End and Begin Again

End and Begin Again

by Lady Janus

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

End and Begin Again

Part 2a: Vanquishing demons

Rating: PG-13

"Come on!" Naomi Wildman called loudly to her mother, racing around the corner ahead of her. Samantha tried to curb her annoyance at her child's impatience to see the new baby. Suddenly there was a startled shout, followed by a noisy clatter and Samantha increased her speed instinctively.

Skidding to a stop where the corridors converged, she was greeted by a most unusual sight; Naomi and another person lay on the deck in a tangle of arms and legs. As the little girl crawled off, she was mortified to realise just who lay beneath her.

"Captain!" she squeaked.

"Hello, Miss Wildman," the Captain said sitting up. A small smile played on her lips. "Fancy running into you here."

"C-Captain, I'm so-so-so-so-sorrry!" she wailed on the verge of tears.

Janeway chuckled softly as Sam stooped to gather the scattered PADDs. "Well, I'm glad to hear you're so-so-so-so-sorry, Naomi," she said grinning. "Because we might have a problem if you were only so-so-sorry. Help an old lady up, will you please, Samantha?"

Samantha Wildman laughed as she gave the Captain a hand up. Naomi looked on in confusion.

"But you're not old," she piped up. "Admiral Janeway was old."

Something akin to pain flashed into the Captain's blue eyes as she retrieved the PADDs from Sam, but she looked down at Naomi with a brilliant smile.

"Why thank you, Miss Wildman," she said. "Spoken like a true Captain's Assistant."

Naomi's face fell. "Am I still your assistant--even though I knocked you over?" she asked fearfully.

"Of course," Janeway said gently. "No harm done except to my butt--" She twisted to look at her behind. When she turned again, her eyes were twinkling. "And as you can see, it's well-padded."

She and Naomi giggled conspiratorially, but Samantha's smile froze as she watched the Captain. Janeway wasn't well padded--and was even less so now than a couple of weeks ago. Before the Borg nebula, before Admiral Janeway and her future knowledge--before their attempt to get home had failed. In fact, the Captain was beginning to look frighteningly gaunt.

"So where are you off to in such a hurry?" Janeway asked Naomi, pulling Samantha out of her thoughts. "No, let me guess," she chuckled, looking down the corridor leading to crew quarters. "Tom & B'Elanna's?"

Naomi fairly bounced with excitement. "Yes Captain, we're going to see the baby! Icheb is meeting us there and then we're going to the holodeck."

"Well, you shouldn't keep them waiting," the Captain said, turning to go. "Have fun."

"Thank you, Captain," Samantha said quietly. Naomi echoed her and they continued on to Paris and Torres' quarters.

Icheb was already inside when they arrived, sitting gingerly on the couch and trying unsuccessfully to look everywhere but at the armchair where Torres sat breastfeeding Miral. Sam smothered a smile with a cough as Naomi, oblivious to her friend's embarrassment, marched over and climbed up onto the padded arm of the chair to watch the baby feed.

"Oh, she's so cute!" her daughter said in an exaggerated, too-loud whisper. "Isn't she cute, Icheb?"

Samantha didn't think the boy could get any more embarrassed, but the former Borg child positively squirmed in his seat as he blushed furiously. "I will take your word for it that she is--cute," he said at last.

Torres' eyes positively sparkled with mischief as she met Sam's gaze. "So Icheb, Tom tells me that you're in charge of Astrometrics these days," she said.

The poor boy squirmed some more before answering. "I am not in charge of Astrometrics," he said in the pedantic Borg way he had when under stress. "That is Seven's purview. But the Captain did ask me to run the subspace scans," he finished with a note of pride.

Samantha noticed that he managed to look only at B'Elanna's face, trying frantically to ignore what was happening below the neck. Torres had a nursing bib discretely covering her, while the baby's bulk blocked anything that might have showed, but Icheb still looked mortified at the prospect that he might actually see something. Sam found it curious--yet rather endearing--that he reacted with the same discomfort most fifteen-year-old boys would feel in such a situation.

"Naomi," he called. "If we are to be on time for our holodeck reservation, we should leave now. You were late arriving for this appointment."

Naomi was clearly torn between the baby and the treat of extra holodeck time on Icheb's credit. "Mom made me clean up my room before we could come," she temporised, "and then I was in such a hurry, I ran into the Captain on the way and knocked her over."

Torres' eyebrows lifted to her forehead ridges.

