Book 4: Reflections

Part 2

Contact: the authors can be reached at bearblue1@yahoo.com or llachness@gmail.com

The truth was, the mates were more aware of being torn asunder than they were of how it was happening. The scream that burst from all of them was raw, primal and devastating. It seemed to float through the membrane of the Universes they traversed.

They did not know it could happen, but the shuttle had been close enough to be carried in the equivalent of a wake. A ripple of change flowed through the enveloping space surrounding Voyager and dragged the shuttle along, simultaneously spinning it out in a different direction.

Thus, Voyager arrived at one place and the shuttle at another.

Not that it mattered to those in the shuttle. By the time they arrived in the Delta quadrant of another Universe, they were barely conscious.

==^==

Voyager skidded to a halt, unknown Universes away, in an unknown system, in an unknown location. Those of the Prime who had been through the shock of separation before clung to consciousness, but were swamped by the pain of the loss. Those who had not were unconscious.

During that chaotic time, Commander Deanna Troi made decisions as best she could: on-the-fly. She felt the echo of their pain and knew how deep it ran, yet was able to shunt it away from herself, largely out of necessity. Survival commanded that she stay alert. She felt Asil's support and so leaned heavily on her mate's strength.

In relative terms it did not take long to figure out what had happened. The perpetrators had been stunned and were presently being carried to the brig. Figuring out exactly where they were in relation to their own universe was going to take more time.

The good news was that, while they had come out close to a star system, they had not actually come out within a star. Nor, apparently, was the system occupied. The bad news was that they did not appear to be in any known quadrant.

It would take Astrometrics hours to pin down, if possible, their current location. But they were not going to linger to find out. On the other hand, they knew exactly where their previous location had been.

Deanna Troi turned to Lieutenant Sayr. "Get us back." Then she tapped her communicator, "Voyager, please transfer the Prime according to Prime protocol alpha-three." The protocol had been established based on past experience. It had been one of the first things of which she'd been apprised. Now she understood why. She also knew now why Ezri Dax had had to be replaced as Voyager's First Officer. The top five officers in the chain of command could not all be insensate at once.

She watched as her parents were sparkled away and was surprised to find that it was a little easier to breathe. Deanna wasn't sure how her mother had coped with it, and suddenly she knew why Lwaxana had understood her pain; the elder Troi had lived through much worse.

Deanna tapped her communicator once more, "Commander Troi to Dr. Zimmerman, the Prime has been split."

There was a moment of horrified silence on the other end. Then the Doctor replied, "Acknowledged. Voyager and I will begin observation."

==^==

It took a half an hour before the Trans-Universal Engine was ready again. It seemed far too long. Data began arriving from Astrometrics. First indications seemed to be that they were actually in a completely different arm of the Galaxy, an arm far beyond which anyone had ever traversed. It would have been a historic moment, if it hadn't been so painful and unintended. They still weren't sure how many Universe variants they had hopped.

Voyager had yet to answer queries with her usual verve. Deanna understood that it must be very difficult for the living ship, but she was functioning and the First Officer did not have time to engage in counseling. What she did do was visit the brig once the prisoners were conscious.

She only asked them one question. "Did you do it on purpose?"

The reactions of the mercenaries were diverse. One claimed it had been deliberate, while the others claimed it was an accident. She knew the truth and she left without responding to their mewling questions about what would happen next.

She had to go back to the bridge, and though she knew there were those who were suffering on board, she firmly set aside her mental picture of herself as a counselor in a temporary command role, and accepted that she was a commander with a counseling background. The only way she could really help them was to get them home as soon as possible, and that required she command.

When it was time, Lieutenant Sayr signaled the First Officer.

Deanna, who had only had a sketchy introduction to the procedure, took a calming breath and did her best. "All hands prepare for transition in thirty seconds. Mr. Paris, on my mark bring us to warp one. Mr. Sayr, begin countdown as soon as we hit speed."

"Aye, ma'am."

The countdown was conducted and suddenly they were moving between universes again. This time, Deanna was conscious that there was more in the membrane between the universes than what she was seeing and used to experiencing. She could swear she heard singing.

It didn't last long and she was too upset to interpret things correctly. She was, however, completely grateful when they arrived in the Presban System. She knew they were successful, because there was immediate communication from both the Titan and the Orantho. "Where did you go?"

Her hopes of a full restitution of the Prime, however, were dashed. Deanna felt it before Dr. Zimmerman contacted her. "The Prime are still affected. I believe they are still split."

"Thank you, Doctor," Deanna had replied evenly. She knew then, that their journey was only beginning.

==^==

Kate knew she was considered gruff. She hadn't been deaf enough, even before the rejuvenation treatments, not to have heard herself described as acerbic and irascible in polite company, and as a bitch otherwise. It was a necessary demeanor, one she didn't regret in the slightest. But, oh how, she wished it were true. There was no way to curb the rending ache that tore through her mind. No way to pretend that the loss wasn't hers and that it didn't affect her.

They were gone.

She would find no physical release to tame or soothe the hurt this time, and knew only too well that she would rise again from the oblivion of alcohol, only to find the pain waiting.

They were gone.

And she was not.

Vaguely, she was aware of skin on hers and she moved into the comfort the touches promised. She was not alone.

〈〈We are here.〉〉

More aware, she was able to follow the thread that was Kathryn's, and then those of T'Pel, Tuvok, and Lwaxana. Ezri's was there, but indistinct, not as solid, and when she tried to hold it, the pain that roared back in her direction nearly overwhelmed her again, but the others reached back. 〈〈We are here.〉〉

"What happened?" Her lips were dry, and she tried to lick them. Someone, she wasn't sure who, held a straw for her.

"There was an accident. Voyager went one place, the shuttle Laren, Seven and B'Elanna were in went to another." Kathryn's voice was raw with pain, and Kate knew that it was taking a toll on her mate to be calm.

Kate burrowed deeper into them, and let her tears flow. They were there, and she was not alone.

==^==

Pain. So very much pain. Ezri, who knew the pain of deaths violent and natural, quick and slow, agonizing and merciful, knew only that none of it prepared her for the awful realization that she was still alive. She was torn asunder, and nothing would ever, could ever be right again. Struggling, she fought the return to consciousness; did not want to face the reality starkly written in her psyche. They were gone. And she was not.

A whisper of thought ghosted through her body and she fought to pull it into focus. Dax.

Without the agony ripping through her soul, she might have let out an astonished, "Oh." They were many made one, but Dax had never had a pure separate voice. Even now, it wasn't words or a tangible thread of meaning. It was an idea of an emotion. She reached for it.

Emina.

Suddenly, she was fighting for consciousness as desperately as she had been fighting it. Through the levels she became aware that she was not alone. Other bodies were pressed around her, she just couldn't hear or feel them; all awareness of them was buried by the overwhelming grief. "Lwaxana," she tried to force a thought with the words.

〈〈I am here. We are here.〉〉

Ezri cried out in denial. "They are not."

〈〈No. They are not.〉〉 Like the dead their names were not spoken, and she felt a horrible crash of guilt. The shuttle. She had gotten them killed. A fresh wave of pain rose to greet the one that already burned her soul.

This time it was Tuvok who touched her mind, and T'Pel who wrapped her body tightly. 〈〈It was not the shuttle. It was not you.〉〉 They opened to her then. The memories hinted at during the bonding spilled from all of them into her, and into Kate. It was agonizing anew, this remembered pain borne and lived through. It also carried hope: the promise of a return.

The same odd mental twinge tugged at her again, more strongly than before. Emina. Azan. Rebi. Mezoti. Icheb. She remembered now. "Lwaxana. The children."

"The children are with Samantha and Neelix."

Ezri shook her head. "Look." Words refused to form from the chaotic set of signals her mind was trying to process. Without thinking about it, she grabbed Tuvok, and thought with everything she had.

A flicker of understanding passed between them and Ezri passed out.

==^==

Tuvok made the logical decision even as his heart followed his mate into oblivion. He reached out with his hands, anchoring himself in T'Pel, as he gathered his thoughts. "Voyager, transport Emina, Azan, Rebi, Mezoti and Icheb to us." He paused. "And Barin."

"Acknowledged."

He forced himself upright. The children would need to see strength, even as they needed to see the reality of the loss. He did not need to look to see that Kathryn had also summoned the strength of will to stand. Lwaxana had fresh tears running down her face as she communed with the inbound children.

Icheb materialized on his knees, Emina screaming into his chest, while Barin clung to them, valiantly trying to soothe his sister. They were quickly enfolded into Lwaxana's warmth, and T'Pel placed her hand on the toddler's cheek. Azan and Rebi were standing, facing one another, identical looks of despair and confusion on both their faces. Tuvok, reached for both of them, seeing in the periphery, Mezoti caught up in a hug by Kathryn.

By mutual agreement they moved the children to the center of the Nest and gathered them in closely. Ezri, still unconscious, and Kate, more aware than the Trill, but still insensate, were brought with them. One by one, the mind of each child was touched. One by one the explanation given. One by one they were held and loved.

One by one they cried. Their link to Seven of Nine had been severed.

There was a ping from the navigation console, and then buttons began to blink. Seven of Nine fought her way up from near unconsciousness to stagger over and look at the navigational message, barely able to read it. The only word she really tracked was Voyager. She slapped an acknowledgment in an effort to get the horrible ringing tone out of her system. It didn't work.

The autopilot, which detected Voyager two point one light years from their current point, responded by setting a new course. The feature that their children had added for their Seus' convenience now served their other mothers.

Seven of Nine slid down onto the floor and had managed to bring herself into physical contact with both of her mates when she finally gave in to unconsciousness.

==^==

Despite all it had been through, the Federated Planets Starship, FSS Voyager, still maintained its original shine. True, there were a few scuff marks and scars aplenty on the Intrepid class ship, but that was to be expected; the vessel had been traveling for almost eight years through dangerous alien territory. The Delta quadrant was not a peaceful place.

