right on time as usual.”

Seven of Nine usually wore a sleeveless black Velocity outfit. The newly replicated one was of a thinner material, also sleeveless but shiny electric blue with white insets at the waist. The neckline was considerably lower than her black outfit, coming to just above the top of her full breasts. Instead of being long legged, the new outfit stopped about three inches above her knees. While the black outfit had been form-fitting as were most Velocity clothes, the new one seemed painted on. Kathryn Janeway was suddenly aware that Seven of Nine had been serious in her tactical training. Where she had always before been slender, now well-defined muscles rippled across her shoulders, back and arms. Her abs had six-pack definition and her legs showed not only more muscle mass, but carved definition as well. Seven had always moved gracefully, but now she resembled a panther; muscled, powerful, and lithe. Janeway’s mouth was suddenly extremely dry.

“Do you need to warm up?” she managed to croak out to Seven.

“No, Captain, I am ready to play. Shall we begin?”

Seven of Nine won the first two games easily: Janeway didn’t seem capable of looking at anything except her opponent flying around the court. Janeway forced herself to concentrate and managed to pull even at three games each. They stopped for a quick water break at that point, and when Seven of Nine splashed water on her face and chest Janeway knew she was in deep trouble. Game seven went to Seven; Janeway was lucky to score a point.

Midway through game eight it all came crashing to a halt. Janeway chased a spinning disc to the side of the court and caromed off the wall to make the shot. She spun as she fell and fired successfully, but heard a crack in her ankle as she landed. She let out an involuntary cry of pain and grabbed her lower leg in agony. Seven was there in an instant.

“Captain, you are hurt!” Seven took hold of Janeway’s leg and pulled up the leg of her pants. There was an unusual reddish lump at the outside of her ankle which was rapidly turning purple.

“I believe you have broken your ankle, Captain. We need to get you to Sickbay right away,” she told her grimacing partner.

“I think I can walk if you help me,” said Janeway through gritted teeth. “Give me a hand up, would you?”

Seven of Nine extended her hand to help the Captain rise, but the sudden movement caused Janeway to inadvertently put weight on her injured leg and she cried out in pain again. Seven had seen enough and merely swept the injured woman up in her arms and carried her to the bench. She gently sat Janeway down with the injured leg extended out on the bench and proceeded to gather up their belongings. When the bags were packed, she put their straps over her shoulder and once again picked Janeway up in her arms.

“Computer, emergency site-to-site transport to Sickbay!” The two women dissolved into blue sparkles and re-materialized in the Sickbay a moment later.

The Doctor was coming out of his office as they materialized.

“What’s happened here?” he asked briskly.

“The Captain has injured her leg,” said Seven with a touch of panic in her voice.

“Well, I assumed as much since you don’t usually carry the Captain around in your arms. Put her on the bed over there,” he indicated as he grabbed his tricorder. “Hmmm, yes, fractured fibula. Doesn’t look complicated. We can fix this in just a minute. By the way, nice Velocity outfit, Seven. Is it new?” He took a bone-knitter from his instrument tray and proceeded to treat the swollen ankle. A quick application of the deep-tissue regenerator healed the affected ligaments and got rid of most of the swelling. Janeway was left with a sore, but working ankle.

“Captain, you’re going to need to stay off that leg for the rest of the night. It’s going to be sore tonight, but by tomorrow you should be able to get around without too much trouble. No Velocity for a couple of weeks and don’t try to jog around the ship for a day or two. Understand?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Janeway replied with unusual meekness. “Can I go now?”

“Seven, I assume you are going to help the Captain back to her quarters?” the EMH asked.

“Yes, Doctor,” said Seven of Nine. She could barely contain a grin. While she was concerned that the Captain had injured herself, carrying the smaller woman in her arms had been a delightful experience and she would happily comply with the Doctor’s orders.

“I can walk,” grumbled Janeway knowing where this was heading. How was it going to look for Seven to CARRY her around her own ship? She couldn’t allow this, no way.

“Captain, what part of ‘stay off that leg for the rest of the night’ did you not understand? No weight bearing on that leg tonight and it’s going to need to be elevated to get the residual swelling out or you’re going to be limping badly for a week. Either Seven of Nine carries you back to your quarters or you spend the night here in Sickbay. Your choice.”

Natural aversion to Sickbay won over command dignity. Janeway was tempted to exercise Captain’s privilege and use a site-to-site transport, but reluctantly decided against needlessly utilizing ship’s resources. She could only hope they didn’t run into any crew in the corridors. As luck would have it, Paris, B’Elanna and Harry Kim were in the corridor of deck three as they exited the turbolift.

“On your honeymoon, Captain?” quipped her smartass helmsman.

“Velocity accident, Mr. Paris,” replied Janeway with a Force five LOOK. She had a soft spot for the young man however, and quickly relented. “Where are you three off to this evening?”

“Sandrine’s for dinner and dancing. I must say Seven; Harry’s description of your Velocity outfit didn’t do it justice. Once you get the Captain settled, how’d you like to join us?” replied Paris.

“The Captain and I are having dinner together. I will not be able to join you. And given the Captain’s condition, I do not believe we will be dancing tonight.” Seven said with a hint of a smile.

B’Elanna jumped in with a sly smile. “Oh, were you planning on dinner and dancing before the Captain got hurt?” she crooned.

“We had discussed it,” said Seven. B’Elanna filed that one away for future reference. Janeway, for her part, was desperately praying for a red alert. There were just never any Borg cubes around when you needed them. Maybe, if she was very, very lucky, she would get sucked out a hull breach before B’Elanna started circulating that juicy tidbit. Not much chance of that though; Sandrine’s was generally regarded as gossip central, second only to the mess hall for rumor-mongering.

“Well, if you have time, stop by later. We’ve got to get going or we’ll miss our reservations. Have a good evening, Captain, Seven,” said Paris. B’Elanna’s wishes echoed Tom's and Harry just stared at Seven of Nine as he had earlier.

Seven carried Janeway to the door of the Captain’s quarters and turned slightly so the Captain could reach the touchpad and enter her codes. Seven carried her through the living room and directly to the bathroom. She gently set Janeway on the edge of the tub.

