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WONDERS OF THE HOUSE PRESBA Book 4: Reflections Part 1 by Katrina and Llachlan Contact: the authors can be reached at bearblue1@yahoo.com or llachness@gmail.com
Voyager slid into the Alpha Universe undetected, and with little to mark her passage. Lt. Tom Paris' hands flew over the console, guiding the living ship onto its new path with confidence. He knew all too well that old spacers had a tendency to develop a philosophical approach to life; an approach that could rob you of the wonder if you weren't careful. In space, things could take odd twists and turns in a matter of seconds. They could also go completely right. It depended on the variables. In Voyager's case, the trip back to the Alpha Universe - Delta Quadrant - Sector 5311 went very smoothly. Tom grinned as they left the Membrane behind; he might be an old hand, but the wonder of it all never eluded him. This time the crew knew what to expect and those who were new to the transition had been trained and warned. As no one wanted to wake up as part of the ship's corridors, floors or other components, people stayed at their places until the journey was done. Fortunately, with the Trans-Universal Engine, moving between Universes took less time than journeying between Quadrants. There was an abundance of scientific explanations as to why it worked that way, and there were scientists and engineers that could explain it quite well, if only to other scientists and engineers. The actual mathematics and engineering principles were not for the faint of heart or the non-mathematically inclined. The crew of Voyager, however, was composed of the best and brightest from two Universes. They were working on that discrepancy by trying to develop a trans-warp engine for inter-quadrant travel. They had components of Borg technology, but it was thought that a new composite engine would be better for Voyager, who, as a living ship, was prone to absorbing and adapting to new technology in unexpected ways. For instance, the Trans-Universal Engine had been combined into a unit in Engineering with control systems on the bridge and in engineering lab 14, along with an emergency station in Astrometrics. At the moment, all the stations relating to the TUE were filled with very intelligent, watchful people. It was Lieutenant Sayr, the Vulcan propulsion expert assigned to the TUE station on the bridge, who confirmed that the translation had been successful. It was the Captain, Kathryn Janeway, who made the arrival announcement to the crew, and ordered a stand down from yellow alert. From Voyager's perspective, the trip had been a beautiful experience of communing with her beloved Stinging Sparrow, living ship of Zakeeri origin. It was during the first translation that she and Stinging Sparrow had originally combined their genetic materials, though neither of them knew it at the time. They were a bit more cautious about their contact this time, but still quite unable to help themselves, as they were a mated pair. However, this time, since Voyager was already pregnant, no materials were exchanged and it was possible that the conception had been a one time only event. They were looking forward to being able to check in with the Zakeeri themselves, since the feline-like inhabitants of the Delta quadrant were experts on the living ships that formed part of their family clans. The tiny being growing within Voyager had not yet reached a point of sentience, but there was a sense of presence that the other living ships aboard Voyager had detected and welcomed during the transition. It appeared that it was indeed viable and sturdy. That little being was one of the first things that Dr. Brahms checked upon after their entry into the alpha-Universe and the very first thing that she had reported to the Captain. The crew of Voyager, once it was established that they were in normal space again, set about their regular duties without a second thought of worry. They were used to the new and unusual, probably more so than many of their peers. They were also just counting their lucky stars that there hadn't been any unfriendly beings in the area when they entered. As their Captain had once said, "They were Starfleet and weird was part of the job." After the stresses of the last few weeks, it was good to be home. ==^== In their Ambassadorial Offices, Kasala, Yar and their assistants were catching up to the reality that they were in another universe. Their assistants now included two Klingons: a brace of just-in-case recent arrivals delivered by Chancellor Worf - the loyal and ever doughty Duras Sisters. Their brother remained in Universe Beta, where he would perform his duties there. They believed they were prepared for anything, but the transition was somewhat disturbing and now they understood the risk that House Presba had taken to get to their universe to warn them. It was, they were all sure, going to be very interesting in Universe Alpha, especially since they had taken the time to read and assess the public records of Voyager. The Ambassadorial team expected that this universe was not ready for what it was about to receive. In his personal quarters, Commander Benjamin Sisko, previously the Captain on Deep Space 9, and now a man from non-temporal space, had found the journey less disturbing and more like a taste of what had been his home in the Celestial Temple. In the fluctuating space between the Membranes he had observed others of his kind, though not the Bajoran Prophets, who floated and kept their distance from the travelers, yet they followed the ship like dolphins. Worlds in, worlds out, he had thought during the travels. His words had been received, translated and returned in joy and curiosity. He found no reason to worry the crew of Voyager with this development. If they were meant to know, they would discover it. ==^== Sickbay was a bit busier than usual after their return to normal space. Many of the crew were suffering from seasick-like sensations, which made sense to the doctors. The brain experienced input, and sometimes that input determined the output; in this case, emesis, vertigo and a general miasma. Fortunately, the cure was easy and hyposprays were administered, much to the relief of those, including their Trill First Officer, who sought their help. Others had the exact opposite experience and found themselves empty and hungry afterwards. Fortunately, lunch was served during most of the day in mess hall one. Those who had time to stop by did. Others, who were off shift, or going to have duty in two shifts, did what they normally did to prepare. For Lwaxana and T'Pel, the experience was positively restful compared to their forced first experience in inter-Universal travel at the hands of the Orions. Their transition this time was experienced in the safety of their home with their children. Afterward, they had taken their little ones to The Park. They were not the only ones to do so, as a number of their fellows sought the naturally grounding effects of the natural environment nestled deep within a protected area of Voyager's decks. They were just relieved to feel their mates close. That was, for them, where home was. ==^== The command staff had discussed what would happen next and Captain Janeway implemented the plan. "Take us to Voyager's Rest, Tom." "Aye, Captain." The helmsman had said with relief in his voice. It was nice to do something he felt some control over. Flying and navigating in normal and sub-space was one thing; wrapping his head around the idea of folding universes to travel between points was math that was, quite frankly, beyond him. He engaged the navigation port and set the warp and they were away. It would take them a few days, since they were trying to be subtle about where and when the vessel moved from one universe to the next. For one thing, they did not want any unexpected witnesses and, for another, they didn't want a competing celestial body in the mix of their calculations. They would rely on Astrometrics to find those spaces. The Pharaoh System in the beta-Universe had been a unique destination because they had the exact parameters already in the system; the data having been unwillingly bequeathed to them by a captured Orion Syndicate computer core. Everywhere else they would have to rely on celestial data. A circumstance that resulted in the exercise of more caution than strictly warranted, but then again, since no one wanted to end up as part of a star or black hole, no one begrudged the extra labour. Satisfied that they were making good progress toward the planet that had become home-base in the Delta Quadrant, Captain Janeway said, "Lieutenant Ro, Commander Dax, you're with me. Tuvok, you have the conn." The three women entered the ready room. Ro Laren headed immediately for the replicators and Kathryn turned toward her first officer. "Well, now the real fun begins. I'd like you, Ezri, after we've had a moment to settle in and discuss the options a bit more, to head down to Astrometrics and work with Seven of Nine to make contact with Starfleet. I want you to see the procedure first hand." Ezri acknowledged the order, and then took the drink that was proffered by Laren. Kathryn also took a mug. They both sipped and both managed to have that same relieved look afterward, though the liquids were of two different substances. Apparently, caffeine, in what ever form it came, was a cure all, even for Dax's space sickness. It took Laren everything she had not to crack so much as a smile. "Laren, we've been working on that compiled data for Starfleet. Would you please make sure that any last minute messages from the crew are retrieved so they can be sent if we manage contact." "Why do you say if?" Ezri looked up over the rim of her mug. "There are a dozen variables that make for good contact. Sometimes the ship has to be at rest. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the connection is just bad, for whatever reasons. Tom compares it to the twentieth century radio. He said in some places they had to stand on each other's shoulders and twist antennas to receive signals." "That's ridiculous." "No, its historical fact." "Hysterical." Ezri took another sip, then elaborated. "We can beam people from point to point, convert energy to matter in specific patterns, but we can't figure out how to reliably receive a transmission." "Truly absurd." Laren agreed. "Anyhow…" The Captain gave both women an arch look, "… the point is that we take our chances with these points of contact. The only thing stable is that they are miniature wormholes, which allow us to make contact. If the wormhole collapses, the signal is over. What we're looking for right now is evidence of attempted contact as well as the possible location for sending one of our own." "Why is that?" "Well, we've missed one contact attempt, at least. Probably two. That's got to be worrying Admiral Paris, if for no other reason than that
he's an old friend and his son is on this ship. He'll keep trying even if everyone else stops." ==^== "Agreed." Azan and Rebi replied simultaneously. ==^== Kathryn entered her ready room to find Laren had already arrived. "Good morning, Darling." Whenever one travels, no matter the local, there is always one sure sign of approaching civilization and Voyager encountered it more than halfway to Voyager's Rest. Traffic. Security and Navigation reported the early signs of traffic as ships in the distance, but there was also communication traffic. This type of interchange was picked up by Operations and by Astrometrics. Astrometrics, at this time, was particularly concerned with a certain kind of communications transfer, but all of the data was gathered and sifted in the search for the evidence that a communications attempt had been made by Starfleet. It would have been an impossible task without the enhanced technology of Voyager and the brilliance of her crew. Megan Delaney was the first to spot something. "I've found one." Seven of Nine paced to where Megan was stationed. She glanced up and down the display and nodded. "Well done, Lt. Delaney. Try and track down the signal. It may still be viable." "Right." Like light, the message traveled as a pulse. Without booster points, the signal would travel at a rate much slower than what might be found in the Federation, where such points were ubiquitous. It was possible, depending on when the signal originated, that any message contained there-in would still be retrievable. However, space was vast, so they would also have to determine the direction the wormhole was facing and trace all the possible lines away from it. It would take some time, but now that they had found the micro-wormhole they could, if needed 'chase', the signal and find it, if it had not drifted too far. A few light years wouldn't make a difference to Voyager. A hundred would. That was also something that the Astrometrics department would work to determine: whether the chase was worth the effort. ==^== Ambassador Lwaxana Troi, late of Betazed, gazed around the spacious area that she and T'Pel had been assigned. It was a complete blank slate, open for their imprint, and, like the other diplomatic offices in the area, situated near the second mess hall. She realized, as she evaluated the area, that they would need to speak with their mates about renaming mess hall 2 to something more appropriate to its reputation. Perhaps they might even establish a gift station within it, for replicating knickknacks, or displaying and gifting, though the gift might have a nominal cost that depended on a particular culture's receptivity to the idea of being presented with gifts, many of which would be creative works made by Voyager's crew for the visitors. Lwaxana began walking around the space, gathering her thoughts for what might be and must be accomplished within its walls. T'Pel would
arrive soon to contribute her ideas about the Department of Diplomacy and its set up. Then they would contact Neelix and get his input. His
department was to be blended with theirs in that he would continue to have his own office and assistants and still be able to conduct his other
duties while the Morale office now had an official home within its confines. As did the newly formed Legal department, which T'Pel, temporarily
shedding her own status as an Ambassador of the Federation, would head. Though she had not yet said as much to Kathryn, Lwaxana knew it was likely that the DoD would see an increase in size in the immediate future. Especially if they anticipated being sent on other journeys where diplomacy would act as a key part of their efforts. So they would plan accordingly. Lwaxana turned to face the entrance and nodded. Mentally she began laying out a design; a waiting area with a fountain, decorative items from the Delta Quadrant and Universe Beta, offices and their connecting hallways here, as well as an interview room and a small conference room. She began to see the full vision of it and smiled as T'Pel entered the room. ==^== Voyager's Marines were now a slimmer, seasoned set of troops. They had faced two major battles less than a month apart and succeeded in their assigned tasks. The list of their honored dead was on a digital placard by the entry way of their department. The plaque showed a new name every five seconds, honoring each of their comrades in turn. The Marines had the respect of everyone on Voyager. However, they had also screwed up. Competing teams had failed to utilize the safeties in the holodeck, and it had resulted in trauma and deep
physical injury to the participants. This setback meant that now they were participating in retraining trials and punishment details. To add to the hazard, their commander, Sara Tucker, was not in the best of moods. She'd lost over half of their remaining troops to reassignment in Universe Beta. Admittedly, it was for a good cause, but that meant that some of her best people were no longer on the team. Which, again, meant retraining so that others could step up and meet the need; retraining that had to happen without the presence of those most qualified to teach. There were other reasons that she was being so harsh, reasons she was less inclined to speak publicly about. But the ex-Captain was feeling personally stung and she wondered if the failure of her marines had added up to enough of a minus to disqualify her from advancing from commanding the Marines to becoming Captain Janeway's exec now that Chakotay had been reassigned to an Ambassadorial post. There was no way to know and she wasn't inclined to ask. But it did mean that, at least from her troops' perspective, she had gone from their beloved commander to their hated commander overnight. Not that they wouldn't love her again in the morning. But at the moment, as they sweated and groaned, their affection was being pushed to the limit. ==^== The problem, Commander Steve Magnum decided, with being the Supply and Procurement officer, was that while they were en route to a destination, and all the holds and storage areas were replete with useful items and fully stocked with necessities and luxuries, it rather left one and one's assistants with a bit of time on their hands. And Steve was well aware that his assistants were really not the sort who should have much time on their hands, lest they find trouble. This
plethora of unoccupied time was what inspired him to more openly pursue the idea of better living through chemistry. Technically, they were there on a duty rotation to help the botanists by planting some new seedlings. But they were also establishing a bit of a small garden of their own in the process. They picked a small corner, designated it with its appropriate name and planted fast growing, non-parasitic Romulan grapes, some berries from a nameless planet in the Delta Quadrant, and, of course, a choice group of field grains. After they were done helping the botanists, they would begin setting up the microbrewery in the Supply and Procurement office in a space that Steve had already designated for it. If they did it right, and could keep people from plucking the juicy, sweet, and tasty fruit, they could have a Ship's wine and beer to complement the fine dining to be had in mess hall 2. If they did it wrong, well, it wasn't going to hurt the ship any, and they'd made the botanists' lives a little easier. ==^== Voyager was still, at least nominally, undergoing repairs from the Battle of Terok Nor. True she had been in fair enough condition to leave the space station, but there were plenty of behind the scenes tasks for Engineering and Maintenance to complete. Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres was currently engaged in one of the more urgent of those activities. A whole section of deck seventeen's flooring and its associated power system had to be replaced. Thus they had stripped out the injured parts and were now going through the process of fixing them. If one were to approach from either direction in the hallway, one would have seen B'Elanna's torso and head well below deck-level. This was because she, and a couple of other engineers, were standing in the under-story of the deck, rerouting power again, so they could get started on the repairs. Fortunately, there was enough room for people to walk around them, so long as the ship did not make any unnecessary and unexpected turns. And most people were in a convivial mood, due to the success in returning to the Delta Quadrant. So they greeted the engineers as they passed by, and sometimes made polite inquiry about the progress. They were gratified to find that polite answers were given, since B'Elanna was in a reasonable mood. That was always a good sign, because it meant that the repairs were going well. It also meant, on the whole, that B'Elanna was feeling good in general. A steady home life had done wonders for her state of mind. And, also, she too was glad to be home in the Delta Quadrant, where things were more familiar and - oddly - less stressful. One stress that remained was that Voyager was still speaking to her in Klingon, except while engaging in repairs and dealing with emergencies, and at home her family and furniture were also speaking to in her native, if unpracticed, tongue. As a measure of self-preservation, B'Elanna had taken to literally wearing the PADD interpretation tool that Kate had given her. She had it strung around her neck, like a giant pendant, so she could grab it quickly when she needed help or needed to eat. Learning the new language was still a struggle, but she was beginning, with the unexpectedly patient instruction of Ezri, to remember more and more of it as she went along. It was like touching a part of her childhood in some ways. Sometimes, like an echo, she could hear her mother saying some phrase or word and it would come back to her. That side effect was perhaps helped by the fact that she had recently seen her mother and their contact had been good, if far too short. At least now B'Elanna knew that Miral Torres was alive and well, and loved her still. She was just in another Universe, along with her mate, Gretchen Janeway. Thinking of Gretchen reminded her that Kathryn was experiencing a similar sensation of both gratification and loss. It was just one of those things that came with the territory of being space travelers. Sometimes family got left behind. ==^== Astrometrics had been frenetically busy as numbers were crunched and data was streamed to the processors as fast as the sensors would allow. They had managed to determine the direction of origination for any messages that they were likely to receive from Starfleet, and now they were narrowing the possibilities for the various ranges. On a positive note, it was determined that the micro-wormhole had been comparatively recent in activation. This data allowed them to adequately determine its positioning. Seven of Nine had requested, on behalf of her department, that Voyager pause during the investigation and had their request approved, which also made it easier. Four hours later they had the signal located and the distance calculated. The signal was viable and worth retrieving. They reported the success to the First Officer. ==^== Sickbay still had quite a few patients recovering from various battle wounds and in-house training accidents. The injured were in differing states of consciousness, but at least they were alive. Dr. Dezhe, a Klingon woman from a past century, had come to treasure working in the modern version of sickbay. The upgrades in technology were astonishing, but it was the people she enjoyed. Of course, if they had been Humans of a different kind, all sugar and light, she might have made different choices. But Dr. Pulaski and Dr. Zimmerman were individuals who had character, quirks and a dedication to healing that inspired her. They were also temperamental and sometime abrupt and, if she'd had to say it, admirably Klingon in their base personalities, if not their attitudes. It made them a positive joy to work with, from her point of view; even if they did try to erase all the scars from the victims. At least she had gotten them out of that habit with the Klingons on Voyager. To a Klingon, scars were important. They proved that you had dared life and lived through it. Dezhe was sure that the other doctors felt a similar appreciation for her. She had learned to accommodate herself to Voyager's, and, by extension, Starfleet's manner of healing. It was something she had come to value during the aftermaths of the battles and the small crisis that always plagued a Starship. Voyager's crew functioned better because they were healthy and did not, except for the expected holdouts, try to hide or get along with their illnesses. It was a practical matter and Dr. Dezhe was a practical woman. Thus, she had taken it upon herself to refresh her studies of medicine under the tutelage of the great Dr. Pulaski along with the help of Dr. Zimmerman. That was what she did with her time when they were not engaged in emergency surgery or walking the floor to check on their patients. She looked forward to it, almost as much as she looked forward to taking one of the Glory Dragon Riding Club tours when she was off hours. One had to have some fun while off duty, and racing or touring with the GDRC was certainly fun. "Dr. Dezhe, I have some errands to run," Dr. Pulaski said as she tucked a PADD into her medical jacket and straightened her tunic. One of those errands included checking up on a certain patient who had missed her last appointment and was, according to Voyager, currently located in the Sandrine's holo-simulation on deck 7. "I won't be gone long. An hour at most. You have the floor." "Yes, Dr. Pulaski. I have the floor." Kate smiled at the other doctor warmly and then exited sickbay. She knew it was in good hands. ==^== Commander Tuvok was gratified to see that Voyager's crew had taken on the mantle of regular starship duty like a familiar cloak. There had been some indications of tension among a crew that was still amalgamating into the entity they would become. Possibly it had to do with worry about the transition between universes, but it was nothing that translated into overt issues for security to deal with just yet. Still, there was reason for the department on a ship, and there were security teams stationed at every other deck - patrolling their two assigned decks on a constant, but alternating schedule. This rotation was to prevent the inattentiveness that grew out of unvaried routines while maintaining their highest efficiency. Tuvok glanced down at his control panel and read the series of notes that had been transferred from his security officers to his bridge console. The notes were in constant flow at his workstation and kept him abreast of the mood of the ship. Voyager herself also contributed notations of a non-intrusive variety. She was very much conscious of the need for personal privacy, but also acknowledged Security's need for current information. If something struck her as extremely out of the ordinary or dangerous, she was usually the first to ping him. He had come to appreciate her input in the database. Tuvok made his own additions, correlations and predictions and then went on to peruse the other information flow, the one regarding dangers from outside of Voyager. He noted the passing of a small meteor shower, the increase in certain kinds of energy signatures and a random asteroid or two. But there was nothing that immediately caught his attention. So, he began his other evaluations and checks while monitoring ship. ==^== Kate entered the holodeck that was currently running Sandrine's, and began to scan the crowd for her errant patient. Steve would be proud. Diplomacy first. ==^== The stream of data began automatically processing as soon as Voyager was within the barest range of it, the pre-programmed routines shunting the signal to augmentation buffers. The signal continued to gain strength and compile as they raced towards the strongest point. It was powerfully encrypted, using one of the Federations more recent code sets. One they believed to be decodable by Voyager's crew alone, fully confident that if anyone could unravel the message, it would be the people on Voyager. Two of Starfleet's highest officials trusted, for once, in the Borg. Their Borg. ==^== Kate Pulaski started a new file on herself, with Dr. Zimmerman's help. They already had quite a bit of data to draw on, but this was really the first time they could watch the progression of the changes in a meaningful way. The CMO didn't mind being the guinea pig in this case. The holographic man ran his tricorder over Kate's body and made notations about some basic changes. "Your blood pressure is lower, heart rate is optimal. You have a new node here and here," He pointed at her neck, near her vocal cords. "They're very small, but I believe that's where the noises are starting from." "Why do you think they're happening?" "Well, in many species, like Klingons, the growl is the first warning system. The purr has been shown to have healing properties. The Presban body changes appear to be pushing toward some common upgrades to your physical performance in general. So there is no doubt there is a reason for its addition to your system. It's also possible that your mates and you hear certain tones in the sound, which alert you to each other's state of arousal - positive or negative." Kate was nodding. "I was developing similar theories. Let's formalize this a bit and pull from some of Voyager's records. I know she keeps track of us, so she has probably tracked biological changes when the Prime engage in sonic exchanges." Dr. Zimmerman was nodding. "I assume you have your mates' permission?" Kate grinned. "They told me they would make themselves available. But let's not make this a paper for public consumption. Use the same kind of protocols that are used for Vulcans and other species with privacy holds. Oh, and see if you can get Commander Dax in here for a baseline before the bonding. Maybe you'll have more luck than me." Zimmerman snorted, clearly skeptical.==^== Ezri stopped outside of the turbo-lift. What had begun as a celebratory night of fun after days of endless work had, somehow, turned back into work. For a second she was tempted to wash her hands of the whole thing and kick it back to Tuvok. But that meant it would get to the Captain in an official way. Or worse, B'Elanna would decide that it was a House issue. First things first. Ezri walked to one of the small conference rooms that shared the corridor with her office, and entered it. Replicating a long-sleeved black shirt, she slipped it on, and then settled the long jacket back over it, carefully adjusting the collar and exposed sleeves. She decided that it wouldn't hurt to have a spare set of insignia, even if not all of the pips would be needed in the long run, so she called up a set and affixed them to the jacket. Dressed for the part, if nothing else, Ezri made her way to her office. ==^== Tom heard the door hiss open, but didn't turn to look. Instead he maintained the attention posture he'd been standing in since he'd entered Dax's office. It was the least he could do to show that he realized that she was going to have to clean up the mess he'd made. His face ached, and he was pretty sure that he was going to have an impressive shiner in the morning. He watched as Dax crossed to stand behind her desk, and then put both hands flat on its surface. She still hadn't addressed him or even looked directly at him, and it occurred to him that being ignored was almost as effective an intimidation tactic as one of Janeway's looks. Almost. Dax leaned forward over the desk and caught Paris' eye. "Go home, Lt. Paris." "Sir?" "If I ask you what happened, you're going to lie to me. I'm pretty sure I don't need to spend the next hour explaining why we don't punch crew mates. I'm equally sure that this will never happen again. Do we understand each other?" "Yes, Sir." "Good. But I suppose I need to punish you." Ezri thought about how best to make her point, but still get some utility from the situation without demoralizing Tom. Thinking it over, she realized she had just the project. The Sochlings would need a rated pilot to finish their project, and not only was Tom Paris was the best pilot on the ship, but he had done a masterful job with the Delta Flyer Tom didn't reply to that. He just waited, and mentally kicked himself for not leaving when he'd had the chance. "For the act of throwing the first punch at a fellow officer, during the next two weeks, your off-duty hours belong to Icheb Hansen. For that two weeks, any off-duty hours not claimed by Ensign Hansen are to be spent confined to quarters. Dismissed." She sat down and turned her back on Tom, attention now on her monitor. "And Tom?" Tom stopped, and turned back toward the desk, but Dax hadn't moved. He waited, still silent. "Thank you." He nodded, knowing she couldn't see it, but he felt a little lighter. It had been the right thing to do. The doors slid shut behind the helmsman and Ezri leaned back in her chair. One down, one to go. ==^== Kate Pulaski stepped out of her office in time to hear Zimmerman's comm badge chirp, and him acknowledge it. Thus she was also present to see the disdain flick across Commander Tucker's fine, but bruised visage as the First Officer's voice was broadcast from the hologram's chest. "Has Commander Tucker suffered any major injuries?""No, just a few cuts and bruises. I don't know what kind of training program you're letting these marines run, but maybe you should assign them a field medic. I had half a dozen of them in here." "Have the Commander report to my office immediately." "It will just take--" Dax cut him off. "Now. Bruises and all." Zimmerman opened his mouth and Kate caught his eye and shook her head, in a clear 'don't argue'. "Very well." He closed the channel and looked at Kate archly. "Someone's a few spots short of composed." "Tucker, you heard the Commander." Pulaski ignored Zimmerman for the moment and sent the disgruntled marine on her way. ==^== Sarah Tucker left sickbay behind and prepared herself to face the music. A quick check-in told her that she was the only one marine being summarily ordered to report to the First Officer. Small mercies, she supposed. She rang the chime and waited for admittance. ==^== Ezri heard the chime and swiveled in her chair, to face the door. She still hadn't decided how to handle the situation, but she knew it couldn't wait for her to dither her way through her options either. The chime rang again, and she was out of time. "Enter." Commander Sarah Tucker strode into the office, command mask firmly in place, and came to attention in front of the desk. It was clear from the set of her body and her expression that she had once commanded a starship of her own. And that, Ezri realized was the heart of the problem. "Sit down." Ezri made the words an order, rather than an invitation. Nonplussed, Sarah looked around the room, unable to find a chair. The only surface remotely appropriate for sitting on was the low bench seat against the windows on the far left, and that had most of the space occupied by boxes. "I'm waiting, Commander." Angry, Sarah let her temper flash. "You want me to sit? Then give me a god damn chair." Ezri kept her gaze even, calling on every memory of Benjamin Sisko that she had, and stood. With one hand she grasped the back of her chair, and propelled it toward the marine. "There are lots of places to sit. But if it's a chair you want, then here." Tucker caught the chair, and locked her eyes on the Trill's, but didn't sit. She watched as the woman moved from behind the desk and leaned against the front of it. Dax was nearly a head shorter than she was, but at the moment she seemed to dwarf the desk, and Sarah felt the first misgivings. "That is what you want, isn't it. My chair." It wasn't a question. "Sit." Tucker dropped her gaze, unable to hold the ghostly blue intensity of the Commander's eyes any longer, and sat. "Five minutes ago, I had a problem that I was trying to figure out a solution to." Ezri continued, her tone conversational instead of confrontational. "But I just realized, I don't have a problem. You do. And what I really want to know, is what you plan to do about it?" The leather of the armrest twisted under her grip as Sarah tightened her hold in an effort to keep from jumping up. "Permission to speak freely?" "No." "No?" "No. I have no desire to listen to you justify your behaviour, or for you to rail against the injustice of the situation. It's not my problem. It's yours. Now, I ask you again. What do you plan to do about it?" Sarah sat back, stymied. Of all the ways she had expected this to go, this wasn't even in the running. Her consternation only grew as Dax smiled. "Though, I have to tell you, I gotta wonder at the sanity of anyone who would even want this job. Never mind trade in the relative autonomy of your own command to get it. Did you actually like scheduling ship-wide shore leave when you were Drummond's exec?" "Uh. No." Trading in her autonomy? Sarah reflected back over the last few months. She did have a great deal of autonomy. Janeway told her what she wanted accomplished and left it up to her as to how. Only a near-death mishap had resulted in the Captain stepping in to suggest safeguards, and even then, Sarah had full responsibility for their implementation. "Ah. Then you were planning to turn in your fourth pip?" Ezri changed her position so that she was sitting on the edge of the desk instead of leaning against it. "Uh. No." Sarah repeated herself, at a loss for either her righteous indignation or her vocabulary. She shook her head, realizing that she had no intention of remaining on Voyager after they hit the Alpha Quadrant, and Janeway had known it. So rather than fill two holes multiple times, the Captain had made a selection that made for the least retraining and shifting. Damn. "Um, Commander?" Ezri lifted a brow and motioned the other woman to continue. She could see that she'd made her point, and was curious to hear how Tucker would choose to respond. "I don't have a problem. Not anymore." "Glad to hear it." Then Dax stood and leaned in over the Commander, placing her hands on the arm rests to either side of the woman. "Because, I'm only going to say this next part once. If the most vindictive thing anyone ever says about me is that I got my job by sleeping with Seven of Nine, then I'll count myself as well praised. But, and this is the part you really need to pay attention to, if I ever hear about a vindictive comment that associates sleeping with Seven of Nine and the opportunity for professional advancement, I will not take it as a compliment, and will govern myself accordingly. Are we clear, Commander?" Sarah flinched, but held her gaze steady. "Crystal." Ezri stepped back. "Good. You are unofficially confined to quarters when not on duty for the next two weeks. The punishment of the rest of your companions is in your hands. You will also tender an unofficial apology to Lt. Paris, as well as to Seven of Nine." "Understood." And she did. She would have to swallow her pride to do it, but nothing official would be left behind to mar her record. "Thank you, Sir." "I didn't do it for you." Ezri walked to the door. "Dismissed." "Aye, Sir." She exited the room without looking back. ==^== B'Elanna stepped into Astrometrics. She was greeted by her mate, whose attention was on a console. Seven of Nine turned and offered a small smile. Her gaze narrowed and a small noise of concern rose from within. She stepped forward quickly, "So the rumors were true." B'Elanna touched the bruise gently and then gazed at her wife. "I'm surprised you didn't run a dermal regenerator." "I will heal." There was something in the way Seven responded, and the disquiet she sensed behind the words, that alerted B'Elanna and she stepped closer. "Be'nal?" Seven leaned into their embrace. "It is nothing, Bang'wI. I am merely reminded that there is still a need for patience in some matters." A hint of old wounds lay under that statement and B'Elanna's brow furrowed as she tried to work it out. "What happened?" "Nothing that has not happened before and nothing that will not happen again. It is alright." "Seven?" The Borg enacted a distraction protocol, something she found to be very effective in these kinds of conversations; when she both needed her mate, and needed to avoid talking too much. She kissed B'Elanna, warmly and deeply and when B'Elanna tried to ask again, she kissed her once more, this time deliberately stirring the fire along their line. When B'Elanna spoke in reply, it was with a distinct purr. "Let's go home." So they did. ==^== B'Elanna was sleeping soundly when Seven gently rearranged her loving clasp and made a quiet escape. At another time she would have stayed with her mate and either attempted sleep herself or watched B'Elanna dream, an occupation that she found highly enjoyable. However, the ex-drone had much on her mind and a need to occupy herself, if not usefully, then at least with some measure of productive distraction. So she quietly exited B'Elanna's room, cheating a little by using the Nest's entrance. As she had known would be the case, there was no one in there. Seven spent a few seconds just absorbing the peace of the room, then entered her own abode, where she took some time to bathe and refresh herself before changing into something comfortable. She left her room in her bare feet, and debated exiting via the family level or the adult level, then determined that for her purposes, the one closest would be the most efficient. She headed to Astrometrics. The lights activated immediately upon her entrance and she strode toward the console that was currently compiling the data stream. She didn't touch it, merely observed that the file retrieval was at 27% completion. She nodded her head. The results were consistent with her expectations. The door to Astrometrics swished open. "Lwaxana Troi," Seven greeted, quietly, and then turned. "My mate," the Betazoid said, as she stepped forward. Their fingertips met in gentle communion. Lwaxana was dressed in a brighter outfit than Seven had grown accustomed to wearing, but there was a pleasant simplicity to it. "You followed me." Lwaxana's expression was gentle, concerned. "Darling, I was wondering if you might consider walking with me in The Park." ==^== It was full night in the earthy recreation area. Others were also strolling, as Seven and Lwaxana were, following the gently lit paths, but The Park was almost empty and those who were walking were far, far in the distance. Those they passed, who happened to be on benches along the pathway, held low conversations, as if between lovers or friends inspired by the quietude of the night setting. There were night time noises, chirrups and tunes that small nocturnal animals made to connect with each other. Firefly-like insects blipped into view and then out, providing their own kind of light to the genial walk. Lwaxana's arm was tucked into Seven's. They walked sedately, letting the path and whim guide them. The Betazoid let the silence alone, choosing instead to emphasize her feeling of enjoyment in being in Seven's company along their mated extrasensory line. She wanted Seven to speak on her own time, if she was going to. But she also knew that, for whatever reason, her mate should not be alone tonight. They stopped near the lake and sat on one of the benches there. Lights flashed in the water and above it, as fish mimicked fireflies to lure them in for a meal. The bench they chose was shaded and dark, affording them privacy. They could look above themselves and see the representation of stars in the night sky; tonight they were a recreation of those from Vulcan. Seven leaned into Lwaxana and the Betazoid wrapped one arm around her mate's shoulder. A few minutes passed and Seven finally spoke, in a quiet, thoughtful tone. "Do you realize that it took Kathryn nearly thirty-three years to accept the possibility of being loved in this here and now? She only had five years with Kate in her timeline, before Kate died." Seven realized that the information she was providing was not as exact as her usual assessment of time, but knew that Lwaxana would understand. "In that timeline she went twenty-three years without anyone to love her at all, save for a few random encounters. No one ever stayed with her. The journey was too long or it was too hard. Or some of us died. And she would not allow us, while we were there…she would not allow any of us near…beyond friendship, because she worried that it might affect how others perceived her command." Lwaxana's hand stroked Seven's shoulder gently, brushing above the sensitive implant without touching it directly. She wanted to comfort her mate, not stimulate her. "Even so, in this now, she only dared the pursuit in partial necessity. Though I was wooing her and, I expect, I would have won her, despite the extraordinary intervention of the Anomaly." Lwaxana chuckled at the edgy tone of determination in Seven's voice. "I am sure you would have, if you managed to convince her before she
changed her mind." Lwaxana nodded and gently kissed her mate's cheek. "She can't just change her mind." "No." Seven glanced out over the water and watched as a fish made the leap into the air to capture its meal. "She is ours and we are hers. But, I see now, that her fears had some validity." "Perhaps, but there were unintended consequences to the decision and she lost what she most needed." Lwaxana squeezed Seven gently. "As there have been unintended consequences for my own decisions." "How so?" prodded Lwaxana softly. She knew that sometimes it was important for one to frame one's contemplation in words. "And…" Now Seven really hesitated. "Some have said similar things about me, at one time. It was said that Astrometrics was given to me, rather than
a position that I filled." There was a hint of a growl, but nothing deep. It was an old, discarded wound, long healed over. "Would it matter if it were true?" There was a pause in the air, a waiting. Then there was a soft sound of amusement. "No. I would still have been the best choice. The only choice." Lwaxana nodded. "Yes." She kissed her mate gently. "As they say, cream rises to the top. It would not matter how you arrived, only that you
did well once you had the position." "There are those who are able to hold opposing ideas in their head without proof or evidence to support either thought." "Odd." "It is. But not unusual." "No. I suppose not." The silence between them was warmer and softer. They kissed lovingly. "I have been thinking about appropriate ways to address these issues and have come to the conclusion that I may have to treat them individually. As Mistress of the House, I can not have them say such things about my mates. There will have to be consequences. But I will continue to ignore them if such words are said about me." "Say what you will about me, but mess with my family...." "Yes." "It is, I think, something that we all feel." Lwaxana allowed her sense of protectiveness to rise to the surface until Seven nodded in understanding. She understood that they shared a common purpose. "Also…Ezri Dax." Seven grimaced. "I do not think the Purloined Letter method is working as intended." She brought the discussion back
to the conversation about discretion they had shared before she started her affair with the Trill. Seven of Nine's gaze narrowed. "Indeed." ==^== Benjamin Sisko was not, by nature, a patient man. His patience had been a wonderful gift - hard fought for - but a still, for all that, a gift. And so, against his nature, he had waited patiently to hear the sound that echoed through his quarters. The chime of the door. He wasn't sure if he spoke or thought the word. But the door slid open and he supposed he must have actually said, "Open." Ben directed a long look at the shadow standing in his doorway, then decided that more patience was in order. "I have missed you, Old Man, but this is not where you should be tonight. Go home, Ezri." And then he pressed the button to force the doors to shut. ==^== "Azan Hansen, why are you no longer regenerating?"
