End and Begin Again
by Lady Janus
Disclaimer: See Part 1.
End and Begin Again
Part 6: Disturbances
Rating: NC-17
A smile lit up Samantha Wildman's face as Michael Ayala stopped at her table in the crowded mess hall, breakfast tray in hand. "Please, join us," she invited and Naomi happily scooted over to make room. He sat down gratefully.
"It certainly is crowded this morning," he observed, meeting Samantha's gaze. Her smile dimmed a little. Understanding flashed between them. Rumours tended to spread like viruses on Voyager and the scene between Janeway, Chakotay and her young Borg protégé as it was played out on the holodeck the night before, was far too juicy not to have made the rumour mill.
Ayala remembered the moment his smiling Captain had frozen almost imperceptibly in his arms, pain clouding her blue eyes and the blood draining from her face. He remembered his own near stumble as a slight quarter-turn in their dance had brought him face to face with the reason for Janeway's pain and the near instantaneous reflex he felt to protect the small, pale woman in his arms at all costs. Then her Captain's Mask had descended, smoothing her features as she began to speak quietly again and smiling ruefully at him as he bumbled through the conversation before his shock-rattled brain caught up with is mouth.
Poor Harry looked like he could have used some of that hard-won experience that went into a Captain's Mask. He'd frozen, with a look of such utter shock and disappointment that Ayala realised that the young man was carrying a torch for the Borg woman and probably always had been. Throw in the Holo-doc and his blossoming "feelings" for Seven, which he wore on his virtual sleeve, and Ayala had a feeling that the journey had just become a lot more complicated.
When Chakotay and Seven had boldly stepped onto the dance floor, Miral's piercing cries and B'Elanna's suddenly foul mood had been a godsend. The ever-solicitous Captain had thanked Mike for the dance before making her way over to Paris' corner. After a low conversation with Tom, she'd shouldered the baby bag and steered her seething Chief Engineer and wailing baby from the holodeck, while the kind-hearted Celes had dragged Harry over to endure the ministrations of the even more kind-hearted Delaney sisters.
Ayala had sat down next to Samantha and watched as the dancing couple pointedly ignored the stares of their crewmates and pretended not to notice the commotion they'd created. He'd watched and wondered how his old friend could justify what he'd done to his relationship to the Captain with this manoeuvre. And he wondered how Seven--despite whatever differences or resentments had cropped up between them--could not know how wrong it was to do this to the woman who had given her so much.
"Are we still going to the holodeck this afternoon, Uncle Mike?" Naomi asked anxiously and he dragged his mind out of his introspection as he recognised that the little girl sensed the lack of the usual morning's light-hearted banter in the atmosphere of the mess hall.
Naomi was a very perceptive child. She had taken to calling him, Chakotay, Mendez, Rollins, Chell and even Paris and Kim, "uncle" recently after learning in Chakotay's Social Studies class that it could also be used as a term of respect for her mother's male friends. And among her "uncles" and "aunts", no one seemed to object to the inclusion in Naomi's concept of an extended family.  But only off-duty, the rest of the time she called them by their rank, like the good little Starfleet officer she often emulated. Of course, the one person whom Ayala thought could benefit from being an "aunt" was always "Captain".
"Of course," he replied smiling. "It's all set for 1400 hours. Me and you and a dog named Boo!"
She giggled happily as he made the familiar joke--one that had started nearly fifteen years ago with an old 20th century song that had become his son's favourite when Ayala and his wife had needed to put the contrary little hellion to bed.
Tomas had giggled merrily too.
A pain constricted around his heart. Ayala realised that he hadn't thought of his children lately--hadn't really thought of them or Marta since the destruction of the Borg Queen and the Hub. It was too hard to think about them--and of the other man they now called Dad--so he focused all his attention on the little girl in front of him.
"Any special requests?" he asked, pushing down the emotions that threatened.
"Not Flotter," she declared promptly.
He laughed and met Sam's amused gaze. "Why not Flotter? Did you two have a fight?"
She giggled again. "Of course not, silly," she said, green eyes sparkling. "But Flotter's baby stuff and I'm too old for that now."
"Oh-ho," he said, at a loss for words.
Samantha was staring at her daughter's bright head with a mixture of maternal pride and wistful sadness that her little girl was indeed growing up.  And growing up fast--Naomi, although only six-years-old, looked ten.  As if it moved of its own volition, his hand covered Sam's slim, pale one and squeezed it gently for a moment.
"Spoken like a true Captain's Assistant," a familiar voice said and Ayala met the Captain's twinkling, blue eyes. He hadn't noticed when she'd arrived and from the looks on his crewmates' faces, most people hadn't noticed either.