“I will prepare you a bath. I will set out towels and get you some clean clothes to wear. While you are bathing, I will clean up in my quarters and come back to make dinner. What would you like to wear tonight?”

Janeway pointed out a set of well-worn Starfleet Academy sweats in the closet. Seven set them and a pair of soft slippers on the floor next to the tub and got two towels off the shelf.

“Captain, please be careful in the tub. I will return as quickly as I can.”

“Thank you, Seven, I can manage from here,” said Janeway trying not to sound grumpy. She hated to show any sign of weakness and was still discomfited from looking at Seven in that breathtaking Velocity suit. Actually, she was discomfited from looking at Seven, feeling Seven and wrapping her arms around Seven’s neck as she was carried to her quarters. The little voice in her head declared loudly that the trip had been MUCH too short and suggested perhaps they take a stroll around the ship just to check on things. As much as she would have liked to argue with the little voice, she could not deny that her insides were fluttering delightfully from the feel of being carried in Seven’s arms and that she was noticeably damp in an area that sweating from Velocity could not account for.

She waved Seven out of the room and when she heard the outer door close behind her turned on the taps and began to undress. Seven ran back to the turbolift and to her quarters. Her sonic shower was brief but effective, and she quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a blue button-down collar shirt. A pair of deck shoes completed her clothing change. She charged back to Janeway’s quarters and punched in Janeway’s security code. Having an eidetic memory came in handy. She went to the door of the bathroom and knocked.

“Captain, I’m back. Is there anything in particular you would like for dinner?” she called.

“I’m drying off. Give me five minutes and I’ll be dressed,” was the reply, “And no, you decide what you want. I’ll be fine with anything you choose.”

Seven went to the galley replicator and programmed in a bottle of sparkling cider, toasted cheese sandwiches, tomato soup and salads. She put the cider in an ice bucket to chill, covered the food dishes with stasis lids to keep them warm and set the table. She spied a small vase on a shelf and requested a bouquet of flowers for the table, careful to use her rations and not the Captain’s for the meal and flowers.  By the time Janeway was dressed, the table was set and ready for their dinner.

Seven went to the bathroom and again knocked.

“Ready, Captain?”

“C’mon in, Seven, I’m good to go.” Seven entered the bathroom and carefully picked Janeway up.

“Seven, this is ridiculous. I can walk around my own quarters!” Janeway fussed.

“However, I do not want the Doctor angry at me because you refuse to follow his instructions. I will carry you. I am Borg. Resistance is futile.” She carried her Captain to the table and set her in a chair.

With a sigh of resignation, Janeway asked “So what’s for dinner?”

“Salads, toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Some of my favorite comfort foods. I thought they would be appropriate given the circumstances.”

Janeway grinned with delight and both women dove into their food with enthusiasm. The sparkling cider was a hit and conversation flowed easily. Seven of Nine explained the additions she was slowly adding to her wardrobe (carefully omitting reference to the new Velocity suit she had used to distract Janeway) and they discussed music and current happenings on the ship. Too soon the meal was finished. Seven cleared the table and put everything into the recycler.

“What would you like to do now?” she asked as she carried Janeway to the couch and set her down with the injured leg elevated on a couple of pillows.

“Seven, you don’t have to baby-sit me tonight. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“I’m sure you are, Captain. I will not have the Doctor angry with me as I told you earlier. I repeat, what would you like to do now?”

“I have some reports to read over,” Janeway admitted reluctantly. She pointed to several padds on the workstation. Seven retrieved them and handed them to her.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Seven, you don’t drink coffee. Are you sure you know how to make it? The replicators can be tricky with coffee…”

“I think I can manage,” said Seven dryly. She went to the replicator and keyed in the parameters for Lt. Carey’s mother’s special Colombian blend. When she brought the mug to Janeway, the Captain sipped the rich brew ecstatically.

“My God, this is almost as good as my sister’s secret blend. Most of the time I could cheerfully kill her, but her coffee is always first rate. Where did you learn to do this??”

Seven remembered one of B’Elanna’s favorite sayings, grinned and keyed in the parameters for earl grey tea for herself. “A girl has to have some secrets, Captain,” she replied. “May I use your workstation while you read your reports?” Janeway nodded permission and Seven settled across the room at the terminal with her tea.

“Seven, do you mind music while we work?” asked Janeway.

“I enjoy music,” was the answer.

“Computer, play Janeway music file Alpha-one-three.”

Soft jazz began to play as the two women settled in to work. Janeway hadn’t lived with anyone since her Academy days and was used to being alone in her quarters after duty. She couldn’t ignore the quiet presence of Seven of Nine in her rooms. It was easy…it was comfortable…and somehow it felt right. She leaned back with a smile and went back to her reports. For once she didn’t try to shout down the little voice in her head as it described ongoing domestic evenings with Seven of Nine and her in starring roles. It wasn’t until the little voice began describing Seven ironing her shirts in a vine-covered cottage with a white picket fence that she determinedly pushed it into a closet and firmly closed the door on it. But by that time, the smile had spread into a very smug grin. Seven unobtrusively kept their coffee and tea fresh and hot and the enjoyable evening passed quickly.

Her door chime sounded at 2245 hours. Seven of Nine was the only person who called on the Captain that late at night and since she was seated 15 feet away Janeway frowned as she called “Come.”

Chakotay, Voyager’s First Officer, entered the room and looked around.

“I just stopped by to see how your dinner and dancing date with Seven went,” he said with a grin.

Janeway shot him a dirty look. “I see Lt. Torres has been busy. For the record, it was NOT a dinner and dancing date. It was a Velocity and dinner date that got cut short when I managed to break my ankle.”

“I know, I was just teasing,” the large bear-like man laughed. “Actually, the Doctor told me what happened and not too subtly asked me to check in on you. He was just sure you were going to be jumping rope or something in here.”

“As much as I hate to disappoint the Doctor, Seven has been taking very good care of me this evening. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, she has insured that I have not abused my leg and have actually followed the Doctor’s instructions.”

“So it would appear. Tell me, Seven, did you actually CARRY Kathryn to her quarters?” he asked the ex-drone with a chuckle. The dignified Captain Janeway buried her face in a throw pillow in mortification.

“I did. She complained much of the way.”