Half asleep, it took Ezri a moment to register who had entered her office. "Hey, my little Sochlings." She sat up and ran a hand through her hair
to get it out of her eyes. Chapter 2 | Universe Alpha, Beta Quadrant: Presban System | Bookmarks
"You're not seriously thinking of going?" It seemed to Guinan that it would only be mete and right for the weather outside to match the intensity of the misgivings she felt on hearing that Deanna planned to return to the Titan. Lightening would be needed to punctuate the information that the Betazoid was going alone. "Guinan, I have to. For no other reason than I owe it to Jean-Luc." "Jean-Luc would understand if you didn't." She wasn't entirely convinced that the message had been from Jean-Luc Picard, but she had nothing concrete to offer by way of objection. Deanna knew that he probably would, but that didn't stop her from wanting to tell him of her resignation face to face, nor did it obviate her need to put a resolution to her time aboard the Titan, just as saying a personal farewell to Jean-Luc would end her professional association with the Enterprise and its Captain. "I'll be fine." "Does Asil know?" It was obvious that Guinan was playing what she took to be her trump card. "She understands the logic of it." It was true as far as it went. Her mate had brought unassailable Vulcan logic to the matter and had been forced by dint of the same logic to concede. It didn't mean however, that Asil agreed with the decision. "But she doesn't like it." The El-Aurian translated the evasion. "Jean-Luc is an honourable man and the House needs all of those as allies we can get, especially with how destabilized things are now." Guinan nodded, but didn't voice her opinion that it wasn't Captain Picard's honour that Deanna needed to worry about - it was Will Riker's. ==^== Deanna knew as soon as she hit the transporter pad that she'd made a terrible mistake. The mental apologies fogged the room with the unsaid droplets of betrayal. With one exception. In front of the exit, stood a woman who, on any other day, Deanna would have found unremarkable. A woman, she realized, that, but for her marriage to Asil and its attendant gifts, she would still have counted as unremarkable. Here was the woman Will had replaced her with: a senior lieutenant, operations gold, middling height, buxom chest, short chestnut hair and relatively striking. Deanna forced her expression to neutrality and stepped down off the pad as though nothing was amiss. She took what appeared to be a superficial look around the room, while under the surface, she focused on gathering a better sense of what was happening and why. It was clear from the guarded nature of the lieutenant's thoughts that the woman knew that Deanna was an empath. It was equally clear from the nature of masking images that she had no idea how powerful an empath. Deanna understood the value of being underestimated. "Commander Deanna Troi, by order of Starfleet command, you are hereby relieved of duty. Formal charges are being prepared, and you are to be detained at the Captain's discretion pending the filing of those charges. Legal counsel will be provided." She also understood the value of silence. They had expected her to be surprised, and while she was a little taken aback that they had invoked Picard's name to get her on board, she was not a complete idiot. She knew exactly what being AWOL meant. "Aren't you going to ask why?" "No." Deanna put as much nonchalance into her tone as she could muster. Seconds later, it paid off as her arm was taken, and she was suddenly, profoundly grateful for the quirk of genetics that had gifted her with solid black Betazoidian eyes. Eyes that could hide their shock. Her captor had unwittingly shown Deanna everything. It wasn't Will at all. It was Section 31. ==^== With the fingers of her left hand, Asil snuffed out the meditation candle, pinching the flame into darkness. Pain was not irrelevant, it was
non-existent. At least that much of the Kolinahr was still hers. Despite her attempts at disciplining her mind, her thoughts continued to roil,
and she was finding it increasingly difficult to wait the agreed upon period of time before retrieving her mate. ==^==
Asil stopped to speak with Guinan; if the plan was going to succeed it would take them all. Above all else she needed to be sure that Guinan
would care for those most dear to her. In another quadrant, though only four days away at maximum warp, there was another place in a state of quiet lockdown and defense. Admiral Alynna Nechayev and Admiral Owen Paris were not known for their camaraderie. Owen Paris had made an ill-advised decision, and Alynna's niece had paid the ultimate price. The tragedy had served to cement for others the sense of bad blood between them and they nurtured the general belief in that state of affairs by having very observable bouts of audible disagreements, visual displeasure and practical avoidance except when they had to meet. The lockdown and defense was being conducted at the moment by members their staff, who, at the least, were just trying to duck and cover before the verbal explosives went off. Personal offices were being prepared with soothing drinks and sounds; up to the minute files and anything else that could be thought of to smooth the ruffled feathers that were bound to come out of one of those infamous meetings. One of which was occurring now. Elsewhere on the impressive Starfleet grounds, the two Admirals were meeting in one of the secure offices designed for high powered decision making. Security had gone over the room with everything they had and the silencer settings were on maximum. A secure channel had been put in place, for communication purposes. And two security guards stood outside guarding, while two lieutenants, who would normally have had no call this early in their careers to be on opposite sides of anything this political, tried to out-glare one other. Absolute loyalty was something that both Admirals commanded. If those same lieutenants could have glimpsed what was going on inside of the office, they would have been surprised, but not as surprised as Section 31, who had spent an immense amount of effort to ensure that the two Admirals remained at loggerheads. But that general obliviousness was one of the reasons that the room had been created. Admirals Nechayev and Paris were not the only Admirals who had ever needed the room for the purpose of disguise, planning, and complete, secure privacy. There were no tapes or cameras in the room. The only data devices in the room were those they brought in with them. And the damper field also fuzzed out any bio-spy device that might have been implanted in their clothing or on them during the day. It was paranoid, but effective. Alynna got straight to the point as she sat down across from Owen. "Have we heard from them?" They both understood who they were talking
about. The idea that they did not get along did have some basis in reality. Owen was not her favorite person. But time was a healing factor in
all wounds and they had common purpose. Still, just in case, she kept up her bristling persona. One just never knew who might be listening in
these days. Alynna ground out. "You will keep me informed." Then she said with a bit of asperity. "You should have kept me informed from the beginning." The older Admiral replied with equal crustiness. "Janeway was not under your roster, but mine. It was my call to make." This time is was Alynna who narrowed her gaze. Owen continued. "Which brings up our other topic. We have had some news from the Beta Quadrant. Captain William Riker attempted contact with Presba, but according to him he was refused and House Presba was completely unwilling to assist us." "Really." Admiral Paris shot Alynna a wry look because of her tone. He arched his brow and somehow managed to make his body language appear both grumpy and disagreeable. "Really. So this brings me to making a special request. Do you think you can send your man Picard …" Alynna raised her hand and began shaking her head. "I can't. He's at a pivotal location at the moment." Then she dropped her palm to the table and looked thoughtful. "On the other hand, I can contact him about the possibility of sending someone who might be more persuasive. We were aware that there was a bit of strife between Captain Riker and his wife." "Ex-wife now. The paperwork went through." "Interesting. Have we received any other paperwork?" "Funny you should mention it." Owen shoved something that looked suspiciously like an old fashioned manila file folder with laminate paper in her direction. Nechayev took it, opened it and read from it. Then she took the folder to the disintegrator and watched as it disappeared to particle matter. For good measure, she initiated the energy conversion cycle, and not even particulate remained behind. Her only comment was, "Interesting." ==^== Sometime later, Admiral Nechayev stalked out of the secure office with a terrible look on her face. The guards flinched. Her lieutenant flinched. And Admiral Owen's lieutenant paled. It had obviously not gone well. ==^== Deanna submitted meekly, or as meekly as she was able, to being searched. Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Enterprise E, stared pensively out the view port of his ready room. He was a fair skinned man, bald at the top, firm of jaw and trim of body. He was renowned as a diplomat and captain. On his desk was a forgotten cup of Earl Grey tea, which was rapidly cooling. He gazed at the cloud patterns of the planet his vessel was orbiting as if they somehow held the answer to his current problems. The first of which was an urge to be elsewhere. He had made certain choices in his life, one which precluded having children, though he was the Captain of a generational ship. Because of that, though, he had formed close bonds with certain members of his crew, past and present, and had come to think of them as members of his family. On the communication station of his desk were three separate messages. The first was from Will Riker, sent sometime ago, with disturbing news about his efforts at Presba with the acting head of the House. Despite the fact that Captain Riker was autonomous, he still fell under Captain Picard's jurisdiction, and so Riker kept him apprised of news and events. But there was something odd about the presentation of the communication; something, aside from the obvious and unusual animosity toward Deanna, that struck Picard like a warning flag. The second missive was from Starfleet headquarters. It addressed the issue of House Presba and their planetary system from a very different angle, and requested that Picard send someone who would perhaps be more useful in establishing a possible dialog and point of contact there. Starfleet, if not the Federation, needed the Presban on their side, or at least neutral enough territory to allow a footprint, so that, if the opportunity arose, diplomatic ties could be mended between the Klingon Empire and the Federation. The final missive was from a dear friend of his and it spoke of things that had he had hair, would have set it high upon his scalp. It was this missive that had him contemplating the clouds and urgently wishing that he could order his ship sailing straight to the Beta Quadrant. When Guinan spoke, it behooved one to listen. A part of him was tempted to go anyway. But the negotiations with this race could make the difference between winning or losing the war with the Dominion. The base metals alone made them important, even if they weren't quite past being a warp one civilization. Tugging his jacket down, Picard finally made up his mind and turned and paced to the communication station at his desk. "Picard to Dr. Crusher." ==^== The statuesque redhead packed quickly and made arrangements with her staff. Dr. Beverly Crusher told them that she would be out of reach, but in an emergency, Captain Picard would be able to contact her. She did not say why she was leaving or where she was going. That was classified. An hour later, she was on a shuttle bound for a space port, where she would find a prearranged berth as a medic with a merchant that was friendly to both factions. That supposed friendliness did not stop her from packing a phaser and her Starfleet medi-kit. One just never knew. ==^== Auloh was up long past her bedtime, though the adults did not know it, or so she believed. She had been, for a brief time, engaged in watching the adults from one of the access points on the upper story of her home. She had been awake since the brief touch placed upon her brow by her mother and Asil's quiet exit from the room. As she watched the adults prepare, Auloh had a sense of imminent change and remembered when her aunts and uncles by birth had also engaged in gathering their weapons and preparing their armor. That had been a much louder procedure than what she was observing now. To Auloh, it spoke volumes about the difference in the two Houses. In Qua'lon there was much boasting, but not much fire. In Presba, there was very little boasting, but there was a great deal of fire behind the quiet. It made her once again proud that she had chosen honour and Presba. The Klingon girl rose from where she was crouching and went back to her bedroom. Once there, she went to the replicator and began scanning through the menu system displayed above it. When she found what she wanted to wear, she placed her order. A stack of clothes, House Presba's full uniform, in her smaller size, appeared. She withdrew the clothes, and then placed another order. This was her home, and her family; she wanted no other. She would defend it and her brother to the death. ==^== Twelve Klingons and a Vulcan emerged from the dark recesses of the cavern. All were now full Members of the House Presba. Asil turned to face them, and met their eyes one by one. They had agreed to die for her if necessary, so it was only logical that she acknowledged them as individuals. A fourteenth member of the team stepped up next to her and placed a large communications array on the ground between them. "The signals are ready." She shifted her helmet under her arm, and double-checked her equipment. It was time. "Prepare for transport." There was no regimented chorus of ayes, and yes ma'ams, instead there was instant obedience, as helmets were affixed to pressure suits, and each warrior turned and checked the seal for a companion. As she lifted her hand to issue the order for the first of the transports, shadows broke away from the edge of the clearing and stepped into the light emanating from the communications module. Tuvon and Vedor strode forward together, as always. They did not speak, but fell into line with the rest, already attired in the same manner as the remainder of the team. She nodded her welcome. They were of the Blood, and she felt their chances of success increase, though she would not have asked this of them. Then two more shadows become people. "You didn't really think we were going to let you do this alone, did you." Phoebe smiled, the blue-white light making her seem ethereal and feral all at once. "And look," she gestured at her husband, "I brought my mountain of a man. Hell of a two for one." "I had hoped." Asil looked meaningfully at her sister's midriff and then at Vrald. Vrald shook his head. "I knew I didn't stand a chance talking her out of it, and if you can't, we're both going." He stood at his full height, his physique truly impressive without the weight of years softening his appearance. "It is a good day to die." Asil nodded. "Dvanne, take the Janeways and get them kitted out and brief them." "Yes, ma'am." Vrald shot her a dirty look, and Asil met it, brow arched. "Your wife does run your household, does she not?" A rumble of laughter rippled through the gathered Klingon warriors, and, for a split second, Asil thought her jibe might have succeeded where reason clearly would not. Then Vrald turned his dark eyes to hers, and growled softly. "To be ruled by my wife is no dishonour. To live, unruled, while you risked your life and I did nothing would bar me from the gates of Sto-vo-kor, and not Kahless himself could open them again. I am happy to follow where she leads." "And your child?" Phoebe stepped forward and clasped her husband's hand. "Will be with his parents." Asil nodded. "You have five minutes to be ready, or I will leave without you." They turned as one and followed Dvanne. Asil watched them go, touched, though she would never show it. What strange manner of family she had fallen into that only the ties of a marriage a quadrant away made them so, yet their loyalty ran deep and true. Infinite diversity in infinite combination, truly. She heard the gravel crunch, and left her thoughts to scatter in the night. Even before she turned, Asil knew who she would find standing there, and she knew that this battle she had to win. "Auloh." "Mother." "I am glad you came. I have a task for you." The girl, almost a young woman now, fully decked in the battle uniform of the House, showed her surprise clearly, and Asil nearly let her lips twitch. Her father had been a master at redirecting the antics of his children and she had learned from him how to preserve the dignity of youth. "Should the House fall, I require you to safeguard Barin until I return." Asil paused, and then lowered her voice. Auloh was not a child. "If I do not return you must keep him safe until his true parents come for him, and you. Will you do this?" Auloh came to attention, her eyes widened briefly before a look of calm determination settled over her. "I will." "Be well, my daughter." Asil reached out and brushed back a lock of hair from the ridges that spread across the maturing features, and then turned away. She knew that Auloh wouldn't leave until they did. For the second time, she called her troops to order. "Begin signal rotation. Prepare to transport." ==^== Sirella, Mistress of the House Martok, had an interest in House Presba. At first, her interest had been that of a jealous wife, protecting her family. But as that miscommunication had been resolved, her motivation had changed to one of nurturing for the House, and friendship for the Presbans themselves. As the Mistress of the Imperial House, she had certain resources and privileges that others did not. For instance, there was a direct line between her ship, the Orantho, and the Klingon vessel that guarded Presba. Captain Keyv of the IKS Jornub happened to be a loyal servant of the Empire and had accepted her request that she be kept apprised of any major changes at Presba. She had recently received, via the Captain, a captured message. The Captain had not interfered with its sending, since it had been clearly sent on its way as a missive of warning. But he did record it in passing. He did not believe that the Titan had managed to grab of the signal, since it happened to bounce off of a transceiver located on the opposite side of the system, in the Federation ship's communications blind-spot. It was almost as if the signal had been meant to be captured only by Captain Keyv. Whatever the case, Sirella had the missive now and she made her decisions quickly. After all, her husband had already declared the allegiance. And whoever was dumb enough to ignore Chancellor Martok's declaration fully deserved the consequences of such folly. War had been declared by House Presba and that meant that her allies would be there. With a few words into the communicator, Sirella made her orders and the Orantho turned. She also forwarded the missive to another member of the House Martok who would probably be close enough to do something about it. Worf, Sirella was sure, would be very interested.
The Klingon Judgment sped on its way to Qo'nos. Ambassador Chakotay of Universe Alpha was on his way to his newly appointed place at the capital of the Klingon Empire. He had a loyal crew, a mix of former Maquis and members of House Presba: about fifteen people all told. They would form the core of his staff, acting as body guards, assistants and, if necessary, spies. If needed they could, in emergencies, contact Commander Vah. The Kazon Commander of the Marines had transferred over to the Tor'stag and was in possession of the codes necessary to retrieve any special communications. Chakotay was a member of House Presba, but his position as an Ambassador gave him a certain amount of latitude. He did not expect to receive any commands from the House leaders that would interfere with those duties. For one thing, Miral Torres also came from Universe Alpha and for another, he had his orders from Captain Janeway, and they would supersede any that interfered with his main task of insuring the safety of Universe Alpha. Again, though, that was not going to be a problem. The safety of both Universes was also something that General Belle Torres was occupied in. She had taken on the task of ferreting out the enemies of the Klingon Empire among the Orion Syndicate. These individuals and cartels, it turned out, were also enemies of the Federation and Empire in Universe Alpha. Thus, House Presba's purpose was one. He intended to support the General's efforts as necessary. If he felt any nerves or had any reservations about the whole endeavor, he kept that information to himself. ==^== A little further away in the Beta Quadrant, Grand Judge Miral Torres went one direction with her mate, Gretchen Janeway; while her daughter, General Belle Torres along with her mate, Annika, went another. Both had duties that called them to separate endeavors, and, reluctantly, they had parted ways outside of the Bajoran sector. Miral was off to deal with another case, this time one that was much less fraught with political impact than the trials at Terok Nor. On the way, she and Gretchen would stop by a property that their daughter-in-law, T'Pel, had purchased. It was, in fact, a mirror of the Presba Estate in Universe Alpha. Miral had realized, when T'Pel handed her the portfolio, that she was going to have to hire professional help, but first she wanted to see what they had. Belle was following a lead to an Altheldu hiding place. The Altheldu had been a Cartel in alliance with the Pharaoh Cartel. They boldly
attacked Terok Nor while the Chancellor was in attendance, and so had brought down the wrath of the whole Empire upon the Orion Syndicate. The
question would be how to pursue the various arms and associated cartels of the extensive organization. It did help that those who did not share
Altheldu's point of view had broken off relations with the syndicate, but others had not. The Empire was facing split rebellious criminal
factions, and it was going to get dirty before it could get better. In the meantime, the Empire was also going to have to prepare for oncoming
threats from the Delta Quadrant. Fortunately for General Torres, she had several allies of her own to draw on. And she was now a Warlord, which gave her certain rights and abilities she did not have previously. Belle began with what she had at hand. She gave Commander Vah his own ship and then told the young Kazon her plan. She would be sending people, reliable people, who she carefully selected, to him for training. She wanted more of the skills they had, and, as Warlord, she wanted them faster than quick. Commander Vah had merely given her a grim smile and told her that if she provided the people, he would make them Marines or they would die trying. She did not mention that Klingons already had Marines of a kind. She knew what he meant. Klingon Marines did not go through an intensive team training period. It was assumed that they were warriors already when they joined and their rank was given for them to rise or fall from at the beginning. Klingons joined the force and then obeyed according to their belief in their leader and their honor. They were also trained on the go, which could result in haphazard expertise, depending on how good their leader might be. Her troops, Belle knew, were good. They were trained well and had fought the Hive to a standstill once. She could name a handful of other squads of equal merit. House Martok's forces, for instance. House Presba's Marines, however, would be more than good. They would become what others wanted to be. The marines that Vah would give her would be trained special forces. And then they would train more. They would be arrogant as Gre'thor, but they would also be effective and deadly, which was what she wanted. He gave her a timetable, and she started calling in favors and found out who really wanted to be part of her team. There were two other variables that gave Belle greater confidence. The first was her mate, Annika. The other was her mother, Miral, and Miral's mate. Annika was a genius. The miracle was that she had originally been preserved and sheltered for the potential beauty of her body. The discovery of her intelligence had come later, by accident. Luck had preserved her afterwards. A blessing of Kahless and Lukara for which Belle would be eternally grateful. She could not imagine her life without Annika. Belle could not give Annika a rank in the Klingon Marines. But she could give her a rank in House Presba's forces. She could also create a department just for her. The fact that the department was currently stationed on the Tor'stag was merely a convenient coincidence. Well, and a personal necessity. Then there was her mother and Gretchen. Her mother, a Grand Judge, had brought House Presba to the forefront of the events reshaping the Empire. Miral's innovative style, her use of Truth Seekers and her absolute dedication to Honor had charged the Empire with new energy. Miral's mate, Gretchen, had changed the Empire's opinion about what a Human could be, which was what permitted Belle to allow Annika to be more than slave on her ship. Belle's mother-in-law acted as counselor to the defendants in Miral's court cases, advocate in general, and research expert in a team of experts. She was also a phenomenal cook and when Miral had bought a new ship, Belle had lost a goodly number of people to the lure of Gretchen's cooking. Enough to fully crew Miral's ship, in fact. She had expected it, since they were the same crew-members she had originally acquired from Miral and Gretchen when they gave up the Klingon Judgment. What she hadn't expected was the sizable care package, in the form of fresh goods and two replicator storage packs, which Gretchen gave to them before they parted ways. One replicator pack was simply more food, which combined the culinary efforts of both Gretchen and Icheb. The second replicator pack was from Seven of Nine, the Mistress of House Presba. It contained the specifications of the various versions of the family uniform, including improvements for armor, secreted weapons, and other assorted items that indicated great love and consideration for her sister and her sister's mate. Gretchen had said, after a sturdy Klingon made the final delivery, "Seven wanted you to have these after they left, as a surprise. And we wanted you to know that you are well loved by all of us. Qapla, Belle and Annika Torres of House Presba. Until we meet again." ==^== Belle rolled out of the bed, disgruntled to find herself alone. She disdained her robe, and padded naked out to the main room. "Annika?" The blonde didn't move, and Belle studied her, more troubled than she was willing to admit. Last night she had woken up to find her mate standing in front of one of the windows, staring out into space. Tonight, she was seated with a book in one hand, and various parts of what looked to be the replicator strewn around her. With careful motions, Belle came to where Annika would be able to see her, and then slowly bent her knees until she could look her lover in the eyes. "Annika, Be'nal. What is wrong?" She'd noticed an increasing air of detachment creep over her mate - not constantly, at least not yet - but it was there, nonetheless. Annika let her eyes swim back into focus. When had Belle entered the room? Belle watched Annika's eyes warm from ice to azure, and noted the small smile that touched the full lips. She relaxed and let go of some of her fear, but not her worry. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be about them. "Annika?" she asked again. "I was hungry." The smile grew and became shy, and apologetic. "I did not mean to wake you, Beya." Annika leaned forward and placed a kiss on the lid of her mate's good eye. Belle waited a heartbeat and then another while the feather-light kisses were lovingly placed along her eyelid and then the edges of the scar. She loved that Annika touched her without hesitation, and with a reverence that made her feel loved more deeply than she had ever dreamed possible. She wanted to nothing to discourage that - ever. Finally, she could take no more, the fire had begun to burn, and she lifted her head to capture Annika's lips with her own. The instant the Blood fire hit, Annika felt it, felt her muscles clench in carnal delight. Her hips rocked forward and up. The book fell to the floor, forgotten for a second time as her need reduced her world to the touch and smell of Belle. She parted her legs, even as she reached forward to pull Belle closer. "Now." Belle obeyed. ==^== Miral and Gretchen bought a new ship, since the House could afford it. The Nawrya was a sleek vessel, roomy enough for a crew of ten, plus her owners and their assistants. The vessel had moderate defenses and could warp where they needed to go, but it was small enough not to draw undue attention in their travels. They headed toward the planet that mirrored the purchased one in Universe Alpha - Presba. In a way, this was the first real opportunity that Miral and Gretchen had to be alone for an extended period since their first entry into Universe Beta. Their assistants had a room of their own. Their daughters were off to the alpha-Universe. The crew was absolutely theirs, members of the House and thus loyal to a degree that few could really appreciate, and busy with running the ship. Some of them had been with them on Martok's ship early in their arrival to Universe Beta. They had not yet replaced Lwaxana and T'Pel as Truth Seekers for the court, but there were resumes to be read through and there had been several expressions of interest. But, honestly, they did not want anyone who was not a member of the House for the duty. There was a certain amount of trust that had allowed them to have such great success beforehand. The trial Miral and Gretchen would be handling was far enough away that they had time to visit both Presba and then Risa, if they wanted to. Gretchen was still having moments of laughter and often chortled about their stoic daughter-in-law T'Pel's acquirement of the pleasure planet in this Universe. They had decided to save visiting that one for last. It might need a very thorough assessment. So they had time and they had space to do what came naturally to new mates when they had such valuable commodities in abundance. One morning, early on in their journey, Miral and Gretchen were lazing about in bed. The redheaded Human was snugged up against the brunette Klingon, snoozing peacefully. Her head rested on Miral's shoulder, and she had one arm flung across the upper part of Miral's belly while her leg pinned one thigh, lying across it. They smelled of their recent carnal exploration of each other, which continued to bring a happy, contented grin to Miral's face; even as she read the legal files in her PADD. Nelav had been studiously adding to the collection, as they received more appointments and Miral wanted to stay caught up. The Klingon judicial system might be swift, but that was because they did their homework before hand. It wasn't anything in particular that set Miral off. One moment she was fine, the next she was rushing to the refresher, while her non-existent breakfast tried to hurl itself out. Gretchen lay off-kilter and suddenly awake, on her side of the bed, but at least not on the floor. She hastened up and trailed after her mate, "Miral?" The only response she received was a wretched noise associated with gastronomic unpleasantness. She asked no more unnecessary questions, but more fully entered the refresher. Gretchen ordered a wet cloth from the replicator and stepped around her mate, then knelt beside her and held back her hair. "Should we go to the med-aid bay?" Gretchen asked and then wiped the brow of her mate. Miral grimaced and shook her head. "After." "As you wish, love." Five minutes later, Miral stood up. She looked paler than normal, but otherwise healthy. There was a puzzled expression on her face, but she let herself be gently cleaned and then led out of the refresher. They dressed in modest robes, but not much else, and then Gretchen took her to the med-aid bay, which was little more than a small room on the ship with basic medical supplies and a medi-droid. Gretchen helped her mate settle on the bio-bed, and then activated the droid. "How may I be of assistance?" There was not a lot of personality in the question, but there didn't need to be. "My wife has been throwing up, but we don't know why." "Working." The droid floated to where Miral sat. It used an extensible arm and tricorder, waving it over Miral's body. Finally it paused at Miral's belly. It said, "Evaluating." Not long afterward, there was a pinging noise, and then the droid said, "Evaluation complete. Patient is gravid. Do you wish to hear recommendations?" "Pregnant! That is physically impossible. Run the diagnostic again." "Complying with patient request." The medi-droid ran the process again, made the same small noises and came out with the same results. Before Miral could make it go through another diagnostic run, Gretchen said, "We need more information. Are you able to diagnose the basic genetics of the fetus?" The medi-droid searched its database. "Confirmed." "If the procedure is non-invasive, please do so now and display the results." Gretchen placed her hand on Miral in a grounding motion and they waited for the revelation together. ==^== Miral was becoming more grouchy and concerned with each minute. She had been combing through her memory trying to determine, when, if and how something like this might possibly occur. Her only guess had to do with somehow, some-when being drugged. But that was also completely unlikely. She had no idea whatsoever, how it might have happened. Yes, she liked to drink, but at no time had she ever lost control of her mental facilities, nor had she taken a casual lover in years. Yet, the medi-droid continued to provide proof that she was undeniably pregnant. It ran through a tertiary diagnostic, this time displaying the results, including a breakdown of the genetics. As the details filtered onto the screen near the bio-bed, both she and Gretchen were taken aback. The droid beeped again, indicating that it was collating the results, then concluded, "The combined genetic data is consistent with two genetic signatures of persons on board this ship. Their information is stored in the database." "Display the two genetic signatures and the names of the persons, beside the information about the fetus." A virtual window popped up. "Gestating parent, Miral Torres, identified as a Klingon female, genetic alterations indicated." Then another virtual window popped up. "Material donor, Gretchen Janeway, identified as a Human female, genetic alterations indicated." The two women turned to stare at each other, open mouthed. "Darling," said Miral carefully. "Is there something you would like to tell me?" ==^== An hour or two later, they were both still boggled by the turn of events. Neither could explain how it had occurred, but Gretchen established, via the medi-droid, an approximate time for the conception. In tracing her memory back, she said, "You remember, it was last month, that night when we had the conversation." Miral looked blankly at her Be'nal and said, "Which conversation? My mate, you and I speak to each other often, about many topics." Gretchen chuckled and snuggled in, though she expected there was going to come a time when Miral would be the one snuggling in to her soon. "We were speaking about the possibility of children." "Ah. That conversation." It had been, if not exactly a romantic evening, but in its own way incredibly intense and wonderful. Miral had been the one to point out that, technically, they were both fertile. It had led to a dialog about whether they even wanted to try for more children, now that theirs were all grown. Gretchen had given Miral a challenging look and had joked, "Well, I guess we can try." And so they had, in a light hearted, but passionate way. Their dialog, along with those mystic touches, had traced a path of eroticism so bright, they both had orgasmed sharply and deeply, falling into one another for a time. It was one of the rare moments that Miral recalled that she had not been aware of whether she had been conscious immediately after or not. Miral remembered thinking that, if Gretchen had been capable, they surely would have been successful that night. "But how?" Gretchen said. "I just don't see it." Miral, who was practical said, "In cloning, all one needs are viable cells. There was, from that point of view, I'm sure plenty of cell exchange going on between us, my mate." "But you know, and I know, that," Gretchen touched Miral's belly gently and her voice softened, "she is not a clone, Bang'wI." "No. But she is ours." "Meaning, you don't want to sweat the details." Genetic alterations indeed, thought Gretchen. "Someone else will, I am sure." Gretchen chuckled as she thought of one woman in particular, "Ah, yes, dear Dr. Kate. I'm sure she would be very interested in this news." "We will tell all when they return." Miral grinned softly. "Satisfied?" Gretchen stroked Miral's still flat belly and then nodded. "Yes. But let's do find out." She grinned and kissed her mate. "I'd hate for one of us to get knocked up by accident again." "Be'nal, I guarantee that this child was no accident." ==^== Deep within the Beta Quadrant, the Orion syndicate had gone to ground. Or, at least, the Syndicate thought they had. But it was an inescapable fact of life that nothing happened without leaving a treasure trove of logistical evidence. Belle looked across the table of her war room at her mate and nodded in approval. "You're sure?" Annika nodded. "The correlation between the bulk purchases of foodstuffs within this system, and that of a variety of fuel sources and weapons from the other systems is beyond a doubt." General Martok reached forward and grabbed a handful of the spiced gagh from a bowl at the end of the table. He had fond memories of Gretchen's artistry with the food and was determined to eat as much of her version of it as he could before departing. He eyed Annika speculatively, and wondered what scientific toy or piece of equipment he could barter with her to get the replicator pattern for it. His scrutiny did not go unnoticed, and he looked back up to find Belle watching him intently. Not a man to quail easily, he made an exception. "She's got the replicator pattern for this." He waved at the bowl. "Ah, well as long as it's my food, and not my wife…." Belle let the statement trail off, knowing that Annika would blush regardless. She reached over to the bowl and grabbed one of the plumper specimens. Popping it her mouth, she chewed it thoughtfully, before adding another. "You know, maybe we shouldn't go in guns blazing." She grabbed another handful of the worms, then noted the looks she was getting. "What? I can do subtle." Annika and Martok exchanged loaded glances, but neither one of them spoke. Martok out of a well developed sense of self-preservation, and Annika because it wasn't in her nature. Belle looked between the two, and then shrugged. Annika would explain later. "Alright, this is what we're going to do." ==^== Sela reported back to the Tor'stag as soon as the package had been delivered safely into the hands of a trustworthy Agent of Romulus. In her hands, she held the small rectangular packet that she'd been given in exchange, but didn't examine it closely. It did not pay to examine that which was for Belle's eyes only. Speak of the Reman. Sela came to a stop outside of the General's quarters. Annika was regarding the keypad quizzically. "Annika?" The blonde almost bowed, something she hadn't done in weeks. "Lt. General Sela." There was a pause. "General Torres is in the war room." Sela nodded. She'd known that, but had wanted to drop her kit in her own quarters before delivering her news. "Do you need any help?" The Human was incredibly beautiful, and devastatingly intelligent, but every so often Sela had noticed that the blonde seemed to lose touch with the ordinary. Annika studied her for a moment, and then apparently made a decision. "I have...locked myself out." Silently, Sela reached over and touched the appropriate keys on the pad. The door slid open and Annika entered. She watched for a moment more as Annika simply stood in the middle of the room, and then the doors slid shut, ending her view. That woman could be all stripes of weird. Sela smiled; of course Belle had her peccadilloes too. Wasn't love grand? Sela looked down at her missive, and wondered what its implications would be for her next task. Was there anything in there that would take her near Betazed, and Priam Nael? She dropped her bag on the floor and let her thoughts flow through and on. The occasion would either arise, or it wouldn't and she would then make time or not, and the message was likely just a simple message about the Romulan Republic's willingness to serve the Klingon Empire in this matter, and a compilation of files about troop strength and the like. On the plus side, she could report that Winn Tech had taken the contract to create the new suits for the marine recruits. A feral smile touched Sela's lips. Soon, things would get very interesting in the Empire. ==^== Like the one in Universe Alpha, the Presba Estate that Miral and Gretchen now stood upon had, at one time, been a colony. They walked through the small ghost town, examining the remnants with an eye towards the renovations that would be needed to make the estate, and its environs habitable. "We can hire people to come settle here." "T'Pel did leave us the information they had on Presba in our other Universe. We can use that a base for design. But somehow, I expect, we will have to make this world our own. It won't be the same." "No. But I see now why they chose it. It has potential." Miral bent down and picked up a fragment from one of the buildings. It felt solid and warm in her hand. She smiled in contemplation. "Effany," she said. And the Orion stepped forward, a PADD in her hand. "Make a notation to contact our Dunkarian associates. See if they have any farmers who would be interested in trying out on a new planet. Inform them that there might be opportunities for advancement, in special cases of loyalty." The Orion female quickly noted all of that down and nodded. "It will be done, Your Honor." Miral smiled at the green woman. It had taken weeks to get her out of the habit of calling herself or Gretchen, Mistress. "Good. We'll need to do some research on prefabricated buildings," she dropped the plascrete onto the ground. "And some quality force shielding. There's animal sign all over the place." "It will be done." Satisfied, Miral stood and wrapped her arm around her mate. "It will do." ==^== The Nawrya did not head straight toward Risa, after all. While they were on their way through the Beta Quadrant they received a request for their aid with a dispute in a system that was near to the Presban one. Miral had agreed to it, since the monetary inducement was lucrative enough to pay for the entire journey there and to Risa. Because it was a spur of the moment decision, the Town Hall was only filled with the interested parties and their supporters. It was somewhat noisy, but the circle was wide and the Judgment Dais was level, with a chair for the Judge. One really couldn't ask for much more when it came to a small town. Grand Judge Miral Torres and Advocate Gretchen Janeway took up position where they normally did, with the exception that this time Gretchen stood beside her mate, rather than sitting at her feet. Behind them, Nelav, Effany and T'Sai stood. Nelav had two or three PADDs she was holding for the Judge. Beside the whole group, two large Klingon guards assumed their stations and glared out menacingly at the audience. Not that anyone was inclined towards foolishness. Everyone on the judicial staff was armed, and Miral's famed bat'leth was exactly where people had grown accustomed to seeing it: stuck point first in the ground, ready to be wielded. In fact, quite a few found that strong symbol comforting. Miral began with her usual introduction, explaining her purpose in being there and the behavior she expected from those in attendance. Then she raised her hand and Nelav handed her a PADD. The Judge took a moment to read through the contents and then nodded. "Jaear. You will first tell me your side of the story." "Jaear! He's the one who is…" "Silence! Or do you really want to see the inside of Rura Penthe?" Miral roared, projecting her voice without descending into yelling. The Klingon defendant grimaced, and then turned to glare at his opponent. "Jaear." Miral prompted. The Andorian began to tell his tale. Somewhere in the middle of his explanation of how things had gone, Effany began to look somewhat uncomfortable. She fidgeted with the handle of her blade and shifted on her feet. Her mate, T'Sai lifted her fingers and, unconsciously, Effany raised hers to meet them. That small action calmed her considerably. Then the Vulcan cocked her head and narrowed her gaze. She pondered what to do for a moment, and then considered the consequences. She decided to trust her status in the House. T'Sai stepped forward and pointed. "That man is lying." There was a stir in the audience. The defendant said, "See! I told you!" The Accuser, Jaear, shouted, "She's a Vulcan! She would have to touch me to tell if I were lying." Miral looked up at her assistant, who merely gazed back serenely, then answered the charge even more calmly. "The Andorian speaks half of a truth. For me to read him telepathically, I would have to touch him. However, my mate, Effany, says he is lying. She says she can smell the lie upon him. And I know the honesty of my mate." The Andorian's jaw dropped. "You would believe an Orion?" Miral looked at Effany, who appeared like a field beast caught in unexpected light. Then she looked at T'Sai and then Nelav, who nodded her own affirmation. Then she looked at Gretchen and there was a moment shared between them as they both rolled their eyes at their own obtuseness. Sometimes the answers were there all the time. Miral grabbed her bat'leth and stood. She said, "That Orion is Effany of the House Presba, Truth Seeker. I would take her word over yours any day. Liar." Then she smiled toothily. "But if I must prove it, then I will. Kjal. Vaq. Bring that Andorian over here and let T'Sai of the House Presba, Truth Seeker, get a good hold of him. I apologize, T'Sai, for the discomfort to you." "It is my Honor to serve you and the House in this, Judge Torres." ==^== Tiny chinks, as metal touched on metal, drifted through the open bedroom door, and once again, Belle found herself waking up alone. As had
become recent habit, she padded her way into the living area, fully expecting to see Annika staring fixedly into space, and some portion of the
electronic equipment in their quarters strewn about in a state of disassembly.