From Captain Janeway's perspective, her crew exemplified what it meant to be Starfleet. They were bright, capable people who did their duty and continued to pursue life with gusto. They continued to uphold the precepts of the Federated Planets in the face of everything that had happened to them.

"Captain Janeway."

"Yes, Tuvok?"

"There's a blip on our sensors."

The Captain looked interested. "What kind of blip, Commander?"

"It is..." He paused, "…an unknown class of shuttle."

"Can you get me any more information?"

"The vessel is heavily shielded, but I will try."

Kathryn smiled ruefully as she stood to face him. They were all trying.

"I read three life forms. They do not appear to be moving." He made adjustments on his console then looked up, both of his brows raised. "Captain, these readings are singular. Perhaps you should come evaluate them also."

Deciphering that Tuvok was surprised by what he had seen, she lift a brow of her own in silent question. When he nodded, Kathryn walked to where he was standing. Then she did a double take. "Impossible."

==^==

The shuttle came to a full stop once it neared Voyager. There was no action on its part, no reaction to hails. "Tractor it to the docking bay," commanded Kathryn. "Tuvok, you have the conn."

Janeway contacted the Doctor on the way and debated whether to contact her Chief Engineer. Ultimately, she decided to wait, since she did not know what they might actually be encountering. The scans provided general details, which were provocative enough, but there had been anomalies in the data too.

She watched as the craft was brought in and docked by maintenance. Then she grabbed a tool designed to crack open doors and rapidly made her way to the vessel.

The Doctor joined her. "What is the emergency?"

"We have…guests and they're unconscious."

"Ah, well, why didn't you beam them directly to sickbay?"

"Because there is evidence that this ship has been in a fire fight and we wanted to make sure that other types of evidence were not disturbed."

"I see." His brow wrinkled in thought.

They stepped closer to the shuttle and there was a flash of light. Then a warning bleat. "Halt! This shuttle has engaged a first level safety protocol. Scanning."

Another light flashed over them, and there was another, unidentifiable, noise before the computerized voice spoke again. "Captain Kathryn Janeway, alterations indicated. Please identify yourself."

"I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager."

"Processing."

Kathryn looked at the Holodoctor. He shrugged, just as baffled as she was.

"Genetic variant detected. Password needed. Password choice: Question, Identify or Personal Detail. Choose one."

Kathryn took a chance. "Identify."

A small three-dimensional image flashed before them. The video displayed a ten second clip of an animal racing after a disc in flight. Kathryn's expression tightened, but she knew the answer. She did not know how the shuttle managed to have that particular clip. "Molly."

"Password accepted. Privacy settings have not been encoded. Captain Kathryn Janeway and Guest, you are permitted to enter."

The door of the shuttle opened and drifted to the floor like a clamshell. Captain Janeway ascended the ramp.

==^==

Nudity, per se, was not an issue in the twenty-third century, but that did not mean it wasn't a surprise to encounter it in unexpected places, and Kathryn Janeway was very surprised by what she saw. She didn't let that stop her. Though a part of her wanted to survey the ship, she was more concerned with the people in it and she raced over to the prone figures. The EMH followed quickly and began running a scan.

"Are they?"

"I know this sounds odd, and there are definite genetic differences, but, yes, Captain. This is Lt. B'Elanna Torres. This is Seven of Nine. This is Commander Ro Laren. Or at a version of them."

"They look so young."

"Captain, they are young. They all appear to be in young adulthood for their respective species."

The Captain reached and touched B'Elanna's cheek and brushed away the moisture. Then she knelt, observing that Seven of Nine's hands were on Laren and B'Elanna both. She looked up at the Klingon, whose fingers were entangled with Seven's.

And stranger still, they were unconscious, yet all of them were weeping.

==^==

Awakening was a painful experience. B'Elanna resisted it, knowing how much it was going to hurt before she was even conscious. Still she gasped awake, tears streaming down the sides of her face. The curses she spewed were a glorious mix of languages, including the Presba Tongue. She finally ended with, "Shit. Kathryn is going to kill us."

A familiar, smoky voice, responded. "Now why would I do that?"

The words came with the warmth of a hand familiarly shaped and placed on the Klingon's shoulder. For a moment, B'Elanna had hope.

And then, she realized the pain was still there. "Oh...Kahless."

B'Elanna didn't want to do it, but she opened her eyes anyway. There was Kathryn, as she used to be. She even wore the old Starfleet uniform. She was a handsome forty-something with medium length auburn hair and beautiful blue-grey eyes, which gazed down with bemused concern at B'Elanna.

The Klingon quivered in sorrow. One of the consequences of taking the trip through Maze had been the reward for succeeding. An energy field had covered them, literally transforming ship and crew to younger, healthier versions of themselves. Many of the crew looked like they'd just hit adulthood, including B'Elanna's mate Kathryn Janeway, and seeing the woman in front of her was like viewing a ghost. "Oh, I wish you were her."

She closed her eyes again, unable to stop the tears that flowed.

"Lieutenant..."

"I know. You want to comfort me. But you can't." The Klingon sat up, slowly. Then she swiveled as if she intended to jump off the bed.

Kathryn held her back gently. B'Elanna looked at the Captain. "I need to be near them. We need proximity. We're mates."

"Mates? Seven of Nine and Ro Laren are your mates?" She and the Doctor had pulled the records of the shuttle in order to try and determine what might have caused the loss of consciousness. It had been an eye opening experience, and she even now had lingering physical and emotional reactions to what she had seen. Some images she would hold in her heart for years to come. But Kathryn felt the need to test the information; to make sure what was witnessed was true.

B'Elanna looked at Kathryn. "They are. Seven and Laren are my mates. We are separated from our other mates. This severing is why we ache."

"Other…" Multiple partnerships were not unheard of, but it was unusual enough that Kathryn was having difficulty with the idea. "I don't understand."

"It was the Pon Farr."

Captain Janeway was honestly trying to keep up, to comprehend. She was always a quick study. So she brought up the one example most related to B'Elanna she could think of. "The one with Vorik?"

"No. Tuvok's."

Kathryn digested the new information and extrapolated from what she knew of the Pon Farr. "Tuvok is part of your mate group." As off-kilter as she felt, she also felt a flash of amusement thinking of her stalwart Vulcan friend with multiple wives.

"He is."

Confusion followed the amusement as her knowledge of the Pon Farr, and its consequences came fully to the fore. "But Tuvok, he handled that with..." She wasn't sure how much she should share, but if they were mates, then they must know. She completed her sentence in low tones. He was her friend and she respected his privacy. These circumstances, however, were unique, "...with a hologram."

B'Elanna stared at Kathryn, appalled. Then she shook her head, "Oh. Poor Tuvok, and oh, Kahless, T'Pel." Now that she understood more about Vulcans, she appreciated how awful that must really have been for them. Pon Farr was much more than just a physical and chemical drive. She grimaced, the memory acted as a trigger and her need washed over her. She ached for him, for them. "We went through an anomaly." She knew it was necessary to explain, but there was too much talk. B'Elanna forced herself to concentrate. "We are House Presba. We formed the House because the Zakeeri were attacking and it was the logical thing to do. The Zakeeri were clan-based. Kathryn thought..."

It was a motivation that Kathryn could understand. "You thought if they could see that you formed clans too, they'd be willing to talk." She put aside her sudden realization that she, or at least an alternate version of herself, was part of the mated group, and that there was a universe where she was bonded not just to Tuvok, but to Seven of Nine and Ro Laren.

"Yes."

It sounded exactly like a strategy that she would come up with. Kathryn scowled, and rapidly found herself believing the Klingon, even if it sounded outrageous. Perhaps specifically because it did sound so outrageous.

"When we hit the Anomaly the adults of the House gathered. It had forced Tuvok into early Pon Farr. He needed us and we needed him. We needed each other."

"And you were bonded."

"Yes."

"I see." Kathryn had so many questions, but could see that it was perhaps not a good time for them. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Guest quarters together. Soon." B'Elanna groaned and answered one of the captain's unspoken questions. "My Kathryn, she is going to be very upset."

"As upset as you are."

"Yes. It is painful for us to be separated this way. She'll come after us, when she can. But they'll need time with each other too."

"I think I understand." And the more information she gathered, the more that statement was true. Kathryn wished, in some ways, that she could have kept certain events in the shuttle private. She'd felt the need to bring in someone who might understand the physics of the phenomenon that had obviously catapulted the three into her universe, however, and she'd known that the expert she'd chosen would have cracked any blocks she might have used to filter the content. Then again, Seven of Nine could absolutely be trusted not to share what she had learned. "We pulled the records of the shuttle and Seven of Nine, our Seven, has been investigating what happened." She had not yet had a chance to consult with the ex-drone, but Kathryn anticipated it would be an interesting, if somewhat uncomfortable conversation.

B'Elanna's expression lightened a little and she glanced at Kathryn with some amusement. "I bet that shocked the hell out of you."

Kathryn inhaled before replying. "That's one way you could phrase it." She quashed her own reaction, and patted B'Elanna's shoulder. "It will be alright."

"She'll come get us." It was spoken with absolute faith. "But if we can get back sooner, it would be good."

"Never abandon a member of your crew," Captain Janeway said softly to herself. Then, more firmly, she said. "If we can find a way, we will. I'll make arrangements for temporary quarters. We don't have a lot of..." She remembered who she was speaking to. As youthful as the Klingon might look, and as different as some of her mannerisms might be, the DNA claimed this was B'Elanna. And, she was inclined to believe it.

"I know." B'Elanna appeared to be calming. "Thank you, Kathryn."

==^==

"Where's Doc Zimmerman?" B'Elanna moved off of the Bio-bed.

"Zimmerman?"

"Your EMH."

"The Doctor picked a name?"

"Yeah, but only after Dr. Pulaski made him." B'Elanna couldn't help the fond twist her mouth took as she recalled some of the arguments in sickbay that she had walked in on.

"Admiral Katherine Pulaski?"