By this time both Chakotay and Seven were grinning from ear to ear as Janeway attempted to gather the tattered remnants of her dignity around her.

“OUT! Both of you! Chakotay, you should be on the bridge and, Seven, you should be regenerating or assimilating something shouldn’t you?” she said in desperation. Her outburst did little to calm the mirth of her two companions.

“The Captain does have a point,” Seven laughed. “It is time for her to sleep and she does need her rest to recuperate properly.”

“In that case, ladies, I’ll leave you to it. Never fear, Captain, I will give the Doctor a positive report on your activities this evening.” They bid each other good night and he left for his duty tour on the bridge.

Seven stood up and collected the mugs for the recycler. “Where do you keep your sleepwear, Captain?” she asked, heading for the bedroom.

“Inside hook of the closet door.”

Seven retrieved the silk sleep shirt and laid it on the sink in the bathroom. She returned to the living room and carried Janeway into the bathroom. She gently set Janeway on her feet in front of the sink.

“I will give you a few minutes privacy. Let me know when you are finished.” With that, Seven closed the door behind her and proceeded to turn down the bed. Janeway took care of biological needs, washed her face and brushed her teeth. She changed into her pajamas and brushed her hair, all without putting any weight on her bad leg. Shaking her head she called out “I’m ready, Seven.”

The door opened promptly and Seven of Nine carried her to the bed. Seven gently laid her down and reached for the covers.

“What are you doing?” barked Janeway in alarm.

“I am tucking you in. Whenever I babysit Naomi Wildman I tuck her in bed and read her a story. What story would you like me to read to you?” she asked with a grin.

“Seven…” Janeway said warningly. However Seven's good humor was infectious and she couldn’t help chuckling as Seven drew the covers up and tucked them neatly around her.

“No story? Well then, pleasant dreams, Captain.” To Kathryn Janeway’s complete and utter astonishment, Seven bent over and kissed her softly.

“I will see you tomorrow. Computer, lights out.” With that, Seven of Nine walked out of the Captain’s quarters and strolled toward the turbolift with a very self-satisfied smile. Kathryn fell asleep with the memory of that all-too-brief kiss and the very same smile on her face. Her dreams were pleasant indeed.

Seven of Nine spent the bulk of her off-duty hours the next evening researching human sexuality, dating, courtship rituals and love. She had closely examined her reactions to Captain Janeway’s proximity and her feelings toward the Captain. She knew that she respected Janeway immensely and that she was also very grateful for all the time Janeway had spent helping her to regain the humanity that had been lost as a drone in the Collective. She admired the Captain’s command abilities, and knew the Captain to be kind and genuinely concerned for the well-being of everyone on Voyager. But lately, terms like “respect” and “admire” did not begin to describe how she felt. “Respect” and “admire” could not account for the way her breath caught in her throat when Janeway smiled her slightly crooked grin at her. Neither could they account for the tingling feelings that occurred whenever Janeway touched her, however casually.

Seven of Nine had no experience in dating or courtship. She had done extensive database searching of the crew manifest to locate a partner with similar interests that might lead to a permanent pairing. But recently, it had come to her attention that her search parameters might be skewed. She had utilized the male crew member manifest in her search for a suitable partner. But Jennifer Delaney had unknowingly made her aware that she could also date female members of the crew. When she reworked her search algorithm to include female crew, one name kept coming to the top of the list in every category. It was no surprise to Seven of Nine that Captain Janeway was consistently listed as the most ideal mate for her. After all, they shared interests in Velocity, astrophysics, music and had spent many companionable hours painting and sketching in Janeway’s holo-simulation of Maestro DaVinci’s workshop. Obviously, their interests meshed, and Seven already had strong positive feelings toward the Captain. It was just those irritating physical feelings that she couldn’t define.

Every time she attempted to get a solid definition of love she was only more confused. She had determined that the physical tingles and flutterings she felt when close to the Captain could be identified as a physical attraction. She knew that physical attraction was a big part of love. She also determined that a lover would put the well-being of their beloved ahead of their personal well-being. She was certainly willing to do that for Janeway. But on Voyager, most of the crew was willing to put the well-being of their crewmates ahead of their own, at least in a crisis situation.  She wasn’t sure if that was an indication of love or duty. The physical symptoms she entered into the computer also came up as several rather exotic alien diseases. Since she hadn’t been exposed to any of those diseases, she was inclined to discount those results. She was required to have a weekly checkup with the EMH to maintain her Borg implants; surely he would have detected a deadly strain of Keldrinian flu. She read about the importance of trust in love and that part she felt she had a good grip on. She DID trust Janeway, had trusted her with her life on several occasions. Furthermore, Janeway had trusted Seven with not only her life, but the lives of all of Voyager’s crew on several occasions.

Her confusion continued with reams of conflicting information available. It wasn’t until she read part of an Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem from Sonnets from the Portuguese that all the pieces seemed to fall into place.

  How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
    I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
    My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
    For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
    I love thee to the level of everyday's
    Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
    I love thee freely, as men might strive for Right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
    I love thee with the passion put to use
    In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
    I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
    With my lost saints,–I love thee with the breath,
    Smiles, tears, of all my life!–and, if God choose,
    I shall but love thee better after death.

…with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life – and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. Seven of Nine wasn’t too sure about God (religion had not been a part of her scientist parents’ beliefs and it certainly wasn’t part of the Borg Collective), but the power of the words moved her. Somehow they served to clarify her thinking…she DID love Captain Janeway. The physical feelings were desire. For the first time, she began to realize that there was a distinct difference between love and copulation….well, sex. The Doctor had been slightly irritated with her continuing use of the word “copulate” to describe the sex act. Her research had told her that sex was the natural expression of love and that romantic partners engaged in it for non-reproductive purposes. That had come as a surprise to her. Even though she retained the knowledge of the mating and sexual practices of all the species the Borg had assimilated, she had never made the intellectual connections to relate to them on a personal level. Even her “field research” on B’Elanna and Tom Paris had not made the connection. For the first time in her 25 years, she began to imagine a life with another being and what that might entail. More particularly, she imagined a life with Captain Janeway on Voyager. The thought made her chest feel like it was swelling. She felt…joy…at the idea. She was in love with Captain Janeway. “I love Kathryn Janeway…” The words swirled in her head and fueled the elation in her heart.