Kathryn held the PADD with Azan's note in her hands and wondered what she should do about Ezri. She was very clear about what she wanted to do, but not so sure that shaking her First Officer until her spots fell off would meet with Seven's approval, or fall within acceptable Starfleet disciplinary action. She gave the PADD a wry grin. It would not fall under any approved form of discipline. "More's the pity." "Kathryn?" Seven inquired. Kathryn turned to face Seven and Lwaxana. She took the time to greet them thoroughly, exchanging kisses in a pleasant round-robin that, but for the message on the PADD, would have led to the Nest, and an even more pleasant round-robin. "Your lover has run away from home, and, according to this, Azan and Emina have gone to find her." Her words were light and teasing. Lwaxana snickered softly. Seven raised her ocular implant, and then tried to stare the Betazoid into quiet; an ineffective attempt that had the opposite effect, and Lwaxana laughed throatily. "I'm sorry, Darling." She kissed the tips of her blonde mate's fingers, licking the metal bands, soothing the agitation that had begun rebuilding. Kathryn read the postures, and caught an unusual turmoil along their link. Taking a closer look at Seven, she noticed the faded edges of a bruise along the chiseled jaw, and realized that the familiar tang underlying their earlier kisses was the last vestiges blood. "What am I missing here?" Lwaxana felt Seven stiffen, and didn't need their bond to read that Seven still feared, on some primal level, that Kathryn would somehow be lost to her. "Go see to the children, I will do this." Seven nodded. She looked deeply in Kathryn's eyes, seeing the depth of concern and love, and kissed her. "I love you, my Captain. My Kathryn." Then she turned, trusting Lwaxana to do for her, what she could not do for herself. ==^==
"Voyager, what is the status of Azan and Emina Hansen?" Lwaxana let her gaze narrow, pinning Kathryn in place with her dark eyes. "You must promise me something, my darling Kathryn." "And what is that?" The Betazoid, dipped her head in silent acknowledgement of Kathryn's internal struggle. It was one thing to invoke a submission bolstered by pretense in the safety of the Nest; it was another altogether to demand a surrender of self without surety or guarantee. "Promise me that in this you are Kathryn, mate, wife, beloved lover." Blue-grey eyes held to hers, their clarity of colour an answer of their own. Held in their intensity Lwaxana was reminded of the costs her mate had paid to be The Captain in one lifetime, and the toll nearly paid in this one. Blazing through her thoughts and shimmering down the link, came the clear message. In this, for tonight, Kathryn trumped the Captain. "I promise." "Come with me, Darling." Lwaxana held her fingers out, and used their joined clasp to guide her mate to the plush softness of a couch in the living room. There was a trust, tempered by a worried calm, in the air, and she brushed her lips over Kathryn's temple. "Everything is well, tonight just opened some wounds long thought healed." Kathryn nodded and waited. Such patience had been a gift of their joining. Or maybe it wasn't patience, as much as the certainty that this was real, that she was loved. Even in what was clearly a moment of turmoil, she felt held by an oasis of abiding love. "Tell me." "Apparently, your Tom Paris has a wide streak of chivalry, and took on a squad of marines on Seven's behalf. Seven was required to protect him." "Oh, Gods." Kathryn was amused and appalled all at once. It was so like Tom. And, she admitted, so very like Seven. Then the darker implications settled in. "Why was Tom protecting Seven?" And like a flash of fire, the guilt swept over her as the realization of why hit her. Her body surged, but was held fast. Lwaxana smiled wryly. "If it's any consolation, Seven now understands why you refused her, despite you both knowing you wanted her." She placed a fierce kiss on Kathryn's temple. "Not, that I believe you were right then, or that you are wrong now." Kathryn felt the permission in the admonishing words and sagged against her mate. "I wanted her so very much, wanted them both. But I was the Captain." But it wasn't just the rules, and she knew it. Knew that Lwaxana knew it too. "I was scared to love her. Scared of what it would mean to love either of them." "You are still the Captain." "I am." They settled then for a moment, and Kathryn let the last ragged wound close, but in doing so, realized that she had left behind scars on her beloved Mistress and Epatai. Wounds that would need more than the salve of time to heal. Lwaxana wrapped her arms tightly around Kathryn and let her own sense of well-being flow between them. For a second, she debated pulling Tuvok into their talk, then decided that the Vulcan was the person Kathryn would most need to talk to tomorrow as Captain. "There is more, Darling." "More?" It was already taking more of her energy that she would have guessed not to don her uniform and find out precisely why no one had reported the incident to her; Kathryn wasn't sure how much more she could take. When Lwaxana didn't immediately reply, Kathryn was forced to think and then answer her own question as the realization set in. "Ezri." She turned her head to burrow more deeply into her mate. "She's running scared." Kathryn supposed it took one to know one. "She most certainly is, my darling." Lwaxana hesitated, and then added to the truth of Kathryn's observation. "But she is protecting more than her own heart. Ezri believes she is protecting ours." Kathryn nodded. But she also knew it wasn't true; at least not completely. She had been in the room when Ezri had effortlessly taken Chakotay to his knees. She'd been facing the Trill when the blue eyes had lost all trace of projected Humanity. Ezri Dax was protecting the Captain - and her command. Part of her wasn't even sure that it was her place to do anything; but then, Ezri Dax was no longer just Seven's lover, she was betrothed to the Prime as a whole. The other part was only too well aware that she was the one who best understood what was likely behind Ezri's change in behaviour. It was time to talk to her Trill. ==^== The possible repercussions, positive and negative, of their arrival into Universe Alpha had not quite fully been realized by the delegation from Universe Beta. Tasha Yar, however, was becoming more and more aware of just how much freedom she now had in comparison to what she had enjoyed at home. On Romulus she had a certain amount of freedom accorded to her, just for being the Mate of General Kasala. She was even in charge of their estate and so had the power to negotiate and purchase what was needed, as it was needed. Her tether might have been longer, its chains far more delicate, than those of the other slaves in the Republic. But a slave was still a slave, and she was viewed as nothing more than chattel by most. Here, on Voyager, she was Ambassador Yar and the difference in the attitudes of those around her was striking. It wasn't just the respect of the position, but a general sense of equality that permeated everyone's actions and reactions. And Tasha realized that, despite some appearances, Voyager really was a ship of the Federation, where slavery, for the most part, had been banished centuries ago. She still had to force herself not to bow in certain ways. She no longer had to symbolically offer her neck to the superior being. Her life, once again, was her own. Kasala was having less of an adjustment problem than she was, and thinking of him brought a smile to her lips. He was already used to dealing with Humans, or at least a certain Human, on an equal footing. That had been one of the things that had set their relationship apart from others from the beginning, and the very thing that had made it possible for her to love him without reservation. So, for him it was just a matter of scale. Plus, Kasala had a deep sense of himself and was not threatened by the idea of equality to begin with. As a result, like herself, he walked the corridors of Voyager with complete confidence, though for very different reasons. A part of her was terrified and another part gleeful. She was home. Or at least very nearly there. And, in the most amazing twist, Kasala was here with her, which ironically was what made the return home even possible. Tasha was not so foolish as to think it would all be the same or even familiar, but it didn't change that she had longed to return for such a time; even though she had believed it impossible. At the moment, Tasha was on her own. Kasala was asleep, or at least had been when she had left him. She had been feeling restless and had decided to perambulate. It was a common habit of hers. She was known for walking their gardens late at night. Their estate had become, over the years, a true place of refuge for them and she missed the flowers and the winking stars of Romulus. But the corridors of Voyager held their own comfort. And she basked in it. ==^== Kate woke abruptly. Her sleep had been restless, fraught with strange imagery and the sense of motion. She wasn't quite sure why. She attempted to go back to sleep but, after fifteen minutes, gave it up as futile. Apparently, her body had determined that she had had enough rest to keep her alert. It was a skill she had perfected as a physician. So she got up and pondered what to do. Kate smiled to herself, aware that she could go bother any one of her mates and be received warmly and with joy. But, she had checked the time and it was late. Her mates, like herself, had duty shifts in the morning. Slightly bored and as restless out of bed as she had been in it, she briefly scanned the Ship's channel. The holodeck that normally ran Sandrine's was unexpectedly shut down, and the other two were fully booked for individual recreation. She did not really feel like visiting The Park or watching a holo-vid, and she wasn't much for reading for pleasure. Kate considered her options and realized that she could do one thing, something that she had been doing by herself for awhile. Amused self-revelation pulsed in her thoughts and she headed towards the Nest. A few minutes later, she was examining the items in the toy chest, astonished by sheer range of applications they represented. She pondered what she wanted to accomplish then smiled when she spotted a very useful item. It was simple, smooth, not overly large and followed a basic premise had been around for centuries. The vibrator was one of Seven's wonderful toys. But its beauty was in its simplicity. It could not be attached to anything. Its only job was to vibrate on certain parts of the anatomy, without ever failing, at whatever speed the user wanted. Kate spared an instant of thought to appreciate the irony that Borg ingenuity had been brought to bear on something the Collective would have deemed beyond irrelevant. Her amused smile shifted and became more sensual. Physical pleasure was not irrelevant in the least. Inspired by the direction her thoughts had taken, she also grabbed a simple phallus, one that was of decent size, but not really large. This was about comfort and release, not about testing her stamina. She then went to the soft heart of the Nest and began arranging the pillows into a comfortable configuration. She settled in, wondering what fantasy she might go with. Certainly she'd not had to worry about inspiration lately. Inevitably, Kate found herself thinking warmly of her mates. And in that warmth, she found the spark. It flickered to life with the combined memory of moments that were hers to call on. The passion she felt about her mates flowed through her. Thought and memory both pulsed erotically through her. Kate smiled and flicked the vibrator on. The pleasant hum had its own stimulating associations, and the sub-sonic waves of it rippled deeper still. She closed her eyes and laid back, letting her mind wander through the mental imagery she had already called to mind. She began the process of loving herself. She had not consciously made the call, but she knew, as soon as they entered the Nest, that their need now reflected hers. Kate opened her eyes. She watched as Tuvok guided T'Pel onto the soft bedding, but did not stop what she was doing. It would have defeated the purpose. But now her mind was no longer on a memory. It was focused on her mates, and the beautiful reality before her. T'Pel slid into the space next to her, kissing Kate urgently and warmly. Tuvok took a place on the other side. His hand stroked across her chest, sparking up already aching nipples. Kate gasped into the kiss, smiled into it. Then the eroticism of the moment multiplied when T'Pel covered Kate's hand, the one holding the vibrator, with her own. Tuvok took hold of the other one and guided the penetration in firm, gentle thrusts. Kate purred softly and fell with delight into her mate's love for her. ==^== Finished in the garden for now, Steve entered his quarters and immediately noticed they had a guest. He wondered what had brought B'Elanna Torres to his home, but as soon as he saw the bruised face of his mate, he understood. He shook his head. "I can't leave you alone for a minute." "Well, actually," said B'Elanna, "He was apparently fine for a whole hour and a half." "And then?" Steve questioned, having detected the wry amusement from the Klingon. Harry spoke as he entered the sitting room with a fresh bag of ice. "Then it was fists, chairs and drunken Marines." "Darling, I told you if you wanted to have fun, to wait for me." B'Elanna felt her eyes goggle slightly. It was like she was watching a holo-vid, except with Tom as the princess. It was unbearably cute. Tom gave Steve a sheepish glance and said, "Well, you know, the temptation was too strong. They were asking for it." Steve knew that there had to be more to the story, but wasn't inclined to push right that moment. He glanced at B'Elanna, "Thank you for bringing him home." B'Elanna looked at her ex-boyfriend, and gave Tom a genuine smile. "Actually, I came to thank him for defending the honour of my House, and its Mistress." She didn't mention that she had also come to get details, knowing that getting them from Tom would be infinitely easier than getting them from Seven, or from Ezri. She reached into her pocket. "I also came to give him this. I don't need it anymore." B'Elanna handed her dermal regenerator to Harry. Their eyes locked for a moment, and a wealth of understanding passed silently between them. Harry knew B'Elanna had found herself in her mates, and B'Elanna knew Harry had found Home in his. Steve reached out a hand and Tom took it, feeling reassured by the touch. He relaxed as Steve drew him close, and air kissed the bruise forming along Tom's temple and cheek. Tom couldn't still his flinch. "Tisk. Let's go get this looked at, sweetheart. Then we'll plot revenge." Steve smiled. Tom suddenly offered a brilliant smile in return. "Nothing dangerous, contagious, or illegal," B'Elanna warned, more because she had to, than out of genuine concern for the outcome. Steve pressed his free hand to his chest, "Epatai, you wound me." Then he grinned. "We shall, of course, keep you apprised." "I look forward to it." Her gaze narrowed, "And make it good. I want you to make it a very memorable experience." "Oh. Now you've just made it a challenge." ==^== Rounding the corner on deck two that lead to the First Officer's office, Kathryn was surprised to see B'Elanna sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. "B'Elanna?" The Klingon clambered to her feet, and stepped into a warm embrace tempered nicely by a long, soft kiss. "Mmm, hello to you too." Kathryn let a small grin quirk at her lips. "What brings you to this neck of the woods in the middle of the night?" B'Elanna left her arm around Kathryn's waist and played with the laces of one sleeve with her other one. "The same thing as you, probably." "You came to drag her home by her hair?" Her head jerked back slightly in surprise. "Uh. No." B'Elanna paused, and looked thoughtfully at the door. "You think that would work?" Kathryn laughed. "Probably not." She sobered. "Did you really come to drag her home?" B'Elanna studied her mated carefully, trying to read the truth of the situation from Kathryn's body language. She'd become more adept at seeing when something was weighing on her mate since their bonding, but couldn't always discern what it was. "No. I came to talk to her." Kathryn looked directly into B'Elanna's eyes. "About what fear costs. About the price you make those you are trying to protect pay." Suddenly she felt like she was going to cry, but she had to finish. "I was going to tell her that it costs more not to love." B'Elanna swallowed, and wrapped her arms tightly around Kathryn. She held her mate and willed her to understand that it was okay, that she had long since been forgiven. After an ageless span Kathryn relaxed into her. A few heartbeats later, she pulled back slightly and let a smile fall between them. "That's so much better than what I had planned." Kathryn inhaled sharply, the air rushing in, like a choked laugh. "What did you have planned?" "I was going to call her a coward and yell. The usual." She pointed at a bag on the floor. "I brought genuine Klingon betrothal crockery to throw." Now Kathryn did laugh. "Oh, gods." A moment later she had her laughter under control. "What stopped you?" B'Elanna stepped back some more and motioned Kathryn to come stand by the door. She put her finger on her mate's lips to signal for silence, and triggered the door catch from the panel access. The door slid open and Kathryn looked inside, letting her eyes adjust to the ambient light. Her breath caught. Curled on the floor of the office on an away mission mattress, dimly illuminated by the star field and the passing expanse of space, lay the Trill. In her arms, Azan and Emina slept deeply. Kathryn looked at B'Elanna, and lifted her fingers. "Seven left them here?" "You knew?" "I knew they had come looking for Ezri, but I assumed she came to get them." B'Elanna stepped back, and let the door slide closed, then looked back at Kathryn. Kathryn reached out for B'Elanna's hand. "I think that's a stronger message than either of us could deliver." "I think you're right." B'Elanna kissed Kathryn. "But I reserve the right to co-opt your suggestion and drag her home if necessary." "I'll help." She had a sudden impulse to pin the Klingon to wall and ravish her. Fire flared along their link, as B'Elanna caught a hint of what Kathryn wanted, and she gave in, pushing the Klingon against the wall and devouring her mouth with fierce longing. B'Elanna growled and reversed their positions, slamming Kathryn back against the wall and driving her thigh between Kathryn's legs, surprising them both. "Home, now." Was all she could grind out. Fortunately, Kathryn demonstrated the ability to think under pressure that made her a great Captain. "Voyager, two to beam to my quarters. Now." She reached up and grabbed a length of hair at the back of B'Elanna's neck, pulling her into another searing kiss even as the transport started. ==^== Laren was sleeping, dreaming of the shine of sun on a Bajoran lake and silver bands on her lover. In her dream, her mate began touching her, first upon her face - with loving strokes of a cybernetic hand. Then everywhere. The light flared between them - pulsed through them like a long golden thread. In the dream her lover embodied all of them; the heat of her kisses reflected all of their kisses. Laren dove into Seven's touch, reciprocated, dreamed of her hands pressing upon and somehow erotically through the skin, as if their skin was only a sheath of light between them. They blended, heated, touched deeply. It was a mix of memory, dream, connection, and something else that exulted through them. Then like a wave, pleasure caught her up - them up - and rolled her out of the dream into gasping arcing awareness. She shuddered with the intensity, clutched the bedding underneath her in a powerful grip. It took her awhile to arrive at a point where she was able to roll out of bed. She realized she was shaking a little, and needful a lot. It was, she realized, the spark - the blaze and call of the mates. Laren stood and walked to the door that led to the Nest. The door opened and she stepped out. She nearly laughed when she saw the equally affected Seven of Nine. Her gaze also took in the fact that Tuvok, T'Pel and Kate were deeply engaged with one another. She could feel Lwaxana near, but did not spot her. She also knew that B'Elanna and Kathryn were not far away. She stepped towards Seven of Nine and their fingertips met. She said, her voice taking on the purr that she could not help, "I dreamed of you." Seven's brow arched expressively, and she responded, "And I of you." Laren's breath caught and they pressed together abruptly, unavoidably. Willingly, they surrendered and joined their mates in the blaze. ==^== B'Elanna gazed at the woman between her legs in glazed, happy shock. The orgasm had blasted through her so powerfully that she'd literally shredded Kathryn's bed. White foam-like tufts from the mattress were sprinkled on the top of the sheets. They had dropped from her hands when she'd finally been able to let go. Kathryn gazed back at her, her continued need for her mate still in evidence. She wiped her lower face with the back of her hand and surged forward to kiss her mate fiercely and hungrily. Then she said, as she nuzzled her Klingon, "It's the call." "Yes," hissed B'Elanna. She was still catching her breath and Kathryn cradled her for the time that it took, whispering loving words of need and heat. "We're still going to have to talk to Ezri." "In the morning. Later." "Yes. We will." It was a commitment, whether they still burned or not. Kathryn then spoke to Voyager. "My ship?" "Yes, My Kathryn." "You will let us know when Ezri is awake and functional." "Yes, My Captain." "Good. Thank you." Then, smiling with hungry intent, Kathryn took B'Elanna's hands in her own and guided her mate into the Nest with hungry kisses and truly erotic intent. ==^== Lwaxana was well aware of the intense sensual energy that flowed through her mates. She also believed she had a little time. Her day had been somewhat active and she wanted to be fresh for her them. As soon as she entered her room, she knew that she needed to hurry. The thoughts of her mates were vibrantly erotic. Carnal need ripped through her, causing desire's moisture to flow and a complete urge to open herself to them. She stripped down quickly and entered the refresher at almost a run. She started with the basics, and the sonic shower did its job. Then she switched to the hydro setting, and that was when she ran out of time. She felt the chain of release start with B'Elanna, fierce and joyful. B'Elanna had drawn in Kathryn and then Kate in quick succession. Kate, Lwaxana had known, had already been well on her way toward pleasure's peak. That peak cascaded in turn through T'Pel and Tuvok, and then herself in a heady rush, faster than she could really track. Her knees buckled, but she managed to remain upright by slapping her hands against the rail of the shower and holding on for dear life. Pleasure and need and wonder coursed through her and she felt the two dreamers enter the and she shook with the full light of their fulfillment as the chain became complete. Lwaxana stepped out into the Nest, just as B'Elanna and Kathryn entered. She was grinning as she strode to them joyfully, hungrily. 〈〈My darlings, you made a simple shower extraordinary.〉〉 There was a shared moment of laughter and sultry kisses. Then, as one, they turned and went to join their mates. ==^== "Computer, end alarm." The first thing Ezri noticed was the absence of Emina's comfortable weight centered over the space in which Dax was curled deep inside her. The second thing was that Azan had the blanket trapped under him in such a way that she couldn't get her left arm or leg free. A situation she had to remedy if she planned to deal with observation number one. Gently she reached across and stroked his cheek, trying not to startle him as she coaxed the boy from slumber. "Azan." He didn't awaken, but he did shift, and she pulled her arm free so she could sit up. "Good morning, Ezri Dax." Voyager greeted. Ezri jumped, Azan spilled onto the floor, and the blanket came fully free. "Good morning, Voyager." There was no profit in yelling at the ship. She ruffled Azan's hair as he lay blinking into wakefulness. "Morning, kiddo." "Good Morning, Da." He sat up, and then he tilted his head, obviously listening to one or more of his siblings. Emina ambled back to join them, her hands clasped around an assortment of latinum strips and playing cards. "Da." Ezri blinked, the knowledge striking her that 'Da' was more than Emina's attempt to articulate the Dax symbiont's name. Setting aside her startled reaction, she gathered the toddler up, and kissed her cheek. "Good morning, little one." Voyager spoke again. "The Captain wishes to be informed when you are functional." She had observed Ezri Dax over the course of enough mornings to know that what Kathryn believed to be functional did not necessarily match what the Trill would believe. "Can you give me a half hour or so before you let her know? I want to get these guys home first, and take a run through the shower." "I can do that, Ezri Dax." "Thanks." She stood up, lifting Emina with her, and noticed that her side didn't twinge this morning. "Let's get you guys home before your Mother sends an away team to find you." Azan was still sitting with his head tilted, though he would occasionally nod, or shake his head. "Azan?" she held her hand out. He blinked. "Rebi and Mezoti wish to know if you can make pancakes?" "Pancakes, hunh? I think I can manage those." Ezri stepped to her console and left a message for Lt. Kim giving him the conn plus one for the gamma shift conn officer noting the change, adding that she would be available by comm. "Have them replicate a dozen eggs, four cups of flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla and two litres of buttermilk. Oh, and have them set the table." If she timed it right, she might even get her shower. He grinned. "I will comply." ==^== "Captain," Voyager prodded Kathryn quietly and verbally with a directed sonic inquiry. "Do you remember your request?" Kathryn, who was busy at the moment, hummed a response, which Voyager took as a yes. "Commander Ezri Dax is currently awake and functional." The auburn haired woman sat back on her heels, but did not let go of Tuvok. The Vulcan, who was occupied with another mate, may have noticed, but he too was involved in giving pleasure to address that he was no longer being pleasured by Kathryn. "And her location?" "She is currently in the abode of the Prime of House Presba." "Interesting. Thank you, Voyager." B'Elanna, who was entangled with Seven of Nine, pulled back from a languorous kiss. "Now?" Kathryn considered their options thoughtfully. "Thirty minutes." "Sufficient," commented Seven of Nine. "I believe so. Kate, my love, would you mind?" The blonde who had been reclining against Laren in conversation looked at what Kathryn was indicating and then at Laren. "We wouldn't mind at all." Kate stood, and then helped Laren up and they both walked over to where Kathryn was kneeling. They kissed their mate and Captain with true warmth. Then, with tender enthusiasm, they took up the lusty work that Kathryn had summoned them to complete. Kathryn stood, taking time to kiss T'Pel, Lwaxana and Tuvok in turn, and then walked toward one of the Nest's refreshers. She was followed into the large room by Seven and B'Elanna, who joined her in the shower area. "How much time do we have?" inquired B'Elanna. "Twenty six minutes." B'Elanna gazed at Seven, whose colorful lights pulsed softly all around her body. She then grinned at Kathryn. "We have plenty of time." She drew the Borg close and kissed her fiercely. Kathryn moved to a point behind Seven of Nine and drew her hands along the blonde's torso. She too kissed the woman, and then she said in agreement and with wanton intent. "Plenty of time."