"Well, if you'd kept it tidy in the first place, it wouldn't have been such a chore," Samantha admonished. "Then you wouldn't have needed to rush in order to see Miral--and you could have watched where you were going more carefully."

Naomi pouted at the lecture, then leaned over the baby again and waved. "I'll see you later, Miral," she said.

Samantha watched in amusement as she jumped off the chair and barrelled out with a perfunctory "Bye Mom", leaving Icheb to chase after her. Sam envied her energy.

"She's adorable," Torres chuckled as the door closed behind the boy. She smoothed her blouse back into place and lifted the baby to her shoulder, patting her back.

"She's a royal pain in the posterior," Sam retorted. "Wait till Miral is that age--there were times when I wished Naomi would stay this size forever," she said, gazing wistfully at the baby.

B'Elanna nodded; her eyes were soft as she regarded her friend. "At least I have someone to turn to."

"Ha!" Samantha scoffed, a little embarrassed and more than a little pleased.

Torres shook her head. "No, in the last couple of days, I've come to realise what a remarkable job you've done with her, Sam," B'Elanna said quietly--sincerely. "I don't know how you did it all alone. At least I have Tom, but there have been moments when I've wondered what the hell we thought we were doing. When am I going to find time for everything, Samantha?" she said with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

The baby gave a loud, healthy burp and sighed contentedly.

Samantha smiled with what she hoped was reassurance--how she remembered despairing over the same question six years before. She supposed every new mother did.

"At the risk of sounding like the village Wise Woman," she said helping Torres settle Miral in her little bassinet. "You won't."

B'Elanna looked at her in surprise.

"There isn't enough time in a day, and it's doubly so when you have a child. You're going to have to choose between your daughter and your engines," she continued with a soft chuckle as she pointed to the sleeping baby. "And I don't think she's going to like playing second fiddle to the plasma feeds--in fact if she's anything like her mother, I doubt she'd stand for it."

"No, she won't," B'Elanna said smiling fondly at Miral.

"Then you're going to have to make some choices and stick with them," Samantha said. "Including telling the Captain "no" to certain things and letting other people take the risks."

Torres turned again to meet her gaze. Sam quirked a nostalgic smile. "I still remember marching into her quarters and telling her no more away missions or dangerous assignments until Naomi was at least four or five, depending on how much the K'Tarian half of her genome accelerated her growth and providing her cognitive skills kept up. All the Captain did was smile and say that she understood, and that she would let the Commander know--"

Samantha broke off with a sudden laugh.

"What?" B'Elanna asked, watching her in amusement.

Sam drew a deep breath in an effort to curb her laughter. "To think I went over there ready to fight our intractable martinet of a Captain tooth and nail for my right to be with my baby; I must have sounded like such an officious idiot. And all she did was pat me on the shoulder--say she'll take care of everything and not to worry."

B'Elanna Torres giggled and then snickered behind her hand to hide her giggles--she hated sounding like a demented five-year-old when she giggled.

Samantha chuckled softly. "I think that it had to do more with own my love of going on away missions. I'm a science officer; what use was I in here--" she said gesturing expansively. "When everything I want to study is out there," she continued, pointing this time to the viewport.

"I got used to working in sickbay and lab work, but . . . I suppose, in some convoluted way, that need to fight her gave me a sort of absolution from the guilt of wanting to go on those missions even though I knew that I had Naomi to think of." Sam smiled ruefully. "And I think that the Captain knew it somehow--made it easy for me to put my foot down, to say to her "This is how it's going to be". Yet in a strange way, with a smile, a few simple words and gestures, she let me know that it was ok to miss my work--my away missions."

"Yeah, she's great at looking out for everyone else," Torres said soberly.

"And not so great about looking out for herself," Samantha finished and B'Elanna raised an eyebrow. Sam shrugged. "Naomi really did knock her over," she explained. "Not that a gust of wind wouldn't have done the same, mind you. It's like something's wearing away at her--diminishing or erasing her--but I'm so used to seeing the Captain and it's been so gradual, that I couldn't say when it started or how long it's been going on. I guess that seven years of disappointment will do that to you."

"Yeah, well I think that everyone is too used to seeing "the Captain", including one idiot of a First Officer," B'Elanna growled. Sam regarded her in surprise. Unlike her wayward spouse, Torres rarely instigated gossip regarding the command team.

"You're usually the first to defend him, B'Elanna," she observed quietly. "What's wrong?"