Now, what do I do about it?

A brooding Borg is not a pleasant sight, and most of Voyager’s crew studiously avoided her the next morning in the mess hall. 0610 hours was just too early to risk assimilation. B’Elanna Torres was no coward however, and plopped into a seat at Seven’s table with no hesitation.

“Kahless, Seven, you look like somebody shot your puppy. What’s going on?” she asked as she set down her tray.

Seven of Nine, true to form, didn’t pull any punches with her answer.

“I am in love with the Captain and I do not know what to do about it,” she replied. A moment later, she was vigorously pounding Torres on the back after the Engineering Chief had spewed the coffee she had just drunk all over the table and was showing every sign of a severe choking fit. After a couple of seconds the wheezing engineer waved her off. When Torres managed to get air back into her lungs, she looked at the ex-drone in amazement.

“OK, start at the beginning and go very slowly…”

Seven then recounted not only recent events but her research and conclusions.

“…So, while I have never been in love before, everything I read shows me that I am in love now with Captain Janeway. I admit that I have no experience in matters of the heart, but when I am with her I feel happy. When I am not, I find myself thinking about her. When she is close to me, I do not function at peak efficiency. Many times I cannot think clearly. My breathing becomes faster, my pulse races and I feel warm. When we are together I feel…complete; in a way I do not when we are apart. She is everything I admire and respect and when I look at her I feel weak in the knees. More than anything, I do not wish to disappoint her in any way. I dream of her when I regenerate. And when I think of the people she has loved I feel like doing them bodily harm even though I have never met them. When she does something reckless in a crisis or on an away mission, I fear for her safety with all my heart. I want nothing more than to protect her and keep her safe. Am I wrong, B’Elanna? Have I reached faulty conclusions?” she asked in honest confusion.

B’Elanna was touched at the vulnerability in Seven’s words. She reached across the table and softly squeezed her hand.

“Seven, anybody would be honored for someone to feel that way about them just once in their life. Most people are never that lucky.”

Knowing how the Klingon hybrid felt about honor, Seven realized that she had been paid high praise indeed.

“But, B’Elanna, what do I DO about it?”

Torres considered her reply carefully. Seven of Nine was a physically formidable person, but emotionally vulnerable and naïve. She had no desire to hurt her, but sometimes hard facts had to be faced.

“Seven, has the Captain done anything to indicate to you that she returns your feelings?” she inquired gently.

“She spends more of her free time with me than with any other person on Voyager,” Seven replied. “And I have noted on many occasions, her breathing rate increases and her pupils have dilated when she has been in close proximity to me. And when I kissed her goodnight the other evening she smiled.”

B’Elanna’s jaw dropped. “YOU KISSED CAPTAIN JANEWAY GOODNIGHT??? Kahless, you’ve got more guts than I do!! Tell me all about it…details, Seven, I want details!”

“The other night when she broke her leg playing Velocity the Doctor gave her strict orders that she was not to put weight on her injured leg. After I carried her back to her quarters and we had dinner, we worked for a while in her living room. When it was time for her to go to sleep she got ready for bed, I carried her to bed, tucked her in and kissed her goodnight.”

“Why in the name of Sto-Vo-Kor would you tuck her in and kiss her goodnight???” B’Elanna demanded.

“The Captain grumbled that I was babysitting her. When I babysit for Naomi Wildman I tuck her in bed, read her a story and kiss her goodnight. The Captain did not wish me to read her a story before bed, so I just tucked her in and kissed her goodnight,” came the factual reply.

Torres howled in mirth. “Kahless, Seven! Listen, I don’t know how much more humanity you plan on discovering, but please don’t ever change too much. You are too amazing just the way you are.” The Klingon’s eyes were watering with her laughter, but she realized that Seven still needed advice. With difficulty, she brought herself back under control.

“And the Captain didn’t threaten to toss you out an airlock when you kissed her?”

“No, she did not say anything at all…she just smiled. I wished her goodnight and left.”

“Well, shock factor notwithstanding, I’d say that was a fairly good sign. I can’t imagine the Captain letting anyone she didn’t care for kiss her goodnight and if they tried it, she’d probably put them in Sickbay. When you’re not playing Velocity, does she, um, ever…flirt with you or anything?”

“I am not sure I know what flirting is,” said Seven.

How the hell do I define flirting for her?? thought B’Elanna. “Well, flirting is when someone sort of tries to show you that they’re interested in you. They may smile a lot, lean in toward you when they talk to you, maybe reach out and touch you when they normally wouldn’t. They might tease you or in more obvious flirting, make suggestive remarks. Sometimes people use it to try and gauge if you’re interested in them. If you respond to their flirting it would show them that you’re interested in pursuing a more romantic relationship with them. Has the Captain done any of those things when she’s with you?”

“Yes, she usually touches me unconsciously when we have one of our philosophical discussions. And when we are talking about ship’s business she smiles at me quite a lot. She has never made a suggestive remark if I understand the meaning of the term. Does that mean she is flirting with me?”

“Damn, Seven, I don’t know. With the Captain, it’s hard to tell. She’s kind of touchy-feely with the people she considers friends, and it’s obvious to most of us that she does do it more with you than with any of us. But most of us just attribute it to the fact that she considers herself your mentor. I can’t honestly say that I’ve ever thought of it as anything but innocent. But there are ways for us to find out if she might be interested. Let me think about it for a day or two. First, there are a few things we need to talk about. Even if the Captain cared about you in that way, are you sure she would act on her feelings?”

“Why would she not act on her feelings if she loved me?” asked Seven in dismay.

“Seven, you have to remember that she is CAPTAIN Janeway first and foremost. She is a Starfleet Captain. There are regulations about fraternization between senior officers and crew. Especially Captains. It is generally thought of as an abuse of power for a Captain to have a romantic relationship with a crew member. Her father and grandfather were both ADMIRALS in Starfleet…she was raised with the Starfleet rules and regulations. Even if she was in love with you, she might not feel she could ever act on it. And I hate to bring this up, but the Captain is…well…older than you are and she might not think it was proper for her to care about you in a romantic way because of that. Another factor would be how the crew would perceive a relationship between the Captain and somebody on Voyager. Some of them would be jealous and accuse her of favoritism. She would be cautious about dating anyone in the crew because it might undermine her command authority. As Captain, she can never be perceived as showing favoritism or crew morale will suffer. That would definitely be a consideration for her. Plus, while I know she doesn’t have any gender-bias, I don’t think she’s ever been involved romantically with a woman. She’s been engaged twice to men. There’s never even been a rumor of her being interested in another woman.”