One of the glorious things about being the Supply officer was that it allowed access certain databases that were, in general, closed to anyone other than those with a high enough command clearance. To help with their little plots, Steve, Tom and Harry had come up with several alter egos: mock individuals who only existed in a temporary disk. These non-corporeal individuals were only brought out when it was necessary to pull a prank that required no trail be left. Thus, Commander Steve Magnum was not in his office, though his bio-signature was registered as being there. He was also not in any location from which he could publicly be seen. He, as his alter-ego, was in a Jeffries Tube, accessing a back panel to a replicator circuit. He wasn't trying to manually set up the system. That would have been unnecessary work for what was essentially a matter of programming for Ensign Itsa Plot. Thus, he had a PADD, with the appropriate tags for Ensign Plot, and which he would dispose of later, attached to the circuit in front of him and was inputting some very interesting options for some foolish marines. During Beta Shift, the first phase of the plan would begin. That shift had been chosen because it would take longer for the victims to realize what was happening, and by Gamma shift all the evidence would be gone, the allocated memory freed and overwritten, but the results of his machinations would be firmly in place. With a smile, Ensign Itsa Plot signed off and the grinned at the thought of the merriment to about to ensue; at least for the Joking Trio. ==^== It took longer to force the replicator to dock her account the required rations, than it did to find and produce the required piece of equipment, but Ezri
accounted the effort well worth it. If she wasn't mistaken, the Sochlings would appreciate the efficiency of the waffle as a delivery vehicle for all manner of
sugars. Surprisingly, given the seriousness that was hovering over the event, waiting for its ending, breakfast was a relaxed affair. All of them, Kathryn included, had taken a stab at producing a waffle or two. At the moment she was mopping up the last of some melted coffee flavoured ice cream, while trying not to ruin her dignity as a Warlord and Mom, as she watched Seven look reprovingly at the spread of toppings. The older children had finished eating and were preparing for their day, while Emina was cuddled in B'Elanna's lap, contentedly playing with a set of beads that the engineer had provided. "Seriously, Seven, I promise, every topping has protein, vitamins and, for good measure, minerals." Kathryn snickered, then sobered as Seven pinned her with a very effective glare and a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps, you would benefit from a day spent managing them when the sugar wears off?" "Oh, I think that little pleasure should fall to the ringleader over there." Kathryn waved her fork at Ezri, who was looking back at them with an expression of complete and utter impassivity. "Right, I get it. I apologize for breaking nutritional protocols. I won't overstep again." Ezri stood up from the table, and headed for the door. Then stopped and blinked. B'Elanna and Kathryn both blocked the way; she hadn't even realized they'd moved. "You want to tell me what the hell just happened here?" B'Elanna growled, in Klingon. Ezri looked back at Seven, who was standing by the table. Their eyes met, then Seven stepped around her, took Emina from B'Elanna and, without a backward glance, left the room. ==^== Ezri had long since learned the art of patience. Two older brothers and a disapproving Mother had schooled her in passive resistance. So she was surprised to hear herself speak, and almost as surprised as they were by her next words. "Computer, please state the location of Commander Dax's quarters." "No quarters are currently assigned to Commander Dax." "You're avoiding us because you don't have quarters?" B'Elanna threw her hands in the air. Kathryn though, was looking at her calmly, and with concern. "That's not why at all, is it Ezri?" She stepped forward, noticing for the first time how evenly matched in height they were; the Trill was only marginally taller. Against her will, Ezri spoke again, her answer pulled by the depth of pain and understanding she saw reflected in Kathryn's eyes. "No." "Tell me.""I have no place at all." "Yes, you do. You belong here. With us." Kathryn inhaled, seeing more fully what had provoked the Trill. In the high Klingon she'd been painstakingly learning, she offered her apology. "We're sorry, Ezri Dax. We left to assumption that which we should have made concrete." B'Elanna stepped forward now, and Ezri knew by the sudden shift in body language that some signal had passed between them, and it was the Epatai of House Presba who would speak. Part of her wanted to push past them, understanding that if she did, they would let her go, and her losses, while still large, would be minimal. "Stay." The voice was unmistakably Jadzia's. "This, Ezri Dax, regardless of where you choose to sleep, is your home. Make no mistake; if you want it, we will claim you. You are ours and we are yours." B'Elanna continued to speak in High Klingon. "The Lady Sirella of the House Martok will be paid whatever bond price she demands, no matter the amount or conditions. This mating will happen. Now, I ask you, one last time, will you join with us or not?" "I will." She was no clearer on what was expected of her, or where she fit, but for the first time, Ezri believed she belonged. Then, unexpectedly, Kathryn enfolded her strongly. "When it gets too much, come to us, not away. Don't hide from us, my sprite, we need you." Another set of arms wrapped around her from behind, and she knew that Seven had returned. "Your distinctiveness is required by all of us, síobhean, not just by me." "Trust us, Darling." This was from Lwaxana, who had joined them . But it was B'Elanna's kiss that sealed the compact. It was hungry and quiet, filling and demanding all at once, and, in that moment, Ezri caught a glimpse of what they felt for her, as Lwaxana acted as the conduit and amplifier. A wondrous gift of seeing what waited for her if she held true. They would not be gainsaid in this, of that they were all of an accord. Overwhelmed, Ezri let herself sink into their physical support. Her tears, when she finally let them fall, were gently wiped away. She didn't know by whom, and, she decided, it didn't matter. She would be theirs. 〈〈No, little one, you already are.〉〉 ==^== The Counseling Department had experienced a modest shakeup over the past few days, but due to the pre-planning of Counselor Priam Nael, the transition proceeded fairly smoothly. In the end, Captain Janeway had followed the departing Counselor's advice and had offered the Orion Shaman, Orsas, Truth Seeker both a commission and the role as department head. Orsas had, after some contemplation, accepted the duty. Thus, she was now Lt. Commander Orsas, Shaman and Truth Seeker. The Captain had been open to the idea of maintaining the Truth Seeker identity as useful to the cohesiveness of the department. Plus Janeway believed that given the amount work that had been put into nailing down the both purpose and the duties of a Truth Seeker with The Truth Seeker, Deanna Troi, that it was a legitimate calling and a beneficial position. The title became an official extension for those who were already performing the role, and new recruits would be required to earn the title and complete the requisite training, just like for any other specialized position. After the amount of careful contemplation she had given to accepting the position it became, to Orsas, a simple matter of rearranging appointments, planning for the continuing education of the counselors, blocking out counseling sessions and the Long Table schedule, so the highest benefit to all might be reaped. All of the counselors had been undergoing an intensive and rigorous course set up by Counselor Nael, in order to fully qualify them as practitioners. Orsas, of course, had already passed. Indeed, most had. But training was something that they still pursued, since now they understood it to be a complementary discipline to what they already knew. Priam Nael had left Orsas all of her notes, including her observations on how best to integrate the various interpersonal disciplines that were available among the crew so that it maximized the overall health of ship and crew alike. Unfortunately the notes did not include those who were new to the crew. This cadre included twenty survivors from Universe Beta, who had somehow made it to Terok Nor, and were in a multitude of states of well-being. It also included the Emissary of the Prophets, Commander Benjamin Sisko, and, if they chose to it, the Ambassadorial team from Universe Beta. Orsas wondered if she should take time to contact Tasha Yar personally, or wait to see if the Ambassador made an appearance at one of the long tables. She made a notation in her PADD, without having arrived at a solid decision and then checked her duty shift. A mild profanity escaped her lips, but it was her own fault. She had not paid attention to the time. It was easy to get lost in the details sometimes. She hurried to mess hall one so that another might rest. ==^== Commander Sisko had decided to risk the corridors of Voyager. He was still experiencing a mild and persistent sense of displacement, but he knew it was time to become acclimated to his return to linear time. He had managed to sleep, but only after reassuring himself that the bed was tangible and that he would not sink through it. He was still seeing through physical objects and it made confirming such details important. Ben knew he would adapt, and that his vision would change enough to allow him to function, but he was also aware that it would take some time. On one level, he found it humorous that he had managed to make it back to his Universe at all, and that, somehow, he was all the way on the other side of the galaxy, still worlds away from his wife, Kasidy. It was ironic. But distance was something he had learned to accommodate. Even in the timeless place of the Prophets he had missed her. It was a yearning that had been difficult to explain to those beings that had never truly been embodied or lived in the linear sequences that comprised the day to day reality of many beings, including his own species. At a different level rested the sure knowledge that they had learned quite a bit from him in turn. They had tried to warn him of the sorrow to come, so they were not entirely oblivious any more. But it didn't change that it had wounded him. Commander Sisko's impromptu self-tour led him to visit several places on board the Intrepid class vessel, just out of curiosity. He did it, both as a way to get to know the ship, but also to ground himself in the present, and in the presence of others. Beings flowed around him, going about their various duties and personal routines. He felt their minds, if not the actual contents of their thoughts. He saw the Pah of each one, saw futures written for them in the manifestation of their auras; saw each one striking out from them like a blue star pattern, and saw variety of potential outcomes. He did not close his eyes against the influx of information. It might prove valuable, useful at another time. Besides, soon he would, as did other Bajorans who were trained in such matters, need to touch their ear to get that kind of information from them. That would be, he thought, when he would know he was truly present in this Reality. He found the main mess hall, in all its glorious activity, and it astonished him - in a good way. He couldn't help the grin that bloomed on his face and he stepped more fully into the chaos. Shaman Orsas, who had been rushing, was following close on his heels and was not quite paying attention, as her focus had already shifted to where another Counselor was waiting, patiently. Thus, she bumped up against the Prophet and, through no fault of their own, had her eyes opened. For a moment, brief and incandescent, she saw Reality as Benjamin saw it. Then, the vision faded and her perspective returned. Since she had already touched him, albeit accidentally, she reached out. "Come, talk with me. I think I may be of assistance. Plus, we can eat." He looked down at the much smaller woman and smiled. "I do believe you can be." Then he let her lead him to the mystery that was the Long Table. ==^== Captain Janeway stared at the entryway to the marine's training complex. She had every right to go in. She was the Captain. Kathryn now knew exactly what had happened in Sandrine's the night before. There were two things that held her back from going inside. The first was that, by the standards of Starfleet, the event had been handled. Commander Dax had dealt with the situation appropriately and within the scope of her authority. Also, Kathryn had promised Lwaxana she would not go off half-cocked. This was probably because the Betazoid knew that, once Kathryn had long enough to think about it, a good foaming rage would lodge itself in her heart about the issue. Lwaxana had the benefit of seeing things from Seven of Nine's point of view. But Kathryn had only the promise she had made to cling to. The spark of guilt for failure to stop such nonsense long ago still lingered and added to the mire of emotions that were calling her to act. That was, of course, with thirty-plus years to ruminate on where she'd gone wrong. And she realized that a part of her must have considered that Seven of Nine would no longer be a target once they married. The flaw in Kathryn's unconscious plan was now dazzlingly obvious. She had forgotten Human nature. More specifically; she had forgotten how rough military culture could be, even with the social advancements of their time. She wanted to throttle Sarah Tucker, and not figuratively either. She wasn't sure she would be able to look at the woman without a desire to knife her in passing. The worst part was, she could possibly justify the urge to challenge Sarah Tucker to a duel. After all, the honor of the Mistress of the House had been impugned. From a different point of view, Kathryn had every right to come in and put all the misanthropic louts into the brig. The only problem would be that if she did, she'd have to put Tom there too. Under the Starfleet code of conduct, his offense was the gravest, and the one who least deserved it would suffer the most. Kathryn was a professional, whatever changes might have occurred. All her training had been directed toward knowing when to pull one's punches, whether one wanted to or not. With a deliberate motion, Kathryn turned and stalked away. ==^== Kathryn was not, technically, trying to hide. The observation lounge was open to the public. It just happened to be available and empty. She stared out at the stars, trying to lose herself in them. At least there were stars to be seen. That was a small mercy. She was aware of him before he entered. Once, she had mistakenly believed that by definition an empathic awareness required strongly expressed emotions as its catalyst, but Kathryn had found that the bond they shared went beyond the easily definable. Her sense of Tuvok contained both depth and light. And they had all discovered that their Vulcan mates were not without emotion, they simply did not allow them to dictate their actions. Tuvok and T'Pel loved as deeply as any of them. Their fingertips touched and he gazed down at her. He met her equally in the simple kiss that followed. She asked, "What brings you here?" "You." She released the touch and turned back to the window that spanned the whole wall. If she looked long enough, she always got the sense that she was falling into the heavens. Tuvok moved beside her. A Human would have wrapped his arm around her. He would have also asked if she wanted to talk or made some other attempt to to engage her. The Vulcan merely waited, then shifted when she leaned against him to lend her more support. "I want to tear the whole department down." "That would be an irrational thing to do." There was no unkindness in his voice. He was merely stating fact. "I am aware of that," she responded with at touch of humor. "If you had been there, heard what had been said about Seven of Nine, what would you have done?" There was a flexing of Tuvok's jaw before he answered. "I would have looked for the logical course of action?" "Which would be?" "I would have had a word with Commander Sarah Tucker about Starfleet protocol. You are aware that the offenses are actionable?" "And ship's morale?" "Is not helped by the disparagement of a member of its senior staff. Nor by sexism in the first place." Now Kathryn closed her eyes as she felt an upwelling of regret. "I failed her so many ways." "You are not who you were, and you were not alone in your failure." "If I don't act, will I be failing her again?" This, she realized, was what she was truly struggling with. "The matter has been handled." He turned her so that she was facing him. "Captain Janeway, you must let your First Officer do her job." "And Honor?" "Those who spoke dishonored themselves. The House honor was defended by Tom Paris and by Seven of Nine. She does not wish the matter to go further." "Yet, I think it must. In Klingon society, it would be a death-worthy offense." "However, you, as Captain of a Federation Starship can not call out your crew. This is not the IKV Voyager" "Well, I could, but it would not result in good things afterward. Although, to be honest, if we were still stuck in the Delta Quadrant, and I knew we weren't coming home…" "You would have found another way. It would not be good for morale. And it is not who you are, Kathryn." He paused. This was her first true test of balancing her new life against the old. "Your crew, despite the alliances that have formed, are not a Klingon one. Not all would understand." Her reply was fierce. "They wouldn't have to. I am the Captain." "A flogging then, perhaps?" She compressed her lips to stop the immediate laugh, but the spark of humor was there again. "Fine. I shall find a different way to relieve my frustrations." The unintended innuendo caught them both off guard. He, of course, did not laugh, but hers was an honest response. "I'm glad that you came to find me, Tuvok." "Always." ==^== Commander Sarah Tucker returned home to her quarters, tired and grumpy, but on the whole in a better state of mind than she had been the other day. She had called in her fellow guilty marines and told them to each, personally, and as soon as possible, offer an apology to both Lt. Tom Paris and Seven of Nine. Then she had assigned a two week punishment equivalent to her own: confinement to quarters during off hours and extra duty. She shrugged out of her uniform jacket and paced purposefully toward the replicator. She placed an order for coffee, hot, with two sugars and one cream. Sarah walked away from the replicator and took a moment to look at the ship's channel. They were now en route to Voyager's Rest and would be arriving in approximately a day and a half. The Park's weather indicated it would be sunny tomorrow. "Might be a good day to take the Marines out for a run," she commented to herself. Then she stalked back to the replicator and grabbed the mug. She sipped without looking. And then spit the liquid out. Sarah glared at the cup in consternation and then said with confusion and not a little ire, "Water! Computer, run diagnostic on the replicator." There was a moment of silence, then an answer. "The replicator is performing within acceptable parameters." Sarah considered that answer. It was possible. Replicators did tend to be error free for the most part, but sometimes one made a hash out of an order. And at least it was water and not something worse. So, having decided that it was, perhaps, was just a glitch, she placed a different order; this time for a nice hot meal. She was expecting spaghetti. What she received was a plate of rolls and some butter. She began, at that moment, to have a sneaking suspicion. Sarah pulled the plate from the replicator, in case it was a one time deal and then placed an order for a different drink. A skinny, tall glass sparkled into view. Like the previous beverage, it was water. Optimistic, and, at the same time, attempting to verify her conclusion, she made a different meal order. The result was a plate of crescent rolls and some cheese. She groaned. Sarah knew that she could, technically, go to the mess hall and that it wouldn't exactly be breaking the punishment to do so, but she felt it would be stretching things beyond the spirit of the arrangement with Dax. She wasn't sure how it was done, but Sarah suspected she wouldn't get anything out of the replicator as far as food, except for some version of what she was receiving now. The question was be, would it last the whole two weeks, or was this just a symbolic reminder of her transgression. Funny one though. She had to give Commander Dax credit. Her communicator beeped. It was one of her marines. "Commander, my replicator is only giving me bread and water." "Are you a Marine?" "Yes, Commander." "Then eat it like a Marine, you hear me?" "Yes, Commander." "Oh, and Ensign, tell your compatriots that as long as the food is edible there will be no complaints." "Yes, Commander." "Tucker Out." Sarah grimaced, not nearly as complacent about her fate as she'd sounded to the Ensign, and looked at the bread. Then she made the query, just in case. "Computer, please analyze the bread on my plate. Is it…. Nutritious?" "The bread on the plate contains the full assortment of vitamins and minerals needed for a Human female." "And the cheese?" "Please rephrase." "Please analyze the cheese on my plate for nutritive value." "The cheese contains the equivalent of a protein meal for a Human female." "Thank you, Computer." Well, she conceded, it would be boring, but it wouldn't kill them. Sarah decided that she could probably do with the distraction of a holo-vid. She sat down on her couch, and then used her PADD to register her selection. The holo began. It wasn't what she was expecting. Instead there was an image of a friendly looking person. "Welcome to Sexism in the workplace. I am your host…" She groaned. "Computer end program." "Unable to comply." Right at that moment, Sarah wished she could growl like the Captain. ==^== "You don't own much do you?" Kathryn looked at the lone box, the haphazardly crammed bag of clothes, and the bat'leth Chancellor Worf had given Ezri. "I traveled between universes with an Orb, not with a ship." Kathryn laughed. "Where do you want this?" She pointed at the overstuffed bag. "Bedroom." She grabbed the bag and moved to the specified room, then stopped at the door. "Oh my." "What?" Ezri moved to join Kathryn. "Oh my, indeed." She looked at her companion. Together they stood admiring the bedroom, which was clearly not standard issue, and, unless she missed her guess, wasn't anything like the way it had been when Chakotay occupied the quarters. Obviously, she'd clearly been remiss in not moving in sooner. "Seven of Nine." Kathryn sounded reverent, and Ezri nodded, equally impressed. The room bore the unmistakable stamp of the Borg's aesthetic sense and practical nature. Tendrils of the mating fire still pulsed within, and Kathryn was growing more aware of the warm heat radiating from Ezri. "We should talk." She wasn't convinced that they had laid all of what was disturbing the Trill to rest, and they had yet to discuss the impact of what had happened in Sandrine's the previous night. "Yes." Ezri turned slightly. "Now?" They were face to face, and Kathryn swallowed, pulled even closer by the lingering desire of her mates and the violet shaded eyes of the Trill. "Later." "Definitely, later." Ezri leaned into the promised touch. Kathryn realized her mistake as soon as their lips met. Her desire flared along the connection to her mates and was returned, magnified. She needed. They needed. And Ezri was here. Ezri felt the change in Kathryn's breathing, and knew something was wrong. "Kathryn?" The response was a low growl, and her body responded instantly, even as her mind made the connection to the mating fire. Another low growl rushed across her ear as Kathryn nipped along the swirl of spots that ran down toward her neck and breasts, and she nearly exploded. Somehow she summoned the will to raise her hands between them, and forced herself not to touch the swells with the spiked nipples that beckoned relentlessly. With one, now free, hand, she held Kathryn's head firmly against her collarbone to prevent another of the searing kisses that would be their undoing. Fighting the call of the erotic lines spun over the sensitized swatch of spots, she blinked, and then swallowed, gathering enough moisture in her mouth to do more than moan. "Voyager, Kathryn needs…" Kathryn dissolved into nothing. Unsupported, her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor. Her body thrummed with energy that suddenly had no outlet. She slid one hand along the flat plane of her abdomen and tugged frantically at the button of her pants. She licked her thumb and circled a thickly swollen nipple, even as she mirrored the movement with her other hand, before abandoning the hooded flesh and driving two fingers deep inside. Hips flexing into her thrusts, her thumb pushed against one of the ridges of nerves that lined the sides of her inner folds, and, at the same time, she twisted the sensitive nipple, triggering her orgasm. Several deep shuddering breaths later, she crawled onto the bed and collapsed, insensate, into its soft embrace. Chapter 6 | Universe Alpha, Beta Quadrant: Presban Space | Bookmarks
It took less time for Worf to make his decision than it had for Guinan to ask the question. He had mourned a mate and a wife both, and the Dominion war had left the fate of another whom he had loved unknown. If it were in his power to affect the outcome, he would not lose Deanna Troi. ==^== Deanna knew they were headed for the Captain's ready room, a destination that would, when the time came, make it easier for her to do what needed to be done. What she couldn't fathom was why they would take her to the heart of the ship. The brig had interrogation facilities; other decks had conference rooms that could be easily converted to a secure holding area. The ready room had access to command controls. Neither member of her burly security detail knew anything beyond the simple imperative from Corvalis to provide the required escort. In the turbo-lift, she detected the first hint of fear from her guard. Closing her eyes she let the combination of her hunting lessons from Vrald and her own mental gifts twine around each other as she fixed in her mind their scent and imprint. It would be good to be able to avoid unnecessary bloodshed; it would be better not to have to look to see her enemy. The doors opened with their customary hiss, and she was herded onto the bridge then hustled to the ready room. Despite the brevity of her passage, Deanna caught the waves of confusion mixed with fear that swirled around the bridge. Her eyes widened. A large part of the fear, and consequently, a bright swath of anger, was directed at her. Even some of those she had known since before they joined the Titan were afraid, more than afraid. They were terrified. Of her. Before she could probe the morass of emotions emanating from the bridge crew, she was nearly swamped by a new set of images and emotions, as she stepped into the ready room. ==^== Intellectually, Asil had always known that space was cold. Now, clinging to the hull of the Luna class starship, she felt the chill through to her bones. Concentrating, she set aside her reflections, and focused on the task at hand. Visually, and mentally, she located the remainder of her team, and took a moment to acknowledge their losses. The transport alone had thinned the team; three warriors had not re-materialized, the experimental equipment failing to operate as required. It was illogical to do so, but her eyes rested on her brothers and Phoebe longer than necessary. To lose them to prototype equipment would be unacceptable. Along her bond with Deanna a different kind of fear shot into her, and she flinched under the onslaught, but there was nothing she could do until the appointed time. Asil slowed her breathing and sought that place in her that was Deanna. The needs of the many did not outweigh the needs of the few or the one. Not in this. ==^==
On the bridge of the Titan, the First Officer, Commander Christine Vale, looked at the
closed door of the ready room and made a decision. Hand over hand; Asil propelled herself along the surface of the Titan's hull. Hidden from view through port windows by the natural contours of the ship, her suit masked her biosigns; to the ship, if anyone even noticed, she was debris. Dvanne twisted slightly bringing his large body in line with her slighter, but taller form. Hand signals were exchanged and the time remaining verified. T minus three minutes. Asil motioned to Vrald, who passed the signal along his line, and then to Targ, who despite his bulk, seemed, at times, to embody the spirit of the sleek cat for whom he'd been named. He acknowledged and also passed along the ready command. T minus two minutes, forty-five seconds. Her wrist computer vibrated softly. The Titan's shields had unexpectedly dropped. She seized the opportunity and risked the verbal signal. "Now." Obedience was instant. ==^== Standing at the edge of the crumbled windowsill, Guinan braced herself for the storm breaking. In the rooms below waited the future of the House she had chosen to serve. Above, in a cold black too far to permit sight, but not beyond listening, the battle had begun. ==^== The commercial freighter came to a sudden enough halt that the inertial dampeners failed in their task of preventing passengers and cargo from hurtling about within the craft. Beverly Crusher struggled up from the floor of her cabin, and let the force of ingrained habit propel her to the small ship's sickbay. There, she could be of use, and, other than an engine room, it was the place on a ship most abreast of what was happening at any point in time. The incoming injuries were minor, most of them cuts and scrapes, along with a few cracked and broken bones, but nothing requiring surgery. Apparently, a medical bay on a freighter wasn't quite the same as on a starship, because the most information she'd been able to glean so far was that they'd boarded by a Klingon ship. Where ordinarily she'd have made her way to the bridge to get more details, she decided that as a Starfleet officer, remaining incognito, at least in the short-term, was probably in her best interest. ==^== Impossibly, it seemed to Deanna that the already extreme amount of tension in the room ratcheted up another level as the ready room door opened and the Titan's First Officer stepped inside. Commander Vale looked at the Betazoid, the brighter lights of the ready room allowing her to clearly the extent and severity of the bruises along the supple arms that had only been hinted at on the darker bridge. "Deanna?" "I'm fine, Christine." She offered the officer a small smile, and accepted the concern she could sense radiating from her. Of more interest was the sharp dislike directed at Corvalis and the worry about Will. What had happened since she'd taken Barin and left the ship? Probing deeper into the layers of emotion swirling around the room, she tried to grasp what had pulled at her consciousness when she'd first been brought inside. Instinctively, she inhaled, and in a rush her mind put the data together. The sour, rancid smell of Will, the fear and triumph of Corvalis, the bright flare of need that rushed through Will's discordant thoughts. Hate, love, need, fear and…she met his eyes…hope. ==^== There was no time for a red-alert, no single second in which to call an intruder alert. The six members of the Titan's beta shift bridge crew dropped simultaneously to the deck, or slumped into temporary oblivion in their seats. Asil turned to her youngest brother, and, with her fingers, gave the order. "Eject the core, as soon as Dvanne signals that engineering is secure." She was not leaving to chance the possibility that someone would manage to engage the warp drive and take them out of the system and beyond transporter range of Presba. Vedor nodded, and moved to the correct station. Another of the team had already brought the helm to full stop. She had felt it the second she'd materialized: Deanna's sharp and instantly repressed joy and relief. Ruthlessly, she suppressed her own response; she had to finish the task at hand. The screen of her tricorder showed the bio-signatures and hence the locations of the occupants of the ready room, and she fed the coordinates into a new set of transporter buttons. Swiftly, Asil handed them to those who would go in with her. A sharp tug at the link she shared with Deanna called her attention and, reflexively, she closed her eyes. Expecting only the bright colours of her mate, she was amazed to see instead the ready room and its occupants painted in swirls of colour and hues that she knew was part of how Deanna saw the world. Knowing her mate, Asil resolutely looked away from her beacon of luminosity and studied the others seeking to see what Deanna wanted her know. There. To the side. That was the danger. Asil, locked in her mental exploration was unaware of the ferocious expression that she now wore; but next to her, Tuvon saw, and despite his own mental discipline, he paled. ==^== In the ready room, Deanna changed the focus of her scrutiny from Will to Corvalis. Within seconds, Asil would transport into the room, and she knew that her mate would need to know which of the room's occupants was the true threat. Deanna had felt her, even before Asil's physical form had finished coalescing into solid reality; their bond had flared, announcing that the cavalry had arrived. It had taken more mental discipline than she had thought she'd even possessed to retain the expression of calm acceptance she wore for her captors. Trying to give Asil every advantage, Deanna tried to send concrete information along their link, attempting for the first time to send more than sensation and thought. She caught a hint of surprise, and then an awe that was swiftly replaced by an anger that Deanna knew to be primordial, ancient, and a true mirror through time of what it had once meant to be Vulcan. 〈〈Sai aduna,〉〉 she whispered through their connection. 〈〈I am here.〉〉 And then she was. Tuvon overmatched the two security guards, and the Vulcan took a small measure of satisfaction from his success. Deanna struck out to her left and made solid contact with the center of Nuala Corvalis' chest, sending her into the bulkhead. Peripherally, she was aware that Asil had disarmed Christine, but she remained focused on her target. "What did you do to him?" Under the blow, Corvalis' head rocked backwards, slamming again into the metal wall. "Nothing," she spat out a mouthful of blood, "that he didn't want." She wanted Troi angry; too angry to be able to make sense of any of the information she might read. And, as long as she stayed away from the Vulcan long enough, there would be nothing left to trace. But before she could fully aim the palm phaser that had sprung into her hand from the spring loaded clip, Deanna had grabbed her arm and wrenched it back, snapping the bone. Corvalis expelled the scream, letting the sound take some of the pain. She hadn't even seen the Betazoid move. That hadn't been in the report, nor was what happened next. The fine boned fingers of Troi's left hand reached out and grabbed the side of her face, forcing her eyes to meet those of the hybrid, while an impossibly forceful right held her securely in place. It felt like being gripped by a vice that was inexorably tightening. 〈〈What did you do to him?〉〉 A heartbeat passed and then, on the verge of goading Troi once more, her nerve broke. The question had echoed in her thoughts, not her ears. And a heartbeat after that the information was ripped from her mind. ==^== The tough part of being a decoy was the waiting. Worf sat in the pilot seat of the small shuttle that he'd landed in the designated hangar bay on the Titan. Outside, a small, but rather formative looking, security squad ringed the small vessel. He wasn't coming out, and they weren't coming in. A low growl of impatience rumbled into the quiet space. The four security guards were exchanging worried looks, and rifles were being shifted from hand to hand. Worf stood up. It looked like he was going to come out after all. He had no objection to dying, but he really hoped that Guinan hadn't exaggerated when she'd given him the shirt. It seemed far too thin to be phaser-proof. ==^== Captain Keyv brought his ship out from the shadow of the moon and fell into the path that he knew would complement the approach vector of the Orantho. Ahead the Titan hung in space, and he watched in surprise as the warp core was ejected. It traced a path away from the system, and he wondered if it were set to detonate, or if it would continue to tumble end over end until inevitably colliding with another object in space. If the battle went well, he decided he would send a team to retrieve it. ==^== In the ready room, Commander Christine Vale kept one eye on the Captain and one on the Vulcan female who was, in turn, watching her and the Betazoid. Riker had begun to breathe in long shallow gasps, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. "Is he going to be okay?" She had seen the implacable hatred on Deanna's face as she tossed Lt. Corvalis into the corner, had heard the anguish under the Betazoid's demand for information, and decided that whatever else was going on, the Captain's well-being appeared to be important. That was enough common ground for her right now. No one answered her. At least not directly. She saw Deanna, eyes black and without any hint of warmth, lift her head away from the limp body of Corvalis, and turn to face the Vulcan female. Tears had begun to track down Deanna's cheeks, but to Christine, the wet tracks did nothing to mitigate the cold resolve she read from a woman she had always thought of as mobile cookie dough. The Vulcan nodded and turned toward her. "Deanna believes you can be trusted. You will take temporary control of the ship and establish a geosynchronous orbit around the planet on a heading we will provide." She moved to the Captain's side and laid her hand along his face. Seconds later she straightened, and with the same hand, entered a string of code into the computer. There was another pause, and a meeting of eyes between her and Deanna, then more code was put into the console. The familiar, feminine voice of the ship's computer filled the air. "Captain William T. Riker is confirmed relieved of command. Command of the USS Titan is transferred to Commander Christine Vale effective immediately." "Order the crew to stand down, Commander." Christine watched for a second as the Vulcan carefully gathered the labouriously breathing captain into her arms, and made a decision. She tapped her chest. "All hands, this is Commander Vale, all personnel not involved in Condition Omicron report to quarters, we are secure from general alert." ==^== With Deanna no longer in danger, and the Titan under control, Asil
was momentarily at a loss as to how to proceed. The suffering
starship captain now in her arms was a complication she had not
planned for. More importantly, she was greatly concerned with what
she sensed from Deanna, and were it not for the silently
communicated request from her spouse, she would have picked the
Betazoid up instead. "We have a visual lock." Reported the Orantho's weapons officer. The Captain pointed at Sirella, gesturing
her to speak. This was a House matter, and not yet an Imperial one,
though that could change as Sirella willed. "This is the Lady Sirella of the House Martok. You have
something that belongs to me. I want it back." The shuttle cleared the Titan and Asil transmitted a message to those waiting on the planet. Phoebe and Vrald had remained aboard the Titan, along with half the team as well as Tuvon. She had given Phoebe precise instructions with respect to certain logs, records and communications. Where there was one Section 31 agent, there would be others. And Deanna had conveyed the information that the Betazoid was not the end target. She left the helm to her brother and moved to the aft compartment. "What is Captain Riker's status?" Nurse Ogawa looked at her, then at Deanna, and Asil realized that the two women knew one another. "His vitals are holding steady, but there seems to be deterioration along his neural pathways. Unless we can determine what the toxin is, the damage will continue. He's slipping into a coma." The nurse looked back at Deanna again, "I don't know if it's reversible." They didn't know what the toxin was? Asil lifted her hand, and then realized she could bespeak Deanna with a thought. 〈〈The toxin is undetermined?〉〉 Deanna flinched, and her eyes darkened, already impossibly black, they seemed to suck all of the light from her face. 〈〈Corvalis didn't know what it was. Just that it would make Will compliant.〉〉 Asil nodded, and did the only thing she could think to do. She moved next to Deanna and placed her hands on her mate's shoulders, offering her unconditional love. The moment was broken by an incoming transmission, and Asil stepped away reluctantly. "On screen." She left the door open so she could see Deanna. The image resolved, and Asil knew only the lifetime of practice kept her surprise from registering. "Alexander." The young Klingon smiled, his wry grin expressing both his acceptance of the situation and his understanding that there was something humourous about the whole thing. "I have someone here that I think you need." Worf's son stepped away, to reveal a Human female. "Dr. Crusher, is looking for my So'chim, and I hear you found her." "Beverly." Deanna was suddenly next to Asil. "Thank, Imza." ==^== Beverly Crusher left her patient and went in search of her friend.
She had expected to find Deanna hovering outside of the room Will had been
moved to, but aside from two Klingons who were obviously on guard,
the hall was empty. ==^== "You're cold." Deanna registered the shiver as Asil entered their rooms. The taller woman did not exactly sigh in relief, but Deanna felt the Vulcan's response to the ambient heat in the space almost like it was her own. Asil's voice was gentle, reassuring. "I am fine." She clasped her mate's hand and lifted Deanna's arm. Then she carefully rolled up the sleeve. The bruising was visible still. Asil said, "It is you who are injured." Their hands slid apart until only their fingertips touched. "We will use a dermal regenerator."
It wasn't that Deanna hadn't trusted Beverly. She'd just wanted the Doctor to focus on Will. He'd had the greater need. Asil led her further into the room, finally stopping by the bed. "Sit. I will return." "Asil--" The Vulcan pressed a fingertip against Deanna's lips. Then, without another word, she exited the room. Deanna looked about their bedroom. Everything looked recognizable, but different. There was a feel to it that she couldn't quite articulate. She sat, obeying her mate's wishes, finding an odd anchor in the action. Like an echo, Deanna felt and then saw Asil approach. The Vulcan stopped in front of her, and then crouched, setting the tool to the side of her mate on the bed. Then Asil extended her hands. Her long fingers touched the first button of Deanna's shirt and the Betazoid abruptly understood what her mate was trying to accomplish. She reached to help, only then noticing that her own hands were shaking. Asil's were steady, persistent. She calmly undid Deanna's shirt, then gently helped her remove it. The difference in pace and kindness was striking. "You love me," whispered Deanna. Asil did not reply. Her hands and her eyes were doing the talking, as she helped her mate disrobe. There was a flash of something as she saw the bruising along Deanna's ribs, a quickly hidden rage. The feeling served no purpose, so she discarded it, but her fingers gently pressed, testing. It wasn't spongy. Nothing was broken. Deanna gasped in response, "I am sorry, Asil. I should have…" "It was the right thing to do." Asil lifted the dermal regenerator and flicked it on. "It is obvious that Will Riker's life depended on the timing of your return. The motivations may be unclear, but I do not doubt he would now be dead." "Now he's merely in a coma." The words were bitter. "He may recover. Dead he would not." Logic. It could be so… Deanna gasped as the regenerator served its purpose and the healing began. Asil's touch continued to be sensitive, briefly stirring against the Betazoid's flesh. It was cooler than normal, which brought that awareness back to Deanna's attention. She wasn't so far into her own problems not to notice her mate. She would always see Asil. 〈〈You are chilled.〉〉 〈〈You are my fire. It warms me to be near you. I am fine.〉〉 Deanna looked up, into Asil's fearless, worried gaze. She leaned forward, placing her lips on the Vulcan's in benediction. She wasn't expecting the kiss to flare into need. Not so close to the wounding. But there it was, fierce and bright. Asil dropped the healing tool onto the floor in favor of clasping Deanna to her. It rolled under the bed, forgotten. They kissed deeply, hungrily. "Thank you for coming for me," Deanna half sobbed. "I will always come for you," Asil said. "You are my mate. My chosen." Deanna gasped into their kiss and flung her arms around the Vulcan. They tumbled onto the bed and lost themselves to the heat which rose up between them. The curvaceous brunette pressed to her mate, needing the solid comfort of Asil; her body and mind. The Betazoid sought refuge from the vastness that chased her. Asil's touch sparked through Deanna's skin, her body responded, and her heart, which she had feared frozen also leapt. She wept Asil's name, like a prayer for absolution, and found it in the Vulcan's tender, spicy kisses and abiding love Asil needed the warmth of her mate, not just of her body, but that soul deep warmth that was always there. Like others she too had seen the deep in her mate's eyes, but her training had allowed her to face it and look deeper still. Others outside of their bond, might have thought Deanna lost to the cold. But Asil knew the difference. Where they saw dark and things to fear, Asil saw stars and the fiery inner light of her wife, and claimed them. Deanna could not hide from her mate, so did not. She did, however, find the state of dress between them inequitable. Her hands clasped the clothes that separated them and shredded them away until they were deliciously skin to skin, touch to touch. Asil's voice whispered in Deanna, summoning the Betazoid to herself. Her hands and lips also explored, following the luscious lines and gorgeous planes of her mate. She inhaled the scent of her beloved, could pick out the distinctiveness that made Deanna hers. Her sharp teeth grazed along her mate's skin, not pressing. Deanna arched to her anyway, receptive in more ways than one. Asil accepted the invitation and she pressed intimately, filling and connecting them both. Words floated in the air, erotically spoken, dialects of different worlds and places more inward. All of them providing their own kind of warmth and heat to what was rapidly becoming a bonfire. Deanna rocked into Asil's commanding touch, their thoughts blended and the Vulcan filled that space, shielded the Betazoid for awhile. "My Aduna," Asil purred. "Yes!" Deanna called back as she was suddenly cast out past the dark into Asil's light. She felt her mate join her in the erotic cascade, the joy between them was still bright, still theirs. They fell back to Presba together, warmed in fundamental ways. Whatever else was out there, whatever the cold that burned, there was heat, home, and refuge together.
She crouched upon the rock like a wild animal, a feral growl in her belly. She was being hunted, chased through thick, tall green. She had climbed to safety and was looking down at those who hunted. Their faces were indistinct, but she could feel the threat coming off of them like poisonous steam. They loved the hunt and were excited by the chase. They wielded nets, which had not yet caught her, and sharp lances. All who were not them were prey. One of them held up a part from their most recent trophy and she screamed. The head in his hand turned to face her. Then the head of Kira Nerys opened her eyes. Deanna Troi, Truth Seeker of the Truth Seekers, woke up sweating, gasping and horrified. At the very same time she was supremely relieved to be awake and no longer captured by that dream. She rose from her cushion-strewn bed and paced to the refresher. Once there, she took a long moment to thoroughly bathe the sweat from her body. The cleansing wash also served to sooth away the immediate tension that had come from awakening in such a state. But she held onto the dream, or rather to what small fragments of it she could. She was fairly sure it wasn't a premonition, at least not fully so. It did not have that feel to it. She preferred, however, to investigate her dreams, just in case it was more than her mind doing its nightly work. She went and sat down at her night table, and picked up the datatablet she had for such purposes and quickly entered the date and time. Deanna began recording what she remembered and then her observations and impressions of the same material. The first thing she noted was that the scenario had seemed familiar at the time. When she thought about the location stripped of the action, she felt the stirrings of a memory. Deanna pulled at the thread of a thought and the more she did, the more the memory came into focus. It was not her own. She realized that it must be part of the record that her mother had passed down to her. A wispy memory of a location on Betazed, which she had never been to before, but one a many-times Great grandmother had visited. She prodded the shards of her impressions a little harder, but nothing more specific came clear. It was a place of hiding, and that was all she knew. It probably no longer existed except in the matriarchal memories Lwaxana had gifted her with. Deanna left that avenue of inquiry and next pulled at the issue of the hunters. That imagery was probably related to what she had recently learned about the encroaching Hirogen hunting parties, though it could also have been related to any number of Alpha and Beta Quadrant species, or even have been allegorical. She made a notation to look into more detail about it and possibly contact the Seers of Betazed. They might have more of an idea. The final images were the most personally disturbing: the severed head of Kira Nerys. A Kira Nerys whose eyes had been opened, and whose body bore numerous wounds. Yes, that one was probably obvious, both as warning specter, which leant credence to the idea that it might be a premonitory dream, and as beloved face in the darkness. The mere thought of Nerys being hurt brought up a surge of anger and sudden spark of a protective instinct. With that thought, came the abrupt realization that, if indeed the dream had been about the new threats from the Delta Quadrant, then something must be done to preserve her Nerys. She did not register the tone of possessiveness in the thought and it took a moment for Deanna to realize that the growl she was hearing was not a memory. Her hand flew to her mouth, suppressing the noise and it abated with her deliberate choice to be silent. Then, testing, she tried it. The growl was there, low and vibrant. A part of her thoughts scanned back to a conversation during the first Presban family dinner she had attended, and Deanna remembered the mental flash from her mother when a non-verbal question had been idly asked by Dr. Pulaski as she contemplated the Vulcan, T'Pel: "Does she purr?" Deanna remembered that her mother had answered Kate with a wink and a nod. Then, Lwaxana had answered Deanna's identical question. "Do you purr?" Her mother had leaned over and buzzed softly in her ear. "Only with people I love." It had been shocking at the time, as no Betazoid she knew had such ability. But now Deanna understood that there had been physical changes that came with the gifts that her mother had given her. Just as there had been psychic changes when the Truth Seeker of Truth Seekers had laid hands upon her, and thus passed ability along with the title. What it boded for her future, she was not quite sure. But she did know that, despite her vulnerability in the dream, in real life, she had abilities that would make the difference in a fight. She had proved it on Terok Nor during the battle for the station. And, if the dream were any indication, she would be proving again. Deanna looked at the datatablet in her hand, and began another recording. This time she accepted that what she had seen in her dream was most likely a premonition, not necessarily a literal one, but important nevertheless. And so she would need to prepare to protect not only her people, but also Nerys. ==^== Counselor Nael was still getting used to the sense of weird déjà vu she felt now that she was on the beta-Universe's incarnation of Betazed. In many ways, the world was familiar to the redhead. The same influences emphasized the blending of nature and architectural design that had been true of her Betazed. The same too, was the complete openness of mind to mind communication, with those same courtesies, and respecting of personal privacy. But there was also an edgier sense to living on this world, more martial and privileged, in a way. This world, the Counselor suspected, might not have succumbed to the Dominion so quickly. Of course, that might be because of the number of Klingons who happened to live on it too. She was also gradually getting used to the idea of being famous. With Deanna Troi's help and at her express direction, a school for Counselor Truth Seekers had been formed and she, Counselor Priam Nael of the House Presba, was its head. The applications had begun arriving as soon as school had been announced and Priam had wondered if perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew. On the other hand, she had resources, which had been generously
given to her by Captain Janeway. These resources included, along with
the expected
PADDs containing Voyager's entire medical database, medical replication
codes, holographic resource scenes, and the two Orion assistants who
had been part of her staff on Voyager. Epatai Torres had also provided
a substantial amount of liquid capital in the event of an emergency,
or unmet need. Neither might ever receive a formal Ph. D. from a Federation institute, but they had more than the equivalent qualifications, and she would trust Cree and Opom with her emotional life along with the success of the Counselor's University. They were going to be teaching those who wanted to learn. One drawback, though, was that the Betazoid students were arrogant and tended to be dismissive of the Ensigns. The students instead preferred to go around their instructors and to try and speak with Priam directly, whether she had time for them or not. However, she expected that once the school really got into session, attitudes would adjust quickly. Or at least she hoped that would be the case. The plus side was that setting up the school kept her busy, which in turn meant that she didn't think too much about the differences between her Universe and this one. She only thought about the commonalities and what she hoped to accomplish. The biggest drawback was that all this business meant that she was separated from the one person who had caused her to change her mind and stay in this Universe. Priam found a great deal of irony in that. Still, there was a plus there too; she knew Sela was equally interested in her, and that the pandemonium of the set-up phase wouldn't last forever. She would see the Romulan again and it gave Priam something extremely pleasant to look forward to in the more trying moments of becoming Priam Nael, the upstart Dean of the Counselor-Truth Seeker University. ==^== The Bajoran Sector, though named for one of the planets in the B'hava'el System,
was composed of more than just Bajoran planets and its famous wormhole. Many other planets and systems fell
under her auspices, but even as the Bajoran Intendant, Kira Nerys did not try to act as Governor
to those worlds. That was precisely what the actual Governors and
planetary governments were for. Just as Bajor had its own government,
the planets under her purview also had
their own civil structures. Nerys merely saw to it that they followed the
duties and dictates mandated by the Empire and acted as final authority
and arbiter as
necessary. The Klingon Empire had begun the endeavor of protecting the Empire by stationing Klingon battle ships near the wormhole, for the express purpose of defense against the Dominion forces coming through from the Gamma Quadrant. That venture also brought in funds, since it meant that Terok Nor would essentially become a way-station for hungry, bored Klingons on shore leave. It also meant they need to be kept entertained. She'd dumped that problem on Quark too. Nor was Nerys as worried about issues of possible invasion by the Dominion as she used to be. The encounter with the Prophets had been, as promised by Captain Janeway, a revelation. As had the guest that now resided on Terok Nor as a result. Not that she quite knew what to do with her. The Kai, Opaka Sulan, was like no one that Nerys had ever met before. It seemed as if the Kai had little or no self-interest nor even a rudimentary sense of self-preservation. She carried no weapons at all. On the other hand, she did allow security to follow her around. The problem was that she did not allow them to stop anyone from just stepping up and talking with her. And many did stop, as if they were compelled to meet with this quiet, spiritual woman. Not that Kai Opaka was in mortal danger at the moment. Very few people knew of her origins from within the Gamma quadrant of another universe, and the Kai did not, as Nerys had feared, immediately start a new religion. She wasn't sure exactly what Kai Opaka did do, other than walk a lot and touch ears. Nerys was inclined not to interfere, so long as the Kai took the correct precautions. She knew that Opaka had been to Bajor and had visited a few of the historical sites. She half expected the Kai to come ask for a specific location for a temple to be granted, but she had not. She just kept visiting Bajor or walking the Promenade and talking with people, sometimes she touched their ear in that strange contemplative way of hers. She had touched Nerys' ear. Actually, it had been more than a touch. It had been a firm grasp, as if Nerys were a mug, and her ear its handle. And the Kai had held on to her for quite some time as her expression changed first to one of deep contemplation, and then to wonder. Opaka had nodded, as if whatever she had discovered was something that, if not expected, made complete sense but said nothing about any of it. She had smiled and said, in her inscrutable and peculiar way, "When you need me. I will be here." Nerys still had no idea what it meant, but it had been oddly reassuring and she had tucked the moment in with her other mental treasures. Between the Kai, Deanna and Jadzia, she was feeling much more positive than she had in many years. ==^== Winn Adami had taken a big risk when she'd made her second contact with the House Presba. It had been somewhat accidental, given that her son had started choking, but at the same time, she was the one who had made the decision to obey the demand of the Human doctor, which had, of course, been an unheard of thing to do. But then, Adami had always been a risk taker. She would not have gotten as far as she had without that particular trait. So far, her choices had paid off in unexpected, but fiscally fortunate ways. With the help of Presba via the admirable T'Pel's financial backing, a new company had been started. Winn Security took up the slack left by the sudden absence of the Orion Syndicate, and the associated reliable transit of goods. The company's title described the purpose. Winn Security would provide the guards and the security for merchant ships and businesses. It was closely connected with Winn Tech, which provided the weapons for the security teams. Winn Tech, which T'Pel had also invested in, had also gained a foothold in the Empire's economy by taking on the contract of building the mech-suits designed and created by House Presba for the use of the Empire. There had been other smaller contracts which T'Pel had put in place, and that would continue to provide growth opportunities for the companies. Despite the absence of the Vulcan financial genius, Adami knew that the fortunes of her company would be carefully watched by House Presba. T'Pel had informed her that she should expect to be contacted by Miral Torres when she had found the right manager for their fiscal welfare. Winn Adami had already filed an application with the Judge. If there was anything that Adami knew about it was wealth and power and how to cultivate and wield them. ==^== Terok Nor was not the only place in the Bajoran sector on which gambling could be found.