Torres ran one hand through her lustrous, chocolate-brown hair and gave another growl of frustration. Sam noted that the old adage about women's hair during pregnancy also held for Klingons--or perhaps that was B'Elanna's human side coming out.

"The p'tak is dating again," she began and Sam was bursting to ask for details, but something in Torres' eyes made her keep silent. "Seven."

Samantha looked at her in confusion, certain that she'd lost track of the conversation somewhere as her mind conjured one crisp image. "Seven of Nine?" she asked Torres, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice. The other woman nodded. "But he doesn't even like her."

"Apparently he does now," B'Elanna retorted.

"Damn, does Janeway--" Sam stopped herself and looked at B'Elanna. "Yes, of course she knows."

"Tom thinks that the Admiral told her."

"Good God," Samantha whispered. "No wonder she's taking it so hard--what the hell was he thinking?" She laughed--bitterly--angrily. "Of all the cruel slaps in the face!"

"Sam?" B'Elanna asked in concern, surprised at the unusual fury from the normally mild woman.

"Any other woman, B'Elanna, any other woman and I think that she could accept it--be happy for him because he was happy, even if her own heart was breaking. You don't think she knows what her self-imposed isolation does to him?" she asked rhetorically; Torres nodded silently. "She has her own reasons for that and knowing her, they're good ones--at least in her own mind. I mean, have you seriously thought about what happens if we're still out here in fifteen or twenty years and you have to give an order--or worse, give Miral orders that put her in danger?"

B'Elanna blanched; she hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Believe me, I've thought about it--woken up with nightmares because of it," Sam admitted. "There are nights when I just sit on Naomi's bed watching her sleep, needing to know that she's safe and wondering if I did the right thing by having her on this ship. Janeway's captain twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; she's already too close to this crew. I know we wish that she would allow us to get closer, but I think that she's afraid that she couldn't survive it; she certainly couldn't at the beginning when she needed to focus on this journey. But can you imagine captains like Picard, Ruttonshaw or Philida Vasquez hand-sewing a blanket for your baby? Or taking the time to make your daughter feel like a part of the community by making her the Captain's Assistant?

"I think that she feels that if she gets any closer, she risks what happened to Ransom," Sam continued and B'Elanna's eyes widened in comprehension. "Personally I believe that she'd be fine with that level of intimacy, but I'm not the one in her position."

"Tom thinks that her relationship with Jaffen on Quarra may have precipitated things," B'Elanna said quietly. Sam nodded; that horror-show of a planet had certainly given her enough nightmares. "That after seeing Kathryn the woman again, Chakotay felt that he was wasting time waiting, because once back on the ship, Captain Janeway would never let Kathryn have a relationship with him."

Samantha glowered. "And he may be right," she said. "Don't get me wrong, I think that Chakotay has every right to move on, but did he have to do it with the one person on board Janeway considers her daughter?"

B'Elanna's jaw dropped in shock, but as she thought about Sam's blunt statement, she realised that it was one of the reasons she refused to entertain the idea when Tom first brought it up.

"Think about it B'Elanna," Sam continued. "Who is the one person on this ship she's walked through fire again and again for, refused to give up on--even when Chakotay himself wanted to space the bitch! Who the hell did she put her head in the lion's mouth to help more than once? She might have spewed rhetoric about dealing a blow to the Borg by liberating the drones from Unimatrix Zero--she might have even believed it herself, but when it comes right down to it, she did it for Seven! It's as simple and as complicated as that."

"And it suggests a lot of undercurrents in this relationship that aren't very nice," B'Elanna said unhappily. "Before this, I would have said that Chakotay got along with Seven about as well as I did. And I keep wondering why Seven chose him, because as far as Tom can tell, she instigated it."

"But he isn't saying no," Samantha said quietly.

"He isn't saying no," B'Elanna affirmed.

"Gentlemen, come in." Kathryn invited Chakotay and Tuvok to join her in the sitting area of her ready room. "Anything to drink?" she asked politely as she moved to the replicator.

Chakotay shook his head. "Nothing for me Captain," he said, but was surprised to hear Tuvok say "spiced tea". The Vulcan was usually the one who shunned beverages. Chakotay suspected he felt that beverages and small talk detracted from the dignity of a meeting, although it was just the three of them.

". . . to keep up morale," Kathryn was saying, jolting Chakotay back to the conversation as she returned from the replicator and handed Tuvok his tea before sitting down to sip her coffee. "To that end, I've given Chell permission to throw a Neelix-style party," she said, eyes dancing over the rim of her cup. "You will see to it that he hasn't inherited Neelix's tendency to go overboard, won't you, Chakotay?"