B'Elanna sighed, every question she answered led to more, and she wasn't sure how much more energy she could spare. She wished that Seven were awake to help. "There was a spatial rift. Kate was on the way to the front when the Orion Syndicate decided to try out a new inter-universal transportation unit. The USS Steele and a Klingon ship were making a break for it, when we rescued 'em. Now she's head of the Medical Department and one of our mates." That her Kathryn had been married to Katherine Pulaski in another timeline, long after returning from the Delta quadrant, she left out.

Kathryn's eyebrows rose. "Wait. How many?"

"There are nine of us total."

"Nine. You're saying that there are nine of you?" Kathryn was astonished and shocked. "How does that work?"

B'Elanna made some manual adjustments and began moving her bed. "Kathryn, do you really want to know all of this now?"

"I… No. I suppose not. But it must be explained to me later."

"Agreed." The bed clicked together with Ro Laren's unit. Then B'Elanna went to examine Seven of Nine's bio-bed. "You have her on a regenerator? This...is good. It will help." The Klingon bent, took Seven of Nine's hand in her own and whispered something into her mate's ear.

Then she went back to Ro Laren's bed, unclamped the stationary controls and began pushing her bed and Ro's toward Seven. All without any apparent physical effort. The beds clicked together. Ro Laren instantly turned and clasped Seven of Nine to her.

"She...isn't awake."

"She knew. We always know where we are in relation to each other."

"So it's a telepathic bond."

"It's more like an empathic bond. But Tuvok and T'Pel are Vulcan. And Lwaxana is Betazoid. And then there was what the makers of the Maze did to us. It was...inevitable."

"I..." Kathryn realized she had no possible answer or comment to make to that. But she did have an immediate question. "Who is the ninth?"

"Ezri Dax." B'Elanna felt a tiny smile tug at her lips. "She's a Trill."

Kathryn had no idea who that was, though the name also sounded vaguely familiar. "How did you all get together?"

"It's a long story, Kathryn."

"Right. Right. Sorry."

B'Elanna hopped back on the bed and looked at Kathryn with a deep, dark vision. "You never did answer my question. Where is the Doc?"

"I asked him to give us a little privacy. I wanted to see if you were really..."

"We are. Just not of this universe."

"I gathered." Kathryn snorted in amusement.

"I'm glad to hear he's okay. He's one of the godparents of our children after all." B'Elanna closed her eyes and began to lie back down.

"Children?"

"Another long story, Kathryn." The Klingon rolled closer to her mates, clasping Ro Laren tightly to her, and reaching to touch Seven. The Bajoran appeared to be trying to blend herself into both Seven and the Half-Klingon.

"You...rest up. I'll take care of the rest."

"Thank you, Kathryn. I'm glad you found us."

"As am I."

==^==

They were awake. The alertness came upon the completion of Seven of Nine's regeneration cycle hours later. As soon as Seven's eyes opened, theirs did too.

The Doctor fussed around them, running his medical tricorder over them. "Hmm."

No one commented on his failure to communicate. They simply continued their process of helping each other from prone to standing. When he finally spoke, it was with concern. "Indications are that you are functional, but I'd prefer it if you took a few days to recuperate before trying to solve your…problem."

Seven turned a dark azure gaze upon him. "We will comply."

He noticed then that all of them were looking at him with that same pain filled intensity.

Truthfully, he hadn't expected them to say yes. Normally when he gave advice everyone tried race back to work. He finally cleared his throat. "Well, good. I have some news about the guest quarters, which I hope you won't take amiss, but we wanted to be sure that Seven of Nine had access to the regeneration alcoves. With the permission of our Seven of Nine, bunks have been set up in cargo bay two. Captain Janeway has given you permission, as you're able, to adjust your living circumstances since they are quite primitive at the moment." He looked apologetic. "Unfortunately, while you were unconscious, we were attacked and did not have time to…"

B'Elanna raised her hand. "You don't need to explain. I just can't believe we slept through an attack."

Now the Doctor looked somewhat sheepish. "I felt you needed the sleep. I spiked your punch, so to speak."

They looked at each other, and then said the most amazing thing. "You were probably right."

With that astonishing statement, they debarked from the bio-beds. They noticed that they had been given robes, and began helping each other into them. Then they shocked him again. "When would you like us to come back for check ups?"

His first thought, before he answered was, these people really are from another universe.

==^==

They stood in front of the alcoves, just looking at them. B'Elanna finally commented. "I cannot believe that we let you live like this for as long as we did." Her fingers caressed Seven of Nine's back.

Seven looked over at the bunks and then at her mates. "This is unacceptable."

"However," said Laren, "We probably shouldn't change anything until we've had a chance to coordinate with this Universe's Seven of Nine."

"Agreed."

B'Elanna tapped the communicator on her robe. "Lt. Commander B'Elanna Torres of the House Presba to Seven of Nine"

They were amused when Seven's badge chirped in response. They were even more amused when the other Seven of Nine's voice responded. Apparently the computer simply chose to split the difference. "I am here. How may I assist you Lieutenant Commander?"

"We are about to change around the cargo bay. Would you like to have some say in things?"

"Clarify?"

B'Elanna flashed a look at her mates. "How big do you want your room? And with how much soundproofing? I'm sure by now you realize my mates and I are not celibate."

There was a pause. "I will be right there. Seven out."

"You are a cruel, cruel woman, B'Elanna Torres." Laren shook her head in admiration.

==^==

By the time Seven of Nine arrived to join them, The Mistress of House Presba had commandeered the console and was quickly developing schematics. B'Elanna and Laren stood close by, observing with quiet intensity. They looked up when the other blonde arrived. Their Borg wife did not. However, being naturally polite, she did greet the other woman. "Seven of Nine, thank you for coming."

The other blonde slowed to a halt and finally stopped, dropping naturally into her at ease stance. "You wished to have my input?"

"Indeed. We are currently in the process of planning, would you join us?"

B'Elanna Torres moved until she was standing beside Laren, which allowed her to still be able to see the console, but also made room for the other Seven.

"So, tell me, Chesei, is there any chance of getting a bed like yours?" Laren casually asked, "Or at least like the one you made for Ezri?"

Seven raised her ocular implant and looked over at the stacked bunks. "It would be more efficient to create only one bed."

B'Elanna laughed. "That's what I love about you, Be'nal. Your incredible capacity for efficiency in the service of hedonism."

Seven merely smirked, and continued to input data in the console. In the reflection on the console, she became aware that her counterpart was looking at B'Elanna and Laren with a distinct air of curiosity. It was quite illuminating. Was that how she appeared when she had wanted to ask a question but was unsure as to the receptivity of the other party?

She weighed her options, and then signaled to her mates. "I require a moment with my counterpart, perhaps you could check the status of the shuttle since we will undoubtedly utilize it today? Fifteen minutes should be sufficient."

Both mates regarded her somewhat oddly, but nodded, B'Elanna doing the actual responding. "We will comply." Cheekily, she blew a kiss to the Borg and joined her hand with Laren's, tugging the taller Bajoran along with her.

The doors had slid shut behind her banished mates, Seven turned to back to the console. She worked steadily for several minutes, and waited for her counterpart's body language to relax. A minute after that, she stated, "You wish to ask me a question."

"Define the term chesei."

"It is a Bajoran affectionate designation meaning sweetheart." In her mind she felt she knew what the next line of query would be, and decided that she had an opportunity to direct the conversation. "My mates are fond of affectionate designations, and employ several. Some are used only among certain individuals, for example, B'Elanna Torres is the only one to whom I refer as Bang'wI."

"It seems inefficient."

"When Laren referred to me as chesei, everyone knew whom she was addressing. Had she referred to me by my correct designation the possibility for confusion existed."

"May I ask another personal question?"

"You may." There was a pause, and a familiar tilt of a head, and Seven smiled slightly. When the question was not immediately forthcoming, she continued as though it had, all the while making calculations and entering data. "You wish to ask about my relationship with B'Elanna Torres."

"That is correct. But I am unsure how to proceed."

Seven smiled softly to herself. "You are attracted to your B'Elanna Torres."

"Affirmative. But our relationship is antagonistic, whereas yours is romantic in nature. I wish to know how you achieved that state."

"It required much effort on my part."

The doors slid open, Laren and B'Elanna returning from their errand. B'Elanna smiled softly, "I looked at her one day, and knew. She was my whole world, my universe. I realized that I would know her anywhere, find her anywhere. I was hers." Her grin grew more full. "Resistance was futile."

Seven met her gaze warmly, but remained silent, knowing that B'Elanna would become embarrassed if she responded verbally. Instead she used their bond to embrace her mate, and fingered, "I love you, Bang'wI."

"Have you taken the Oath?"

"We have." Seven was pleased, the brief absence of her mates had allowed her counterpart to become comfortable in her presence and she was now conversing adequately. "Is this an acceptable design?"

Her counterpart took a moment to study the design, and lifted her ocular implant momentarily, then nodded. "Affirmative. That is why your designation includes House Presba?"

No one seemed disturbed by the multiple thread switches in the conversation.

"It is. I am the Mistress of the House."

"Explain."

B'Elanna noticed Seven's discrete request for her to answer so she did. "I am the Epatai of House Presba. Seven of Nine is the Mistress of House Presba."

"And Ro Laren?"

"I'm a sex slave."

"Laren," there was just a hint of reproach in Seven's voice, "…is our beloved Mate."

"You are involved in a plural marriage, are you not?"

"That is correct. We have other mates who are not here."

Laren thought she understood what her mate was up to, so she continued her teasing comments. "The lovely Lady Seven has been most efficient in assimilating Voyager's senior staff."

B'Elanna laughed.

Seven created a three-dimensional image, and moved so that her counterpart could see it more clearly. "I was merely efficient in my dating protocols."

"You can accomplish that design?"

The Mistress of the House Presba raised her brow and said, "You would be very surprised at what I can do."

==^==

The problem with cargo bays and other large storage areas was that such places easily fell into disorder. The area immediately surrounding the Borg alcoves and the small workspace next to them was, as always, pristine, but this did not mean that the rest of the area was. Whenever Seven of Nine did try to organize the space she was often chastised for the effort by maintenance, engineering and whomever else thought it was their business. It was, however, never the Captain. Captain Janeway had other things to think about than the cargo bay. Seven had learned to adapt.