Indeed, there were many other venues spread throughout the Alpha and Beta quadrants, and
Jadzia Dax had more than a passing knowledge of where to find the best spots. When
she had mentioned to Nerys that she had business to attend to, she had
meant it. Prior to going to the station, she had entered the
Rogue Star in a race. The drawback was the location. The planet was seedy and the town even seedier. It was a truly the epitome of a backwater planet and possibly a haven for the Syndicate, which probably made it a place she shouldn't go. But she did need the cash especially if, as seemed the case, she intended to wooing an Intendant and a Betazoid Princess. So Jadzia dressed in her most dangerous looking and tight leathers, wore her weapons prominently, and girded herself for the adventure to come. The bar where the contest lists were posted was crowded, as usual. Given the nature of the game, its participants and its cheering section, this was not a surprise. It was less of a surprise given that, despite its seedy appearance, it was an establishment with a solid reputation for not skimming credits from customers, or watering the alcohol it served. Jadzia stepped into the tavern, ignoring the wolf whistles sent in her direction, and looked for the Ferengi running the show. She spotted a small crowd around a table that had holographic visual aids posted above it. A small man, someone she knew well, and sedately dressed for his species, was still taking forms for the race. Jadzia ignored the line-up and went around to the other side of the table. She grabbed a chair, very recently and suddenly emptied of its occupant, and sat down beside the nimble and busy alien. "Rom. How's business." The Ferengi glanced up, but not at her. "Terrible. But the race will help." "I'd have thought you'd be busy fixing ships, not signing them up for the game." "I told Zek I would help him out." He waved briefly at the bar's owner, another of her Ferengi acquaintances. "Ah." "He could have been Nagus, you know." Jadzia nodded her head, but made no comment on that particular topic. Ferengi politics could get very complicated and made for longer conversations than she had time for. "So, where's the list of challengers." Rom still didn't look up from what he was doing, but handed Jadzia a datatablet, though he could also, just as easily, have pointed her attention upward. It was the same data as on the information board. She glanced through the list, taking a moment for risk assessment. Then she spotted a name she knew. The Arrogant. "Are you serious? Is she here?" Rom knew who she meant. He handed a filament to a contestant and took their latinum in exchange. "Captain Maqam has been here for two days." The Trill grimaced. "Damn. Damn. Damn." "Perhaps you ought to pick another race." Rom paused and then looked at Jadzia for the first time since she sat down next to him. "Or at least a different bar." He jerked his head in the direction of Maqam. The Trill followed the visual line with her gaze, and winced. "Oh Gre'thor and its stinking pits." She shook her head. Then said, "Look. I'm still going to race, but don't start the Rogue Star next to the Arrogant, you hear me?" "But it's a random selection." "Rom, if you value our friendship…" Rom waved his hand in acknowledgment. "Fine. Fine. But you better get out of here. I think I saw Maqam look this way." Jadzia set the tablet down beside Rom, and, as casually as she could manage, she stood up and started toward the door. She was more than halfway there, and harboured the hope that she would make it all the way out, when her way was blocked. Maqam, a Klingon, was a woman of great height, ample bosom, and a fierce kind of beauty. She was dressed to emphasize all of those qualities. Maqam was also a smart and capable captain, and there had been a time when Jadzia had known her very well. Too well. "Jadzia Dax. Fancy meeting you here." Jadzia summoned her brightest and most charming smile into being. "Maqam! What a surprise. I thought you were still on Qo'nos." "Oh, that business was finished months ago. It was a…," there was a growl in her voice, "…small matter of honor." Jadzia kept her smile. "Honor. Yes. I can see where that would be important." Maqam leaned forward slightly and Jadzia could clearly scent the bloodwine on her breath. "It is strange to even hear you use the word, when you have none." Jadzia did not rise to the bait, given how dangerous it would be; Maqam had backup, she had none. "We'll, we are all entitled to our opinions." "Some opinions are worth more than others." She poked Jadzia in the chest. "You owe me three hundred thousand credits." "Credits that I have to until the end of the year to get to you. A point in time still some months away." The Klingon's gaze narrowed, but she knew it was the truth. "Well, don't think you're going to get them by winning this race." Maqam pointed toward her own chest. "That prize is mine." "In the Arrogant?" Jadzia hadn't quite meant that tone to be so disbelieving. But there is it was anyway: veritas without vino. "Is there something wrong with my ship?" the Klingon woman growled. "No. No. Of course not. It's a very powerful ship. I have always admired it." Jadzia cleared her throat. "But you have to admit it's not a racing ship. It reaches what? Warp three?" She deliberately undercut what she already knew of the Arrogant's top speed, not really believing Maqam would let her pride overrule common sense and reveal its true speed. But a girl had to try. Maqam waggled her finger. "Ah ah. You're not going to get me to tell you that way." "Didn't hurt to try. But you have to admit, the Rogue Star is the faster vessel." "Hah. My ship would beat yours any day." Jadzia could not believe the words that leapt out of her mouth. It had to be the effects of falling in love, and the crazy was carrying over. "Care to make a wager on that?" Now she really had Maqam's attention. Jadzia did her best not to look toward the door, but instead to face the Klingon woman squarely. It was touchy business making bets with fierce and unpredictable women, trebly so if they were Klingon. Maqam gazed down at the Trill and her expression turned speculative. "A wager. What would you have, that would be of any interest to me?" "Well," Jadzia took a deep breath and jumped in. "How about if your ship beats mine, regardless of who wins, I give you double what I owe you at the end of the year. And--" Maqam cut her off. "No. That's too long to wait. If my ship beats yours, you give me your ship." "And if my ship beats yours?" "I give you mine." There was a pause between them and then Jadzia said, "If you win, taking my ship also clears the debt." "Agreed." Jadzia thought her heart would throw itself out of her mouth. But she surprised herself with a shout. "Witnesses! Did anyone witness this bet?" A sudden scrambling of interested parties ensued, consisting of both those trying to avoid being witnesses, and those wanting the task. Finally, three witnesses, including Rom, who were not related to either woman, were selected. Then Jadzia and the Klingon dropped blood on the ground and it was official. Jadzia left the bar paler than she went in. ==^== As the Intendant Kira Nerys had many sources for many types of information. She had gotten to know Jadzia Dax a lot better recently, though she'd always had a comprehensive dossier on the adventurous merchant. From their time together, she personally knew that the Trill was impulsive, passionate, intelligent and enjoyed games - all kinds of games. Thus, when Nerys heard about the race, she knew it would prove to be irresistible to the Trill. Nerys felt fully comfortable with going, since the location of the race happened to fall within her sphere of authority, though on the far outskirts of it. In fact, a case could, and would, be made that it was her right as Intendant to attend. In addition, she fully expected to receive her share of the profits. When things were settled enough on Terok Nor and on Bajor, she had her staff make the appropriate arrangements and send out the necessary notifications. She then set out to find out exactly what manner of trouble Jadzia Dax was courting this time around. ==^== In point of fact, Jadzia was busy putting out fires, literally. The Rogue Star was a good ship, but it had its quirks. Age did that to a vessel. It gave them personality. In this case, her beloved Rogue Star was having a bad day and had burst a relay unit - into flames. Jadzia grabbed a fire suppressor and shouted, "Not now! Not now!" She pressed the button on the extinguisher and blew the coolant onto the blazing surface. In short order, she was surrounded by a white fog and the flame extinguished. When the small cloud settled around her feet, she gazed solemnly at the blackened, charred piece of equipment. Then, with a sigh, she went to where she stored the spare parts and began the process of fixing it. The Rogue Star would be ready on time for the race no matter how deep the Pits Above and Below seemed to grow. ==^== A few hours later, the Rogue Star was a little more ready. Jadzia had repaired, replaced and fixed until she could fix no more. She was still confident, even though there were more things to do, that the Rogue Star would accomplish the task ahead of her. Admittedly, the goal had changed a bit. Second place was no longer the point. Now she wanted, and needed, to beat Maqam. The goal was, she was sure, doable. But she had to revise her strategy accordingly and plan for dirty tricks. Not her dirty tricks, but Maqam's. The Klingon who she knew was sure to not play fair. Especially, since, in a race like this, no one did. Absently, as she considered what to do, Jadzia fingered the sigil of the House Martok, which she now wore on her jacket. It wasn't until she was halfway through her gleefully wicked planning that she registered the subconscious reminder. She looked down at the insignia and then lifted her head and rolled her eyes. "Kahless on a crutch." Jadzia began revising her revisions. She might play dirty, but she was going to play dirty with Honor. She was of a House now. ==^== When the Intendant arrived, surrounded by a mix of burly Bajoran and Klingon guards, pandemonium broke out in Zek's bar as a result. Even the bravest, and most foolhardy of people dropped out of her way as she paced toward the owner of the bar. Intendant Kira Nerys was not smiling. She stopped before the not quite ready to grovel Ferengi. "Zek of Ferenginar, what have I told you about arranging races without the proper paperwork?" Zek winced and shrunk down a bit. His hands curled together unpleasantly. He didn't want to answer. He really didn't. But he knew it would go worse for him if he did not. He cleared his voice. "You told me…." His voice stumbled off into terror. He tried again. "You told me, that if I failed to inform you, and failed to pay the appropriate fee, you would take it out of my hide." "Am I a woman of my word, Zek?" He winced again, dreading what he knew the answer must be. "Yes." Kira leaned over and touched his ear, fingering the lobe lightly. "I really don't like doing this kind of thing, Zek. Why do you persist in challenging me? The next time I'm going to have to take this bar and stake your head outside of it. Do you understand?" The Ferengi nodded his head jerkily. "I do, Intendant. I'm sorry, Intendant." "No, Zek. You aren't sorry. Not yet. But," she pulled back and gazed at him implacably. "You will be." She turned to one of her guards. "Take this man to the back. I want a piece this big." She measured with her fingers and thumb. "Then tack it to that wall there, above the bar. I want him to remember this, so I do not have to come back to do something worse." "Yes, Intendant." Two of her guard grabbed Zek by the arms to restrain the suddenly struggling man, and dragged him out. A third man trailed after them, fingering his dk'tahg. Intendant Kira snapped her fingers at the open mouthed Rom. "You. Get me my twenty percent. Now." Rom blinked, bowed and scuttled away. When the screams began coming from outside, those who had gathered around to stare at the Intendant and her guard suddenly had better things to do. Except for one person. Maqam, who was feeling enthralled, and more than a little aroused, by the display of power, sauntered toward the smaller Bajoran woman. The guard watched the other woman alertly and she raised her hands up, signaling that she meant no harm. Intendant Kira smiled pleasantly. "You seem to want a moment of my time. Why?" The Klingon woman poured on the charm, well aware of the Indendant's lusty reputation. "I am Maqam of the House Qua'lon. I have admired you for a very long time and merely wished to offer to purchase a drink for you." "Ah. So you're an admirer. I'm afraid I must decline. I have other business to attend to." Her tone cooled. "Will you be watching the race?" "I will be." "Watch for me to win. Then, if you care to, come celebrate with me." Rom chose then to show up, and being a naturally garrulous fellow, inserted commentary into the dialog. "It should be an interesting race. The betting pool is quite extensive. You should look at the board. Maqam and Jadzia Dax are racing for ships." Maqam chuckled. "The poor deluded Trill thinks her ship will beat mine. Hah!" Rom continued. "She said that Jadzia had no Honor. But I don't think that's true. Jadzia is a very honorable person. She always pays her debts, in full and on time. We've never had a problem with her." Kira's gaze narrowed slightly, but Maqam failed to note the display of interest. "Jadzia Dax of the House Martok?" "She owed me…Wait…of House Martok?" Maqam paled. "When did? How did?" Maqam suddenly appeared unsure. "We, uh… we were just teasing each other. We talk like that all the time. So she owes me a little bit and I know she will pay it, but the bet seemed like the way to resolve the issue." Kira's expression remained pleasantly attentive. "Of course." She looked at the datatablet that Rom was extending to her and said, "Don't give it to me. Give it to my guard." "Right. Of course, Intendant Kira." Rom hastily changed direction and handed the tablet to the indicated guard. Then he said, "How else may I be of assistance?" Nerys smiled thoughtfully. "I'm sure I'll think of something later. You're excused." At that point, Zek was dragged back in, still sobbing. Rom raced over to the other Ferengi and took over his support. The Klingons who had handled the duty retook their places around the Intendant, except for the third, who did as Kira had instructed and hung the a piece of skin on the wall. "Now that the unpleasant business is over, it is time for us to go. Please excuse us, Maqam of House Qua'lon." Maqam nodded, suddenly realizing that an attraction to power could have a stinger in its tail. This time, like the other patrons, she stepped respectfully out of the way as Intendant Kira Nerys walked by. ==^== Jadzia Dax had gunk in her hair and smudges of various types were smeared on her face, neck, arms, shirt, pants, and in a few other places. She wasn't entirely sure how some of them had gotten where they were. She had yet to bathe, because she had been, and was still, busy. Of course, this was precisely when Intendant Kira Nerys chose to show up at her dock. She had happened to look behind her as she was reaching for another tool from the droid assistant when she spotted the skimmer. It took her a moment to realize that, yes, the silhouette of the occupant was indeed familiar. Jadzia turned to the bot and said, "Thanks for your help. The repairs are done now. Charge it to my account." The droid beeped an acknowledgment then bustled away. The Trill jumped onto the nearest stable surface and then down to the next one. She probably could have taken the lift, but that would have been too slow and Jadzia felt the need to at least attempt to clean up. She was on the ground and running in moments. Of course, it looked like she was running away. It was only Kira's total confidence in what she knew about the Trill that kept her from telling her guards to take up chase. But she did wonder. "What is that woman doing?" "We can fetch her for you." "No. No. We'll be there soon enough and I'll just ask her." "As you wish, Intendant." The open skimmer parked a few feet away from the ramp to the interior of the Rogue Star. Intendant Kira stepped out and said, "You may wait here." Then she strolled up the ramp to find her lover. Once inside, she spotted a shirt crumpled on the deck. A little farther in she saw pants piled indecorously against a wall, as if they'd been kicked off. She laughed when she came upon the panties and then, even further in, on the bra. She was still chuckling as she drew nearer the source of a new sound. Nerys entered the small bedroom, as if she had the right, which, as Indendant, she did, and considered whether the sonic shower, which had to be compressed too, would have room for both of them. Then, because she did not feel like being cramped into a small space, she opted to simply wait. The Bajoran undressed, neatly folded her clothes and set them to the side. Then, Nerys sat down on the bed, crossed her legs and waited for her lover to come out of the shower. At least now she knew why Jadzia had run. ==^== The Trill hurried, scrubbing to help the sonic shower do its job. It wasn't water, but it was efficient. She stepped out of the shower, quickly cleansed her mouth, spritzed herself with a pleasing scent, and brushed her hair. Then, she stepped out of the refresher with the intent of picking an outfit for herself. She'd had one in mind, one that she could get on in a hurry, but that idea vanished as soon as entered her room. Nerys, naked as the day she was born, was sitting - leaning back on her hands and legs crossed - on the bed. "Hello, Jadzia." ==^== Nerys flowed, like a cat, into a standing position. She was gratified by the change in the Trill's gaze, from surprise to desire. "Are you glad to see me?" Jadzia stepped forward, and then paused. She stared hungrily at the Bajoran and answered. "Yes." Then she looked confused, "But what are you doing here?" Nerys' smile was predatory, wanton and incredibly beckoning. "Come to me Jadzia, and I'll show you." Jadzia swallowed, realizing suddenly that she was faced with a choice: her ship or Nerys. It was not an easy answer to find within, but she knew the truth of it as she gazed at the Bajoran in her cabin. Her need flared, sharp and hot. "Nerys," she whispered and stepped forward into open arms. As they kissed and the tender, passionate connection deepened, Jadzia realized it was a choice she would make over and over again. She groaned and pulled away. "I don't know how, I don't know why, but I am glad, so very glad to see you." Nerys who was catching her own breath said, "Really, because from a distance, it looked like you were running away from me." "Never." The Jadzia paused, "Well, maybe if you were throwing plates at me or something." The Bajoran's smile widened and she pressed herself into the Trill. "Next time let me see you dirty. My staff wanted to go fetch you." Jadzia winced. "I was filthy, love. I mean head to toe." "I like you filthy. I like you clean. I like you. Do you mind if we go to bed now. I've been…needful." The Trill gazed down at the Bajoran, observing. "Yes, you have, haven't you? It's only been…" "Shut up and kiss me, Jadzia." Jadzia grinned softly and leaned forward. "Yes, my lovely Intendant." Then she held the kiss until their vision spun. ==^== The bed was not as sybaritic as the one Nerys owned, but it was clean and there was room for both of them. Jadzia guided the Bajoran back, steering by memory as much as anything, since she wasn't exactly paying attention. She was still careful, however, and stopped so that Nerys' legs were just touching the side of the bed. Jadzia slid down Nerys' body, pausing to lick and taste along her breasts, finding the sensitive ridges that would cause her to gasp. The Bajoran's hands locked onto Jadzia's shoulders as the pleasurable sensations thrilled through her. The Trill scooped her hands along Nerys' buttocks, caressing them and pressing lightly. Nerys began to sink onto the bed and Jadzia's hands floated down her thighs, to behind her knees. The redhead laughed when she realized that her lover had successfully put her into a compromising position, with her legs parted. Nerys rolled forward a little, resting on her forearms, so she could see what Jadzia intended. Blue eyes sparkled with tender amusement and delicious lust. Jadzia grinned as she leaned forward and kissed Nerys' inner thighs; first one and then the other. Her hands continued a subtle massage behind the Bajoran's knees. Then she brought her hands forward, using her fingernails to burn a sweet trail from behind the thighs and around and up Nerys hips and belly. Jadzia rose, as her hands moved up, until she was pressed fully against Nerys and could feel the double pebbled spikes of the Bajoran's breasts against her own. She laughed when Nerys playfully moved against her and pushed back. Their mouths danced against each other, open and seeking the depth of one another. Jadzia's hands cupped Nerys' breasts, played with them as if she owned them, stroked pleasure along the ridged sides. When she was ready she began to wander the trail downward again, feeling her way, tasting her way, until she was at that small path to heaven. Jadzia blew a breath along moist auburn curls, and then with no more hesitation, she pressed her mouth against Nerys. She drew her tongue through the moist folds, deliberately sliding against the tender ridges and sacred pearls there. She let herself get lost in the moment, forgetting herself in her task so deeply that she missed the moment where Nerys stopped watching and threw her head back. Jadzia moved with the Bajoran in a heated pulsating, salty and sweet, dance as the other woman's hips bucked to each new flick of her tongue and press of her mouth. Hungrier still, the Trill dove in deeper, wanting more. She brought her hands down, using one to hold Nerys open for her passionate exploration, and the other to join in the press and push, until the Bajoran could hold back no longer. Nerys' hands clenched in the blankets of the bed and Jadzia heard her name, barely registered it, but heard it, as the Bajoran screamed out her honest joy and pleasure. When she finally came down from the heights and Jadzia looked into those beautiful eyes which brimmed with light and love meant for her specifically, the Trill knew without any doubt whatsoever, that she had made the right choice. Nerys, who was still panting; still feeling the flush of passion rush through her, grinned and then pulled Jadzia up. Then, just as quickly, she pushed her over until Jadzia was reclining on the bed. "Now," she said, trailing kisses along sensitive spots, "It's my turn." The Bajoran, made her own line of fire, drawing patterns and kisses along those flushed marks. Jadzia gasped and arched towards the touch and surrendered to the moment. It took a moment to register that Nerys was speaking, uttering a claim that was hers to make, with each stroke and touch. "Mine." Jadzia answered. "Yes." Nerys grinned at the response. Then she captured one of Jadzia's breasts in her mouth, pulling and suckling, before moving on to the next breast where she did the same. Only, at the end, just before she released it, she drew it up with her teeth a little. "Oh Gods and Goddesses!" Jadzia exhorted by tone alone. Nerys knew instinctively that she would find a flood if she dipped a little lower. And there was indeed, a great silkiness to be enjoyed. Her fingers slid through the slick curls and into those sweet moist places. Jadzia's hips lifted, inviting her to more access and Nerys accepted. "Mine," she repeated. "Yes," Jadzia confirmed. Nerys pressed in and Jadzia rocked against her so intensely that the Bajoran couldn't help the grin. She began then, to stir and press, guiding Jadzia into the next form of the dance. She used her thumb to brush across sensitive points, and fingers to tantalize the hidden sheaths of nerves, as her mouth did its own circumnavigation along Jadzia's breasts and spots. "Nerys…" Jadzia began to chant, trying to communicate her need and finding it answered though she couldn't finish. "Nerys… oh gods…. Nerys…" The Bajoran continued to summon the Trill to the high place, to desire's mountain. She brushed up against her, let her feel how wet she was, by drawing herself along Jadzia's thigh. Then she lifted her head and kissed the Trill on the mouth and whispered. "I love you, Jadzia Dax. Come for me." The words thrilled through her like fire on dry grass. Jadzia felt the universe compress around her; release rushed through her like fireworks and she came, and then came again, and then again. When she finally returned to the present, she was wrapped in Nerys' arms. The Bajoran was looking at her with concern, a touch of pride and a bit of awe. "I think," Nerys said slowly, "You may have needed me too." Jadzia couldn't help the laugh. "Yes. I did." ==^== Chapter 8 | Universe Alpha, Delta Quadrant: Voyager's Rest | Bookmarks
In another Universe, in a different part of its galaxy, other events were also happening quickly. By the time Voyager and her crew reached Voyager's Rest they were in the company of several other ships in a kind of unintentional convoy. Some of the species that made contact with them were familiar, but others they had never encountered. But they all knew of Voyager. It made for an interesting journey back for the crew and the Department of Diplomacy was suddenly very busy with the unexpected First Contacts. Zakeeri ships of several types and sizes sang out their greetings to the silver beauty and Captain Janeway allowed the scouts to go out and fly with their cousins. Meanwhile, the message stream had been completely compiled. Seven of Nine, with Voyager and the Zakeeri ships the Three Sisters, along with Dr. Brahms and several other bright individuals were busy processing and decoding the message, which appeared to have several layers to sift through. It was going to take awhile; a development that made the plans for leave and recruitment much more realistic in terms of timeline. They were surprised to see what looked like a small space station at a distant orbit from the planet. It was doing brisk shuttle business with the planet's main colony, while larger ships huddled around it like animals at a watering hole. The crew of Voyager was even more surprised to be greeted by the Station herself. "Hail, Voyager of House Presba, returned from her journey. What stories of valor do you bring?" There was a pause. Captain Janeway nodded her head. Voyager made up something on the spot. "We bring tales of battle and glory, justice and mayhem. We bring news of those who are not with us, yet are still alive. We bring our families home, so they may commune with their kin." "Glorious! We look forward to hearing more. Heallig of the Clan Sun Tiger will be overjoyed to hear of your return. Do you have a time table?" "Our current plan is a two week layover." "Will you dock here, or do you prefer to land at your Home?" This time it was Captain Janeway who spoke. "We will be landing on the planet this time. Though you may expect that some of us will visit you. I am curious, to whom am I speaking?" "Ah, yes, my apologies, Captain. I am Ahpel of the Sun Tiger Clan." At that moment, Janeway really, really wished Sofuru was where she could see her Zakeeri Scout commander's face when he realized his clan had grown by a space station. She kept her own expression politic. "Ahpel, we thank you for your courtesy." ==^== From a technical standpoint, the landing of Voyager was a much more graceful and confident affair than it had been the first time. It helped that there was a real docking port to land on; one with vibrant guiding lights and lines. There were also professionals who aided in the process, as well as an assigned window. It wasn't until later that Captain Janeway had found out that they'd been given a privileged berth, one that had been reserved specifically for their return. The Three Sisters landed beside Voyager, while Voyager's other Zakeeri vessels waited until later to retake their haven within. Stinging Sparrow settled particularly close, somehow managing to convey, without explicitly touching Voyager, that theirs was a special relationship. To those who understood the living ship's psychology, it was a practically a shout of bonded status and merging. No sooner had Voyager landed, than the struts and other supporting features secured themselves and she opened the doors for the people who were waiting, on both the inside and the outside. This time, when her crew streamed out, they did not carry pieces of her body in need of repair with them, just bits of her affection. From that point it was controlled mayhem for the next few days. ==^== Captain Janeway had expected to need to don the mantle of diplomacy for their return to Voyager's Rest, but for once the whole of the responsibility for such things did not lie fully upon her shoulders. The DoD had made plans for events and parties for visitors to the ship. The major schedule was installed on the Ship's channel and holodeck 3 was commandeered for the project. They did not do this only for themselves. This circumstance was also an opportunity for those who were from the beta-Universe to make first contact and respond to the adventure of being on a new world and a new universe. "At least this time I don't have to negotiate for parts," Kathryn later commented to Lwaxana as she sipped her wine. She was suitably impressed with the decorations and the set up. "I take it that mess hall 2 is catering." The Betazoid emitted a slight hiss of displeasure. "Darling, we must do something about that name. It simply does not do justice to the quality of food or drink that they create there." Kathryn grinned and leaned lightly into her mate. "If you can think of a suitable one, then it will be renamed. Until that time…" Lwaxana tisked, then smiled at the next guest, another Zakeeri, who came to greet them. "Warlord Janeway, it is an honor to finally meet you. I have heard much…" ==^== Those who were not into diplomatic events, on duty, or otherwise engaged were participating in the celebrations all over the town. Mikasa, the first colony, had grown from a small village to a vibrant, small city and they were glad to have Voyager back. Parties were thrown all over the town. There might come a time when Voyager's return wouldn't warrant a full-blown celebration, but that time had not yet arrived. Among those not participating, though not out of any anti-social sentiment, was Seven of Nine. She simply had better, more productive, and more personally satisfying things to occupy her time. It was possible that it could be argued that she should have attended the diplomatic event, but Lwaxana had been more than understanding about the priorities involved. The message from Starfleet really did have to be interpreted and Seven had finally found a potential thread that would unveil the first layer. She was currently picking her way through it, navigating the labyrinth of numbers and formulae with deliberate precision. If she could tame this first level, then the next one would be easier. That was her theory. Thus, she had been excused. It was, she decided hours later, as the pathway suddenly flared open and revealed the secondary level, a wise indulgence on Kathryn's part. That had been when T'Pel had appeared. The Vulcan had walked up to her mate and they had touched fingertips. Then she had said, "Even the most diligent must rest, my wife. It is time to come home." There was a hint of something in her eyes, and behind the words, which intrigued Seven of Nine enough that she had immediately logged her place, and then shunted the data to the others who were trying to solve the puzzle. "I will comply." ==^== Of course, she knew how much time had passed. But Seven had learned that there was sometimes a difference between what her internal sense of time indicated, and what the passage of time actually meant in real terms. Seven had to admit, from that perspective; time had gotten away from her. T'Pel walked with her through the corridors toward their home and, despite the fact that there were only a small percentage of persons on shift, it was busy. The Beta shift had been underway for quite some time. However, T'Pel was unhurried and Seven of Nine appreciated the time with her wife. T'Pel was not one to make unnecessary small talk. Thus when she said, "The Prime has been given a generous amount of shore leave," it was merely meant as informational. "When does it begin?" T'Pel cast a glance at her spouse and said, without so much as raising an eyebrow, "Five and a half hours ago." Seven considered the data. "I did briefly scan the roster. It has changed. I believed our shift was to begin in two days." "That would be correct, but Laren discovered a …discrepancy…that needed resolution." There was now a hint of amusement along their link. "Indeed." "Yes. It appears that the First Officer neglected to schedule her own
shore leave." "Your family does understand that you will have reason to pursue ship's matters during the shore leave, and but we expect you to make the corrections for time at your convenience." "I will." It was, reflected Seven, very nice to have her nature respected and embraced. They walked in silence for a while, drawing closer and closer to their home. "Seven, may I join you in your rest?" "It would please me if you would." "Good. I have a proposal to make for afterwards." "I am very interested in hearing it." ==^== Sometime later, rejuvenated and refreshed, the two women stepped into the Nest and made their way to the supplies. They began to examine their options with studious intensity, replicating several possible choices. Seven of Nine finally pointed toward one possible unit. "This would perhaps serve well for the experiment." T'Pel stroked a finger down the long length of the object. "Indeed. It is of sufficient length and satisfactory width." She caressed a knob at one tip. "The proportions are similar to Tuvok's." "Pleasing." "Indeed." They looked at one another then, a bare hint of a smile rested on Seven's lips. T'Pel's expression was intent. The blonde grasped the chosen unit and lifted it, assessing its weight and other factors in one smooth motion. Then she reached with her other hand and their fingertips touched. She immediately felt a hungry wave of desire flow over her from T'Pel and arched her brow. "We could save the experiment for another time." T'Pel lightly shook her head. "Aduna, I would like to attempt this. Your theories are intriguing and may indicate another point of change among us." Seven nodded. "I agree." Then, whimsically, she leaned toward her mate and kissed T'Pel passionately. "However, there is nothing to stop us from warming up first." T'Pel only had time for the thought, 〈〈Practical〉〉. Then she lost herself in the follow-up kiss. ==^== Together, they settled in the middle part of the Nest, preparing their space with pillows strategically placed for support. Seven set the unit beside the small space. As one, they stepped into the circle of pillows. The kisses they shared as they settled themselves were succulent and rich. They parted only when they had to. Then it was a simple matter of positioning. T'Pel was the first to sit and she stretched out her legs so that they formed a flat V. Seven sat down so that her legs were placed along and above T'Pel's thighs. She ran her free hand from T'Pel's face and neck, down between T'Pel's breasts, and further, making a nearly straight line to the point she was most interested in. There her fingers lingered, as she enjoyed the moisture of her beloved. "You are ready," she commented. "I have been since the choice was made." Seven's expression became even more sultry. She leaned forward and was met, in another spicy exchange of kisses. Their tongues brushed sensuously against each other as the kisses deepened. It could have been easy to forget their purpose, but they withdrew finally. This time T'Pel's hand made the journey, pausing to trace lines where lights flickered to the cadence of Seven's pulse and arousal. Seven gasped at the stimulating touch, warmed to it. T'Pel's long journey ended at the juncture between Seven's legs. Once there, she played gently for a moment, also enjoying what she found. "You too are ready," she finally commented. Seven said nothing at first. Instead she merely leaned over slightly and gathered their tool. She looked at T'Pel. "You are sure?" The Vulcan nodded. Seven said, even as T'Pel continued to play with what she had found. "There will be no touching after this." "I understand," T'Pel responded in a heated purr. However, the Vulcan's hand remained where it was, and it took everything Seven had not to arch to allow even more access. Instead, with her free hand, the blonde grasped her mate's hand by the wrist and gently brought it up and out. Then, most deliberately, she licked and suckled T'Pel's fingers. The Vulcan moaned and closed her eyes, but offered no resistance. Seven then freed the other woman. Her gaze held an ocean of desire. "It is time." T'Pel leaned back, using her hands to aid in balance and lifted her hips. Seven brought the long object forward, choosing an end randomly, since both were tipped with a pleasing enough bulb. Then, slowly, erotically, she drew the shaft along T'Pel's wetness, up and down part of its length until it was, to Seven's estimation, adequately prepared. At the same time, Seven was already engaging in the experiment, and with each stroke she fed an erotic suggestion that she was, in fact, the one stimulating her mate, stroking the places of delight. T'Pel's fingers clenched on the surface of the Nest and her eyes narrowed into slits. "In," she commanded, growling as deeply as she needed. Seven drew the now warmed and wet object downward and then, gently but firmly pushed it where the Vulcan needed it to go. She observed keenly as slick skin embraced the shaft, pulled it in with the thrust. She also knew it was taking everything T'Pel had not to push back. Seven licked her lips, torn between a desire to taste what she was seeing and a need to complete the task. She looked up and was captured in a heated gaze. Now T'Pel took a hold of the long length. She growled out, "Your turn." Seven felt that sound spread all the way through her body, and had to close her eyes for a moment. But she nodded her head. By the time she opened her eyes, she was slightly more composed. This time she lifted her hips and it was T'Pel who drew the line, up and down. It was T'Pel who made the nonverbal suggestions, and this time it was Seven who clutched the surface of the Nest as though it were a lifeline. "T'Pel," she growled, "Now." The Vulcan, thankfully, complied. Slowly, they both pressed toward each other, deepening the pressure of the device, until they were both filled and comfortable. T'Pel hissed the question, needing so much, but the trial was important. "Adequate?" "Sufficient," replied the Borg with equal heat. "Then, let us begin." The goal of the exercise was to avoid touching and thrusting, but to send the idea of touching and thrusting along their bond. Thus, they held very still. Seven of Nine concentrated, feeling the thread of desire and contact deepen between them. She focused first on T'Pel's nipples, imagining taking them in her mouth and suckling warmly, while at the same time imagining that her hands were stroking along her Vulcan's body. T'Pel groaned in response and Seven felt the minutest push, where they were connected via that shaft. It felt incredible. Then, she found herself moaning, as sensation suddenly cascaded along the edges of her implants, both on her skin and somewhere deeper. The Borg somehow managed not to thrust back, but it took a great deal of discipline. But she did imagine it. She imagined bucking back, thrusting and feeling the thrust. T'Pel gasped and felt wetness slick along the shaft. She sent over sensations in return, of thrust and push and taste. She lingered on the thought of tasting Seven. The blonde growled in pleasure and need, feeling the building spiral between them. Then, there was a sudden flare of need between them, raw and unadulterated. Even then they held still, clasping to what their will demanded. Letting the experiment carry forward, but needing so much to be with one another that their impulses and thoughts began to blend. To one who might have randomly passed by, it would have seemed as if nothing was happening between the two nude women. They were so still they could have been ancient art wrought of skin and bone. But to Voyager, who could not help observing, there was every indication that there was much going on between them. The two women maintained eye contact, allowing natural blinks and shifts to occur, but always bringing their gaze back to each other. Their breathing altered, their skin temperature changed, their nipples stiffened and ached. There were responsive verbalizations. And then there were the unintended reactions. Kate Pulaski, who had summoned the fire, but had never herself been summoned by the mating call, crumpled a cup in her hand. She wasn't the only one. Lwaxana had been holding a plate. One moment, Kate was drinking something light and fizzy in the mess hall. The next, the drink was flowing over her hand and a Zakeeri matron, a guest on Voyager, was telling them to hasten to their mates. Somehow Kate and Lwaxana had managed to be courteous in their reply even as they rushed. B'Elanna and Laren had been strolling through the town, looking at the new places and pondering gifts. They had marveled at the number and variety of people who lived in the town, and they had been surprised at the number of people who knew who they were. More than one person had greeted B'Elanna as the Epatai of House Presba. They had been had been just outside of an odds and ends shop when they had cast one look at each other and felt the blaze thrill through them. They had stumbled to the side of the building, into the shadows, where Laren had managed to tap her comm badge. "Voyager. Two to beam…" She hadn't even completed the sentence, before they sparkled over to the vessel. Kathryn and Tuvok had been at the town hall, being led on a tour by a very enthusiastic Kutwutchu woman who was extolling the virtues of the planet and the system. She had been talking about the preparations that were being made for the harvest festival, which would be happening in several weeks time, when the need flowed over them. It had taken everything Kathryn had not to grab her mate by his lapels and drag him to another room. Somehow, perhaps due to Tuvok's serene support, she managed to hold herself together. That was, until the Zakeeri mayor passed by and said, "Liandra! Let those poor people go. They can finish another time. Can't you see the need is upon them?" He had then bowed to the Captain. "May your House Prosper." "And yours," Kathryn had replied. Then she had tapped her comm badge. She hadn't needed to say a word and they were whisked away by Voyager. In the end, the transporter, and Voyager herself, delivered them all directly to the Nest, naked and unadorned. There they paused, enraptured, feeling the energy that pulsed between their mates in front of them. That energy reached out, enveloped them even as they moved to the center of the Nest. The bond between them rippled with the intensity. Before they even reached them, as if a switch had been thrown, Seven gasped and arced helplessly, arriving at ecstasy's peak. It threw T'Pel over into her own startled ocean of pleasure, which then sent them all into the greater, brightly lit deep. ==^== B'Elanna strode confidently into the holodeck wearing her armor and carting around her bat'leth. Kathryn had invited her to participate in a war game based on the military history they had been studying. The Klingon's steps faltered, however, when, rather than encountering a landscape with a squad of troops waiting for her, she entered room with several view screens and a large chart in the middle. Holographic assistants, at least she assumed they were holographic since she did not recognize any of them, were manning some of the stations. Then she caught a familiar gesture and realized that Kathryn must have called in some of the crew for the adventure. They just happened to be well disguised. She still didn't quite know what was going on, but she stepped more fully into the chamber. Kathryn stood in front of a chart, making some sort of mark with her light pen. B'Elanna did not know what that mark actually represented, but she knew it meant trouble for herself; because it meant it was yet another thing to learn. Warlord Janeway smiled at her mate. It was somewhat
predatory, but also welcoming. She stepped forward and,
without thought, their fingertips met. Then they kissed warmly. "Welcome to the
war room, B'Elanna." "Here is where you will lead your troops into battle." "Yes?" "No, my very beloved. We
are using a war room in order to get used to seeing the whole picture.