He started to return her smile. Then she said his name in that husky, intimate way that promised more than she was ever willing to deliver and it irritated him suddenly. "Yes, Captain," he replied, reining in his spurt of anger.

The sudden clouds in her eyes told him she'd picked up on his abrupt change in mood.

"I'll talk to him right away," he finished, feeling strangely deflated.

"The other thing I wanted to talk about were promotions--" she continued.

Again Chakotay stopped and stared at her in shock. She was thinking of promotions at a time like this?

"Since Starfleet has been dragging its heels getting back to us regarding those crewmembers we put forward for promotion a couple of months ago--could have something to do with our recent change of address," she quipped and Chakotay couldn't help but smile this time. "Anyway, in lieu of their oversight, I've decided to go ahead with the promotions. I want you both to go over your original lists and check if there are any names you want to add."

"Understood," Chakotay replied.

"Captain, do you think now is the proper time to address the subject or to have a party for that matter?" Tuvok queried. "It has been only ten days. Stopping work for this party would put us behind schedule by a significant margin."

The smile left her face as she rose and went to the viewport. "I think now is precisely the time to address this subject, Tuvok," she replied, turning to face them after a moment. "Voyager is in for a major overhaul--we can't afford much more patchwork and I don't see any Fleet yards around here, even if I were inclined to trust the natives. The crew needs a sense of moving forward from this setback--I need a sense of moving forward."

This time she surprised even Tuvok with her admission.

"They worked non-stop to put the Admiral's plan--my plan--into action, and they've been working non-stop since we arrived here. And all the while they've been--no, I've been looking at this as a failure because we didn't make it back to the alpha quadrant. But we've shaved another 5,000 light years from our journey, and that is an accomplishment to celebrate--something that should be celebrated!"

"As you wish, Captain," Tuvok acquiesced.

She was spending too much time wallowing in self-pity, Kathryn decided, gazing critically at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Life goes on whether or not Kathryn Janeway is happy and if she was unhappy, she only had herself to blame.

Kathryn grimaced at the sight of her ribs and prominent hipbones. Letting her body get into such a wasted state was not only self-indulgent, it was stupid. She was old enough to know where her demons of depression and self-loathing lay in uneasy sleep. Old enough to know exactly what all her little self-destructive habits originated from and it was time to do something about them.

She missed Chakotay, his wheedling her to eat better, to take much-needed time for and better care of herself--because no matter how much she fought him, it had let her know that he cared. And she also knew that her rapid weight-loss since she found out about his relationship with Seven stemmed from this. She was being manipulative again--using her physical state to attract his attention and it was pathetic, she thought viciously. Pathetic and needy. Chakotay and Seven had made their own decisions.

She felt her heart constrict as she remembered his words to Seven in Astrometrics; they played over and over in her mind as if on an endless loop.

"She has nothing to do with us, Seven," he had said as he cupped her face in his hands--an almost unbearably intimate act for Kathryn to witness. "She's a friend and a colleague--nothing more."

She'd realised right away as she walked into Astrometrics and met her protégé's haughty gaze that Seven was manipulating the situation. Chakotay, with his back to the door, hadn't known that she was there, but Kathryn recognised the sincerity in his voice. And from the cold way Chakotay now treated her, she wondered if she was even still considered a friend by him.

Kathryn sighed. She had made her own decisions.

"Now you have to live with those decisions," she told herself firmly, turning from the mirror. She picked up her underwear and proceeded to dress quickly.

The armour of her uniform once more in place, she exited the bedroom and immediately went to the replicator. She ordered a bowl of cream of broccoli soup and a mildly spicy Cajun chicken salad sandwich, which she carried over to the coffee table. Sitting on the couch, Kathryn moved Miral's blanket and her basket of colourful embroidery thread to the other end to get them out of the way. If rumours were true, she'd have to start on a blanket for Ensign Kyoto and Lieutenant Rollins' expected little one fairly soon. Kathryn didn't have much of an appetite, but she forced herself into the half-forgotten rhythms of simply bringing her spoon to her mouth, then down into the soup again. Thinking about it would only cause her to find the food unappetising and start the cycle all over again. Within a few minutes, the bowl was empty and she was working on the sandwich. Her door chimed.

"Come," she called.