The Seven from the other Universe, on the other hand, did not care if she was going to be chastised or not. It was inefficient to wait. And thus, she, her mates and her counterpart, began the process of setting the cargo bay into a new, more efficient pattern, one that included two decks, both for their personal quarters and for the compartments and components that would be utilized in the cargo bay for organizational purposes.

"I do not know if Captain Janeway will appreciate your methodology."

"What Kathryn does not know will not hurt her," said Laren.

"Besides, she told us we could set it up how we desired. It's not the method, it's the result." B'Elanna waved a spanner in the air.

Laren noticed the other woman was staring at B'Elanna at that moment as if she had grown two heads. "Given the way she's looking at you, I'm guessing we should expect a visit from the Chief Engineer at some point."

"It is certain. B'Elanna Torres has strong opinions in matters of ship construction." Seven of Nine paused. "And in the order of approval versus implementation."

"I just bet," laughed the Klingon, not surprised in the least that she would have that in common with her counterpart, or that this Seven of Nine's humour would be as dry as her wife's. "Well, if she bothers you about this, you send her my way. We'll get that issue solved real quick." Then she spoke in Klingon, "Do not tell others what cannot be done while they are doing it." She grinned and spoke in standard again. "It's an old Klingon saying."

The work continued apace. When some of the crew wandered in, obviously taking the chance that a certain Borg beauty would be regenerating, a Bajoran took their intrusion quite personally. Laren confronted them.

"Exactly what purpose brings you here?" Aside from the unfriendly body language, the growl that accompanied that question was enough to set anyone's hair on end. It also forced an answer from the surprised visitors. Those individuals that indicated that they had previously had nothing better to do except to stand around and Borg-gaze, were roped into the habitat building and cargo bay renovation.

Seven of Nine, who was used to hiding her innate strength from her crew mates so as not to intimidate others, gave up the effort as futile when she observed that the other women deemed it irrelevant as to whether other people were aware that they could lift things that were incredibly heavy.

In the end, and in an unexpectedly short period of time given the extensiveness of the procedure, the cargo bay was partitioned in such a way as to be habitable, enjoyable, and useful. Even those who at first had participated unwillingly were proud of the accomplishment.

==^==

The trio followed Seven of Nine to the mess hall, lingering a step behind to converse, and also because this was her ship. So when the doors slid open, they were not immediately visible to the other occupants, and Seven was able to clearly discern the responses her counterpart's arrival provoked. B'Elanna felt the change in her mate immediately, and realized exactly what had happened. Her own Presban-enhanced, Klingon hearing allowed her to catch a couple of the comments before the entire room fell silent as they came into view.

Laren, her hearing not as acute as that of her mates, needed only her intellect and her time spent among the denizens of the lower decks to know what had just happened. The hurt radiating from her mate had to be nothing compared to what this universe's Seven of Nine was enduring. Striding forward, she came abreast of Seven of Nine, and placed her hand on the small of the blonde's back. "Where would you like to sit?"

"I do not require a nutritional supplement at this time."

Laren smiled, "That is not what I asked. How about we sit over here." In Presban, she addressed her mates. "My beloveds, if you would be so kind?"

Seven exchanged a glance with B'Elanna, and raised her eyebrow.

B'Elanna sighed heavily, and slid her arm around her mate's waist. "You know. I think she's even more isolated than you were." Together they walked to the kitchen service window, continuing to converse in Presban, since Laren obviously had chosen it over finger speak for a reason. She looked down at the offerings, and tried to block the unappetizing smell. "I miss Icheb."

Seven smiled. "You miss his cooking." Her smile faltered as the conversational buzz increased again, and a new round of jokes and innuendo was directed at her counterpart, and that now included them. "This is unacceptable." She clenched her fist.

"You know what, Be'nal? If you can't beat them, join 'em." B'Elanna spun Seven toward her and drew her mate's head down so that their lips met. She held nothing back, nibbling, licking and teasing the soft, succulent flesh, allowing their tongues to meet and play. B'Elanna let the kiss taper off, her breathing somewhat ragged, and guided Seven to where Laren waited with Seven of Nine. She took the seat next to the Bajoran and forcefully pulled the blonde onto her lap, kissing her again hungrily. With her free hand she pulled Laren to them and included her in the embrace, all three of them pressing into the exchange of velvety kisses. When B'Elanna judged there had been a sufficient period of silence, she pulled back, but did not completely disengage from the contact.

Across the table from them, Seven of Nine's eyes were wide, her skin slightly flushed, and the Klingon winked at her, before turning her head in the general direction of the rest of the mess hall. "Now I believe you have something to talk about." Then she growled.

==^==

The Doctor, who had heard a rumor of a great deal of activity happening in the cargo bay made his way there. He entered the facility to find that it had been completely renovated.

Where there had been chaos, there was now order. Walls, walkways, and well-organized bins had also been added, while the console had been removed from its previous location and relocated closer to the entrance. He spotted the living space quickly because there was the recognizably familiar quarter's doorway and there were walls which rose from floor to ceiling. The alcoves were no longer open to public view.

He approved.

But, at the same time, he had a word or two he wanted to say to those who were supposed to be resting.

==^==

Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres woke from what had been a fairly restorative sleep to find that a great deal of power had been re-routed to Cargo Bay 2, and that the ship's energy stores had taken a large hit.

"God damn it. How many times do I have to tell you to ask first?" Her unintentionally loud snarl woke Miral, and she took a deep breath to calm herself before picking her daughter up from her crib.

"Hey, joq'wI" She kissed the tiny forehead ridges and watched as her daughter blinked the sleep from her eyes. "Let's get you some food, before I take you to Neelix."

She had the routine down pat. In short order, Miral was fed, bathed, dressed for the day and they were on their way to the mess hall.

The doors parted, and she was immediately aware that the room was unaccountably quiet. A quick survey gave her both the likely reason and a near coronary.

B'Elanna didn't know whether to shield her daughter's eyes, or rub her own in disbelief at the sight of her counterpart providing seating for, and hand feeding a very content looking version of Seven of Nine.

"Hello, little one." Neelix greeted her daughter, and B'Elanna gave her to the Talaxian, her eyes still locked on the show.

And it was a hell of show. She swallowed, and decided not to let the presence of the alternate Universe women deter her, stalking over to their table. She had no difficulty identifying which of the blonde ex-drones to address. B'Elanna picked the one not ensconced on a Klingon lap. "What have I told you about re-routing power without proper authorization?"

"On one thousand and fifty-nine occasions you have indicated that it is not acceptable." Seven of Nine's tone was chilled, her back a fraction stiffer than it had been.

"Then why the hell do you still do it?"

Seven of Nine had thought that would have been obvious. The reason rarely changed. "Because you are in error."

"Listen you arrogant Borg…" She stopped mid-invective. Her alternate universe counterpart and companions were laughing. "What in Kahless' name are you laughing at?"

"You two." The more youthful version of herself answered. "Shall we Be'nal?" After a small pause, and a seemingly unspoken communication, she spoke again, loudly. "This ship is not your personal playground. If you want resources, then god damn well put a request in through proper channels!"

"Inefficient."

"I don't give a damn about what you think is efficient. You can't just go around taking what you want. Oh, wait. That's exactly what you do, and it has to stop."

"The Captain authorized the expenditure."

Both women were standing now, facing each other, and Torres had no idea what to say, it was like she had fallen into a bizarre dream or weird alternate reality. Which, she realized, was pretty much what had happened, only it had happened to them, not her. It didn't change how utterly surreal the whole thing was. She looked over at her Seven of Nine, and wasn't the slightest bit surprised to see the ocular implant had nearly disappeared into the blonde's hairline.

A set of insults were exchanged in Klingon and in a language the translator was unable to decipher, so she didn't get the exact meaning of all the words, but the tone clearly conveyed that they were superlative insults.

The next thing Torres knew, her counterpart and Seven of Nine's were smiling; the Klingon more fully than the Borg. But it was unmistakably a smile gracing the blonde's lips, and it took her from beautiful to stunning. She wondered what this ship's Seven of Nine would look like if she smiled.

"Was it good for you, Be'nal?"

"Most invigorating, Bang'wI. Perhaps we should retire to our quarters and continue the discussion there?"

Without a further word, they turned and left the mess hall.

B'Elanna watched them leave, and then turned back to the table. "What the hell just happened?"

The Bajoran, who had stifled her own laugher with great difficulty, looked between the two women, trying her best to give them a look that was both knowing and meaningful. "Foreplay." Then Laren got up and followed her mates from the hall, aware that she had left some very pensive women in her wake.

==^==

"Captain Janeway to Lt. Commander Ro Laren."

Two strides from the turbo-lift, she stopped and hit the communicator on her jacket lapel. "Ro Laren here, Captain."

"Would you report to my ready room, please?"

"On my way." The device chirped and the channel shut down. Laren entered the lift, trying to puzzle out the tone and words, which had both been mild, and somewhat non-informative. A combination that spelled trouble with her Kathryn, but one which she had no data for here. "Deck one."

Exiting the turbo-lift on the bridge, she faltered in her stride. Tuvok met her gaze and nodded, and she nodded back, taking unexpected solace from his silent acknowledgment. Another half-step and she stopped altogether.

Her counterpart sat in the Captain's chair wearing command red, three solid pips affixed to her collar, long brunette hair hanging around her shoulders. "Commander." She said the greeting and felt ridiculous, unable suddenly to fathom how both Seven and B'Elanna had managed to deal with alternate versions of themselves without apparent difficulty.

A small smile, and a bob of a head communicated that her counterpart found it just as awkward, and not a little amusing. "Lt. Commander. The Captain is expecting you, go on in."

"Thank you." She turned toward the ready room, and got another shock. Lt. Stadi, who had died in the initial incident with the Kazon, was sitting at the helm. Laren decided the first thing she was going to do when she got back to the cargo bay was to check the crew roster.