This is something a Warlord, and a commanding officer, must be able to
do. And you, my darling Klingon, need the practice. As do I." Kathryn
handed B'Elanna a light pen and directed her to one side of the table. "No.
This war room is part of the scenario. If it gets assaulted by the
enemy, we will have to fight our way out or die. Symbolically speaking,
of course. The safeties are on. Just minimally so." Kathryn pointed at
a spot near one of the consoles, away from the door to the 'outside',
but not too far away. Bat'leths were hooked onto the wall. "Yes, Warlord Torres?" B'Elanna
decided the question wasn't important and opted instead to briefly kiss
her mate, then went and placed her bat'leth where it belonged. Then she
went to stand by Kathryn and realized that no, the question was
niggling at her, and so, was important. "What is this?"She pointed at
the chart. "This is the plan. The map, if you will, of things to come." "Excellent." Kathryn tapped her comm badge and said,
"Commander Tucker, are you ready?" Now B'Elanna stared and the other Warlord steadfastly ignored
her mate's bemusement. Kathryn turned to B'Elanna and said, "Here's the plan so far, Warlord
Torres. On this hill there are five hundred Klingons with seriously bad
intentions and weapons that can smash through forcefields given enough
time. This board shows their troop strength--" B'Elanna had to interrupt. "How did you get Commander Tucker
to cooperate?" "Oh. Right." B'Elanna had a very large inkling that it hadn't been that simple, and that Tucker had lived to regret the behaviour of her and her marines in Sandrine's. ==^== Two hours later, very winded, slightly bloody and staring down at the holographic body at her feet, B'Elanna realized she felt invigorated and was slightly awed by Kathryn's natural savvy regarding strategy. The enemy had made it to, and through, their doors, but Kathryn had actually integrated it into her plan, whittling down the enemy forces so that there would only be a few to come careening into the war room; which meant that B'Elanna had been able to use her bat'leth after all. Which also meant, that Kathryn knew her so very
well. "I can hardly wait." B'Elanna stepped forward, grabbed her mate by the waist and dragged her forward. Then with a growl she kissed her passionately. When they pulled back to catch their breaths, the Klingon said, "Me either." ==^==
B'Elanna and Kathryn stepped out of the holodeck, oblivious of their unkempt,
cut and bruised status. They talked animatedly, passing by the startled
crew who had been waiting their turn for the holodeck. ==^== Ezri sighed, as she walked through the doors to the main sickbay, she'd lasted longer than she'd thought she would have been able to: five days was a good run. "Ah, Commander Dax, so glad you could grace us with your presence." If Zimmerman had worn spectacles, she was sure he'd be looking at her over the rims. "Can we just do this already?" He motioned her toward an empty bio-bed, running a med-scanner at her even as she walked. "Hmm." She stopped next to the bed. "Hmm, what?" "Manners, Commander." Ezri furrowed her brows, in disbelief. "You're giving me a hard time about manners? I've been in Jeffries tubes with a better bedside manner." He ignored her, continuing to speak as though she hadn't. "Your isobromine levels are a little low, your adrenal glands are in overdrive, and your body isn't breaking down the associated hormones fast enough. If I didn't know-- " She groaned. Great. "Please don't finish that sentence." It was one thing to be living with the daily torture, and another altogether to have her almost constant state of unmitigated arousal made a permanent part of her medical file. "Don't finish what sentence?" Kate Pulaski drifted across from wherever the wily doctor had been hiding, very likely aware of the fact that Ezri would have tried to stretch her avoidance of sickbay to six days if she had been present. Startled, Ezri slammed her hand against the edge of the bed as she jumped, slicing her pinkie on an unexpectedly sharp edge, and growling softly. Zimmerman spoke cheerily, "I was just going to suggest to our…" He stopped talking. Pulaski was growling, the readings of Dax's adrenal gland activity had just shot into a danger zone, and the medical tricorder was beeping in warning. "Ribs fine leaving now." Ezri stepped forward into Kate, instead of to the side as she'd intended. For her part, Kate tried to step away at first, aware that something very primal was happening to her, to them. Her curiosity won out over what she knew to be common sense. She had to know, and she stepped forward instead. Still rumbling a mix of sultry purrs and low growls, she jabbed one hand at the controls of the med-scanner on the bio-bed, and with the other she pushed Ezri gently backwards. She had to record this. Their hands brushed, and she registered a wince from Dax even as her mind identified the unique tang in the air that was the blood of the Trill. She captured the damaged appendage in her hand and lifted it so she could see. Ezri decided that Sirella could go to Gre'thor, and grabbed for the front of Kate's work smock intent on crushing the smaller woman to her, and inviting the mating bite. Too long already she'd waited. They'd waited a half a century; she wasn't waiting anymore. Her hand never made contact, as Zimmerman's slightly compressed and surprisingly solid form suddenly interposed itself between them. "Voyager, please beam Commander Dax directly to her quarters." "Yes, Doctor." Kate felt the hand she was holding vanish, but she could still feel the lingering warmth of the skin, and see the heat of need in Ezri's eyes. Shuddering slightly, she leaned against Zimmerman. She stared down at the tip of her finger where she'd cut it not so very long ago on Kathryn's tooth, and understood exactly why she'd been summarily tossed from the room. The Blood called. She pulled back and patted his shoulder. "Thank you." Then she tapped her comm badge ==^== Ezri walked from the point where she'd been deposited in her quarters by Voyager toward the refresher unit. So far that had been the big plus of acquiring quarters; neither the guest room, nor her office had a shower. Cold showers and hot baths were big on her list of favourite activities right now. She chose the hydro setting and stepped under the driving pulses of water. It was a complete indulgence but she didn't care. Her jacket slid to the floor of the unit, and she spared a brief thought for her communicator. With luck it was water resistant, if not waterproof. Quickly, she divested herself of the uniform pants, leaning heavily against the wall to remove her boots so that the pant legs would come free. Her shirt clung to her skin and she found its rough weight against her swollen breasts pleasant, so she left it on. The blood crusted on her hand sluiced away under the warm pressure and she reached around to the counter for her dermal regenerator, to heal it. Engrossed in her task, she didn't register that she had company until a pair of arms encircled her from behind. Dermal regenerator still clutched in her hand, she leaned against Seven. "You guys are going to kill me, do you know that?" T'Pel stepped into the shower, fully naked, and reached for a container of soap. Across the small distance that still separated the two of them Ezri could feel the elevated body temperature of the Vulcan and shivered in response. When her hands began trailing across the exposed skin, T'Pel started to leach away the heightened spire of Ezri's arousal, letting her fingers stroke and kindle small releases. With each spasm, Ezri bucked against Seven, allowing the blonde to support her weight, until finally, for the first time in days, she felt rational. Not sated, but rational. ==^== The crew of Voyager were not the only ones to be enjoying shore leave. Kasala and Tasha spent quality time with several delegates from a variety of Delta Quadrant worlds. There was less of a sense of paranoia as they might have had in their own universe, but their security still went with them. Because the Duras Sisters weren't the main delegates, they had a bit more latitude on how they used their time. They'd had a few days to get to know the Klingons aboard Voyager and found them to be good company and loyal to their house. It was Dr. Dezhe who invited them on a hunt, with herself and a few chosen individuals. B'Etor and Lursas had accepted the invitation with enthusiasm, eager to get to know the other Klingon female, and to hunt. The shuttle was surprisingly crowded. Aside from four other Klingons, there was a trio of Zakeeri, six Ylfians and one local Kutwutchu guide. The attitude of the group was a mix of relaxed and appropriately serious for the occasion. It boded well for the journey and the Kutwutchu had been given the understanding that Klingons would want an exciting hunt. As Voyager's Rest was mostly unexplored, it was probable that they would find that excitement. ==^== Hours later the entire troop returned back to Voyager, bloody, bruised, and some of them close to broken - but not dead. They also had what they had gone looking for, had brought back the proof and were thus happy. The Duras Sisters were already planning on returning, as soon as Voyager would allow, for another try at the one that got away. Later that night, in the mess hall, the bloodwine flowed and the story of their adventure was shared with those who listened. ==^== Very much enjoying their leave, and the chance to simply be, several of the Prime had gathered in the family room. They were seated around the space on the comfortable, liberally distributed couches and chairs. Seven and B'Elanna reclined on one sofa. Kathryn and Kate reflected their position, but were augmented by Lwaxana, who sat a little higher on the armrest. Kate was talking about a fellow physician, and
not exactly in glowing terms. "The man is a genius. I hear he even used
to be considered suave at one time. But now, god help you, if you
disturb him when he's busy. He can burn your ears off with a few choice
sentences. He won't retire though, so they keep him on the board." "Well, I heard he took it one time, as part of an experimental process. Refuses to do it again on account of his religion, which he claims is Southern Baptist." Now Seven looked confused, "Southern Baptist do not exist at
this time. Nor have they for centuries." "Exactly. He's just being difficult." "Now I understand why you chose to go to the front." "Well, I will admit, I am a practical woman." ==^== Ezri leaned down and inhaled the rich aroma of the cut flowers; they were different everyday, and she knew that, despite his lover being in charge of Supply and Procurement Tom had personally paid for and then delivered them. After the first day, and the simple, 'Thank you, T.' card, they were unsigned, but she knew she'd receive them for another four days, since it had taken him two to figure out that helping Icheb wasn't a punishment. The chime rang, and she moved away from the flowers and settled into the chair behind her desk. She grinned to herself. "Voyager, can you send the two chairs in front of my desk to my quarters?" The dulcet tones of the ship sounded amused. "With pleasure, Ezri." Not waiting for the chime to ring a second time, she spoke, "Come." Then leaned back in her chair and waited to see what Tucker would do. She might have to go over transfers and personnel reports with the woman, but she didn't have to like it, and she didn't have to make it easy. ==^== Seven, it turned out, had been correct. Once that first level of decryption had been accomplished, the second level was easier, though still challenging for those who were working on it. She did monitor her time while working - choosing to optimize the process rather than push it so that she could enjoy her time with her beloveds and her children. It was Dr. Brahms who made the next to final crack - only to find that the encoded message was only a few kilobytes. The length of the message prompted her to call Seven of Nine. "I think maybe you should be the one handling this from now on," Leah said. "It's short, but I'm guessing it's tightly packed, considering how much data they used to encode this puppy." Seven was formal in her acceptance of the task and in giving her thanks. "I will see to it, Dr. Brahms. You have been most helpful." Leah had flashed a smile at the Borg and then left to pursue interests of her own. But her mind couldn't help going over the implications and wonder what the actual message might be. ==^== Seven of Nine downloaded what was left of the message into her PADD and began carrying that PADD around with her, to work on during the less occupied time of their shore leave. Thus, while she watched her younger children frolic at one of Mikasa's play yards, she worked on the code. When she bathed in the tub she'd installed in Ezri Dax's quarters, she worked on the PADD. From one perspective, it took her much longer than normal to break the code. From another, she had it done in no time at all. All that effort was expended only to find that the message itself was twinned into parts. But both data streams contained valuable information. What intrigued her was the informality of the first layer of data. dear kathryn STOP in hopes you have succeeded in your mission alynna sends regards and congratulations to ambassador troi and ambassador t'pel on the union of their daughters STOP klingon and federation have broken off relations STOP uss titan dispatched to secure base of operations presba for future negotiations STOP attempt unsuccessful STOP request permission of epatai for base STOP we have intelligence to suggest people who shouldn't be are interested in those on presba STOP random element dispatched by picard to assist STOP further assistance from federation unavailable STOP The second layer of data was more specific and more dangerously telling. attention captain kathryn janeway of the house presba STOP intelligence reveals section 31 and possible orion syndicate operation centered on the presba planet STOP danger is definite STOP efforts to intercede unsuccessful STOP assistance dispatched by picard STOP assuming your mission success - authorization granted paris gamma eta ganymede action own authority to end threat and fix STOP use means necessary STOP good luck and godspeed STOP A low, dangerous noise disturbed Seven of Nine's contemplation of the missive. Then she realized it emanated from herself. She grimaced and tapped her comm badge. "Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway."
Captain Janeway called a staff meeting. "What is our status on recruitment?" Ezri flicked a tiny glance at Tucker and then said, "We lost a quarter of our veteran Zakeeri crew, but retained all of the Ylfian and Kutwutchu. The new inductees, however, make up in numbers for what they lack in experience. We have one hundred and thirteen new applicants. They're green, but they are trained warriors." "Just not trained by us." Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose and thought. Then she let go and returned her attention to her staff. "The message from Starfleet has been translated. The basic content is this: The Orion Syndicate and an underground organization in the Federation have taken an interest in Presba and have acted in accordance with their usual methods. We have been given the authority to go in and house clean as necessary. And we have been asked to establish a base for negotiations on Presba while we do this. This is because," she glanced at Commander Veckma briefly and continued, "The Federation and the Klingon Empire have severed diplomatic ties." There were a variety of reactions around the table. Some nodded, as if they had seen this coming, some expressed disbelief, while others waited to see what the Captain said next. "Commander Veckma," she started. Her tone was soft and unchallenging. "I understand that this may mean that you will rethink your desire to stay with Voyager." Veckma laughed. "Captain Janeway, my loyalty is to the House Presba. I go where you go. My people, who are of the House Presba, will tell you the same. Besides, we like Voyager. We will stay, if you will have us." Kathryn looked somewhat nonplussed, but pleased. B'Elanna signaled her, "I told you." "I had to give them the opportunity." "I know." There was a pause, "I still want to know why Asil said no before I agree to anything about a base. She will have had her reasons." "Agreed. But let's find out what we need to do first." Kathryn nodded an acknowledgment. "Thank you, Commander Veckma." She turned away from the Klingon and back to Ezri, "If we strip the training down to the basics, how long would it take to get the recruits ready?" "We have seven days left of our planned hiatus. We can be ready to leave in five." "Bold. I like it. Make it so." "Aye, Captain." Ezri began to input instructions for transmission to the selected individuals. "The next item of business is planning. Seven, Dr. Brahms, you have something to present to us?" Seven of Nine stood, then went to the demonstration board. "We have determined …" ==^== "Commander Dax, a word?" The room was almost empty and Sarah wanted to catch the First Officer before she left. Ezri looked at Seven of Nine, who had also been hanging back, and smiled with mute apology. If she were lucky, her lover would wait outside. If she were even luckier, Seven would be waiting somewhere a good deal more private. "Sure." Tucker weighed her words, and decided to be forthright; the Trill seemed to appreciate a certain amount of bluntness. "Look, now that we are facing a combat situation, and some intense training, do you think we can dispense with the bread and water? It's bad for morale." "What bread and water?" Sarah stared at Dax, and then comprehension began to set in. Paris. And, not just Paris either - he would have needed help, which meant Kim and Magnum. "Never mind, sir. My mistake." Ezri lifted her brows, certain that she was missing something devious and delicious. "If there's nothing else then, I have a dinner date this evening at the Golden Bough." "Golden Bough?" "The restaurant in The Park." "It has a name?" Grinning over her shoulder, Ezri tossed back her reply as she left the room. "It does now." ==^== "Commander Magnum," Sarah Tucker's voice was overly pleasant. She was standing in the door of his office, preventing it from closing. "May I have a moment?" "One minute please, Commander Tucker, and I will be right with you." He turned and gave instructions to one of his staff members and then excused them. Soon the office was empty except for the two of them. "Steve…" "Sarah." She groaned. "May I sit down?" He grinned and waved her to an available secondary seat. "Talk to me, my friend." Steve stood up, walked to the replicator and placed an order. He took a mug for himself and handed her a mug. She took a long sip and groaned in pleasure. "Oh, I have missed that." He sat down again and set his mug on his desk, and smiled pleasantly as he waited for her to continue the thought. "Steve," she began and then gave him a meaningful look. "There is a problem with my replicator." "There is?" "It seems it will only deliver bread and water." He gasped dramatically. "That does sound tragic." "Please fix it. And, while you're at it, fix my people's replicators too." "Well," he said as he picked up his own mug, "Sounds like it might be a maintenance issue, but I will see what I can do." "I swear we have learned our lesson." Steve took a sip and raised his brow at her. "Well," he drawled. "As we are talking things that we would appreciate being handled. I would appreciate it if your Marines could avoid slugging my Tom when he defends the honor of another. In fact, I would expect them instead to join him in defending the honor of another." His expression was pointed and Sarah winced. "You're right." "I know I am." He set his mug down. "Still friends?" "Always." "Good. You can expect to see changes soon. I'll have Ensign Plot on work on it as soon as he is free." "Thanks, Steve." "You're welcome, Sarah. ==^== That was odd. Ezri rode the lift down from the adult level. Mulling over her options, she debated returning upstairs and checking another of the rooms. In the end, she decided that if Seven had gone to one of the other bedrooms, then that was where she needed to be, and their dinner reservations could wait. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine." And, just as it had the last time she'd enquired, the computer replied, "Seven of Nine is in her quarters." Definitely odd. Well, she'd take one last look downstairs, just in case, and then head back to her own quarters. She supposed that she could always ask Voyager, but Ezri tried to limit her interactions with the sentient ship to the kind she would have with any corporeal being. Voyager was not her personal intelligence officer; she was…family. Or soon would be. Ezri smiled at the thought. Would that make the baby starship a niece or nephew, or would the tiny being be closer to an child? Speaking of children, "Hey guys." She smiled at the twins and placed a fond kiss on the top of Mezoti's head. "Have you had a pleasant day?" "Da!" Emina scrambled up from her toy and rocketed in her direction. "We have." "Affirmative." said Mezoti. "Good." Ezri picked the toddler up and sat down at the table, joining the others. Azan regarded her. "Are you staying for dinner, Da?" "Not tonight. But while I have you all here, I have something to ask you." "Proceed." Ezri stifled her grin. "Thank you, Mezoti." She helped herself to one of the cookies on the central tray of baked goods. "I find that I have need of assistants. You wouldn't happen to know where I might find an Engineering Envoy, a Command and Operations Envoy, and a Science Envoy, would you?" There was a tug on her shirt, and she looked at Emina, who was solemnly staring back. Ezri kissed the top of her head. "I seem to need a Diplomatic attaché as well." There was a delightful moment of silent communication between the siblings as they worked out what was being asked. Nods were exchanged and Ezri guessed that it would be Mezoti who spoke. "Affirmative." "Well, then crewmen, front and centre." Ezri pinned a pip on each of their collars: blue for Azan, red for Rebi, and yellow for Mezoti. "I expect you to report to my office at the end of classes tomorrow to receive your duty assignments." On Emina's outfit she pinned one of her own gold pips. "We will comply." ==^== Seven had no desire to interact with Commander Tucker, and so, rather than wait outside the conference room for an indeterminate amount of time, she had decided that it was, perhaps, a good opportunity to implement something that she had been contemplating since Ezri had been promoted. In truth, she had been more than contemplating it, she had already begun the process, but recognized that it would be prudent to get Kathryn's approval before proceeding further. Accordingly, she was now staring, with complete absorption at a particularly promising spot on the wall, awaiting the arrival of her spouse. She felt, then heard, Kathryn enter the room, but did not break off her examination of the wall. The schematics had committed to memory, and she knew exactly where and how to make the cut, but the aesthetics of the matter were a much more difficult matter. A sharp intake of breath was followed by an admiring sigh. "You, Darling Seven, have been holding out on us." Seven twitched her lips, and turned from her evaluation. "Indeed." Kathryn was shedding her uniform with an alacrity that astonished the Borg. "Oh yeah, and as soon as I finish assessing the situation I will make a suitable recommendation to my First Officer as to your punishment." Water had begun to cover the bottom of the large tub. The redhead stepped in and sank into the deepening liquid. "Or reward. It could go either way." "Clearly." Seven moved to the bathing unit and sat on the edge. She scooped up a handful of the hot water and poured it over Kathryn's chest, leaning in slightly to blow air across the wet path. "Then," she licked the nipple closest to her, "you will not object if I suggest assimilating these quarters into our own." Kathryn moaned and lifted her hips reflexively, not caring in the least that a small tidal wave had washed over the side and onto the floor. "How," she managed to gasp, "…do you plan on doing that?" Seven lifted her head and smiled. "I am Borg." The she stood and sent the appropriate commands to her nanoprobes, then inserted her tubules into the nearby comm unit. The wall seemed to buckle and shrink, the molecular bonds along the programmed pathway losing cohesion under the combined direction of Voyager and Seven. The whine of the transporter cut through the air, and where once had been a solid partition, there was now an opening with a gently curving arch. Meeting the blue eyes staring at her in total shock through the hole, Seven felt another nascent laugh begin to well up from inside. "Oh," said Ezri, with what she thought was remarkable aplomb. "That's where you went." "Yes." They were grinning at one another, and Seven could hear Kathryn chortling in the background. The children were alternating between staring at them in amazement and staring at the hole in the dining room wall. "Well, my house is your house." Ezri laughed. "So, tell me, now that you've assimilated virtually the entirety of deck three, can we just put in direct turbo-lift access?" The Trill watched as Seven's countenance progressed from amusement through to lust-tinged speculation, but it was what came next that she treasured most. Seven laughed. ==^==
Laren, trailing behind a conversing Kate and Lwaxana, paused at the
door to the family quarters as it slid open and an unfamiliar yet
vaguely recognizable laugh drifted through the open portal. ==^== Despite the fact that shore leave was still technically on, many chose to return in order to prepare and help train the newcomers. The importance of the task was not lost on anyone. If there were complaints, they were moderated by the realization that, once again, they were heading towards danger and that it was strategy which had allowed them to succeed so well in the recent past. An assessment of the recruits, which was normally more extensive, was done quickly. All the doctors and their assistants were on call for health checks. Counseling went into overdrive. The new recruits were given much less time to shake down into their preferred roles. Fortunately, however, most of them knew where they wanted to go from the moment they'd stepped onto Voyager. The veteran crew with whom many had made contact before arriving provided a glimpse of what they wanted to become. Some areas of the ship may have gained specialists, but it was Sarah Tucker's Marine ranks which swelled; as did Commander Sofuru's and Commander Veckma's. Then it was a matter of setting the standard and doing the training as quickly, and efficiently, as possible. ==^== The envoys of Voyager were pleased with their new duties. Each took their tasks seriously. They were the carrier of messages, PADDs, and sundry required items. While it was a demand on their time, none of them would have given up the privilege of behaving in a useful capacity on Voyager. For the younger Borg, it filled a niche within them, a quiet need to be of purpose even though they embraced their childhood. Her mother, Lwaxana, had given Mezoti a carefully wrapped package for delivery to her SoS in engineering. The sensitive child, using her enhanced and ordinary perceptions, identified the contents quickly: sturdy frame, protective glass. She could guess, based on the destination and recipient, what the purpose of the package might be. However, she kept her supposition to herself. She had been learning, as she performed these duties, that discretion was an important and useful skill. Thus she practiced. Mezoti entered main engineering and was greeted by those who were currently manning the various stations. She was focused, but she did reply politely, accessing the appropriate protocols to know which return greeting was correct. At the entrance of the Chief Engineer's office, she paused and rang the chime. She clearly heard the call of "Enter," even without the amplification of the door's security system. This was Mezoti's favorite part. She entered the room and her SoS smiled at her. "Hello, my darling Sochling. What brings my little engineer here?" Mezoti paced towards the desk, even as B'Elanna was standing and walking around to meet her half-way. The Borg child extended the package, held in both hands, to her Klingon mother. B'Elanna took it, then cast a contemplative look at her child. "Shall I open it now?" Mezoti nodded somewhat solemnly. Then looked on, curious, as her SoS indelicately shredded the wrappings away. "Ah." It was half of a sigh and half a word of pleasure. B'Elanna leaned against her desk, and held the picture with both hands. "It's a good one." She turned the picture so Mezoti could look at it. Mezoti examined the image and decided that she agreed with her mother's aesthetics. "It is." Then, she blurted. "I like it." B'Elanna grinned and reached with one hand. She slid her palm along the gold of Mezoti's hair. "So do I. Want to help me put it up?" Mezoti smiled, losing some of her solemnity. Her SoS went to the replicator and ordered what was needed to attach the picture. She handed those items to Mezoti and walked to the wall. Lifting the picture, B'Elanna purposefully placed the image high on the wall. The young Borg cocked her head, and then shook it in the negative. "How about here?" Again Mezoti expressed her opinion. B'Elanna stepped back and said, "Okay. Let's try this side." They went through several options, until finally, Mezoti nodded. Her SoS teased her. "At last! I shall die knowing we finally found the right spot." "You are not going to die." "Not today, true. Okay, darling, hand me the widget." Mezoti understood now that a widget was simply an alternative name for an object. She made a calculated guess, and smiled when her Sos expressed approval. As B'Elanna began to work, she asked Mezoti questions about her studies, her free time and how she was functioning. While there were some Borgisms in her responses, the young girl covered quite a bit of territory in her answers, informing her SoS of her progress and her latest experiences with Naomi. She knew that her SoS was really listening, because then her Klingon mother would ask deeper questions based on what Mezoti had said. After a few minutes, B'Elanna stepped back, tools still in her hands and hands on her hips, and said, "What do you think." Once again, Mezoti was called on to express her opinion. She looked at it for a few minutes, then said, "It is crooked, but within acceptable parameters." Her mother smiled, and set her tools down on a nearby tool bench. Then she stepped towards Mezoti and hugged her warmly. "Thank you, kiddo. I couldn't have done it without you." Of course, Mezoti knew perfectly well that was an exaggeration. But she liked it anyway. ==^== B'Elanna, Leah and Dr. Zimmerman took advantage of the time on Voyager's Rest to take a closer look at the development of Voyager's offspring. They used a hover lift to approach the shadowed underbelly and got close enough to literally run their hands on tiny convex bump that was where the little ship was developing. They conducted a few measurements. Dr. Zimmerman lifted his tricorder, "I don't know how this will help. It's a medical tricorder, not a spanner." B'Elanna was running her own diagnostics, "Well, it doesn't hurt to try, does it Doc?" "Well, no," he conceded. "And, I admit to being curious." He pursed his lips and ran the tricorder again. "There are some odd indications. But, what concerns me more at this point is that I don't see a point where Voyager will be able to, ah, well, release the child." "Sofuru has said that most ships develop that structure after the baby has gestated for a few months. He says a ship the size of Voyager might be pregnant for more than a year before she gives birth," said Leah. She attached a monitor to the middle part of the small bump. Lights flickered and sounds beeped when she turned it on. "Oh, well, good. I was having nightmares considering what a cesarean might require." Dr. Zimmerman began making notations in a PADD. "If what I'm reading is correct, the…uh…fetus does have a developing neurological system. I don't know what these other readings are, they're anomalous, to say the least. But I'll do some research to see if there are any comparisons to be found." Leah said, "Well, we do have more of a database, thanks to the Zakeeri. I was speaking with Heallig the other day, a very charming woman, about Voyager's potential offspring. She sent me some useful files and provided me with the names of potential midwives." "Midwives!" Dr. Zimmerman's eyebrows shot up. Then he considered his reaction. "Well, I don't suppose it would hurt. Do you think they can get here before we leave?" "Well, I think it would only be one person and I don't know. We have three more days and then we're leaving. It might be better if we just planned on handling this on our own for the time being." The holographic man groaned. B'Elanna patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, we have time. This little bundle of joy will take months to incubate." ==^== Later B'Elanna was back in her office, where she shared their findings with Voyager. "A midwife!" "So I take it you know what they are." "Well, of course. But those are for biological beings." B'Elanna considered how to respond. "Voyager, have you ever had a child before?" There was a pause. "No." "Then perhaps we might consider that the Zakeeri know more than we do about this?" "I concede your point." "Anyhow, Leah and I agree that things seem to be moving along smoothly. We'll have to start monitoring our base mineral and element supplies, because she appears to be drawing directly from our systems. This isn't bad, but we want to make sure that we've got plenty to keep your systems going in good weather and bad." B'Elanna cracked a grin. "We want her mommy to be healthy, after all." "Mommy." Voyager said the word with reverence. ==^== Not long afterwards, B'Elanna stepped out of her office only to spot a tall buxom blonde standing at the Chief Engineer's station. She strolled purposefully towards the woman until she was right behind her. "What do you think you're doing?" Seven of Nine did not bother to look up. Her fingers continued to speed over the panel. "I am inputting two alterations to the plasma injector regulators." Her tone was neutral, her expression haughty. "What have I told you about making unauthorized changes?" "They are not unauthorized, they were approved by the Captain." In a few seconds the input was complete and she turned to face the Klingon. B'Elanna's gaze raked up and down the other woman. "But you didn't pass them by me." "You were occupied." Seven linked her hands behind her back. B'Elanna considered Seven's words. "True." She leaned forward and said heatedly and in Presban, delighted to play the game, "I want to take you right here, right now." "I am not opposed," responded the Borg. Her own body language reflected B'Elanna's heat. "But it might upset your staff." "Carey, I'm going off duty." "Aye, Chief." "Be'nal, if you would care to join me?" She extended her hand and Seven took it without hesitation. ==^== They held hands for the whole of their walk down the corridor. Their conversation, carried on in their natural Presban, was genial and pleasant. "So, Mistress of my House, how do you fare?" The formal phrasing of high Klingon had crept into her normal speech, but it amused rather than annoyed her. "I am functioning at optimal levels, beloved Epatai. Is there an item of House business you wished to discuss?" "Not exactly. But there is something I am a little curious about." "Explain." Seven let a light smile play on her lips. "I couldn't help but notice the PADD on your bed stand. It has some rather interesting tables on it." "You are referring to my genetic research." "Is that what you're calling it?" B'Elanna grinned. "As a House of the Empire we have two Chancellors who have made it clear that they would like more heirs of the Prime. I thought, given that we will be entering Federation space, that there were those on board, whose genetics we might find favorable, who might find themselves occupied with other callings. If we could determine what we need soon enough, and our possible donors are willing, we could store what was needed until we were able to comply." B'Elanna interpreted for herself. "Meaning, not everyone is going to want to remain on Voyager after we get home." "If you define home as the Beta or Alpha quadrants, then you would be correct." "You have a point." They neared the turbo-lift and waited. "But I have to ask. Me and Harry?" ==^== She would have waited if the turbo-lift had been occupied. But as it was empty when they stepped in and the door closed without letting anyone else into the small space, she could not help the impulse. B'Elanna locked down the turbo-lift doors and gave the command to take them to their deck. Then she turned to her mate, who was vibrating the amusement she felt along their connection. Seven was also already in the process of divesting herself of her clothing. B'Elanna helped. It seemed to be an afternoon for rituals. In a mere moments, Seven of Nine's shredded clothing drifted to the floor and the lovely Borg was revealed. "Kahless and his swinging Bat'leth, I love your body," the Klingon said, before she lifted her mate up, pressed her against the wall and soundly kissed her. She pulled back, "And I love you." Seven responded hungrily as they kissed gain, "And I you." Her legs wrapped around her mate's waist, but she was careful not to compress them. She could feel B'Elanna's arousal increase with the awareness of how receptive Seven was to her. The Klingon's purr rumbled into the kisses, drawing Seven deeper into their shared desire, and B'Elanna realized that she wanted to be able to do more with her hands. She waited until the turbo-lift was completely stopped at deck 3, and then slowly eased Seven to the floor. Once solidly supported on her back, Seven let go of B'Elanna and began the process of divesting the Klingon of her clothes. Soon her hands were free to roam and she laid both her palms upon her mate's breasts, loving the way the stiff nipples felt against her hands. B'Elanna settled between Seven's legs and began a slow wet trail of seduction from throat to belly. She lingered at sensitive points while allowing her hand to stroke through the glorious golden curls of her wife's sex. This time it was her turn to practice what had been confirmed by T'Pel and Seven. Only she did it with her own twist. B'Elanna pressed her hips where her fingers stroked and began making long slow thrusts to compliment the quicker stimulation, and while doing so she impressed a sensation of taking her mate with one of those lovely long toys and filling her deeply, feeling her deeply. B'Elanna drew upon memory as well as current fantasy, blended them in her thoughts and was surprised to realize how very wet she was becoming. She began then, to talk to her Be'nal, telling her how desirable she was, how hot. Klingon and Presban mixed in with the purred syllables and heated growls. Seven began to move more urgently, responding to B'Elanna's intimate touch and speech. Her hands searched out secret points that had the Klingon groaning in delight, and in need. Then she moved her touch to the deep places within B'Elanna, tickling and stirring. B'Elanna suddenly needed more than the thought, she needed the physical connection too. She adjusted her caresses, until she could press in with her fingers and still brush against the sensitive little pearl. Seven growled in need. "I thirst, my Epatai. Let me drink." B'Elanna nearly came undone with those words, but she managed. They managed. And, she gasped as Seven found what was sought. Teasing forgotten, B'Elanna reciprocated, finally dropping down to taste what was hers. Together they built the tower, spiraled up into need with press and release, filling and tasting, sharing those sensations along their bond and feeling their mates' responses, love and heated need, urging them to highest completion. They came together, erupted in wet release, blended and parted in lovers' ecstasy. While they relaxed in one another's arms, Voyager sparkled them out of the lift and into the Nest. The she passed a set of sonic cleansing waves through the turbo-lift before sending it onward to maintenance to be prepared for a new shift. ==^== It was late when Kate returned to her quarters. The problem with new recruits was that injuries were much more likely to occur, and enough had happened to keep all the doctors busy. She was grateful when the second shift ended and the number started to trickle down enough for her to justify leaving. Zimmerman had urged her to go some time ago. "Trust me," he'd said. "I've handled worse." She had patted his shoulder and said, "I know. That's why I'm staying." She'd been bemused by the gratified expression that crossed his face. Had no one ever said thank you to the man? No, she was sure they had. He just was like everyone else. He had some insecurities that niggled at him from time to time. Kate began undoing her smock as soon as she entered the home of the Prime. As it revealed only the undershirt she felt no worries about whom or what might see her, but the symbolic gesture simply allowed her to relax a little more. She did not expect anyone to be up, except perhaps the usual trio. T'Pel, Tuvok and Seven of Nine required less sleep than the rest of the Prime, and the Prime as a whole required less sleep than most. She grinned; it didn't mean, of course, that they didn't enjoy sleeping as much as anyone else. Kate had begun to truly appreciate that growing stamina. But at the moment, she wanted to shower and then drop on to some soft surface and just close her eyes. She scented Ezri before she saw her. The younger woman was leaning against Kate's door. Her arms were folded across her chest. "Ezri…" Her voice carried a universe of caution. "I'm not here to seduce you, Kate. And I don't want to tempt fate when we're so close to home. I just wanted to see you, before you went to bed." Kate gazed hungrily at Ezri. Finally she spoke "And now that you have?" Ezri parted ways with the wall she was leaning on and strolled until she was inches away from the doctor. "I'm going to go to bed, where I'm going think of you and…my other betrothed… and I'm going to touch myself until I am incoherent with thoughts of you, just as I have been for days now. But before I do, I need to kiss you, and know I can walk away from it." "Ezri." Kate attempted to use her tone to warn the Trill away, though she wanted to kiss Ezri as much or more as the brunette wanted to kiss her. "Laren will be our chaperone." Kate looked to her right and watched as shadow parted from shadow and her Bajoran mate came into view. She turned her attention back to Ezri. "I see." Ezri wrapped her hands in edges of the unfastened smock and dragged Kate closer. Their lips touched and lingered, slowly moving, as the kiss deepened into something soul burningly hot. Then as if pulled, they parted, breathing deeply. "Ezri," said Kate slowly. "You will not be alone tonight." Then she stepped back more fully and walked to Laren, where she drew her mate into a long, sultry kiss. She looked back meaningfully at the Trill. "Good night, Sprite." ==^== Ezri watched as Kate disappeared into her quarters and took a deep breath before turning to face Laren. Only, now, Laren was not alone. Tuvok stood beside her. Their fingertips pressed together. "Ezri, would you mind if Tuvok joins us tonight?" "Tuvok?" Ezri was trying to wrap her mind