Chakotay entered and her heart soared--for a moment it was like old times, when he would come to escort her to parties, talent night or diplomatic functions. Then the small box in his hands registered and she ruthlessly doused that small flame of hope. Inside the box would be an array of smaller boxes containing new pips and rank bars. That was all. That she had no right to hope anymore hit her like a pail of ice water in the face.

As all this raced through her mind, she lifted her gaze to his face and caught him looking at her strangely--as if he were looking through her. "Chakotay?" she said and when he didn't respond, she called more forcefully, "Commander!"

He shook his head visibly and seemed to really register her for the first time. "Sorry Captain," he said with an almost pained smile. "Just wool-gathering." He handed her the box.

"Thank you," she said and noticed his gaze had shifted to the empty bowl. "I skipped lunch today," she said, feeling a sudden need to explain. "And I never seem to manage more than a couple of hors d'oeuvres at these things."

"Well, I'll leave you to your meal, Captain," he said.

She was going to nod quietly and leave it at that, but her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own. She had to try.

"Chakotay, have I been such a bad friend that you feel you can no longer call me Kathryn?" she asked gently.

His face solidified into a mask. "Were we friends?" he asked flatly and she shrank back as if from a physical blow. "Were we ever friends, Captain? I'm beginning to wonder about that. I know that for years we had something I thought of as a friendship, but I realised that was only because you said it was one, but was it really?"

She set her sandwich on the plate and placed the box she'd been cradling in her lap down on the table before she rose. "I sorry you feel that way, Chakotay," she apologised, folding her arms across her chest; her heart felt like it would explode. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. For what it's worth, I always thought you were my friend and I'm sorry if I was not always a good one to you."

He turned away and she thought he was going to walk out. He stopped, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Look," he said, turning to face her again. "I doubt this is the time for this discussion. So let's just go out there, present the command team--you'll give your speech about hope and getting back to the alpha quadrant and I'll do my part. All right?"

All she could do was nod mutely. He turned on his heel and left without another word.

She stood staring at the door for a long moment, before returning her gaze to her half-eaten sandwich. She glanced at the chronometer on her desk across the room--19:37 hours. The festivities didn't start until 20:00; there was still time. She sat down on the couch again, picked up the rest of her sandwich and slowly began to eat.

Janeway stood, gently tapping her glass with a spoon. "After that ah--interesting meal, courtesy of Mr. Chell, I think we should get to the part of the evening we've all been waiting for." There was a general rumble of laughter in the mess hall. "But before you head off to the holodeck and Mr. Paris' no-doubt, highly entertaining activities, I would like you all to join me in paying honour where honour is due."

The crew looked at her curiously, expectantly.

"Computer, record Captain's Log Supplemental: Stardate 55139.9. Crewpersons Celes Tal, Gerron Esrad, Mortimer Harren and Ombagi U'Lanai, please rise and step forward."

B'Elanna squeezed Tom's hand while they watched the ceremony. As the crewmen faced their friends and comrades, B'Elanna could see their shock--the absolute disbelief on Tal's face and Harren's "doe-in-the-headlights" expression were priceless. Janeway could certainly pull the rug out from under people with style, she thought humorously.

"By the power invested in me as Captain of USS Voyager, for your service to this ship, I hereby promote you each to the rank of Ensign, with all the powers and privileges of that rank."

Janeway pinned the little stud on the collar of each of their uniforms and congratulated them with warm handshakes. As the newly minted ensigns sat down again, Janeway faced the crew once more.

"Ensigns Brian Ashmore, Jennifer Delaney, Megan Delaney, Golwat, Harry Kim, Tomas Mendez, Anita Powell, Vorik and Samantha Wildman, please step forward." Again, Torres could see the surprise and the enormous pride in their eyes as they stood and received their new Lieutenant pips and rank bars from the Captain, with her congratulations on a job well done.

"Finally," Kathryn said quietly, "Would Lieutenants Gabriel Rollins, B'Elanna Torres, Ursula Weiss and Yortig, rise and step forward." Torres clapped heartily as the next group rose and was puzzled when it seemed like the entire crew turned to stare at her.

"Get up B'Elanna," Tom urged as he kissed her. She looked up in astonishment at Janeway's smiling face and rose unsteadily. She didn't hear the words, but swelled with pride as her Captain affixed the new rank bar to her collar--two solid stripes and one open stripe. She had wondered why Tom had insisted that she wear her uniform when technically she was on maternity leave.

Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres. It was a lot more than she had ever expected when she'd boarded this ship seven years before with little else but the clothes on her back and the ideas chasing each other around in her mind--so much more.

As the formalities drew to a close, Tom threw his arms around her, kissing her passionately. B'Elanna looked into her husband's eyes and saw only his love.

Seven looked around her new--very bare--quarters in annoyance. In many ways she was excited about it--Icheb had certainly been excited about his. She had been planning to ask for more privacy than the cargo bay afforded, but having them thrust on her by Janeway had made the experience thoroughly unsatisfying.

The Captain had asked her to remain in the briefing room after the morning meeting. Seven had thought that Janeway wanted to discuss Voyager's failure to re-establish contact with the alpha quadrant. It turned out she had been correct in her estimation of Icheb's abilities. She had only that morning reported that further analysis of the early scans the boy had done clearly showed that he'd missed the broadcast three times within the first four days of scanning because he simply wasn't experienced enough to recognise the Starfleet patterns through all the noise of subspace.

At that point, Paris had pointed out with that supercilious grin of his that it had taken her over five weeks of analysis to recognise the signal herself and that they really couldn't blame Icheb for missing a couple of seconds worth of distorted, degraded signal against the background noise. With Chakotay off on a scouting trip, she'd had no one to talk to for the last two weeks and Paris' comments were getting tiresome. She was having difficulty keeping her temper. But Janeway had immediately agreed with the pilot and tabled further discussion regarding contacting her precious Starfleet.

"The Doctor tells me that you won't need to regenerate so often anymore."

The Captain's statement had taken her by complete surprise and for one dreadful moment, Seven thought that the holographic physician had broken his oath and told Janeway that he'd altered her cortical node's failsafe circuitry to give her access to a wider range of emotions. But she was certain that she'd impressed on him that she had as much right to medical privacy as the rest of the crew. Therefore, he had as much right to tell the Captain as he had to tell her about another crewmember's therapy for sexual dysfunction for example (she'd found that bringing up sexual topics was the best way to ensure most humans would shut up and accord her some privacy). And torn between his concern that she was doing the right thing and his ethical subroutines, he'd reluctantly agreed. Sometimes human moral codes and all their trappings had their uses.

"That is correct, Captain," she'd replied coldly.

"Excellent," Janeway said and Seven looked at her, wondering what she was leading up to. "I know that we've discussed this before and you preferred to stay in the cargo bay, but I think it's time for you to move into quarters of your own." As Seven opened her mouth reflexively to protest, Janeway held up her right hand. "The Doctor said that although you won't need to regenerate often, you will need to sleep more often since more of your human physiology continues to assert itself. In fact, he informs me that continuing to regenerate on the schedule you've been keeping would be more detrimental to your remaining implants than beneficial."

The Captain picked up a PADD and held it out to her. "Go and take a look at it, then browse the schematics to see which room configuration you like best. Once you've decided, let Maintenance know and they can have it ready in a few hours. I've also included an updated inventory list of extant furnishings available for use. If there's nothing you like, you'll have to use your own replicator rations to produce something more to your tastes."

Seven ignored Janeway's outstretched hand, annoyed at being dictated to. "There is no need," she replied. "I will simply regenerate less."

Janeway sat on the edge of the briefing room table and studied her for a long, silent moment, her face inscrutable. She held out the PADD again. "But the flip-side of this is that you will need to sleep more. As you're no doubt finding out, this more human body comes with quite a few benefits, but you'll soon find out that those benefits come with a price and part of that price is the need to sleep for as many hours as it deems necessary. And if you don't give it at least it's minimum requirements, your body will make you pay sooner or later--and not always with a benign warning of dark circles around your eyes," she said giving a slightly crooked smile that made Seven uncomfortable.

"What do you mean?" Seven demanded irritably and not without some trepidation. She'd noted the skin discoloration with concern in the last two days and was going to ask the Doctor about it later when she had some free time.

Janeway's smile widened and she ran one groomed finger along Seven's cheek beneath her right eye. Seven flinched back.

"That bruising means that you're fatigued," the Captain said withdrawing the offending digit. "Furthermore, your cognitive faculties will begin to suffer if you don't sleep and no amount of regeneration in your alcove will alleviate it. Only taking time to sleep and dream will ensure you remain in proper mental health."

She dropped the PADD into Seven's lap and stood up. "Dismissed," she said firmly.