"Captain!" Naomi squeaked uncharacteristically. For such an outgoing little girl, she was often tongue tied around her hero.
"Hello, Miss Wildman," Janeway said, holding a mug in one hand and extending a PADD to Samantha with the other.
Ayala realised that Janeway had a way of speaking to Naomi that the child responded to like a little sponge. Though there was undeniable affection in the Captain's voice, she neither spoke down to the child, nor treated her like a pseudo-adult, but like a person worth speaking to--and listening to. No wonder the little girl considered it the rarest treat when the Captain spent time with her. Ayala should know, since Naomi talked about little else for days afterwards.
"So, if not Flotter, then what would you like to do?" Janeway asked.
Naomi blushed. "Well, Uncle Tom's teaching Icheb to fly and he's shown me the controls on the Delta Flyer," she said tentatively.
Janeway looked thoughtful. "Looks like I'm going to have to have another talk with our Mr. Paris," she mused. "You're still a bit young to be handling real shuttles, but . . . hmmm . . . Mr. Ayala," she said fixing her gaze on him. "Do you remember the holo-program Star Hawks?"
"Are you kidding, Captain?" Ayala laughed nostalgically. "I must have spent my entire holodeck allowance trying to get to level ten the summer I turned fifteen."
Janeway chuckled. "Well, Star Hawks might be a bit advanced for Naomi--although Cadet Icheb might benefit from it," she said. "But I remember seeing in the holodeck database, a few weeks ago, a program called Flight of the Sky Knights, which if memory serves me was the sister program--"
"For nine to twelve year olds," Ayala said. "I remember it now! My pesky cousins had it. The Sky Knights' mission was to find the Fire Crystals and return them to the Sun Castle on the Mountain of the Four Winds to free the Empress of Fire from the spell the King of Ice placed on her."
"Wowww!" Naomi squealed with definite excitement.
The Captain raised an eyebrow and a crooked smile tugged at her lips as she sipped her coffee. "Are you sure it was your cousins' program?" she quipped.
Everyone at the tables around them laughed and Ayala could feel his face heating with remembered teenaged embarrassment at being caught playing the kiddie game. "Hey, it was a fun game," he protested laughing. "You're right, Captain, I think Naomi would enjoy Sky Knights. Thank you."
"Yes, thank you Captain!" Naomi said fervently.
"You're welcome, Naomi," she replied. "After all, I can't have my Captain's Assistant bored, now can I?"
"No Captain!"
"Good," Janeway said shaking her head. "Well, have a good day off, lieutenants, and enjoy yourselves."
"Thanks Captain," Ayala said. "We will."
"Thank you, Captain," Samantha murmured.
Janeway nodded. "No problem," she said quietly. She stroked Naomi's hair gently for a moment as the little girl gazed at her in adoration. "And I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, young lady--I think we'll take a look at solar system mechanics this time," she said.
"Yes, Captain!" Naomi replied brightly.
Janeway chuckled again and headed for the mess hall doors. When Ayala looked back at Samantha, his friend was looking across the room to the kitchen entrance. He followed her gaze. Seven of Nine stood in the threshold, her eyes trained on Janeway's retreating back before the doors snicked shut. He couldn't help the low, hollow whistle that escaped him; the young woman looked mad enough to spit!
He realised that Seven was jealous of everything Janeway had--including her friendship with Naomi, even though in the last couple of months he doubted the former Borg had spoken more than a handful of words to the little girl.  Naomi hadn't understood the sudden distance Seven had put between them and for that matter, neither had Icheb.  But the boy had the advantage of throwing himself into his work and schoolwork in half-a-dozen departments around the ship.  Naomi didn't have that luxury.
He met Samantha's gaze again and she dropped it to look at her daughter playing with the last of her cereal. He caught the meaning in her wordless request.
"Well pal, if you're done with that, I believe we have a couple of music lessons to catch up on," he said.
"Yayyyy!" the little girl cheered piling all their utensils onto her tray with a great deal of clatter. She jumped off her chair and pushed it in as she sang the chorus of a little tune he'd been teaching her to play on keyboard for the last couple of weeks.
	So where did Zari and Alyssa go?
	Far, far, beyond Antares!
"And I seem to remember the Doctor saying something about the anatomy of the Veldosian slime slug?" her mother reminded her as she and Ayala rose. He gathered up their trays.
Naomi's enthusiasm deflated rapidly. "Yes Mom," she said in such defeat that Ayala had to laugh as he disposed of the trays and followed them out.
#
"This is unacceptable, Ensign Celes," Seven said, shoving the PADD back into the hands of the young Bajoran woman. "Run the analysis again!"