around the thought,
but her spots were tingling in abrupt sensation and she was finding
it difficult to think coherently. There was a primal thought,
something she found she had to ask, though she already conceptually
knew the answer, since T'Pel clearly did not need a Pon Farr to
perform. She so wanted it to be yes. "But can he…" ==^== Laren pushed the naked Trill back on the bed, lazily running her hands along her lover's skin. She drew her fingernails along sensitive spots and smiled lightly at the gasp that emanated from Ezri. "Have I mentioned that he likes to watch too?" She pushed forward, kissing Ezri with lusty warmth. "Of course," Laren continued, "We all do." Laren felt a thread of amused acknowledgment along the mated bond and responded with a quick erotic suggestion that had Tuvok, who was sitting in a chair nearby, suddenly shift position. He pressed his hands together purposefully. She chuckled into the kisses she spread down Ezri's neck and then chest. She paused to fully enjoy the ripe breasts, loving the way Ezri's nipples stiffened so sharply and the way the Trill arched into the contact. "Tonight, Ezri," Laren said. Her eyes were dark pools of light, "I can't bite you. I don't even dare nibble. You remember it though, don't you? My teeth scraping over you." She lifted her head and traced a finger down the path she trailed small sharp bites a decade ago. "Tonight, you'll just have to make do with me kissing…" Laren kissed the tip of a nipple softly, swallowing her desire to fufill the path of memory, keeping her teeth well away, and then dropping her mouth over until she covered the full diameter of the aureole. She swiped her tongue along the nub and swirled it as she drew back to continue. "…Licking…" She drew her fingernails along the moist cleft, tracing the tiny, tiny spots that lined it until Ezri helplessly spread her legs for her so that she was more revealed. Laren deepened the touch, stroking the small bumps that made up erotic nerve bundles before she pressed into the Trill. Ezri flexed around her, bucked against her push. Laren finished what she was saying. "…and filling you." She kissed Ezri again heatedly and began to thrust. "I hope you don't mind." Then, while Ezri was still incoherent, Laren moved until she could do all of what she promised -- licking, kissing and filling -- until Ezri cried out in relief and bliss. ==^== "How goes the training?" Captain Janeway inquired. Ezri, who appeared to be thinking deeply about something, blinked back into the present. Kathryn grinned, because she had somewhat of an idea of what was on Ezri's mind. Laren had sent her some spicy little signals before she'd left on an errand. Ezri pulled a PADD from her pocket and glanced at it. Then she said, "We're on schedule. I won't say they'll be ready for everything when we leave, but they'll follow orders and will be more than likely to survive if we enter combat." Kathryn nodded. "I'm glad to hear it. So far we've been making good progress, considering the time limit. Astrometrics and the TUE team have worked out the mechanics of delivering us straight to the Presban system. We have twenty four hours in which to wrap things up. B'Elanna and Dr. Brahms will be tweaking the sub-warp speeds to get us where we need in system as quickly as possible. What's the progress with Tucker's marines?" "They're ready. The mechanical units are all repaired and the Truth Seekers suits have the medical paint tag added. I was thinking, next upgrade, you might consider a tracking bug." Ezri demonstrated by pointing her finger and going, "Tag, you're it. That way if someone runs when they really ought not to, they can be followed." "Good thought. Make a notation for follow up." Kathryn sat back, "Anything else?" "The other departments report that they're ready and I desperately want you." Ezri paused and flushed lightly. "I said that last part out loud, didn't I?" Kathryn laughed. Then she stood up and said, "Kiss me once, then you're excused." ==^== Icheb was beginning to think that he had erred in extending the invitation to share a meal. Where he and Tal had been conversing easily, there was now silence from the Bajoran. "It was not required for you to say yes." He spoke without thinking, and was disconcerted. He'd been doing that around her frequently, and he found it disturbing. "What?" She turned to him, eyes wide. He wished that he knew how to interpret the physiological changes he was detecting; they might help him understand what was happening. "You appear to be apprehensive." "I am. This is…" Weird, strange, exhilarating, unexpected, scary: it was all of that and more, and to top it off, he was the Captain's son. The lift stopped and they got off, and it was then that she realized they were on deck three. He had stopped and was watching her with what she had come to recognize as calm regard. Icheb was seeing her, and thinking about what her reactions and feelings were, waiting patiently for her to continue. She smiled then, and finished her sentence. "…going to take some getting used to." Icheb nodded, and let out a breath that he had only just realized he was holding, before drawing another so he could speak. "Agreed." He led the way inside the main entrance of the Family Quarters, but stopped walking again, when he realized that she was no longer accompanying him. Worried he turned around. "Celes Tal, are you functioning?" "Icheb," came the reply, "why is there a hole in your dining room wall?" He looked from her to the wall in question. "I do not know." She smiled. "Okay." That was one of the things she liked most about him; he knew what he knew, never pretended to know more, and never made her feel as though she should know more than she did. "So, can you make hasperat?" ==^== A game was being played in Voyager's Park. It was a very simple game, but there was genuine laughter and pleasure that accompanied it. Three adults surrounded one tiny laughing girl, who carried a little blue ball. Lwaxana grinned and accepted the ball when it was handed to her, "Good," she said, as it was received. Then, gently, she tossed the ball to the middle of the small circle that she, T'Pel and Tuvok formed. They sat upon the grass, and watched as Emina toddled back to the ball and this time, headed towards a different one of them, in what was, from an outside observer's point of view, an apparently random order. But T'Pel was observant and knew that Emina's choices were not at all random, but influenced by factors of nearness, number of times visited, and simple choice. Emina toddled to the ball, and then made her way to Tuvok, who looked his daughter in the eye and gently said, "Thank you." Then he took the ball and tossed it to the middle again. During the game, the adults conversed, enjoying each others company as much as they enjoyed their daughter's. Emina retrieved the ball, and then took it to T'Pel. T'Pel, like Tuvok and Lwaxana, responded verbally, this time in Presban. "Well done." She then gently chucked the ball so that it was more toward Lwaxana's side again. 〈〈Fixing the odds, my darling?〉〉 Lwaxana teased gently. 〈〈For my family? Always.〉〉 T'Pel replied. ==^== This time, there wasn't a massive celebration for Voyager's leaving. The mayor had said, "From now on, we will only celebrate your return home." Then he'd wished them well and safe journeys. On board Voyager, as before there were parties thrown by some of the crew of Voyager and some of the crew attended and some did not. People prepared in their own way for the future. A countdown was displayed on the ship's channel. In the Prime of House Presba's family quarters, they relaxed and communed with each other over dinner and dessert and spent a quiet evening home. Tomorrow, the adventure would begin. ==^== Tom, Harry and Steve attended the cookout in The Park. The Golden Bough provided the cooks and the meals and the turnout was quite good. Neelix acted as the master of ceremonies and kept the event interesting and entertaining with games and dancing. Afterward, sated with food and merriment, the trio made their way home. Harry and Steve were talking about the evening and it wasn't until they were at their quarters that they realized that Tom had been unusually quiet. "Tom, are you alright?" Harry asked. He put his hand on the blonde man's shoulder and looked at him with concern. "What?" Tom looked more fully at Harry and then at Steve. "Oh. Uhm. Yeah, everything is fine." "Are you sure?" Now it was Steve who was standing very close and gazing at Tom with concern. Tom took a moment to really look at both of them. And, after a moment he said, "Guys, would you do me a favor for a moment and sit down." Harry raised his brows and shrugged. "Sure, Tom. Let's go sit down." "No. I mean, yes. I mean, you go sit down first. I need to go get something." "Now I'm intrigued." "Steve…" Tom pleaded. "Alright. Alright. We're sitting. Come on Harry, love. Let's go sit and see what our man has to say." Tom watched as Harry and Steve arranged themselves in the front room of their quarters. Harry continued to gaze at him with puzzlement, while Steve waved his hand as if to say, 'we're sitting'. He grinned at both of them then went into the bedroom. The event with the Marines and Steve and Harry's reaction to those events had clarified things for Tom in a way that was quite profound. Thus, he reached into his storage closet and pulled out two items that he had acquired once they'd reached Voyager's Rest. Tom didn't want to wait any more. And tomorrow would have them in a place where it might be important to have at least made the attempt; whatever the outcome. He wanted them to know how he felt about them. He stepped out of their room. Harry and Steve weren't exactly talking, but he couldn't help smiling at what they were doing. Couldn't leave them alone for five minutes. "Harry. Steve." They pulled apart breathlessly, and then grinned at him sheepishly. Steve said, "Well, we did start off on separate seats." "So you did," Tom said, smiling. "Now, if you can pull apart for just a moment longer, I kind of need you separate enough to do this." "To do what, Tom?" inquired Harry, even as he was settling back on the sofa beside Steve. Tom waited long enough to make sure they were really paying attention and then knelt. Harry was still looking at him strangely, but Steve's eyes were going wide. They widened even more as Tom extended his hands. He held wide gold rings with brilliant stones embedded in them. "Steve. Harry. I've been thinking about this a lot." He cleared his throat. "You see, I love you. More than I ever thought
possible. I need
you in my life and I want you in my life. And it would honor me so
much, if you would consider, even for a moment, the thought of
marrying me." "Thomas Eugene Paris," Steve said in nearly a whisper. "Are you proposing to us?" Tom swallowed then looked back and forth between the two men he loved more than life. Then he nodded his head. "Yes. Yes I am." Harry and Steve barely glanced at each other before reaching for Tom. "We accept." ==^== "What are you doing?" Ezri let her eyes drift up to the
ceiling, trying to see how the blonde was managing to hang upside
down. Magnetic boots. Of course. Ben watched Ezri make her way across the Park, toward where he
stood waiting. She was not as vibrantly bright as she had been in the
Wormhole, or in the time immediately after, and without the
distracting blaze of manifest consciousness, he could see Her more
clearly. He smiled. Ezri was more Herself than she had ever been.
She was all of them added and entwined in ways that released
Her, though She did not know it. Captain Janeway relaxed into her seat. She examined the data on her command station and nodded. "Status, Lieutenant Sayr?" "We are ready, Captain. The variant and destination has been set." "Lieutenant Kim?" "Cloaking enabled. Departments report secured and ready." "Helm?" "Ready when you are, Captain." Paris replied. "Mr. Paris, warp one. Engage." "Aye, Captain." Captain Janeway flicked a glance at her first officer, who nodded back, confirming that the remainder of the ship's departments had reported they were ready to transition. Then she pressed a button and said, "All hands, prepare for transition in approximately thirty seconds." She released the button and then said, "Lieutenant Sayr, on your count." "Aye, Captain." The Vulcan began the countdown from the point of Janeway's command. Then, at the precise beat of one, he started the transition. They wove through the membrane of the Universes like a needle through cloth, though perhaps a bit more gently, as they left no hole behind them. Once again there was a sense of things moving that shouldn't be. The walls and floors became translucent and bright. Those who were comfortable talking realized that their communication was fuzzy and odd, slow motion thick, yet quick. It was like dreaming without the sleep. The living ships thoroughly enjoyed the event, as they always did. Stinging Sparrow and Voyager spent time together in ways inexplicable, but tender to them. War Flower and Striking Feather communed with the newer ships, showing them what there was to experience in the ocean of the membrane; including singing back to the lights that swam by them, singing and playing like dolphins riding the wake. Suddenly the stars clarified from the fog and they were in the Delta quadrant of Universe Beta. "Transition successful, Captain," Lieutenant Sayr reported. She nodded and took a quick look at her console, then back up to the bridge crew. "Report." Tuvok said, "There is no detectable communication traffic in this sector, Captain." "I suppose that is to be expected. Any sign of other vessels?" "Sensors indicate that there is no traffic through this point." The Captain nodded again. "Good. That's probably for the best." She looked to her left and noticed that her first officer appeared to be a bit pale. Ezri forced her expression into a fragile, tight smile. Kathryn said, "Are we ready for the next transition?" Ezri gave her a vague nod, while the others reported their status. "We have a request from the TUE team to wait five minutes. Apparently the engine is running hot." "We'll make it thirty, just to be on the safe side." Captain Janeway made the time change known to the ship. Then she said to her first officer, taking pity on the space sick Trill, "Commander Dax, would you mind heading down to sickbay to see what their status is? Lieutenant Paris, take us around the block and let's see what there is to see in twenty five minutes." ==^== Lwaxana and T'Pel were in the family quarters with their children, Mr. Neelix, and Naomi Wildman. Azan, Rebi, Mezoti and Naomi were engaged in a project, one that required a goodly amount of table space. Mr. Neelix was supervising, or at least watching. Emina was napping on T'Pel. Lwaxana was in the kitchen, gently quizzing the eldest Sochling while he made a light snack for everyone. Icheb was responding to her last question. "Tal is from the Kendra Province on Bajor. She is very knowledgeable about her home world. She gave me a new recipe for hasperat." Lwaxana smiled at his quiet enthusiasm. "How do you feel when you're around her?" He paused mid-motion and considered how to answer. "I have odd physical sensations around Tal. She has a pleasing scent, something that is different from the others. When we are speaking, I sometimes feel as if I am a step behind." His expression turned bemused. "Usually it is because I lost concentration on the conversation to begin with." Lwaxana chuckled lightly. "She distracts you and attracts you. I can see it. Have you formally asked her out yet?" "Formally?" "As in a date." Icheb shook his head. "I am not sure that she would accept such a proposition." "There are some drawbacks to having such a...," Lwaxana chose her words carefully, "… Large family." "It is not that. I think she is growing more comfortable with the idea." He paused, as he laid a dollop of cookie dough on a stone like sheet. "But she is older than I am and very aware of it. I have explained that her age is of no importance to me." Now he looked confused. "But for some reason she became upset with me when I said that." He leaned in, and said conspiratorially. "I apologized anyway, though I am not sure why." "Icheb, once again, you have shown wisdom where others fail. You were smart enough to recognize a losing battle." Icheb nodded, accepting Lwaxana's answer. "I am, however, very interested in dating Celes Tal; if she will ever say yes, and if Mother approves." "Perhaps you ought to try asking Seven of Nine first, and then ask Tal next. That way you will be armed with her support before you make the attempt." "You think Mother will say yes." "Darling, if Tal makes you happy, then yes. I know she will." ==^== Twenty minutes later the TUE team reported that the Trans-Universal Engine had cooled down sufficiently to allow a safe transition. Captain Janeway was suddenly glad that she'd made the time alteration. Ezri had returned from sickbay and reported that the number of individuals affected by the transition had remained within the expected parameters. Kathryn turned to the Trill and said, "Remind me to talk to Dr. Brahms about finding out why that engine starts to," she sought for the word, "overheat after a certain number of transitions. I know we already have a secondary device in place, but I think we need to consider a means to fix the original device too, just in case. I don't want to get stuck in the middle of a point to point transition without some means of repair." Ezri once again realized that Captain Janeway had the intelligence to go with the command persona and nodded. "Captain, I couldn't agree more." Kathryn shook her head and sighed. "Ten minutes. That's enough time for coffee." She was about to offer a cup to Ezri, then glanced over and changed her mind. "Commander, you have the conn." "Thank you, Captain." Kathryn's lips twitched in amusement and she stood and went to her ready room. ==^== Captain Janeway returned to the bridge a few minutes later.
"Anything interesting happen?" "Two." Janeway pressed the communications button on her chair. "All hands, prepare for Transition." They went through the run down again, including the count, and then at the appointed moment and speed, the Trans-Universal Engine was activated. They disappeared from Universe Beta on their way to the Alpha Universe and home. ==^== Voyager of the House Presba entered Universe Alpha, Beta Quadrant, Presban space at full stealth. She slowed from warp to sub warp, and moved deeper into the system, sneaking in like a cat on the prowl. As she did so, she pulled all streams of communications traffic and other available data and poured it to where it would do the most good. Her crew - once able - began rapidly preparing, since they did not know what they were facing. They would be ready for anything. Chapter 10 | Universe Beta, Beta Quadrant | Bookmarks
After a thorough investigation of their own, they decided not to second guess T'Pel's wisdom on the matter. Nelav, who had become the designated person for such things, contacted Winn Adami. "The House Presba has accepted your application to be our fiscal manager and point representative for business matters. We are sending a copy of the formal contract for your review. Upon your acceptance of the terms and requirements, we will begin negotiations for your salary." The Bajoran business mogul smiled warmly. "I look forward to serving the House Presba in this." ==^== It was a beautiful day on Bajor and a lovely day to visit Jalanda City. Kai Opaka had decided that visiting the historical sites of the planet would be a useful point of reference for her. Though she had a growing appreciation of why she had been summoned to this Universe. One that was so desperately seeking balance as it transitioned from a harsh past into something potentially better. She encountered rich, poor and slave alike and listened to their stories and offered what wisdom she could. She also encountered familiar faces, beings who did not know her, but in whose reflection she could see her own journey. This one in her world was a Ranjen. That one a Vedek. Another a farmer. Yet, here, a businessman, or a doctor. It was fascinating and took some acclimating. She visited the analogs of the holocaust sites on her home world, and wept for her people; she studied Bajor's history and considered what she could offer beyond kind words. It was, she realized, a long road that the Prophets had called her to and every now and then she felt terribly alone. But, even then, she knew there were others out there, inspiring changes just as she was. Opaka was keeping her immediate attention on House Presba and on Betazed. The changes for the better had already begun. She was getting used to her guard following her everywhere. It was not something that she had needed in her first Universe, even when she was on the planet where she died, lived, died and lived all over again. It took almost as much effort to become used to being address as Kai Opaka again, rather than by her given name. It surprised her that she missed being Opaka Sulan. The fact that she was alive at all in this universe was a result of the direct intervention of the Prophets, and she wondered if she actually needed the guard, or the title, but considered that her people needed her to have them. Status, in this Universe, was somewhat convoluted. There was a message that needed to be conveyed, she realized. But, she wasn't quite sure what it was yet. So she walked, and while she walked, she encountered, while she encountered, she learned. It was, she supposed, inevitable that she would meet her old adversary. Not everyone shared the same vision and there were politics in everything, even the clergy. She had heard that Winn Adami had become Kai. It was the will of the Prophets, but she had known Adami as someone who was inflexible and their arguments, debates and differences had been legendary among the priests, though not one revealed among to people. For the people they always presented a united front. Kai Opaka, who usually smiled easily, found it difficult to find one as the other woman, dressed in business attire, and not in priestly robes, moved sedately forward with a young man in tow. She was followed by her own guard, who paced more discreetly behind, perhaps because they were all Bajoran. Sulan was slightly shocked when Adami took a place at the end of the greeting line that always seemed to form around her whenever she stopped moving. The Kai had more than half expected Adami to budge and elbow her way forward, but like the others, she waited politely. Kai Opaka greeted, blessed and touched the ear of many before Winn Adami and her companion were before her. By then, she managed to have a real smile of welcome for them. Adami spoke, unaware of the turmoil she inspired just by her presence. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Kai Opaka. I have been asked by Grand Judge Miral Torres of the House Presba to, when you are ready, provide whatever you may need to further your venture here on Bajor." Kai Opaka blinked. "I do not understand." "House Presba is prepared to fund a temple, should you require it." "A temple?" "Or a garden. Or a small house. Or a big one. All of them if you require it. You need only say the word." Winn Adami handed the Kai a small card. "If you need a ship or finances to purchase servants or more guards, you are to call me. If the purchase is very large, I will need to confirm it with Miral. But small and medium ones, I can do immediately upon request." Adami paused. "This is my son, Jerrod. He is also authorized to help you, and I recommend, for the smaller services, that you contact him. In fact, if you are in need of a personal manager, I offer you his services. He is a certified accountant and quite good at fiscal management and procurement of wealth." Adami handed her a second card. Now Sulan was really astonished. She looked at both the cards. Then at Winn Adami. She examined the familiar features of the other woman, having once thought she knew them very well. She lifted her hand. "May I?" Adami had seen the other individuals touched, so she nodded. "If you wish." Sulan grasped Adami's ear and held it. It was like fire rushing through her palm straight to her heart. She let go, somehow managing to smother the gasp that wanted to rise within her. She gathered herself together and said, "Thank you, Winn Adami. I will be sure to contact you when I need you." The other woman smiled wryly. "Is my future so bad then?" As Kai, she couldn't withhold an answer. "Your future is merely not what I expected it to be, Winn Adami. It is not, however, bad. You will find great happiness in the service of House Presba and Bajor." Now the smile widened. "Somehow," Winn Adami said, "I believe you." ==^== Nelav handed Miral the PADD, before the Klingon had even asked her for it. The Deian had been doing that more and more often lately; somehow knowing before hand what was needed and making it appear or happen. Miral did not take it for granted, but she did find the why of its seemingly sudden appearance somewhat mysterious. The judge looked at the notes and nodded her head at the confirmation of details. Then, she handed the PADD to Gretchen. Her mate took the PADD, managing to deliberately brush gentle fingers over her sensitive skin. Miral looked up into impish grey-green eyes and grinned. "Soon," she promised. Gretchen smiled back before looking at the PADD. "Do you think he'll actually allow me to help?" "One must allow for surprises." "Point. But, it does get old sometimes." "At least, my beloved, you may sit beside me in a chair." "Good point. Though, you know, I was never uncomfortable. I miss your hand in my hair sometimes. It was…comforting." Miral smiled at the memory. "For both of us. But, the cost was too high, Be'nal." "I know. It's better now." Gretchen smiled and set the PADD on the top of their desk. "Effany has made the family meal today. Are you interested?" "Silly question." Gretchen elaborated. "It is an Orion traditional meal, something hearty, not a kebob." "Meaning it's something most people never see, am I correct?" "You are. A meal for warriors, she says." "Interesting that she's serving it before our next trial. Nelav has been hinting at trouble." "But nothing specific." "On the other hand, there are those who are unhappy with us. It's better to be prepared." Miral asserted. That Gretchen agreed with, especially with the baby to consider. "True." "Well, I'm done reading. Let's go eat and see what our three are thinking." ==^== The five of them sat around the dining table. "Alright. Tell me what is going on," Miral commanded. Nelav, brushed back her azure locks and tucked them behind her ear. She pondered how best to answer. "I am sorry, Miral. But the images are not clear. I just know that there is more to this case than what is being seen in the files." "You believe it to be a trap." Nelav nodded slowly. "Yes, your Honor. I do." "Yet, if I do not go, then I have broken my word." "Yes. Your Honor." "Then we will go, but we will prepare." Miral picked up a roll and put some of that lovely, meaty spread on it. She opened her mouth and spoke, not quite a half beat behind Nelav saying the same thing. "Make arrangements with K'tar…" Then she stopped. "I'll make arrangements with K'tar…" Nelav, who was seasoning her meal wasn't looking at anyone in particular, but she was still talking, "…for security and make sure all our weapons are powered to their fullest. Effany and T'Sai will evaluate the location for exit points and arrange for a transporter lock." She finally looked up and flushed even deeper hue of blue than normal. T'Sai's brow was cocked and Effany was glancing back and forth between Gretchen and Miral, still worried about the possible reactions, even after all this time. Miral was looking at the Deian with an amused expression on her face. "Please, Nelav, at least let me have the dignity of expressing my thoughts first." "Yes, Miral." Gretchen couldn't help the chortle that escaped. "How did we get so lucky to get you on our side?" Effany, who wasn't the most talkative, said, "Mistress…," she paused and then revised, "… Gretchen, we ask ourselves that question about you and the judge every day." ==^== They proceeded according to plan, acting as normally as possible given all the warnings ringing through Nelav. Because of her sensation of, "something not right," however, their security guard went first, then Miral and Gretchen. They were followed by Nelav, then T'Sai and Effany, who were all wearing their new Truth Seeker Robes. Then two more guards of the House followed them all. Miral was just about to set her bat'leth into place, when Nelav reached forward and touched her shoulder. She whispered, "Don't let Gretchen sit on that chair." It looked normal to Miral, but Nelav was trustworthy. So the Klingon remained standing, forcing her whole group to also remain upright. She glared out toward those who had come to be tried and those who were watching the trial, assessing what she was seeing. It took her a moment to identify what it was that was jiggling her memory, but after a moment she spotted what she was looking for. It was obvious, once her mind had pegged it. The color of several beings in the audience was not quite right. It was off by just a tiny bit. But it was definitely not right. Once she spotted the difference, she knew and understood why Nelav had been having difficulty. Miral pondered what to do, then opted for Klingon simplicity and pulled out her blaster. This action prompted her people to pull out theirs. All of them, including those of her staff she had secreted away within the audience. She grinned mirthlessly. "There is an old saying among Klingons. Once fooled is my despair. Twice is yours." She then made sure to make eye contact with those who were in the holographic disguises. "I see you. I know you. It is time to give up." She knew, even as she said the words, that it wasn't going to be that simple. A stocky man broke ranks, pulling his weapon, which prompted his accomplices to do the same and then it was blaster fire, fists, and screaming mayhem. That battle raged around the whole of the room, spilled over into the circle, and out of the room. The only one who appeared to have nothing at all to do with any of it, was the accused who stood, chained and terrified, at the defendant's table awaiting the outcome as the fight that flowed around him. In the end, there were bodies on the ground, and in the stands. There were broken chairs, railings and even the corner of the dais was busted. Those who had been in the audience who had come for the actual trial had felt as if they'd gotten their time's worth. The Judiciary team looked a bit less formal and a lot more dangerous. There was still blood in Miral's gaze as she stalked back, bat'leth in hand and stared at the accused. "Did you do it?" The man quavered, but he didn't lie. "Yes, your Honor. I shouldn't have. I realize it now. But--" "I didn't ask for an explanation." Miral cut him off, not interested in details. "Yes, your Honor." "It seems your accuser has," she kicked the body of the Orion at her feet, "withdrawn his accusation." She stalked over to the defendant. "I don't suppose you know where the key is?" "N...n...No your honor." "Could…Oh, hello, T'Sai. Thank you." The Vulcan grasped the chain and pulled it tight until it groaned under the stretch. Miral stepped back, hefted her bat'leth and then changed her mind. She shifted weapons until she was holding her blaster, then fired it at the point between chain and ground. The melted metal parted easily and the man was free. Miral said, "I don't want to see you in my court again." "No, your Honor. You won't." "Good. Now go." The man bowed hastily, and then ran nimbly around the debris in the courtroom, and then out the door. Miral grimaced and looked around at the shambles of what had been the local judicial hall. "Someone find the Mayor. I want a word with that person." Her tone of voice did not bode well for that future conversation. ==^== Empty. Again. This time the spot next to her had already grown cold, so she knew her mate had left the bed sometime ago. Belle rolled to her feet, took up the thin robe she'd begun keeping next to the bed, and slipped it on. The robe had become necessary when Annika's nightly forays had escalated from dismantling their own replicators to clandestine attacks on any piece of equipment left unattended. It didn't matter what part of the ship. If it was accessible, it was apparently fair game. "Annika, Be'nal?" Their quarters were quiet and, for once, the main replicator was unmolested. Belle ordered a glass of prune juice, knowing that to order raktajino would be futile, and would only result in prune juice. Her Human spouse was very particular about what constituted a proper pre-natal routine. Belle exited into the corridor and began to look for signs that the blonde had passed this way, or that. It would have been simpler to ask the ship's computer, but finding Annika had become a game of sorts. One that occasionally, depending on the location, had the most exquisite rewards. She flushed, and her nipples spiked, as she remembered one such hunt, and the exhilarated abandon with which Annika had received her attentions. That a shuttle in the hangar bay had only marginally hid them had only added to the experience. Over the last couple of weeks, what had been an almost constant craving for Annika had become something bordering on near nymphomania. What amazed and astonished her, was that Annika's appetite had grown to match hers, and she was far from being the only one to initiate some of their riskier encounters. Belle, now on her second circuit of the ship without any apparent sign of Annika, began to shift her thoughts from amorous intent to genuine concern. And, now that she was no longer mentally envisioning exactly how she was going to show her mate how much her presence in the bed had been missed, Belle registered a vague disquiet. Not one single piece of equipment had shown evidence that a distractible and delectable blonde had spent any time on them. "Computer, locate Annika Torres." "Annika Torres is in med-bay one." The med-bay? Annika hated the med-bay. Hurrying, she entered the room, and looked around in awe. Every single piece of equipment was in some stage of disassembly. The med-bot was in pieces, lined up neatly on a large sheet, and a naked Annika was intently staring at a round stain on the floor. "Annika, sweetheart?" She read a tension in the blonde that she hadn't seen since their initial meeting, and Belle knew that whatever was happening wasn't the ordinary, familiar night walking of the last month. "I am sorry, General Torres." Belle stopped, as a metallic rush of terror washed through her. "Annika, what's wrong, honey?" "I will leave. I have dishonoured you." No discernible emotion showed on the blonde's face, and her words were flat. "Annika, you're scaring me." The blonde flinched, and Belle knelt on the floor, their proximity clearly transmitting the acrid smell of fear washing off the Human. A slightly rancid odor was mixed with it, but she couldn't quite identify it. "I know you're scared too, but whatever it is. It's okay. I promise." It had to be, she wasn't ready to lose this woman for any reason. "Not this." Annika looked up, and Belle hoped to never see such desolation in her mate's eyes ever again. She reached out and gently touched Annika's shoulder. "How about you tell me what 'this' is, and we'll figure it out together." "I am pregnant." "That's wonderful!" Belle shouted, and then subsided, seeing Annika flinch. "Isn't it?" "It is not possible." Annika turned then and her eyes were full of tears. "I swear that I have never been with anyone but you. I swear it." Belle wrapped her arms around her mate. "I believe you, Annika. Shhh. It's okay." She remembered the night of Pulaski's formal bonding. Annika had joined them, wanting to be part of creating their child, but had not been with Worf herself. There had been touches though. She shivered in memory. Delightful touches as Annika's long fingers had augmented what she and Worf were doing. Tender caresses that had sent her spiraling over the edge more than once that night long after Worf had departed. It was improbable, but it wasn't impossible. "Annika, darling, its okay. I would say that Worf is a very virile man, and you, my love, are apparently very fertile." The hope and utter relief that sparked across Annika's face gripped Belle, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. "I love you Be'nal. And now we will have two children to share that love." She leaned in to seal her words with a kiss, and was startled when Annika turned her head. "Annika?" "I need to clean my mouth. I vomited." Annika looked chagrined. "I thought I was ill." All Belle could do was laugh. Chapter 11 | Universe Alpha, Beta Quadrant: Presban Estate | Bookmarks