Seven of Nine scowled attractively. “Yes, I know about her last fiancé Mark Johnson. He wrote to her the first chance he got and told her that he was married to his assistant. He was completely unworthy of the Captain. No one who truly loved her could ever give up on her in only three years. The Captain would certainly never give up on someone SHE loved that easily!”

I wonder if the Captain appreciates what she’s got in Seven of Nine? Kahless, most people I know would kill for that kind of loyalty and affection. I know I would, thought B’Elanna.

“Well, I know it hurt her when she got that letter. But I think she’s over it now, so don’t worry about that. What we need to focus on now is finding out if she really might care for you in a romantic way. I still need to think on this one for a bit. We need to be subtle…you can’t just walk up to her on the bridge and blurt it out or she will hide behind her command authority. Not to mention having a heart attack because her personal life was out in the open in front of the entire senior staff. Now I know tact and subtlety are not exactly your strong suits, but do you think you can keep acting normally around the Captain until we figure this out?”

“I will try,” said Seven most solemnly and sincerely.

“OK, you just act normally and I’ll try to think on this. Do you mind if I bring Tom and Harry in on the plan?”

“I do not mind, but I do not wish for any hint of this to get out to the crew. I have only recently begun to be accepted by most of them and I do not wish for anything to stop that. Can Tom and Harry be…discreet?”

“Harry certainly can, and I’ll threaten Tom with castration if he even looks like he’s thinking about spilling the beans,” was the reply. “Meanwhile, we both need to get to our duty stations. Remember, we’ve got senior staff at 0900 hours and we need our departmental reports finished by then. Let’s get going.” And the two conspirators rose to leave the mess hall together.

They hadn’t gone five paces when the ship lurched as it dropped out of warp and the alert klaxons sounded. They looked at each other and sprinted for the bridge.

Janeway had been awakened at 0415 hours by a hail from the bridge.

“Bridge to Janeway.”

She dragged herself to wakefulness and fumbled for her comm badge. “Janeway here.”

“Captain, long range sensors had detected an unknown warp signature on intercept course with Voyager.”

“Time to intercept?”

“Four point six hours at present course and speed.”

“Very well, I’m on my way. Janeway out.”

Eight minutes later, a freshly showered and immaculately uniformed Janeway stepped out of turbolift and barked, “Report!” as she moved to her command chair.

“Captain, sensors have not yet identified the warp signature. There appear to be higher than normal theta and tachyon radiation levels in the scan. It might be a transwarp signature.”

“I didn’t think there were transwarp-capable systems in this sector. In fact, if I recall correctly, the course Seven plotted for us avoided even the warp-capable one in this area.”

“Yes, Captain. Seven routed us through the outskirts of the Kendarii Prime system. They are not warp-capable. Although she DID say that the Borg had not been in this area for over 40 years. It‘s possible that transwarp technology has been developed here in that time period.” Lt. Nicoletti responded from the Ops station.

“Very true. And why was it we had to skirt the edges of a non-warp system again?” queried Janeway.

“She said it was to avoid contact with species 6281 on Ma’altara Prime. The Borg information on that species indicated warp capability but otherwise technologically unremarkable. For some reason, Seven of Nine felt they should be avoided. The computer doesn’t show a reason to do so though.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Helm, maintain course and speed. Nicoletti, I want constant scans on that warp signature until we identify it. I’ll be in my ready room.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Janeway moved off the bridge into her office. The first order of business was hot coffee. Once the caffeine had taken effect, she settled at her desk and brought up the most current Astrometric charts. She reviewed the scans and reports on their current sector. As she reviewed the data on the inhabitants of their locale, she was slightly troubled by the comment Nicoletti had made.

For some reason, Seven of Nine felt they should be avoided…

It wasn’t like Seven to make a decision or recommendation without complete documentation. This almost sounded like a…hunch. And the Borg do NOT act on hunches. She made a mental note to ask Seven about it once Alpha shift started. In the mean time, until they had more data from the sensors, there were monthly personnel reports to review.

An hour and a half later, Lt. Nicoletti’s hail sounded in her ready room.

“Captain, our scans have positively identified the warp signature as Ma’altarean. And scans also show a rudimentary transwarp signature too. They’re closing faster than we had anticipated.”

Damn! “Time to intercept?” the Captain asked.

“The Ma’altarean ship should be in visual and hailing range within thirty minutes.”

“Sound yellow alert. Get the senior staff to the bridge. And take us out of warp. Full impulse power on present course. We don’t want to appear threatening. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Janeway was back in her command chair when B’Elanna and Seven of Nine stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge. B’Elanna moved to the primary Engineering station and Seven took her position at the Science Station directly behind Janeway’s command chair.

“Seven, scans identify the ship as Ma’altarean with a rudimentary transwarp signature. You seemed to think they should be avoided and recommended a course that supposedly took us well around their system. Why?” asked Janeway.

“Captain, the data I presented was the most accurate available. As I stated, the Borg had not been in this sector for close to 50 years. Technology can develop quickly in that time frame.”

“Yes, Seven, but why were you so set on avoiding the Ma’altareans? All data indicates they are a civilization in which First Contact would be advisable.”

Seven of Nine hesitated while she formulated a reply. The brief pause was enough to cause Janeway to turn around and stare pointedly at her. Seven of Nine was not known to be indecisive in matters of analysis.

“Captain, if I might see you in private?” was the only response she could formulate.

While Seven of Nine was well known for her ability to cock her optical implant to her hairline when skeptical, Janeway was also more than capable of it. That look was on her face now.

“Very well. My ready room.” She rose from her chair.

Moments later, they faced each other in front of the Captain’s desk.

“Seven, what’s going on here?” snapped Janeway.