Seven had risen without thinking, clutching the PADD tightly and was halfway to the door when she realised that she was obeying without protest. She stumbled to a stop in front of the door, which opened silently in response to her presence. She had no choice but to continue. Taking a deep breath, she stalked to the turbolift and waited rigidly for it to come--all the while feeling like everyone on the bridge was watching her.

Shaking her head free of the uncomfortable memory, Seven gazed around her sparely furnished living room again. Lieutenant Mendez had indicated that there were a number of couches and chairs in storage to choose from that would compliment the room's two existing chairs and low coffee table. She had told him she would think about it.

The chiming of the door announcer startled her; her reaction to it annoyed her. Bringing her emotions under control she called, "Come in."

Chakotay strode in. He looked around curiously. "Nice digs," he said, a smile hovering on his lips. She raised one eyebrow in askance; he chuckled and amended his statement. "Nice quarters."

"They are the same as most quarters on the ship," she pointed out.

"But now they belong to you," he replied, moving closer to her. She stepped into his waiting arms. "And I think that makes them extra nice," he continued before pulling her close and kissing her.

Pleasure flared deep within her and she kissed him back hungrily. "I thought that you weren't supposed to be back for another 48 hours," she said when they came up for air.

"There's a massive plasma storm building just beyond the Bretori Federation," he replied. "Voyager won't be able to cross that space for another four to six weeks, but Bretorin is a good place to re-supply while we wait for the subspace disruptions caused by the storm to dissipate. Anyway, I hear that the Doctor thinks that you won't have to regenerate so much anymore," he said letting go of her.

She nodded, frowning as she walked to the viewport. "He says that a schedule of once each week should be enough to maintain my remaining implants," she replied. "The Captain felt it necessary to order me to vacate the cargo bay."

"Perhaps it's best," Chakotay said. "You must admit, the cargo bay isn't very private."

Seven felt a sudden spurt of anger at his soft words. "Why do you always take her side?" she demanded, turning to face him.

Chakotay stared at her, surprised at her anger. "I'm not taking anyone's side," he replied. "I'm just stating facts and the cargo bay isn't a very private place. Seven, what's really wrong?"

She turned away again. "I don't know," she said, feeling his proximity as he moved closer. Not for the first time, Seven wondered if he still cared for Janeway--if he was still in love with her.

And not for the first time, the very thought of it made her horribly angry--perhaps this was jealousy. Except what did she have to feel jealous about? She was a more suitable mate for Chakotay than Janeway was; a younger, fitter--and by most human standards she could judge--more beautiful mate. Far superior to Kathryn Janeway.

"She didn't even give me time to think about it--just ordered me to move," she said angrily.

Chakotay frowned. "Perhaps she could have given you a little more time to get used to it," he conceded. "But you would have had to move sooner or later. Give yourself some time, Seven. Tell me, is this really so bad?" he asked waving around the room.

"No, I guess I have outgrown the cargo bay," she said and wondered why his frown deepened at her answer.

Kathryn studied the three large, ungainly ships on the viewscreen tiredly. "Commander?" she prompted. Only two days out from the system where they'd conducted repairs and they'd run into these clowns demanding--of all things--that Voyager pay a toll!

"From our intelligence gathered up ahead in the Bretori Federation, these Dregardrak are nothing but money-hungry bullies, plain and simple," he replied. "They seem to be cousins to the Ferengi--out to make a dollar where they can by stealing, intimidation or extortion. But occasionally they can be much worse, preying on technologically weaker ships and on ships travelling alone. On the bright side, their warp technology is more than a century behind Voyager and their ships are incapable of sustaining warp seven for more than a few minutes. However, they have laid claim to most of this sector, although from what I can tell, the Bretori and the Clatu pretty much take what they want, when they want. According to the Bretori, Dregardrak boarders are rather elastic."

"Thanks Commander." Janeway quirked a smile and stood up. "Harry, open a channel."

"Channel open, Captain."

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager, whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

A furry face with large, doleful brown eyes, a pronounced snout and mouthful of sharp, pointed teeth appeared onscreen. He sniffed the air and his ears shot up to a point as he regarded Janeway. "What do you want?" he barked.

Kathryn had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Oh sweet Jesus, she thought hysterically, looking into the doggie face, he barks! She wanted to pet him, but she got the feeling that petting was the last thing this alien had on his mind.

Taking a deep breath she managed to keep a straight face as she answered, "My ship is on its way to the Bretori Federation and we wish to cross Dregardrak space to get there. May I ask who I'm speaking to?"