It had been just over week and a half since the capture of the Titan. The sleek Federation vessel still orbited Presba, a war prize of the Klingon Empire. Also orbiting the Estate of Presba was the Orantho, the ship belonging to the Mistress of House Martok, the IKS Jornub, which had been placed at Presba specifically for this kind of incident, and Alexander Rozhenko's scout ship, which had shown up just in time to save, if not awaken, Will Riker. The crew of the Titan were not quite prisoners of war, yet. The Empire had yet to make their status official one way or another. It depended entirely upon the behind the scenes negotiations currently being conducted with ferocious intent on both sides. None of the crew, with the exception of the acting Captain, Commander Christine Vale, had been permitted to disembark from the ship, and even when on board, they were watched closely by the Klingon security that had been placed aboard the vessel. Commander Worf of the House Martok, Ambassador for the Klingon Empire, maintained order, but did not interfere with the acting Captain in regular ship's business. Aside from the four Section 31 operatives in the brig, the other crew were treated as the Starfleet officers they were, and therefore expected to conduct themselves with honour. One other Starfleet officer was allowed to come and go as she pleased. Commander Beverly Crusher, currently shepherding the interests of the Federation, spent the majority of her day across the negotiating table from the Lady Sirella, Mistress of House Martok, and making what seemed to be very slow to zero headway. The actions of Section 31 once again proved a barrier to Empire-Federation relations, as, from a Klingon point of view, the Titan had declared war on a House of the Empire, and not just any house at that; it had attacked one that was a declared ally of House Martok. What surprised Beverly, though she realized it probably should not have, was how little support, given the ties its members had to the Federation and Starfleet, that the House Presba had leant to the Federation's efforts. Not that she could blame them. If the situation was reversed, Beverly wasn't sure how forgiving she would be either; she knew far to well just how long she could carry a grudge. In the end, there were two saving graces. The first was that it was apparent that the Titan's Captain, Will Riker, had been under the influence of a potent, mind-altering drug and thus, not entirely accountable for his actions. The unfortunate caveat was the not entirely part. Beverly had identified portions of the chemical compound, and it left enough evidence to verify that he had some choice in the matter of his actions. How much control was an open question, because the drug had been designed to delete the evidence. It was even possible that had the dose not been tripled at the end, Riker might have recovered quickly, as, apparently, the substance required daily administration. At the moment, Will was in a coma and therefore unable to defend himself one way or the other. The other saving grace was that Deanna Troi still considered Beverly Crusher a friend. She was more than cordial during their time together, but there were deep and dark mysteries going on behind the eyes of the Betazoid that still caused Beverly to shiver a little when she looked directly into them for any long length of time. At odd moments, especially after viewing the results of the autopsy on Lt. Nuala Corvalis, her disquiet shifted to a quickly banished fear. Worse, she knew Deanna was aware of, and hurt by, her fear. Only those of House Presba seemed to dare to look deeply, and without fear, into Deanna, and she wondered how they survived it. Maybe it was love. ==^== In the aftermath, Asil rarely ventured far from Deanna. It was not that she hovered incessantly, she knew that most individuals needed personal space, she merely arranged to be available when Deanna needed her presence, and to not intrude otherwise. A part of her worried, but the logical side of her allowed the Vulcan Presban to carry on as if she did not. She was just grateful that Deanna continued to allow her in, and so she guarded her mate's emotional doors while those who did not understand battered at them. At the moment Asil was with Barin, who was not used to seeing his sister so distraught. He was fearless with Deanna, unafraid of the depths of her, but Deanna worried at what he would see, so she kept him gently out. That frightened the youngster more than any words or other actions might have and so, because he was young, he pressed in hopes that she would let him in again. He was distressed enough that he stopped speaking out loud. It was only the anchoring presences of Asil, Auloh and Guinan that kept him from retreating even further and into complete silence. Each tried, in their won way to support him, and they each tried to spend as much time with him as possible. Even Deanna spent time with him, but that was, at the moment, no consolation to the devastated young boy, because she was not with him fully. It grieved Deanna in ways she didn't know how to express that she wasn't able to move past her reactions and fears. As a counselor, she knew that she must. As Deanna, she was terrified of what she had done, and did not know if she could ever leave the fear behind. In the core of her conscience, she worried that she felt no guilt over the killing of Corvalis, only over the manner of it. It was the lack of control, and not the death that ate at her soul, and made her fear for the future. She would have run away, except for her mate. Asil, who was her anchor and her salvation, who held her through the long nights and waded with her through the darkness. Deanna wandered their home, not listless or directionless, just wandering and thinking as she tried to cope with her actions. She stepped out onto the balcony and looked up at the sky, trying to draw comfort from the same glorious blue that once caused her heart to sing at its mystery. Today it was just the sky, but she looked out at it anyway, hoping to lose herself, her guilt, her loss and gain, in the illusion of the infinite. It was an unconscious meditation. Her breathing deepened and her eyes half closed. Her thoughts slowed and stretched. Her mind moved, despite herself, unbidden. Within easy reach she found Asil, who reached back, touched back with deep, abiding love. They twined, for a moment in a long, surprising mental caress. Then she drifted away and found Barin, who was suddenly alert and bright and astonished. Without a pause to second guess the impulse, Deanna reached back and touched him briefly. She knew then, and felt horrible for it, that he wept in joy because of the rarity it had become. But she didn't linger, as if her mind had other purposes. She briefly touched Auloh with a mental hug, and then a brief flight led to Guinan, who touched back with amazing strength, fearless of what she saw in Deanna that astonished the Betazoid. And still, Deanna continued on and out. She hovered over Will, whose once bright light she could see, but not touch and which seemed so dim and distant now. Once again Deanna shifted her world frame, not exactly drifting, but without a goal. Far above Presba, she found Alexander, who was abruptly confused by awareness that someone had touched him, but unable to see anyone near him. Stretching herself further Deanna easily discerned Worf, whose stern, proud manner still caught her breath sometimes. She kissed the crown of forehead ridges as she passed by; felt his swift, baffled reaction, and continued farther on. Because, at that moment, Deanna knew what she was looking for, and knew it to be a hopeless quest, but one that she must conduct for all that. So, resolute of purpose, she moved on, searching and seeking. And, like a light in the darkness, she was there. 〈〈Mother?〉〉 ==^== Lwaxana, who had been in the middle of a genial conversation with Mr. Neelix, stopped speaking very abruptly. Her expression changed from outwardly attentive, to one of inward concentration. 〈〈Deanna?〉〉 The response was overwhelming. A wealth of emotions traveled in the next touch: need, hope, fear and terrible grief. Instinctively, Lwaxana wrapped her own emotional responses around her child, communicating a depth and breadth of comfort, love, understanding, and the promise of soon arriving. The moment was so intense that it took a heartbeat or two before Lwaxana realized that it was impossible for Deanna to be this close, impossible for her to reach this far. 〈〈My child, what has happened?〉〉 Deanna's response was the equivalent of an inarticulate wail, and a flinging of her soul against her mother. Lwaxana grabbed hold and held, sending her strength to her daughter. There was an echo along the mated bond, as her mates, recognizing something amiss, responded to aid Lwaxana. T'Pel stood, passed Emina to Neelix and then pressed her hands against Lwaxana's shoulders. In the psychic distance, there was a sob of relief, but the need was still incredibly strong. Deanna, however, was also joined. They felt her mate, identified her. 〈〈Asil.〉〉 Lwaxana recognized that there was great power there; a wonder-filled sense of something new and potent. Undercutting the recognition was the knowledge that Deanna and Asil were united in their need for them. 〈〈We come, our daughters.〉〉 It was a vow, joined and affirmed by the entire Prime. They only wanted to know one thing. 〈〈Who has done this to you?〉〉 A name came, bright and hot with anger, but along with the name traveled the ultimate cause: Section 31. The group snarl that rose unbidden and with unconscious volition from the lips of the Prime was terrible to hear and more than one witness to it quailed. ==^== It fell to the First Officer to stand in the face of the anger of the Prime, and to argue for a measured response to handling the four confirmed Section 31 agents. Dax made her case to the Captain in the Ready Room and tried to ignore the pressure of the eyes boring into the back of her neck; Ro Laren was wrong too. "You can't do it. You can't just swoop in out of nowhere, and then beam them into your brig. This is our universe, and there are other means to your end. Legal means." Kathryn's expression continued to be pugnacious, her eyes an unforgiving storm-grey, but Ezri pressed on. "Look, what they did was wrong. But if you transport them from the Titan without telling anyone, they're going to think the prisoners are being rescued. They'll try and find out how and you could have a fire fight on your hands. It would be better," she drew breath, deliberately calming her own response, "if you visited the Titan after Voyager is stationed where you want her. And frankly, Captain, right now, I give you about a fifty-fifty chance at even being allowed in the same room with them." Janeway blinked, and then chuckled rawly. "Only fifty percent?" "Kathryn, there is murder in your eyes. It's scary as fuck. But you know, and I know, this isn't how to get things done." "Isn't it?" "Not if you want to remain as the Captain of Voyager." There was an awful moment when Ezri was sure it could go either way. Then something in Kathryn settled. The anger was still there, but the Trill felt a loosening in her own chest as the maelstrom seemed to pass. "Commander Dax." "Yes, Captain Janeway?" "We will be landing on Presba. Asil Troi will give you the coordinates. You have the conn." "Aye, Captain." Ezri started out the door. The stopped. "With or without the cloak?" ==^== "This is Voyager of the House Presba seeking clearance for landing." Voyager handled her own communications with ground control, broadcasting her voice to the bridge. "Voyager, you have a go. Landing pad zero one is ready. Uh, we don't see you." "That's okay. We can see you. Here's a ping so you know we're live." "Ping confirmed. Traffic has been diverted. Welcome Voyager." "Thank you, Presba Control. It's good to be home." ==^== Voyager landed gracefully and easily. Not that anyone witnessed the event. The ship remained cloaked even after landing. The contact with Presba ground control had been on a tight beam and secure channel. The crew was allowed to stand down from red alert to yellow, and the alert klaxon had already been silenced. The scouts exited their ships and the marines who were on stand-by, began stripping out of their tech suits. Despite the sense of urgency, there was no hurry. They were there. They had landed safely. Ample time was to be had to freshen up and prepare for a more formal arrival. Once communication was made more officially, a schedule would be set up so that each and every individual crew member could, if they wanted or needed to, contact their family and let them know they were safe in the Beta Quadrant. Other arrangements could then be made as necessary. They would determine what needed to be done next as they went along. B'Elanna, Laren, T'Pel and Lwaxana would establish contact with Asil and Deanna. Captain Janeway decided it would be appropriate to have security with them as they went to check on their family. Xepal, Dekut and Kufa formed the core, with Ensigns Chase and Booker as the perimeter. They would wait until connection was made with their immediate family on Presba before making overtures to anyone else. ==^== It started innocently enough. She had a headache, ergo, Ezri
finally made time to wander into sickbay in search of a cure. "This isn't safe, Kate." Ezri knew she was already at the limit of her ability to resist a mating bite; the likely damage to House Presba's relationship with House Martok and the Lady Sirella not withstanding. ==^== Seven of Nine strode into the CMO's office without requesting entrance or seeking permission, she knew she was needed. She found them both, heads together, cradling one another through different kinds of pain. Seven knelt and touched them both, drawing her palms along their faces. They both leaned into the caress. "It is time to come home now." Ezri gazed up, not yet ready to let go of Kate. "I had a headache." Seven of Nine leaned in and kissed the Trill gently. "I will administer an analgesic." Then she turned and kissed the other woman warmly and deeply. Kate finally looked at Seven and drew in a deep breath. She opened her mouth to say something and Seven stopped her with two fingers pressed against her lips. "It is unnecessary." The touch turned into a caress, erotic and comforting at the same time. "It is understood." She looked deeply into Kate's eyes. "We know." A slow tear descended along Kate's cheek, and Seven drew her in close and kissed her deeply. Then, as effortlessly as lifting a kitten, she picked her mate up. "Voyager, this is Seven of Nine. Three to beam to my quarters please." ==^== Had anyone been around to see it, it might have seemed as though nine heavily armed people simply appeared out of the aether, and into being. The environs of landing pad zero one had much to do with the illusion as they were not occupied; there was no shuttle, no greeters, and no audience. Elsewhere, Presba's port was busy, but there was a reason that zero one was laid out the way it was. Sometimes people needed to land with more than a modicum of privacy. In a few minutes, the emissaries of Voyager, and House Presba entered the concourse of the Port and unobtrusively joined the foot traffic. They walked as if they belonged there and soon stepped out into the daylight. There they flagged down a skimmer. If the driver thought them alien and dangerous, he didn't say anything. They gave him the address they wanted and that was what caused him to look back. But after glancing more closely at the uniforms, he spotted a recognizable emblem and nodded. House Presba it was. The tenseness of the passengers translated into the driver, but he was determined to mind his own business, and restrained himself from drawing a sidearm as surety. They arrived outside of the main dwelling of the Estate, and he was paid promptly after they stepped out. Quicker still, he drove off. He knew to the depths of his soul, that he did not want to see what kind of conflict led to people wearing that much hardware on the usually peaceful planet. He did have the fleeting thought that a warning might be in order, but it wasn't his House, and so he stayed out of its business. ==^== Deanna Troi was at the gate, with Asil and two Klingon guards. She had not dropped mental contact with her mother once it was established, and she had known in ways new to her, the exact distance there was between them. And still, there was something about seeing the physical form of her mother emerge from the distance that was fundamentally reassuring and wonderful. She ran. She ran to her mother and was caught up in an embrace that was astonishingly stalwart and tangible. They held to each other, not to immobilize, but firmly in reassurance. Lwaxana kissed her tearstained cheeks, and her own tears blended with her daughter's. Asil, stepped forward more slowly, but with a similar sense of urgency. She was met by T'Pel, who in a move that would have shocked people on Vulcan, pulled her daughter into an embrace as tight and comforting as that of the Betazoids'. A few moments and a seeming eternity later, the embraces eased and Deanna and Asil were pulled into hugs by their other mothers who held them with equal ferocity. "Darling, we have questions and it is apparent that you and I have much to discuss." Deanna nodded mutely in agreement. Lwaxana, who had made the choice to be strong, touched her forehead to Deanna's. "It will be alright." Deanna's breath caught in a brief sob. Her mother stroked her hair gently. "Let's go get Barin. He needs me too. Then we will talk." Again Deanna nodded. Then she stepped back and unconsciously reached and received Asil's touch. Deanna found her voice. "If you will follow us?" They entered the home, and just as Deanna had known, Barin too knew to approach the door, he ran, full of abandon and joy, his motion unrestrained by any sense of propriety or dignity. This was his Mother and he cried his need for her unashamedly. Lwaxana caught him up against her, and lifted him easily. Where Deanna had wept, he howled and sobbed deeply and clung, physically expressing that unfathomable longing that had been with him since his mother had literally been ripped from his life. Comfort came for him from all corners, near and distant, and he felt all of his parents reach out for him, though his tears would not and could not yet stop. Lwaxana carried her son and let her own tears flow as they walked further into the abode. She saw a beautiful Klingon girl, stretched thin in the gawky phase of youth, who waited with some trepidation. She opened one arm. "Come, granddaughter. Let me hold you." Auloh stepped forward and received the embrace shyly. Then, she stepped away, only to find herself being embraced again by her other grandparents. It felt odd to think of these youthful women as grandparents, but she had become accustomed to Asil and Deanna, and she would become used to them as well. She found reassurance in the similarities she saw between Asil and T'Pel. Relatives she understood. Guinan watched the greetings, not necessarily as an outsider,
but as a witness. She knew that she would be recognized when it was
time. Her eyes shifted in surprise, and she looked past the familiar bodies to one even more familiar and dear to her. "Ro Laren." Guinan smiled back, her teeth shiny and bright against the burnished ebony of her skin, pleased to see that Laren was alive and well. Then Lwaxana reached out a hand for her and greeted her personally with a tearful smile. "It is good to see you, Guinan. Thank you for being here." "It has been my pleasure." It was Guinan who led them into the study, where she had arranged a small buffet. "I admit I was…expecting more of you." "We have become a bit more security conscious in recent months," Laren said evenly. It was then that Guinan truly noted the presence of five fierce looking guardians. She smiled. "I see. So have we." Then she asked, "Should I call Phoebe and Vrald?" "Vrald?" "Phoebe's mate. He's a large, burly Klingon with a knack for building things." B'Elanna chuckled, remembering the name now. "Ah, the architect that Phoebe was going on about." "Yes. It is a good match," Asil responded. There was a wealth of meaning underlying the tone of her answer and they knew that they were in for interesting stories. "Let's sit down. Then you can tell us what you need us to know." ==^== Of course, not everything could be covered with the two younger children present, but the upshot of it was that the immediate crisis was over. Other fires would need to be stamped out in due course, and there were troubling hints that had been garnered from the captured prisoners that led Asil to believe that all was not resolved with Section 31. Still, as the danger was not at a fever pitch, and they did not at the moment need to go straight into battle, it was decided to contact Voyager and share what they knew. Captain Janeway was glad for the news. "Who is the Federation contact?" "Dr. Beverly Crusher. She is on board the Titan. She and Sirella have been…negotiating." B'Elanna relayed the information, acting as Epatai, but decided to let Asil handle the rest of the communications. "Ah. The joys of diplomacy." Kathryn nodded. "Who are we advised to contact first?" Asil registered the command from B'Elanna to answer, and supplied the information without any hesitation, "The Lady Sirella of House Martok is here. She will want to know that the Epatai has returned to her estate." ==^== It had been a busy day for Dr. Zimmerman; between the normal every day health issues and the space sickness induced by the transition between the Universes, there had been a steady flow of traffic. Still he had some routines he liked to keep, such as the after lunch meeting where he touched base with Dr. Pulaski. With PADD in hand he walked into the office, which he knew had been occupied only moments ago. He stared around the room for a minute and wondered how it was possible that he had missed Kate. He knew he had not been that pre-occupied. He walked further into the office and realized that it was possible that Dr. Pulaski was going to miss their meeting. With a small, "humph," he pondered what to do, then decided to simply leave the PADD on her desk. Zimmerman was walking out the door of the office when he realized that he had spotted something unusual on the desk. "Is that a knife?" ==^== "Do you have a moment, my son?" Kate and Ezri had been soothed into sleeping, and Seven of Nine availed herself of a quiet moment with her son. "Yes, Mother." "Walk with me?" Icheb had already been in The Park when Seven located him. He had been sitting on the ground, staring out across the lake, looking at nothing in particular. She reached down and he grasped her hand, accepting her companionable assistance. They walked, at first silently, together. Seven had come to appreciate the restorative qualities of such moments. Eventually, however, she spoke. "Icheb, I am aware that you have been spending personal time with Celes Tal." "I find her intriguing. She has much to offer." "I wish you to know, my son, that your happiness is important to me." He glanced at his mother. "And yours is to me." Seven nodded and opted to be more direct. "You have my blessing, both as your mother and as Mistress of the House, if she is of your choosing." He expelled a breath, and nodded, unaware that he had unconsciously leaned inward. "Thank you, Mother." She wrapped her arm around him, understanding now the importance of such things, and hugged him as they continued to walk. ==^== The Operations Officer on board the Orantho blinked and looked twice to be sure of his readings. One did not summon the Captain to look at a sensor ghost. Sure of his data, he finally found the words to describe the situation. "Captain. A ship has decloaked on the surface of Presba." "Decloaked?" "It…looks like a Federation scout ship, but it does not match the parameters in the database. It's too big for its class." "And its class?" "Intrepid, Captain." The Captain turned toward an unoccupied officer. "Go get Lady Sirella." ==^== "Hail them." Janeway ordered, but didn't turn to see if she was being obeyed; she didn't need to. "This is the Orantho. Who speaks?" The Klingon male glared menacingly through the video feed. The youthful auburn-haired woman spoke. Her hands were propped on her hips and her expression was determined. "I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager, Warlord of the House Presba." "Warlord!" She leaned forward a little, narrowing her gaze dangerously and growled. "Do you have a problem with that?" He really should have waited for Sirella to arrive before answering the hail, he thought to himself. "There aren't any Warlords any more." "My Epatai, the Warlord Torres, will be most interested to hear you say that." The situation was, the Captain of the Orantho decided, rapidly getting out of hand. He decided to change the direction of the conversation. "What do you want?" "We wish to speak with the Lady Sirella of the House Martok regarding House matters. My Epatai has authorized me to establish first contact. We also seek Lady Sirella's permission for access to the prisoners in the brig aboard the Titan. We promise not to kill them immediately." She added the last line to reassure her First Officer, and not because she though the Klingons would necessarily need such guarantees. The Captain blinked and then felt a tap at his shoulder. "Move." He most gladly did so. The tall Lady of the Klingon Empire regarded the fierce looking Starfleet Captain evenly. There were so many things she wanted to say to this woman. But the pleasantries would apparently have to wait. "What do you want with the prisoners? Captain Janeway's voice sounded agreeable, but there was something in it that set the hairs on the Klingons' necks straight up. "Lady Sirella, we merely wish to find out their thoughts on matters regarding House Presba." Sirella spoke slowly, carefully. She was suddenly sure that she did not want to make any abrupt, unexpected moves in the presence of this woman, either at a distance or in close quarters. "I will… consider it." Again, Captain Janeway was cordial and pleasant, her tones almost soothing in nature. "Thank you. I recognize that you probably have many questions. We would like to provide the opportunity to you to visit with us so those questions may be answered. We bring tidings from locations quite distant, yet affecting the Empire. We wish also a more formal opportunity to make a request of you as the Mistress of House Martok, which may affect the relationship of your House and Ours. If you are willing to listen to our invitation, it would be an appropriate time to invite the Mistress of House Presba to speak." "Have you contacted your Federation?" "Lady Sirella, you are our first contact." ==^== They agreed to hold the remainder of their conversation in a more private location. The Mistress of House Martok moved from the bridge of the Orantho to her personal conference room. Captain Janeway made a similar choice. Then she introduced her mate. "Lady Sirella, this is Lady Seven of Nine, Mistress of the House Presba." Sirella watched as the mates unconsciously touched their fingertips together in greeting. The two of them seemed to embrace with their eyes alone, and then the tall blonde woman turned back her way, while Captain Janeway stepped out of view. "Greetings, Lady Sirella, Mistress of the House Martok. I wish to speak to you Mistress to Mistress." "Go on." Seven nodded her thanks, "It is our understanding that you are interested in solidifying the bonds of alliance through matrimony. The Prime wish to express our equal interest in such an arrangement. We have a preferred candidate." Sirella's brows rose in astonishment. "Aren't your children a bit young to begin matching?" "Icheb is of a marriageable age, but, as with our other children, he will make his own choices in his own time. We are not speaking of matching our children. It would be a match with the Prime." Sirella sat back, considering the matter and running through a short mental list of acceptable candidates. Worf might do. "House Martok…" "…has already declared us an ally and thus a possible worthy choice." Sirella tried to put her own spin on the conversation, and thus to regain control. "I want to know how your Epatai and Captain can claim to be Warlords." "We destroyed the Pharaoh Cartel in the Beta Universe." Sirella blinked. Then she leaned forward. She knew the opening to a good story when she heard one. "Tell me more." "I can do better. I can show you." ==^== Icheb found that there was a vast difference between asking someone to join him in his home for dinner, and asking that same important someone to be guest at a formal occasion. He recognized the symptoms he was experiencing as butterflies, but recognition did not equal cure. He stood outside of Tal's quarters and struggled to summon up the courage, which until that very moment had definitely been with him, to ring for admittance. Icheb was reaching for the chime when the door opened and Tal abruptly stepped out and up against him. Fortunately for them, he was a very physically coordinated man. His arms wrapped around her and he allowed the momentum of Tal's abrupt entrance into his personal space to wash around them. It felt, other than the shock of it, amazingly good to hold her in his arms. It felt right and instinct led him to draw in the scent of her. He felt a rush of sensation wash over him and he was reluctant to let go, but communication did require a modest amount of distance. Icheb gently released her, with the courtesy comment of, "Are you functioning adequately, Tal?" Tal could feel that her faced was flushed, and knew that a rosy color likely stained her cheeks. Off balance, it took her a moment to reply. "I…I am." Tal was very conscious of Icheb at that moment and shocked by the primal urge she had to grab him and drag him into her room. She reminded herself that he was not only the Captain's son, but Seven of Nine's as well. Then she managed a meager smile. He gazed at her with concern, but accepted her word. "I have something I would like to ask you, if you are willing to hear it?" She nodded, shyly, expecting another invitation to dinner or perhaps to the holodeck. "My parents are about to finalize their relationship with Ezri Dax. Once their offer is accepted, there will be a formal dinner for Lady Sirella of the House Martok. It would honor me greatly, once the time is set, if you would consent to accompany me." Tal's eyes widened and her mind seemed to stop, then start again. She considered in a heartbeat a million implications and her thoughts kept tripping at one point. Captain's son. This meant, ultimately, she could not have him. And she shouldn't start what she couldn't finish. Because going to that dinner with him would be a declaration of intent. But oh, she wanted him. Tal stepped back from the young man, forcing herself to remain calm. Her expression cooled, because if it didn't, she'd burst into tears right that moment. "I'm sorry, Icheb. I can't see you any more." That was all she managed, even though it tore her heart out to say it. Then she turned around and fled back into her quarters. Icheb stared at the closed doors and wondered what had just happened. ==^== "This stuff must weigh a metric ton." B'Elanna
rotated her shoulders, trying to get the heavy padded leather robe
to settle properly. The wide flared shoulders made her feel
ungainly. Between the stiff pants, the robe and the layers of
material, she ventured that sitting was not in her near future; not if she planned on getting back up. Ezri felt vaguely ill, and decided the best way to survive this
would be to focus her attention on Emina, who was comfortably nestled in her arms. She had been placed in
the center of the family, who, in turn, were in the center of an
honour guard that had been awaiting their arrival, but it did
nothing to alleviate her disquiet or fear. "What now?" Outside, B'Elanna stared at the
approaching Trill, who had turned a remarkable shade of crimson, her
spots even more vibrantly coloured than the flushed skin. The Klingon
was positive she'd never seen Ezri Dax so angry, and it
wasn't for lack of effort. "Sirella." "That's it?" Ezri demanded suspiciously. "You
spend four days without food, and that's it?" Lwaxana laughed, and fitted her body more closely to the
Vulcan's. "Well, she did start with her own family
fortune, as well as mine. And what are a few credits spread among
family?" "Hey." Ezri decided it was past time to personally evaluate the progress of the Sochling's special project, and had expected to find Icheb working on some of the finishing touches he'd inveigled out of Voyager's replicators and matter converters, while at the same time, trying to fend off Tom Paris' suggestions for improving things. Instead he was sitting against the wall, toolbox unopened, staring into space. "Ezri Dax, how may I be of assistance?" "I could ask you the same thing, Icheb Hansen." "It is irrelevant." "If it's putting that tone in your voice, I'd beg to differ." "I asked Celes Tal to accompany me to the betrothal dinner. She did not accept." Ezri waited for him to speak again if he wished. It was not a situation she could fix, so she refrained from offering advice or asking further questions. Not that she wasn't very curious as to why Tal had declined the invitation, especially since she had seen the Bajoran watching Icheb in the Park when she didn't think anyone would notice. Together they sat and let the shift wind down around them. ==^== B'Elanna Torres, Epatai of House Presba, and a Warlord of the Klingon
Empire, looked down the length of the wooden table in the dining hall
of the main estate house in astonished wonder. Everyone in
attendance was a member of her House. Moreover, the vast majority were
family, some of whom she'd only just met in person for the first time.
She glanced over at Seven of Nine, amused to see that the former Borg
drone had adapted instantly to acquiring a new son and a
granddaughter. Barin, though sitting on Lwaxana's lap, was engaged in a
lively finger-speak conversation with Seven, who was responding with equal vim. Auloh, though less loquacious,
was providing gentle corrections to some of Barin's more exaggerated
assertions. Laren and Guinan were laughing about something, and it warmed B'Elanna deeply: the Bajoran was not one to laugh often, though that had changed recently. Across the table, and three seats down, Kathryn was still shooting
astonished looks at her younger sister, Phoebe, every so often.
B'Elanna hummed softly to herself, finding amusement in trying to decide
whether Kathryn was the most nonplussed about the pregnancy or about the
sheer size of Vrald, and everything that implied about the younger
Janeway. ==^== Unable to follow the majority of the conversations going on around her, and overwhelmed by the actuality that Sirella had agreed to the match far more easily than Ezri had expected, she made her way out of the crowded hall. Things had become, in a lot of ways, anti-climatic: no thunder, no fury, no need to have held herself back. She had spent so much of the last few weeks trying not to fall in love with the rest of the Prime that she felt a bit disconnected, and she was finding it hard to let go of her reserve now that Sirella had given her consent. And, at odd times, like tonight, it was hard to forget that she was still on the outside. Later, she'd seek them out, but for now, she needed a moment of quiet. Ezri sighed, and climbed one of the long ladders that rested against the shelves in the library. Something about this room had beckoned to her, and she followed her impulse to explore it further. High up on one of the shelves, she'd spotted a metal and wood device that intrigued her greatly, and she wanted a closer look. With immense care she lifted the object and cradled it into her body as she climbed back down to where she could examine it safely. Back on the ground, Ezri held it up to the light, and gently blew away part of the thin film of dust that coated it. It was breathtaking. She had never seen an armillary sphere quite like it, nor had any of Dax's previous Hosts. The graduated metal circles that linked poles appeared to represent the equator, the ecliptic, the meridians and the parallels of Presba, with the planet in the center. Judging by the markings, it was intended to demonstrate the motion of the stars in the Presban system, relative to Presba itself. She spared a fleeting thought to wonder what Worf had done with Jadzia's antiques after her death, and then went back to examining the sphere in rapt fascination. So rapt that she didn't realize she was no longer alone in the room. "Hello." Startled, Ezri abruptly pulled her hands back from where she was gently nudging the rings into the proper alignment to reflect the current orientation of the planet, so that she wouldn't damage it. When Ezri turned around, she was face to face with a breath-taking, petite brunette, who was, in her own turn regarding the Trill intently. Ezri knew who this was: Deanna Troi, one time paramour and fiancée of Worf son of Mogh. "Hello." Ezri detected a faint edge of amusement in the dark eyes, and let a small grin form on her lips as she waited for the other woman to break the impasse. "You must be Ezri Dax." Deanna paused, then gave her a once over. "I thought you'd be taller." "Jadzia hoped you'd be less attractive." Delighted, Deanna laughed for the first time in eight days, letting it ring into the room. Ezri smiled back. ==^== The brig of the Titan seemed to have grown smaller. Outside of the force shields that held the prisoners within the cells, a security team had arrived with three individuals following. The security team was composed of Klingons, but they were followed by two Vulcans and a Betazoid. They were dressed uniquely. The male Vulcan was dressed in a manner that was reminiscent of, but not quite like Klingon armor. The female Vulcan and the Betazoid were dressed in long black robes, each with a distinctive pendant. They were followed by Commander Worf. The Klingon in charge nodded to the Vulcan male, who addressed the prisoners. "I am Commander Tuvok of the House Presba. I have been authorized to supervise and participate in the interview that will follow. I now introduce you to Ambassadors T'Pel and Lwaxana Troi of the House Presba, Truth Seekers." The prisoners looked confused and defiant. The Vulcan continued evenly. "I encourage you at this time to cooperate. You should know that we have been authorized by the Starfleet Admiralty to use any means necessary to bring this matter to an end." The prisoners cast glances at each other. Lwaxana and T'Pel touched fingertips to fingertips. "Now," continued Tuvok, with his customary unflappable Vulcan demeanor, "Our first question is, "What is your interest in Presba?" ==^== It would have been easy. Lwaxana, despite her pleasant and usually kind mien, had learned some serious truths about herself, and what she was capable of, in Universe Beta. She could easily have lost herself in the darkness and reveled in the power of it. T'Pel and Tuvok were her tether to the Truth of who she was and wanted to be. Lwaxana also knew subtlety. There was an art to it: ask the question that leads to the flicker of the thought and catch it. This portion of the process was where skills of the glorious and beautiful T'Pel became necessary. She had the ability to aggregate, to take the tiny details that Lwaxana pulled from surface and under-thoughts and make them meaningful. It was painless, therefore, to the prisoners. Tuvok adroitly asked the questions and noted the answers in his PADD, whether or not they were nonsensical. The prisoners could deny all they wanted, refuse to answer verbally; even believe that their nattering rhymes kept Lwaxana and T'Pel out. They still gave the Prime what they needed. An hour later and the prisoners were each settled on their bunks appearing somewhat lost and uncomprehending. They knew that something had happened, but what it was, they could not quite recall. However, they were equally convinced that they had held to their will and kept their secrets. Section 31 was safe. ==^== To Ezri, the dinner was proceeding with interminable slowness, and was, by far, too formal an occasion for real comfort. At the head table, the Lady Sirella, Mistress of the House Martok, reigned over the proceedings, taking especial care to make both her desires and displeasure known in equal measure. Right now the object of her displeasure seemed to be the very person whose betrothal was the purpose of the dinner, and Sirella was making a number of edged comments about the company the Trill was currently keeping. Ezri, who had been enjoying a muted conversation with Megan
Delaney, coloured at a particularly vicious insult, and moved her arm from the back of Megan's
chair to the table. She took a deep breath and was about to swallow
her anger for what felt like the millionth time that day, when she
saw the embarrassed flush on Megan's face. Fuck it. Megan and
Jennifer were good friends, and she was damned if Sirella was going
to get away with insulting either of them. In fact, she'd had
enough of the sniping and petty insults. Period. |