The door opened and she stepped inside, taking instinctive note of the similarities and differences. "Captain." In front of the desk, she stood at ease, hands behind her back.

"You are the ranking officer among your companions, are you not?"

Laren thought about that, and decided, somewhat gratefully, that no, she wasn't. "No, Captain. Lt. Commander Torres is the senior officer." She played a hunch that this Kathryn was as resistant to being called sir or ma'am as hers.

Janeway stood, and then moved to the replicator. "Coffee, black. Anything for you?"

"A Bajoran ginger tea, please."

Her tea was handed to her and she took the seat she was directed to. "Thank you."

"You might not be the senior officer, but since I have you here, I'm going to gamble that you, like my First Officer, are a reasonable, even-tempered woman."

Laren grinned. "I can be."

Janeway produced her familiar half-smile, and Laren felt her heart clench even though she knew, on many levels, that this was not her mate, not her Kathryn.

"I'm not completely sure what the standards of behaviour are on your Voyager, but on this one, what happened in the mess hall this morning is unacceptable."

Laren felt her even-temper slide to rough. "So caring, loving, respectful behaviour between individuals is not allowed, but referring to a fellow crew member as a fuckcicle is? " She leaned forward, "If you don't mind the impartial observation, that's beyond screwed up."

Janeway blanched, and then the command mask slammed back into place. "You will keep any overtly sexual behavior to private spaces, is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain." Laren took a long drink of her tea. "Did you know that eight crew members made it a point to enter Cargo Bay 2 during the night specifically to observe Seven of Nine? They made a most…opportune workforce."

The only immediate response was a darkening to grey of Janeway's normally blue eyes, followed by a long sip of coffee.

Perhaps this universe's Kathryn Janeway wasn't so different from her own after all. She recognized the pensive look and the flash of guilt, and Laren settled back, fully prepared to listen to whatever came next.

==^==

Despite appearances in the mess hall and the deliberately provocative behaviour, their exit did not immediately lead to passionate lovemaking. The desire was, as always, an ever present undercurrent, but also present was the painful awareness that they were incomplete.

The doors to their new quarters parted, and they took the lift to right, touching lightly, each locked into thoughts of their own. Together they disrobed, and then crawled onto the large bed. While it was neither as luxurious as Ezri's, nor as large and decadent as Seven's, it was still a wonder.

They lay wrapped together, idly stroking each other, soothing as yet unspoken hurts, and healing wounds old and new.

"What happened in the mess hall, it's like what happened the night Tom punched the marine isn't it?" B'Elanna knew the rough details of the altercation, and felt that it was something they needed to talk about directly.

Seven considered her response. "It was similar." She tried a distraction technique. "Your solution was more efficient than that of Tom Paris."

B'Elanna propped herself up on both elbows, and looked directly into Seven's eyes. "I am so sorry. I know a lot of it was my fault." A mesh tipped finger touched her lips and stilled her speech.

"It is in the past."

"But it was still wrong, and I'm sorry."

Seven gazed at her mate, able to feel B'Elanna's sorrow and guilt, surprised to feel an unquantifiable lightening in her mind, along with a constriction in her throat. The first, she put aside for later; the second she let run its course, burying herself against B'Elanna, and for the first-time in her adult life cried for her own pain.

==^==

It had been an astonishing couple of days, full of revelations that were, as of yet, incomplete, but which nonetheless affected her greatly. Maybe that was why she did what she did next, or maybe it was the familiar shades of who was sitting in front of her. Regardless, Kathryn didn't stop to think about it, and she just pushed on, letting the words spill out. "There's no home to go back to. No Federated Planets, no Klingon Empire, no Romulan Oligarchy. Nothing. It's all been obliterated by Dominion forces."

Laren swallowed her own reaction. "You haven't told them have you?"

The Bajoran's words were even, the tone non-judgmental, and she fully understood why the other Janeway had married her. That she had married Seven of Nine also made perfect, though painful, sense. The others much less so, at least from her current perspective. But Kathryn doubted that the other Janeway felt the need to hide things from her spouses, even if they were a large part of her senior staff. "No."

"Your Seven of Nine knows though, doesn't she?" Laren made a guess, based partly on intuition and partly on her understanding of procedure.

Kathryn exhaled sharply, the sound almost, but not quite, a laugh. "She decrypted the final message from the Pathfinder project." Janeway took a gulp of her coffee, surprised that it had gotten cold. She changed the subject. "If you're not the senior officer, what do you do?" The woman was not in uniform, and it occurred to the Captain that perhaps the Bajoran was a counselor in the alternate universe, an occupation that would put an immediate end to this conversation.

When the other woman raised her eyes, her nose ridges lifted at the same time, and Janeway realized that this Ro Laren was also much less reserved, and much more animated than her counterpart.

"I'm Commodore Janeway's adjutant." Laren smiled. "Which is a fancier way of saying I'm Captain Janeway's lead administrative assistant."

"Lead assistant?"

Laren allowed the change in topic, seeing an opportunity to plant some seeds of her own. B'Elanna shouldn't be the only one having fun.

==^==

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, and currently exploring humanity as the Astrometrics Officer aboard the FSS Voyager, proceeded, with precision, to navigate from the mess hall to the cargo bay.

Despite her apparent precision and orderly progression, her internal state was neither orderly nor precise.

Much new data had been presented to her and she needed to process the information and conduct research into the relevant topics.

In particular, she very much desired to comprehend why Ro Laren had designated the verbal confrontation between her mates as foreplay, and why, in turn, Lt. B'Elanna Torres' body temperature had elevated by one point three degrees Celsius, while her heart rate had increased by two hundred and eleven percent.

She also wanted to know what the Epatai and Mistress of House Presba had found so humourous.

Perhaps she would be able to inquire of Lady Seven directly. Her counterpart had indicated a willingness to answer her questions, and though she could tell they were very different individuals, she was also aware that they communicated with each other efficiently and directly.

It was pleasant to converse with Lady Seven. Philosophical discussions with her counterpart would not be irrelevant.

Arriving at her destination she entered first the cargo bay, and then the interior doors to her private quarters. Unsure of what to do in the unfamiliar setting, she stepped onto the lift that was to her left, and rode it to the next level where her rooms were located.

On the way up, she looked down through the grill-like grating of the lift and could see the alcoves that were tucked away in the common area of the first floor. Two had been rendered functional, and she wondered if, when they regenerated simultaneously, there would be a link between their neural transceivers, or if the technology would be function in an unexpected manner due to its origins.

She mentally added it to her task list, and crossed to her new desk. A chair was tucked discretely to the side, in the event of a guest, but the console had been laid out and designed to be worked at in a standing position.

Seven paused in mid-entry. The acknowledgment that she preferred to stand was what she knew was referred to as a considerate gesture. She reflected back over the last twelve hours and made note of the instances of consideration she had received from the trio of displaced officers.

Putting aside her personal queries for later, she accessed the Borg database on dimensional mechanics.

Consideration was not irrelevant.

==^==

Laren paused at the door to their bedroom, then leaned against the frame, eyes and ears drinking in the sight and sounds within the room. Through their bond she could feel the wash of passion. It wrapped around her with its warmth, including her, but not pulling her in with them.

This moment was theirs and she was their witness.

As though they had been awaiting her arrival, Seven rose from B'Elanna's arms, her paler thighs straddling the Klingon's duskier ones.

Seven felt B'Elanna's hands move her waist, encircling her with their rough heat, guiding her motion. She rose with their urging, and fell with her own, setting a slow, rhythmic pace, that brought them deeply into one another.

She tilted her head back, felt her hair fall over her shoulders and brush the edges of the implant that still wound its way around her torso, pressing into and onto B'Elanna as she arched. Her feet were parallel to her mate's legs and she reached back, grabbing her own ankles for leverage, needing to be fully possessed even as she fully claimed her lover. "jIH dok."

B'Elanna lifted her hips from the bed, translating her mass into momentum as she tried to drive them together; tried to make true of the flesh what was true of the mind and soul. Seven's finger's left their impassioned circling of her breasts, but left behind the touch of her mind, and she rose even higher from the bed as Seven arced her back and pulled them both toward perfection. "maj dok."

They moved in opposite directions, but still in tandem and slammed back against each other, both breathing the words as exhalations of pleasure. "Tlinghan jiH."

Still moving together, they shifted suddenly, Seven pulling B'Elanna upright, their mouths meeting for a long electric instant before lips became cheeks. Teeth flashed and flesh parted, warmth and life spilling into and out of them as they crested, howling, pulling Laren along, commanding her to follow, to see, to feel.

The fire within them ignited.

They burned.

==^==

Deciding it was high time to see what had been wrought in the cargo bay during her off-duty cycle, Lt. B'Elanna Torres, gamma-Voyager's Chief Engineer stepped through the automatically triggered doors and stopped in astonishment.

Astonished enough she forgot to be angry, and had to settle for impressed.

And, if she were pressed, on pain of death, she would admit to a certain amount of relief that the alcoves were no longer open to public view.

The ex-drone's near death had made her aware that many crew members spent an inappropriate period of time in the cargo bay during the blonde's regeneration cycle. Unfortunately, that same near death experience had also stripped the Borg of the presence of the one individual whose clandestine nocturnal visits to the cargo bay acted as a deterrent to the less scrupulous.

B'Elanna sometimes wondered if Seven regretted the cost. One of their few civil conversations had been about death, and she knew that the Borg had not wanted to die, but she had admired the grace with which Seven had faced the possibility.

She'd never told the woman that she had heard the argument with Janeway, and had heard the promise to take her home. After that she had expected that Janeway would finally do what everyone had assumed would happen almost since the day Seven had arrived. She hadn't.

Instead, the life Janeway had taken to save Seven's had come between them, and they no longer interacted socially at all. Not that she had thought that bothered the ice queen in the slightest. Love was an emotion. An irrelevant emotion according to Seven of Nine. One she hadn't had the slightest doubt that the drone was incapable of feeling. Until this morning.