Celes looked startled and glanced at Jenny Delaney who had ostensibly come to Astrometrics to pick her up and go to the holodeck at shift's end. Seven had heard them making plans in a steady--irritating--stream of comm-chatter all afternoon, which was obviously reflected in the sloppiness of Celes' work.
"But I checked the equations twice!" Celes said voice rising. "The results are far within all the standards for sensor calibrations given the condition of this part of space after an ion storm."
"It is not up to my standards and if you had bothered to check the revised protocols in the Amended Protocols to the Astrometrics Sensor Array Database, instead of wasting time talking over the communications system, you would have known that," Seven pointed out calmly. "You have until 2100 hours to complete the work."
Celes looked down in dismay at the PADD in her hand; Seven turned away from her in disgust and returned her attention mapping the nearest sectors of the beta quadrant. Why Janeway insisted on keeping the incompetent young woman in Astrometrics, Seven couldn't fathom.
"Ensign Celes," Delaney said, placing a strange emphasis on the young woman's title. That was another thing Seven couldn't figure out--why the Captain had promoted Celes.
The unexpected clatter of the PADD against the console jolted Seven out of her thoughts and she turned in annoyance to face Celes. The characteristic diffidence usually present in the Bajoran woman's eyes was no longer there; instead she found uncharacteristic defiance and anger.
"You want the analysis done again, you do it!" she said. "You have a problem with the way I did it, take it up with the Captain," she continued maliciously. "It's after 1830 hours--I'm off duty."
Without waiting for Seven to recover from her shock, Celes turned on her heel and strode over to Jenny Delaney, whose gloating gaze held Seven's.
As they left, Seven heard Celes mutter, "What the hell's eating her?"
Delaney laughed. "Not what--who?" she answered. As the doors opened, she turned in the threshold to face Seven again with an insolent smile. "Or maybe that's the problem," she said mysteriously. "Despite the goods on display, he hasn't bellied up to the Swedish Smorgasbord to chow down.  Something tells me he prefers good Irish coffee much more!"
Celes laughed explosively and yanked Delaney out of Astrometrics. But before the doors closed, Seven heard her howl over their collective laughter, "Oh you're bad, Jen! God, you are so baaadddd!"
The closed doors abruptly cut off their laughter. Seven turned back to her console where the PADD lay, mocking her--like they mocked her, she realised, with their impenetrable humour and the humanoid societal cues and conditioning she was never exposed to past the age of six. Although she didn't know why, she knew that Delaney's remarks had been insulting and somewhere deep within some indefinable place, she hurt. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and checked the room quickly as she wiped it away. Mercifully, she was alone.
Seven looked at the PADD again. Anger quickly replaced hurt. Celes wanted her to take it to the Captain? She would take it to the Captain!
#
Kathryn luxuriated in the soft comfort of her thick robe against her damp, naked skin. The long soak in her bathtub had felt so good after a day of crawling through the bowels of the ship, taking readings at the shield and armour junction points for B'Elanna.
She could have delegated some ensign in Engineering or Maintenance to the task, but it had felt good to get back in touch with her ship, back to basics--to take a break from the monotony of the bridge--and your thoughts of Chakotay . . . hmmm . . . a little voice goaded her.
Yes, that too, she admitted honestly to herself as she relaxed in her favourite armchair, sipping herb tea spiked with Betazoid chocolate liqueur, while watching the universe streak past her viewport. It was a strain to have Chakotay always draw back from her, but she supposed he'd probably felt the same way all the times she'd held herself distant from him. Although, since he'd started his beta rotation the day after the fiasco on the holodeck, it was less of a strain than it might have been had she had to face him on the bridge for the last few days.
Turnabout is fair play, the old cliché went. You reap what you sow. Clichés were cliché for a good reason; they were so often true.
She let go of the disturbing thoughts that chased each other around in her head--she refused to let herself get caught up in that old cycle of regret and self-recrimination again--and just allowed her mind to float on the fragrant tea's warm cloud of steam.
Another mouthful caressed her throat going down and the warmth of the heady chocolate liqueur spread to the pit of her belly, before fanning out. Her arms grew heavy and her toes luxuriated in the soft pile of the carpet. The faint heat spread inevitably to that little bud at the apex of the delta between her legs, bringing a gasp of surprise and a smile to her lips. She squirmed in the chair, rubbing her thighs together in an effort to prolong the pleasant sensuousness of the sensations without the frenzied need to chase an orgasm. Her robe parted and the faint draught of cool "night" air circulating in her quarters felt delicious on her exposed, naked sex as her thighs fell open.