"Gedrrrek of Blood Pack Harrrrrok!" he barked again. "What business do you have with those Bretorrri parasites?"

"That is our business," Kathryn replied, banishing her mirth at his challenge. "We wish to pay the toll to cross Dregardrak space and be on our way."

The Dragardrak bared his teeth with a fearsome growl. "The toll is fifty brreks of kalcite ore."

Kathryn looked at him in shock, and then made a chopping motion to Harry, who cut the transmission. She turned to Chakotay in disbelief. He smiled. "That's about roughly five kilograms of kalcite, Captain," he said in amusement.

"But that's space junk--you can find it in practically any piece of space rock or planetoid, Captain!" Harry sputtered in outrage and Paris laughed heartily.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. How many times do I have to tell you; one man's junk is another man's treasure," Paris drawled.

Kathryn regarded Chakotay and shook her head. "I thought you'd get a kick out of it," he said with a shrug. "According to the Bretori, their toll changes every so often--this month it appears to be kalcite. Apparently they didn't get into space on their own, but stole the technology from another species that crashed on their planet about two and a half centuries ago. Much of their technology is based on what they can beg, borrow or steal. They're not very interested in developing things for themselves."

"I see," Kathryn replied. She sat down again in her command chair and crossed her legs. "All right Harry, on screen." The pugnacious alien appeared once more. "Fifty brek is quite a bit, Gedrek," she said thoughtfully.

"There will be no negotiations!" he returned forcefully. "Fifty brrekkk!"

Kathryn sighed, with manifest unwillingness to pay such a high price. "Are you sure we can't negotiate?" she wheedled.

Gedrek growled and she nearly collapsed with laughter as he barked "No!"

"All right . . . all right--fifty!" she replied in mock defeat.

"Prepare to be boarded for inspection of the ore!" he growled officiously and cut transmission.

Giggles burbled in her throat and she waggled an admonishing finger at Chakotay. "You could have warned me, Chakotay!" she howled, shaking with laughter.

"And miss the expression on your face?" he laughed. "Anyway Captain, I seem to remember that you were a "dog" person?" The bridge broke into a gale of laughter with him.

"That's not fair!" Kathryn complained between giggles as she held her aching sides. After a few moments, she brought herself back under control. She reached out and gently patted his hand before rising. "Thank you," she said hoarsely meeting his gaze. A look of realisation ghosted through his eyes as he looked down at her hand on his. She withdrew it and quickly retreated to her ready room calling orders as she went. "Tuvok, escort our guests to the briefing room when they arrive. And it might be a good idea to deactivate their weapons if you can."

"Aye Captain," her Vulcan friend replied as the doors closed behind her.

Kathryn sat down on the couch and looked out at the stars. The frozen look in Chakotay's eyes as he realised he was joking with her like an old friend again, burned with the cold pain of an icicle piercing her heart. It was as if he couldn't forgive her enough to even simply joke with her. Every time she thought they'd made some progress towards healing this breach between them, he pulled away and it was worse with Seven.

She'd thought that the young woman would be glad for the new quarters--the privacy it afforded. She'd thought that the Doctor's report that the former Borg needed to start sleeping more and regenerating less explained the young woman's sudden bouts of irritability and anger. But Seven was even angrier with her now than she'd ever been and her increasingly uncontrollable outbursts concerned Kathryn.

Unable to sleep the night before, Kathryn had gone on one of her midnight rambles, and like the ponics bay, she'd been drawn to the cargo bay by thoughts she didn't want to face. Drawn by thoughts of Kes, the daughter she'd dared not keep, and by Seven, the daughter she'd dared to keep.

"You think you can hide us where no one will see and know he's mine!" Seven had sneered when Kathryn met her by accident in the cargo bay. "But he's mine in every way and when I am ready, everyone will know!"

She'd recognised immediately, the jealous adolescent beneath the raging woman and there was nothing she could do but stand there and take it. Four years ago she'd been looking for someone to fill an empty space she didn't know she had until Kes left. Now she was paying the consequences.

Perhaps it's just as well that I didn't have any children, she thought wretchedly. Kes had returned, determined to kill her, while Seven hated the mere sight of her and seemed determined to hurt her in the most painful ways possible.

Not a very good track record, Kathryn. She gave a bitter-sounding laugh even as tears began to flow down her face, no more daughter-surrogates for you, Captain.

#

Part 2 continued
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