Watching the alternate universe versions of herself, Ro Laren and the Borg interact in the mess hall, not to mention the wild stories about what had happened before she arrived, put a dent in her theory. Assimilated was assimilated. And no matter how confusing the end of the encounter had been, the scene she'd walked in on made it blatantly obvious. The AU version of Seven of Nine was loved, and loved deeply in return.

"Lt. B'Elanna Torres, how may I be of assistance?"

"God damn it, Seven! Don't sneak up on people like that."

"I will comply."

B'Elanna looked at her suspiciously, trying to decide if this was her Seven or the other one. "You do that. Where are you going in such a hurry, anyway? I'd have thought you'd be decorating or something."

"I am required to be elsewhere."

Before B'Elanna could rib the ex-drone about her lack of precision, it became obvious why Seven of Nine felt the need to be elsewhere.

It also became apparent why the crewmen on deck 9, section 12 complained about noise. B'Elanna could feel her cheeks redden, even though she knew it wasn't her.

She looked at blonde, who raised her ocular implant. "Your counterpart appears to have superior lung capacity."

There was another long drawn-out moan, accompanied by a sharp demand, or what she supposed would have been a demand if it had been translatable.

B'Elanna folded her arms over her chest. "Yeah, well, yours ain't no slouch in the decibel department either."

"I believe that is an accurate observation."

They stood together for a minute, in fascinated thrall.

"Lt. B'Elanna Torres?"

"I swear, Seven, if you ask me if you can ask a personal question right now, I'm going to fire your Borg ass out of the nearest airlock."

"I was not."

B'Elanna sighed. "What do you want, Seven?"

"I was merely going to suggest that now might be an appropriate time to engage in an alternate activity. Elsewhere."

B'Elanna looked over at Seven again. Was she blushing? She shook her head to clear the thoughts playing havoc with her imagination. "That's the first thing I've heard you say all day that made sense." Jerking thumb in the direction of the door, she said, "C'mon, I'll buy you nutritional supplement pi theta four."

"That would be acceptable."

They turned for the door and exited one after another. B'Elanna tapped her communicator. "Computer, place a level four privacy seal on Cargo Bay 2, authorization Torres omega eta three." Noticing the odd look the Borg was giving her, she waved her hand at the door. "Can't have Naomi wandering in there looking for a game of kadis kot."

Seven looked at the Klingon, and raised her implant. She had not been aware that B'Elanna Torres knew of Naomi's visits.

"After you."

"Indeed."

==^==

It was fortunate that the Doctor had indicated the necessity for rest, as it meant no one noted their absence. The mating fire which claimed them roared through them at its normal pace. They were able to satiate its burn enough to enter the common area, dressed in robes, so that they could eat and refresh themselves. On the dining table they found a precisely and carefully worded note requesting that their quarters be improved with more soundproofing. It was already pre-authorized by the engineer.

"I thought we installed your decibel suppressor?" B'Elanna looked up from the note in confusion. She was positive she'd built one.

"We did. We failed to turn it on."

Laren had to laugh, "Oh Prophets. Poor Seven of Nine. We're going to have to do something special for her."

"We shall," agreed Seven. "We will help her acclimate. She is still ingesting supplements when she should be enjoying her meals."

"Well, I can't say I blame her. They're still, ah, not quite cooking things well around here."

"Have we accumulated sufficient replicator rations to prepare a meal?" Seven checked with Laren, who had an incredible knack of tracking such essentials.

"Yes, and I also cheated a little. I've replicated each of our preferred uniforms from the replicator in Kate's shuttle. That way we can wear our uniforms and not draw on Voyager's supplies too much."

"I take it you don't feel like blending in?"

"After the mess hall incident? No." B'Elanna turned to Seven, her tone gentle, but firm. "I don't want you going back to those bio-suits."

"I will not." In truth, she had not intended to, but she knew B'Elanna was merely expressing a concern disguised as an order. It was an easy enough one to obey. Seven paused, as if adding a new thing to her mental to do list. "But I will also make some adaptations to the replicator, if you do not mind, my mate."

"Be my guest, Be'nal. This isn't my ship."

Laren shook her head. "You're terrible."

"I know."

"But, building on that thought, I do have something that needs to be discussed." Laren interjected.

"During dinner perhaps? I'm starving." B'Elanna looked about. "Oh, and I suppose we ought to contact Seven of Nine and let her know she can come back. We'll put the suppressor on this time."

"Agreed."

==^==

They sat around the table, which was set for four in case Seven of Nine chose to join them, and enjoyed their meal. They went with Italian, with a communal salad bowl, spaghetti bowl, carafes of compatible drinks and a large bread basket from which to draw. The dessert was in an opaque, square stasis-container. Clever use of rations and alternation between replicator libraries had produced everything they needed.

Then, speaking in Presban, Laren brought up the realities of this particular Universe.

"Completely destroyed?"

"They utilized biogenetic warfare on top of their usual methods. They wiped out the quadrants. There is nothing to go home to and whole sectors are completely poisoned, possibly for centuries."

"Kahless."

"Captain Janeway hasn't told anyone. But Seven of Nine knows."

"It would be a heavy burden."

"It has been." Laren paused. Then she said, "We had an interesting discussion. Janeway has authorized me to build her a team."

B'Elanna grinned. "What would she do without you?"

"Well, in this universe, she would have been dead many times over. Apparently my alternate was in command of the Maquis ship. Chakotay died during that first battle with the Kazon, as did Seska."

"Well, thank god for small favors."

Seven of Nine looked at the Klingon. B'Elanna, unrepentant, painted her bread with butter. "What? I was talking about Seska. She was nothing but trouble."

"I thought you were her friend."

"When she was Bajoran, I was."

The Borg managed not to roll her eyes. "I love you, my mate, but your ability to carry two conflicting beliefs about the same person continues to astound me."

The Klingon set her bread down and leaned over and kissed Seven. She pulled back and said, "It's just part of my charm, Be'nal."

That was when Seven of Nine re-entered their quarters.

==^==

"Would you care to join us?" Laren stood up and indicated the place setting. The Borg glanced at the women, who were sharing their meal and understood the offer.

"I regret to say that I have already had my nutritional intake for the day." Despite her words, Seven of Nine did not appear particularly regretful.

Laren smiled then, "Well, come join us for some talk and maybe a little dessert."

"I will comply."

Laren held the extra seat out for Seven of Nine and then took her own. Then, she said, "We talked about several things while you were away."

The Borg woman sat somewhat stiffly, but there was still a spark that they all recognized as humor in her expression. "I do not believe what you were doing was entirely composed of talking."

B'Elanna laughed outright. "Ha!" Then she grinned. "Well, that would be true and we got your note. We'll take care of it before we continue later."

"You are not finished?" Seven of Nine was obviously appalled.

Seven answered, "You will not have to exit the premises again. But no, the mating fire still burns us. We are merely taking a break."

"The mating fire?"

"It is a physical and psychic compulsion that is a result of the bond."

"Explain."

Seven did so, providing practical details, without being overly prurient, to the fascinated Borg. But it did lead to more questions, which led to more answers. Before long, Seven of Nine knew of the story of the Maze of Mines.

"It explains the divergences. We never traversed that sector. Our journey took us in a different direction." Seven paused, and then opted to choose a different topic. "Captain Janeway authorized access to your shuttle's records. I witnessed certain conversations and your copulation."

"We were aware."

The Borg woman let some of the tension in her body ebb away. "There was mention of children. B'Elanna Torres has a child, but only one."

Seven nodded. "Our children are a diverse group. My children are liberated Borg like ourselves. They originate from several species. I adopted them before the bonding. Also, my mate Lwaxana's son is part of our immediate family unit. The other children of our mates are adults."

"You miss them."

"Very much."

"I would like to know more."

B'Elanna shot a glance at her Seven and smiled softly, "Well, now we know Mezoti comes by it honestly."

==^==

The conversation continued and took several turns. "We would like to, at another time, discuss the possibility of borrowing on your expertise. We have a way to get back, which needs approval from Captain Janeway, but we already know it is an effective method." Seven asked her counterpart.

Seven of Nine's ocular implant rose. "I am currently investigating Borg data and related theories on dimensional mechanics. Have you advanced theory into practice?"

Laren answered. "Yes. Our Voyager has a Trans-Universal Engine."

"Intriguing. Do you wish to adapt your shuttle?"

"We did. But now we wish to equip Voyager with a TUE."

Now they unequivocally had Seven of Nine's complete attention. She looked at them very intensely, then relaxed yet another notch. "You know."

==^==

They spent some time discussing the situation and the options that were originally available. "I comprehend her reasons. Events have not conspired for an appropriate time to make the announcement. The crew, however, are aware that a significant amount of time has passed since the last Pathfinder message was received." She paused "I believe that Commander Ro Laren suspects, but I can not confirm it."

"Do you think Janeway would be open to the idea?"

Seven of Nine looked inward for a moment and asked, "You believe it will succeed?"

"Even if it doesn't, our Kathryn will find us." Laren assured.

The Borg considered, and then her expression lightened. "I will help you compose the presentation."

"Excellent."

"Now that we have reached an agreement," Laren said, smiling. "I want you to try something." The Bajoran lifted the lid off of the dessert platter.

"Brownies. I have seen these. They are avoided in the mess hall."

"That is because they are not being cooked correctly. This, however, is Gretchen Janeway's recipe and we plan to offer them as a bribe to Captain Janeway." Laren grinned as she lifted one free and then handed it to the doubtful Borg. "Try one."

B'Elanna and Seven took the opportunity to snag one for themselves. They bit into their treats as one and hummed appreciatively. The Klingon said, seconds later, "Well, if she won't take them, I will."

"You will not eat the full platter by yourself, Epatai Torres."

"Well, I did plan on sharing."

Seven of Nine did not point out the illogic of Seven's statement. The platter would no longer be full at that point. She did, however, look at the brownie and decide that it would be rude to fail to at least take a bite.

She directed the brownie to her mouth and Laren said, "Not a nibble. A bite."

"As you wish."