“Captain, since I presented the course and data on this sector three days ago, I have run over 7,000 search algorithms on the Borg data nodes. So far none have shown any results. But Captain, I have…a…bad feeling…about the Ma’altareans. I just cannot document it yet.” Seven of Nine looked dismal at this failure of her intellect.

“You have ‘a bad feeling’ about the Ma’altareans? That you can’t justify? And based on this ‘bad feeling’ you submitted a course around their system?” 7,000 search algorithms?? How did she manage that much research in only three days??? thought Janeway, amazed.

Seven of Nine straightened. “Yes, Captain.”

“And your 7,000 search algorithms haven’t turned up anything to justify your ‘bad feeling’?”

“No, Captain.”

“Alright Seven, I don’t know why you’d have a bad feeling about this, but keep up the research. Until you do have some justification, I’m treating this as a First Contact situation and proceeding in accordance with Starfleet regulations.”

“Captain, I recommend caution,” said Seven vehemently.

“Noted. But I will not deviate from Starfleet regs based on a hunch of yours. Get me hard data. Until you do, we follow standard First Contact procedures. If you need to head to Astrometrics to continue your research feel free to do so. Dismissed.”

Seven and Janeway returned to the bridge. Half an hour later Voyager was hailed by the Ma’altarean scout ship Mylapaq and her commander, Captain Ta’arqual. Neither ship powered weapons and the initial exchange was courteous. Each ship beamed data chips on their respective worlds to the other and maintained station-keeping while the data was evaluated. After four hours, the Mylapaq again hailed Voyager.

“Ta’arqual to Captain Janeway.”

“Janeway here, Captain.”

“Your Federation and our Protectorate seem like very similar organizations. My crew and I would like to extend an invitation to you and your officers for dinner tonight on our ship.”

“That is extremely kind of you, Captain. But since we are the visitors in your sector, please allow us to host you and your officers here on Voyager. Shall we say 1800 hours?”

“Agreed, Captain. We look forward to it. Until then. Ta’arqual out.”

Neelix began preparations for a semi-formal diplomatic dinner and department heads had their crews ‘polishing the brass’ on Voyager until the ship gleamed. Always a good idea to put your best foot forward in a First Contact situation. Seven of Nine received her summons to the dinner while in the Astrometrics lab, engrossed in researching Ma’altara. She had quickly integrated the newly obtained Ma’altarean data into her database, but so far, nothing of note had emerged, and she was still without justification for the increasing feeling of dread within her.

Promptly at 1800 hours, the transporter beams began to rematerialize four figures. As the beams coalesced into the visiting Ma’altareans, B’Elanna Torres gasped.

“Kahless! They’re HUGE!”

The visitors were all around eight feet tall and looked to weigh 400 lbs. They were dressed alike in knee-high leather boots, leather breeches and long-sleeved heavy tunics. They were a Klingon-like race with pronounced lateral neck ridges, high bony brow ridges and heavy musculatures. Their faces were handsome and smiling in welcome. Ta’arqual stepped forward and offered Janeway a decorative bottle.

“Captain Janeway, it is a pleasure to meet you in person. May I offer you a bottle of our Ma’altarean wine to thank you for your kind invitation?”

“Welcome to Voyager Captain Ta’arqual. May I present some of my officers? This is Commander Chakotay, my First Officer; Lt. Torres, my Chief Engineer; and Lt. Cmdr. Tuvok, my Chief of Security.”

Ta’arqual greeted them courteously and turned. “My second in command, Tur’maq, my Maintenance Chief, Parquaal, and our healer, Tar’paal.”

As the officers greeted each other in the Transporter Room, Seven of Nine made her way from Astrometrics to the Mess Hall where the dinner would take place. She was wearing what used to be known as a tuxedo, a red silk blouse with long sleeves and a silver vest. The apparel was formal enough to be appropriate for the dress uniforms worn by the Starfleet officers. As usual, she looked breath-taking.

The rest of the Voyager officers gathered in the Mess Hall while the greeting committee escorted their guests on a tour of the ship. The exchanges were warm with both groups discovering interesting things about the other and offering compliments on what they saw. As far as Janeway was concerned, it was one of the best First Contacts in which she and her crew had participated. By the time they arrived in the Mess Hall, Ta’arqual and his officers were relaxed and enjoying themselves. The only somewhat curious occurrence was that none of the Ma’altareans could seem to keep their eyes off Janeway. Tuvok, Torres and Chakotay had each caught them staring at the Captain as they toured Voyager. Torres could take it no longer and approached her counterpart Parquaal as the group left Engineering.

“Excuse me, Chief, but I can’t help noticing, you all seem fascinated by our Captain. What’s with that?”

“I apologize, Chief Torres,” said the Ma’altarean engineer, “but your Captain has red in her hair. It is extremely rare on our world. In fact, red hair is mark of the gods’ favor in our culture. Your Captain Janeway is blessed.”

“I see,” said B’Elanna, “Well, that certainly explains why you’d keep looking at her. Does the gods’ favor mean that Voyager will get back to the Alpha quadrant any time soon?”

The huge Ma’altarean chuckled as he replied, “Probably not. Those concepts are a bit antiquated and probably not nearly as effective as a transwarp drive.” They both laughed as the group headed for the Mess Hall and dinner.

The only bump in the otherwise successful dinner was the appearance of Seven of Nine in the mess hall. The Ma’altareans bristled as they realized the Voyager officer was Borg. Only Janeway’s smooth intervention and explanation of Seven of Nine’s history and contributions to Voyager seemed to calm them down. It took a lengthy explanation from the Captain and the EMH describing how Seven had been severed from the Collective and the ensuing difficulties in her transition back to humanity to convince the visitors that she was not an ongoing threat to those around her.

For her part, Seven attempted to be as open and friendly as she was capable given her misgivings about the Ma’altareans. It seemed to do the trick, and the dinner proceeded back along its friendly lines. By the evening’s end, Voyager had been invited to visit Ma’altara Prime with Mylapaq and her crew escorting them and acting as official hosts for their visit. Janeway accepted gladly knowing that R & R was always a benefit for crew and vessel. Seven of Nine was disconcerted at this development and excused herself as quickly as was polite to resume her research. The bad feeling was growing.