She did as directed, taking a good sized bite, then paused and chewed and chewed some more. Seven of Nine looked at them in amazement. Then she said, "We will use these during the presentation."

==^==

Afterward, they parted ways and, as promised, they made sure that the suppressor was set and switched on. But even so, because Seven of Nine was aware that they were engaged in non-reproductive sexual activity, her thoughts were somewhat disturbed. Her perfect memory would contain certain images from the shuttle forever.

She knew that she felt stimulated, and also knew that there were options available. She even, for the first time, had the privacy necessary to experiment, if she cared to.

And she realized that she did.

There had been a time when she had been exploring romantic and sexual interaction in others, though not necessarily with others. She had been at a point of being open to the possibility, but circumstances did not lend themselves well to the option. The adventurous choice of research topic partially had to do with understanding B'Elanna Torres' surprising selection of dating partner and the other, as per usual, was about trying to understand the social underpinnings of her current collective.

Eventually, she determined that such interactions seemed to be superfluous, at least as far as she was concerned. No one had evidenced more than hostility. Except for two. He had died, and she was unavailable.

But, now she understood that her counterpart did not believe such interactions to be irrelevant. In fact, she deemed them most important.

Seven of Nine looked at the bed that had been provided for her by her roommates and realized that it was quite beyond design specifications. She was aware that it was also most likely to reflect a preference of her counterpart, which meant she might find it enjoyable; unlike bio-beds, which she found somewhat uncomfortable, though they were efficient.

She wondered if this bed was efficient.

The blonde leaned forward and stroked her hand over the surface of the sheets and the cover and found them pleasant to the touch. So she pulled it back to reveal the sleeping surface.

Seven of Nine paused, since she usually did not sleep, but regenerated. However, the other Seven had indicated that she used a mixture of methods to remain at her peak. Implied, though not explained in detail, was the belief in sexual self-care. The blonde smiled, remembering the brownie and decided she could trust her counterpart and her mates.

She undid her bio-suit and divested herself of her clothing and shoes, until she was naked. Then, purposefully, she slid onto the silky surface of the bed. The sensation was sensually alerting. Seven looked down at herself and realized that her nipples had hardened with anticipation. She touched one gently, curiously, and stroked it. Pleasurable phenomenon connected the dots of her need.

She had always been aware that she had a number of erogenous points. It was one of the reasons she wore the bio-suit. The suits helped to ease the constant stimulation. But now…

She brushed her fingertips gently over an implant's extrusion and felt the response curl right through her. She gasped, thinking of her counterpart, and the way her mates had lavished attention on those points. She understood such memories to be part of the process of fantasizing, which was also part of the process of self stimulation. It was, according to her studies, permissible. She did not think her counterpart or her mates would mind.

Moisture gathered and her hand drew a slow line downward, crossing her abdominal implant and lower, until her fingers were located where she recalled the alternate B'Elanna had touched the other Seven. She mimicked the movement, and suddenly understood why the other Borg woman had spread her legs so widely.

With her other hand, she touched her other implants, sparking more pleasurable sensations. As she slid on the bed, she half expected to feel waves of incredible physical bliss. But she realized that Seven must have known, must have replicated the sheets from the material that allowed her to just enjoy the feel and texture, without the constant arousal.

Consideration, again.

She felt heat rising on her skin and a kind of deep, sweet tenseness rose within her. She recognized this as another level of arousal and continued what she was doing. Her hips began to move as her fingers strummed more of that feeling into being. She decided to test the premise of fantasy and imagined, just for a moment what it would be like to have this Voyager's B'Elanna touch her in this way. She pressed in, feeling that it would be like the Klingon to want to claim her sexually, while at the same time her thumb continued to stimulate certain nerve bundles. The brief pushing brush of her fingers against the tiny implant within, combined with that moment of fantasy, sparked off a powerful wave of erotic energy that roared through the young woman and claimed her utterly.

She wept for the beauty of it and wondered that she thought for even a moment that it was irrelevant.

==^==

"This is getting ridiculous." B'Elanna exhaled in frustration.

Laren lifted her head and looked over fondly. "What is?"

"I believe, B'Elanna is having trouble with designations, since we have a number that differ only by a rank or not at all."

"No way is anyone calling me Belle."

Seven could not help it; she smirked, honestly unable to imagine using that name to address anyone else except the one-eyed Klingon General, who, in an ironic way, suited the feminine sobriquet.

"I'm not averse to letting Seven complete her assimilation of me, at least while we're here." Laren tweaked on of Seven's nipples.

"Explain."

"I will comply." Laren poked Seven. "Lt. Commander Hansen Laren, at your service."

B'Elanna laughed. "That won't work for me. We'd still have two people on the ship that could be addressed as Commander Hansen."

"Perhaps we should alternate designations." She did not wish to be addressed as Annika Hansen, but she was not averse to using the surname of one of her mates, temporarily or otherwise. Nor did she believe it was reasonable to ask Seven of Nine to alter her designation.

This time B'Elanna smirked. "Explain."

Seven allowed a smile to form, enjoying the banter, no longer feeling set apart by her speech, but loved for it. "I shall assimilate the name Torres."

"What does that leave me? Janeway, Pulaski, Troi, or Dax." B'Elanna finished enumerating the remaining choices and looked at Seven. "Do Tuvok and T'Pel have last names?"

"They do. And even if Lt. Commander Tuvok did not exist aboard this vessel, you would not be able to say it."

"Figures."

Laren was chuckling lightly. "I vote for Dax."

"I concur."

"Oh you do, do you?" B'Elanna pounced on her mates. Her solid weight landed just to the right of the Borg, putting them all on the same side of the bed.

There was a small creaking noise, and then a larger snap.

The bed broke.

==^==

The door chime to her quarters rang, and Janeway looked up, uncertain as to whether she wanted to open it, or pretend to have already retired for the night.

With a sigh, she stood up and retrieved her tunic. "Come in."

She wasn't sure why, but she was surprised when her First Officer stepped into her quarters.

"Captain."

"You used to call me Kathryn, Commander."

"You used to tell me what was going on. I guess times change."

Kathryn studied the brunette for a moment. "Have a seat, Laren. This could take a while."

==^==

"Nothing? There's nothing left?" Ro asked, her tongue thick in her mouth. She had slowly, over the last few months, gotten used to the idea that the Maquis were gone, but that the Dominion had so decisively ended the Federated Planetary Alliance was unbelievable.

"Nothing. They used a scorched earth policy. What isn't occupied is useless."

Ro Laren didn't want to be sitting, but she wasn't sure that she could take standing, not just yet. Not when there was one more question to be asked. Not when she knew what the answer would be. "Bajor?"

"I'm sorry, Laren." Janeway's tone was even, but she could see the tumultuousness in the dark grey pupils.

"The Klingon Empire too?" She couldn't seem to stop asking questions.

"Yes, along with the Romulan Oligarchy." Her voice grew quieter. "Earth too."

Ro looked up, Janeway's family had been on Earth, and an 'I'm sorry for your losses,' didn't seem to begin to cover it. Instead she reached over and squeezed Kathryn's hand.

"I'm going to tell the senior staff in the morning. We've got some decisions to make."

"Wherever you lead, I'll follow."

"And if I still want to go back?"

Laren stared hard at Janeway, trying to decipher the body language, since her expression was non-revealing. "We can't Kathryn, we can't fight a war. Not by ourselves." Then she grinned, her own expression suddenly feral. "At least not yet."

Terok Nor was still a busy place. Tourists now came to see where the judgment battle had occurred, to watch the wormhole open, or to see the woman who had been brought back from the wormhole. The lines to see the Kai were longer on the station. An office had been given to Opaka to help facilitate her efforts. She still roamed the station, where security gently enforced a no-bother policy. If she stopped to talk with someone, it was one thing. But if she was stopped on her way, the person or persons making the disturbance would be discouraged. The station simply could not have passages blocked by over-eager groups of people.

It was possible that Jerrod could simply have moved to the head of the line by mentioning that he was her financial advisor and flashing his credentials. However as his purpose was not business, but curiosity, he simply did not feel it was appropriate. He got in at the back of the line and waited and made plans for tomorrow for a similar effort if that was what it took.

What impressed him the most was that there was a line. After all, what did Bajor need of spiritual counseling? They were a secular world. Still, here he was, along with many others, including unexpected species such as the Klingons.

He noted the Humans among the group, quietly keeping their heads down so no one would note their visible differences. He was sure he was not the only one who spotted them. Yet, no one pushed anyone away.

They were also all oddly quiet, perhaps hoping for an oracular experience. He just wanted to see what it was like. Others, he thought, might be there to test her. He wondered how that was going.

An hour and a half later he was finally at the door. The security man pointed at the person just in front of Jerrod and spoke gruffly. "Your turn. Everyone else go home. She is done for the day."

The line began dispersing. The noise in the station increased as people who had been silent suddenly began talking to one another

"To bad, eh," the person who was behind him said and then moved on.

Jerrod considered his options and then turned away. He was a few steps away when he felt his shoulder clamped strongly. He turned to protest and saw that it was one of the guards. "You. I know you. You're her manager. You come in. Next time don't stand in line. You come to me."

"I didn't want to interrupt."

"Do you or do you not want to see the Kai?"

"I do."

"Then come."

Giving up his effort at anonymity, he followed the guard into the office space. Once inside, he was left to stand at the front of yet another door. The Bajoran who sat in a desk in front of it said, "It will be a few moments. Please sit and be comfortable. She is with someone now."

"Of course."

A few minutes passed and then the door opened. The secretary nodded. "You may go in now."

He realized then, that those whom the Kai greeted must have exited a different way. He had never seen anyone leave. Yet, they must have, unless she was keeping a secret collection.

Amused at the thought of a motley group of people stored in a cubicle, Jerrod stood up. His head filled with whimsical mysteries, he entered Kai Opaka's realm.

==^==

The room had only three soft chairs. Kai Opaka was standing in front of one, dressed in maroon and saffron robes. Her hair was unadorned, but she wore an elaborate D'jarra earring on her right ear. She bowed very slightly to him, equal to equal. "Winn Jerrod, how may I be of service?"