Forty-six hours later, Voyager was in high orbit over Ma’altara Prime and the senior officers were again donning dress uniforms in preparation for a state dinner on the planet’s surface. Seven of Nine was feverishly writing search algorithms in her continuing effort to discover the cause of her fears concerning the Ma’altareans. So far, she had found nothing to justify her feelings, but still pursued her research. She was not used to trusting her feelings, they were still far too new to her and seemed illogical in many instances, and her nature and Borg upbringing demanded she continue until satisfactory results were achieved. Something had triggered her unease – she merely had to find it amongst the millions of exaquads of data in the Collective’s memories. That the effort should normally require weeks of steady searching did not deter her. If there was a threat to Voyager or her crew, she would find it. Soon.

Her comm badge chirped. “Janeway to Seven of Nine.”

“Seven of Nine here, Captain.”

“Seven, Chakotay tells me…you aren’t planning on going to the banquet tonight? I thought I had made it clear that all senior staff would be required to attend.”

“Yes, Captain. I understand your orders. I…I am…not…feeling…well.” Seven of Nine didn’t know what it was to lie and did not do it at all well.

“Why do I think that’s pure garbage? Get down to Sickbay. If the Doctor backs you up, fine. Otherwise, I expect to see you in the transporter room in half an hour with the rest of us. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes Captain. But, if I may remind you, the Ma’altareans did not react well to my presence when they dined on Voyager. I would assume my presence would present an obstacle to the diplomatic and trade agreements you wish to develop here.”

“Your Borgness is exactly why I want you to attend. So we can demonstrate that Voyager is a true multi-species and multi-cultural vessel capable of adapting even to the Borg. The fact that you have been accepted as one of the crew is why I want you along. Now get ready to go planet side. Janeway out.”

Seven of Nine had no intention of going planet side. Her research must not be interrupted. She hailed Sickbay and asked the EMH to come to her quarters. He materialized promptly in her living room.

“What’s the emergency, Seven?” the EMH asked with concern as her began to scan her with his medical tricorder.

“Doctor, there is nothing physically wrong with me. I am functioning within normal limits. However, I cannot interrupt the research I am currently engaged in to attend the state banquet and Captain Janeway will not excuse me without a medical reason. I need your help.” Her worry and fear was written on her face.

The EMH regarded her intently for a moment. “So basically, you’re asking me to deceive the Captain so that you can get out of this state dinner.”

“Doctor, there is danger here. I know it. I must continue my research to determine the exact nature of it. Without that knowledge, I cannot adequately protect either Captain Janeway or Voyager. Please.”

“Seven, you are not responsible for protecting Captain Janeway or Voyager. We have an entire Security and Tactical section for that. And they are very good at their jobs,” he replied tartly.

“But I am the only one who seems worried about these Ma’altareans. I know there is danger here. Please, I have never asked anything of you before. Help me.”

The EMH stared at the earnest young woman for a few moments longer. He might have been merely a sentient hologram, but he thought of Seven almost as a daughter. After all, he was responsible for removing the Borg implants that had kept her more machine than organic being.  He had done his best to help shepherd her back to full humanity and was genuinely fond of the young woman. And there had been some friction when Voyager had entertained the Mylapaq’s crew. He tapped his comm badge.

“EMH to Janeway.”

“Yes Doctor, what is it?” replied the Captain.

“Captain, I’m with Seven of Nine. When I ran a scan, I detected some abnormal energy fluctuations in her cortical node. I need to do further analysis and will probably have to adjust her optical and cortical implants. She’s exhibiting symptoms of a neurological impairment and I need to do this promptly.”

“Very well Doctor. Make sure she’s fully functional. I’ll expect a report on my desk before I leave for the trade talks in the morning. Tell Seven of Nine she wins this round. Janeway out.”

The relief was evident on Seven of Nine’s face. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome, Seven. I’ll fabricate something for the Captain. I still think you’re imagining things, but continue your research.”

“That is precisely the problem. I do not imagine things. No Borg does. Yet I cannot seem to rid myself of this feeling of impending danger. I MUST discover the cause of it.”

“Well, you’re off the hook for tonight. But be warned, the Captain didn’t sound pleased. I wouldn’t count on her being this accommodating in the future.”

With that, he dematerialized and Seven of Nine returned to her search.

By 0100 hours, Seven of Nine was aware that her cybernetic systems were in need of regeneration. The signals from her cortical node were unmistakable. But she had still not managed to find the elusive data she sought. For a moment, she considered pushing on but realized that if her fears were justified, she would need to be at full strength. She formulated yet another search algorithm and set it in motion in the data banks. She set her work station to alert her if the search was successful and went to her alcove to activate the regeneration cycle. She stepped up onto the dais, faced front and backed into the contacts. In a moment, her eyes snapped shut and the regeneration cycle began. She would see and hear no more until it completed in six hours.

The workstation beeped the programmed alert at 0637 hours precisely.

“Regeneration cycle incomplete,” noted the computer. Seven of Nine opened her eyes and stepped out of her alcove. She moved immediately to her workstation, noted the alert and brought up the data her search had uncovered.

Rite of Mal’Torpaq…Ancient Claiming Ritual…not officially practiced for over 500 years…but never outlawed. Seven frowned over this information and quickly attempted to cross-reference it in the new data streams Voyager had downloaded from the Mylapaq. Nothing. She extended her search to include all the Borg data nodes. While her algorithm ran, she quickly took a sonic shower and changed into fresh clothes. She chose to wear the calf-high combat boots of her away mission uniform rather than her standard-issue boots. When she returned to her workstation her search had turned up no additional information. It would appear that the only way to get the data she needed was to hack into the central processors of the planet. She went quickly to the Astrometrics Lab and began to scan the capital city below.

There! The Museum of Cultural History. She scanned the museum and found the central processor.  Quickly she established a data link, hiding the signature and data streams with complex Borg encryption codes that would erase any indication of her presence when her search was complete. She keyed in search parameters and sent them to the Ma’altarean computer. For the first time since her long search had begun, her screens were filled with data.