He supposed this was where he was supposed to ask the question in return, but what came out of his mouth was this, "My mother sends her regards. She wished me to convey that she has been…" His voice trailed at the Kai's expression, but he pressed on, "…thinking of you." He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, whether it was happy news or not to the Kai. She looked both pained and at peace about it. It was odd. "She wishes you to know that upon your next visit to Jalanda City she would be honored to have you visit with her." He brought his hands to the front and clasped them lightly in an unconscious defensive motion. "I have come here for a purpose other than business, though, if you need, we may discuss whatever issues may be on your mind."

The Kai, whose attention had seemed far away for a brief heartbeat or two, returned her focus to him. She smiled at his choice of words, finding them familiar. She indicated a chair beside her own. "Please, sit down. Tell me what you would like to discuss."

The chair was placed close, almost intimately so. He sat down, but not back, and felt slightly embarrassed about what he was about to say. "I…" He laughed a bit, then tried again. "You recall when we saw you first, that I was with my mother."

The Kai nodded. "Yes."

"Well, you touched her ear. I realize that it must seem like all anyone must want is an oracular visitation, but I was curious as to what you saw."

Kai Opaka said, "Would it help you if I explained what the Pah is?"

"What is Pah?" He looked slightly confused.

She began to explain.

Later he said, "So it is not the future that you read?"

"No, just lines of possibility and the strength of one's soul."

"Has the…" he considered the choice of his words, "…have you ever been in error?"

Now she sat back and considered. Then she responded, "I have made many mistakes in my own lifetime. But the Pah is always truthful, as it is based on that person's individual path. It may be that a person's path may change, but the Pah will provide the clue."

He nodded. "My mother wants me to take over the company some day."

It might have seemed like a diversion off topic to anyone else. But it made perfect sense to Opaka. "Is it what you want?"

"I do not know." He looked away, then back at her. "I have sometimes felt drawn to something that calls, yet does not exist. I thought, perhaps I was an adventurer."

"You tried the wormhole."

"Yes, with the same results as many, except for those who found you."

She said, "When young, there are many paths to choose from and no single path stays the same all the way through one's life. Perhaps you are meant to do both. To manage the business and yet pursue this unknown path."

"Which is why I am here. I realize now that you are not an oracle. But, would you consider, perhaps…"

She smiled gently. "I will." She scooted forward in her chair and leaned toward him, lifting her hand. She saw his nod. Then she clasped his ear.

As usual there was a thrill of energy through her palm. Her eyes were opened to seeing on another level. She noted that his energy held similar patterns to his mother's. She recognized the influence of Winn Adami right away, yet it was surprisingly gentle in impact. She looked further, following the lines and paths that made themselves available from this point.

It was intense, quick, but unlike with Adami, she let go of his ear gently. She looked at him with something that was akin to affection mixed with sorrow. "My child…," she paused as if pulling her thoughts together. "…I see three paths in sequence. The first involves a journey and at testing that will take you to your limit. The second involves choices you must make that will affect many in your care. The third is a promise of home and return, from there your path will change again and that far I can not see."

He sat back. Then he smiled ruefully. "I am not sure how much that actually helps."

She shook her head lightly, "It probably won't help until later. It is not the future I just told you."

"Just a possible path."

"Yes. You could step out that door and that whole possibility may change."

He nodded, considering. "Kai, you mentioned scriptures earlier. Were you…did you bring any with you?"

"Only what is in my memory, Jerrod."

He said, slowly, "Perhaps you ought to consider writing some of that down."

"Then how will your people be able to make your own?"

"But, Kai Opaka, you are our people too, yes? And the Prophets, they sent you. We may not need every single word of your past. But, it would be nice to have more than Ferengi philosophy to draw upon."

She blinked at him, then said, "My son, you have a great deal of wisdom for someone so young."

Neither commented on her use of the term. It just seemed natural in the conversation. He smiled at her praise.

==^==

There was a gathering of Cartels where the merits of continuing their vengeance on the House Presba were being argued by the heads of those Cartels.

"The truth is we shouldn't even be engaging them. We only got involved with House Presba because Tarn frakked it up. They should have taken the fine that was going to be handed down and moved on. The House Qualon in that Universe wasn't worth saving anyway."

"So you say, but I had business with them, legitimate. And now it's gone."

"Which brings us to opportunity. Now that the House Qualon is gone and our obligations with it, I say someone sends a peace offering and negotiates with the House Presba."

"It won't work. It's a Klingon thing."

"Nonsense. That House is composed of mostly Federation types. If we send the right someone they'll negotiate."

"The Federation hates the Orion Syndicate, legitimate business or no. We're going to have to cut our losses and just lay low awhile and hope they forget about us."

"They won't forget. Klingons remember."

"Look if we--"

"Enough! The Capels have an interest in the demise of the House Presba in both Universes. We want Voyager. Either that can be accomplished or it cannot. We have placed what we believe to be a reasonable war prize on their heads. If you want it, go after it. If not, then don't. I don't want it brought up in this meeting again."

A murmur of acknowledgement traced the room and the Cartel leaders bowed toward the head of table, where their leader sat. Her word was law, and they waited to hear what it would be.

==^==

In general it took either bravest soul or the craziest to enter into the heart of Hive Space. But there were those who found the lure of possible riches or amazing discoveries or even daring adventure impossible to resist. Some, on the other hand, just went there because they were tired of life and wanted respite. Others had different reasons.

One was never more alone than in Hive space, for no one would come to the rescue if the Hive found you in their space. The Klingon Empire defended its borders and sometimes even made incursions to claim space back, but they did not waste their efforts by conducting suicide missions.

The Orion Syndicate found this arrangement to be one with potential. It was decided by those in charge that they would make an attempt to find a livable location that wasn't too near occupied Hive Space, nor too far from it either. Colony planners would have advised against it all, if they had any say. But these Cartels hoped to establish a base of operations where they could begin building a fleet of ships and recruiting for their unintended war and there were those who believed that the Hive was just a boogeyman developed by the Klingon Empire to keep its population docile and its military strong anyway.

With those plans in mind, ships were sent out by their masters to find habitable spaces that met the requirement.

Some came back. Some did not. But the Syndicate was able to make some choices based on those who managed the feat.

No one commented or thought about the ones who did not return. Space was hazardous and the players had known the risks.

One event stood out during the search. There was a report by one of the captains of the discovery of remarkable debris of what looked like a space battle with three participants. There were no survivors to enslave and the debris of the ships with the markings of the Hive were recognizable. The other two were not. No real retrievable technology remained, but the captain brought back samples of what they could.

The Borg would have recognized the samples quite easily. That debris belonged to a Borg cube. The captain had not been able to retrieve the other samples without losing more people. Whatever it happened to be, was anathema to cellular structures.

The Cartel management determined that such material might make a useful weapon, so agents were dispatched to procure what could be gathered.

By the time those agents arrived, all evidence, aside from the decimated Hive ships, had been removed.

==^==

The next time she awoke, the sharp pain had been replaced by the ache of absence. Ezri could feel a weight across her chest, and didn't need to open her eyes to know that Emina was lying on her, head centered, as usual, over Dax . Slowly she blinked her eyes in openness, taking time to adjust to the light. Ezri didn't have a chance to shift position or to sit up before Lwaxana was visible in her line of sight. "How long?"

"Eighteen hours."

It seemed longer.

"I need to get to the bridge." She brought herself to her feet, not letting go of Emina, and took a shaky breath. Ezri realized that the other body she had been in contact with was Kate's. T'Pel reclined next to the beautiful human, stroking her blonde hair lightly. Things seemed slightly out of focus, as though she weren't quite in phase with the people or the room they were in. It was strangely reminiscent of space sickness, and she dealt with it the same way: by pretending it wasn't happening. Later she'd find some medication or a drink.

Lwaxana studied Ezri intently, and then nodded. "Kathryn will be glad of your presence."

Still carrying Emina, Ezri stepped from the Nest into Seven of Nine's room, looking for the hip-sling she knew had to be there. She quickly located it, and then froze as her hand brushed the supple leather of the weapon harness she'd given Seven for the axe. Quickly, Ezri pulled her hand back, as though burned, and squelched the fresh round of tears that threatened to spill anew. She'd shower and change at Deanna's.

==^==

Phoebe stroked Hov gently. The puppy was still small enough to be settled in her lap and its nearly silver colored fur was incredibly soft to the touch. Hov closed its eyes contentedly. Phoebe's eyes were not closed.

She sat on a chair on one of the porches, one that gave a clear view of the night sky. Above her, somewhere, was Voyager. Her family was up there, gripped tight in the vise of grief and shared pain.

Despite their agony, she was grateful. It wasn't the agony of death, but of separation. Phoebe thought about that moment, when Asil had tested the resolve of herself and Vrald, and she had been forced to own up to the truth.

She had been glad when Asil understood, and had allowed them both to be part of the boarding party that captured the Titan.

Vrald was simply not someone whom she could do without. He was just going to have to live longer than she.

Guinan slid into a seat beside Phoebe, smiled easily. "Feeling introspective today?"

"Well, it's either redecorate or it's ponder. I thought I might go with ponder."

The El-Aurian smiled. "Our guests are completely settled now that all the excitement is over."

"Do we know what happened?"

"According to Asil, both Section 31 and the Orion Syndicate launched separate attacks, and screwed it up."

Phoebe couldn't help the laugh. "Well, things to be grateful for. So is there any plan of retaliation yet?"

"I don't know. It doesn't feel like it."

"Nothing in the wind then."

"Well, there is something, but I wanted to talk to you about it first."

There was something in her voice that caught Phoebe's attention. "What can I help you with, Guinan?"

The El-Aurian's smile deepened. "I want you to know I plan on returning home…" Phoebe's breath caught. Not at the implication that Guinan was leaving, but that the wise-woman thought of their home as her home. "…but I feel the need to go to the Alpha quadrant."

"Woul