The state dinner the night before had been a great success. Janeway, Tuvok and B’Elanna Torres were scheduled to begin trade talks at 0900 hours and had beamed down to the Ma’altarean Premier’s residence at 0730 hours for a formal breakfast prior to the beginning of the negotiations. Voyager, her officers and crew had been welcomed with open arms by the officials and populace of Ma’altara Prime and the banquet had sealed that welcome. Captain Janeway was delighted with the attention paid to her crew and the indications that trade for sizable quantities of dilithium and deuterium would be not only possible but welcomed. If Voyager could fill her cargo holds, the ship could be supplied with warp fuel and replicator ores for months. And Neelix had determined that his food stores could also be completely restocked. While Janeway and her negotiating team were eating breakfast, he and his official escort were in the main market of the capitol city making arrangements for food supplies to be beamed up to the ship.

When the remains of breakfast had been cleared away, the formal negotiations began. The Premier, his councilors and many senior military officers were present for the occasion. B’Elanna had been on her best behavior and was pleased with the respect that was being accorded Captain Janeway. The only thing that appeared at all out of order was the on-going attention the Captain’s auburn hair generated. She was aware that it was a huge rarity on Ma’altara Prime, but the inordinate amount of comment and attention it generated seemed somewhat over done. But B’Elanna had endured a stern lecture from the Captain on cultural differences and Starfleet’s Prime Directive when she had brought it up, so she kept her thoughts to herself. Tuvok was his usual competent self, quietly giving the Captain information as she required it and maintaining his awareness of everything that was going on around them as an experienced Security and Tactical officer should. He noted that there appeared to be some back-channel communication going on between the highest-ranking military officers present, but their friendly expressions didn’t change and he attributed it to aides passing them routine information. So when Warrior Prime Pal’quaar abruptly stood up he was not unduly alarmed.

“I claim the Rite of Mal’Torpaq! I claim the Janeway female! I invoke my sacred privilege as Warrior!” shouted the chief of Ma’altara military forces. The previously sedate and peaceful negotiations erupted into shouts and threats as the Premier and his councilors rose to protest the general’s outburst. Chaos reigned as Tuvok moved to protect the Captain and B’Elanna shifted to cover the Captain’s other side. Janeway laid a restraining hand on Tuvok’s arm to keep him from bodily shielding her from the confrontation.

Premier Tor’vaq tried to shout down his military commander with no success. The other military staff in the room, with the exception of Captain Ta’arqual of the Mylapaq rallied around the Warrior Prime. The Prelate of the Temple of Justice was prevailed upon to judge the veracity of the claim. To the dismay of Premier Tor’vaq, he calmly ruled for Pal’quaar.

“The ritual has never been outlawed and the Warrior Prime is of sufficient rank and stature to invoke it. While custom has indicated that the Rite of Mal’Torpaq is antiquated and has fallen into disuse, the rule of law says that Pal’quaar is within his rights,” the Prelate concluded. “You may, of course, offer Captain Janeway the protection of your house if you so desire,” he told the white-faced Premier.

Janeway had heard enough. She leapt to her feet and interrupted the proceedings with a Force ten command glare.

“What in the hell is going on here? Nobody is claiming anyone! Now let’s just…”

“SILENCE WOMAN!!!” thundered Pal’quaar, “You have no voice here. This is the Rite of Mal’Torpaq…it is the right of WARRIORS!!”

As Janeway began to respond, the doors of the room burst open and Seven of Nine strode in furiously.

“THE WOMAN IS MINE!!” she roared. “I AM WARRIOR! I am her rightful mate. I accept the challenge and invoke my right of defense under Mal’Torpaq!!”

Tuvok’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Janeway and B’Elanna could only stare at her with their mouths open.

Seven of Nine had read through the reams of data as quickly as possible. The more she read, the greater her dismay and horror. The Rite of Mal’Torpaq or the Claiming Ritual was an ancient and barbaric method of obtaining a mate for the warrior classes of Ma’altara Prime. A warrior of sufficient rank and prestige was allowed to claim as mate any female of the aristocracy he chose. Should any member of the woman’s household object, combat to the death resulted. That in itself did not cause Seven of Nine concern, but as she read the rituals involved in the “claiming” by the victor she blanched. Ritual rape and violation. The females of Ma’altara Prime had been circumcised at puberty in a religious ceremony. But any off-world alien female was subjected to that horrific mutilation as part of the victor’s rights. That the ritual proved nearly always fatal to alien females solidified her fears for Captain Janeway. They had all been fascinated with the Captain’s hair. It was deemed a blessing; she would be a MOST prized possession. Seven hurriedly downloaded the pertinent data to the command workstation on the bridge and hailed Chakotay as she ran to the transporter room.

“Commander, has there been any word from Tuvok?”

“No Seven, there hasn’t. But there appears to be some interference from the security shields around the Premier’s residence. We can’t establish communications or transport into the residence. Why?”

“I do not have time to explain! Ready Voyager to leave orbit as quickly as possible and recall any crewmembers on the planet’s surface. I have downloaded the necessary information to your workstation on the bridge. Captain Janeway is in grave danger while she remains on the surface. I am headed planet side to bring her back to Voyager now!”

“Damn it, Seven! Wait just a minute. You have no authority to order any of those things! I won’t interrupt the talks on your word! What the hell are you trying to pull??”

“There is no time!! Just read what I have downloaded. I am in Transporter Room one now. Seven of Nine out!” She ordered the transport officer to beam her as close to the entry to the Premier’s residence as possible and barked, “Energize!”

She materialized in a shower of blue energy sparkles outside the entrance to the residence. The guards at the doors recognized her as a Voyager officer, nodded her in and she sprinted for the rooms at the end of the hallway. As she reached the doors, she heard the words of the challenge shouted from within. It was too late to remove Janeway peacefully from the residence. The challenge would have to be answered. Seven of Nine lowered her head.

I must put away all I have learned of the sanctity of life. I cannot be Human, I cannot be weak. Pain is irrelevant, fear is irrelevant. The Captain is threatened. I must terminate the threat. It does not matter that the Captain may hate me for this; I will protect the Captain, I will protect my Collective. I am Borg. I will terminate the threat. I will protect my Captain. I am Borg…I AM BORG!! Nanoprobes flooded her bloodstream as her cortical node fired signals to cybernetic implants preparing for battle. She raised her head, slammed the doors open and stormed into the room; Alpha-Borg in all her fury.

“THE WOMAN IS MINE!!” she roared…

What the Heart Knows - Conclusion