"I can see why Phoebe raves about it," she chuckled wickedly and considered casting her mind out, seeking Tuvok's in a way she'd never imagined would become almost natural for her. But the implication inherent in actively seeking out her friend to assuage her arousal was another complication she didn't need in her life at the moment. She pulled her awareness back into herself. Besides, nature had equipped her in other ways to deal with her sensual side--all by her lonesome--and in the last seven years she'd become very good at it.
Kathryn drained the last of the tea and sank deeper into the chair, her posture now akin to a wet noodle--a very wet, very limp noodle, she thought with another soft chuckle. Her mind distantly considered moving her hands down to oblige that little tyrannical bundle of nerves--that harsh little Mistress--that was just beginning to poke her sleepy head out of her little shelter to demand satisfaction for being disturbed from her slumber. Looking out the viewport from beneath hooded lids, Kathryn bit her lip, realising that anyone out on the hull looking in would be able to see her--see her newly shaved sex spread so wantonly, so exposed to the universe. Of course no one would be out on the hull with the ship in warp, but it was such a deliciously titillating and perverse idea that she moaned involuntarily at the sudden heightening of her arousal.
The teacup fell from her grasp unnoticed; she gripped the armrests of the chair tightly, determined not to touch herself. She licked her lips, wondering lasciviously how long she could last with her little Mistress' demands for relief becoming more and more insistent.  She focused all her thoughts, all her attention on the tyrant. A delicious frustration built in her core; her body was unable to retreat from the voluptuous sensations coursing through her swelling labia and the delightful congestion of her clit beginning to engorge with blood, yet denied the stimulation that would push her over the edge and bring fulfilment.
Kathryn began to rock her pelvis, clenching and unclenching her aching vaginal muscles, which only served to heighten the heady sensations, while doing little to assuage them. The waves of sensation from her clit matched her ragged breathing. She looked down her body in the semi-darkness, past the slopes of her small breasts with their erect nipples and her gently rounded belly, and imagined she was rubbing the hard, throbbing little button while her aching slit wept its frustration.
She bit her bottom lip hard, concentrating on that imaginary hand, fingers pushing back the cowl and rubbing insistently on the raw, sensitive body of the little tyrant demanding that it be done harder! harder!!! faster!!!!!
And she obliged it, but only with her imaginary hand and felt a distant surprise as her body, unable to bear her mind's assault any longer, stiffened and bore down as she strained to stay on top of the climax that rolled through her in waves of sensation. She gripped the armrests, white-knuckled, concentrating on the sensual core of her being, oblivious to the guttural noise building in her throat culminating in a hoarse shout as her over-stimulated body vibrated convulsively.
Kathryn collapsed, boneless, into the chair, breathing heavily as though she'd run a marathon and trying to gather her scattered senses. Weakly, she tried to pull her robe more securely around her and clear her orgasm-fogged brain, but found that she didn't have the strength. She stopped, drew a deep breath and relaxed back into the chair, idly caressing her breasts as she contemplated gathering up enough energy to make the short trek to her bed, where she could take care of herself properly. Nice as it had been, she really needed to indulge herself with all the trimmings in order to take the edge off.
The ship obviously hadn't blown up around her while she was on her little mental masturbation jaunt.
Although, she thought ruefully, it feels like I've blown a few circuits in my brain.
Kathryn realised that she needed to take more time for herself. Never had she felt so horny before, even as a teenager and she remembered her sister Phoebe's teasing in her last communiqué with the alpha quadrant--the same message that had included the recipe for the aphrodisiac tea and the admonishment to find someone to share it with.
"If not that gorgeous First Officer of yours, Kathryn, why not some virile young ensign or lieutenant you could teach a thing or two. You know what they say about women over forty."
She laughed softly, allowing her mind to hover in the cocoon of sensations and floating there, more at peace within her own skin than she'd been in a long time.
"Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway--respond!"
The former drone's voice was like a plasma explosion, destroying Kathryn's enjoyment of her orgasm's sensuous afterglow and making her jump out of her skin.
"What the hell?" Kathryn muttered--she'd left strict orders that the Captain was not to be disturbed unless in an emergency. Trust Seven to be the one person on the entire ship to catch her in her little orgy of one. Perversely, she grinned at the thought then stifled an involuntary shout as her shift in position sent a delicious jolt straight from her hyper-sensitive clitoris to the most wonderful sex organ of all--her brain.
"Seven of Nine to Janeway!" The young woman's voice was insistent now and carried a hint of something else.
Kathryn sighed. No rest for the wicked, old girl, she thought, starting to rise. She stopped and lowered her tired body back into the chair; she was off-duty and surely whatever bee Seven had in her bonnet no doubt could be resolved with the minimum expenditure of energy on her part. She massaged the kink developing in her neck. Not your only kink, eh Captain, the little voice whispered lasciviously. And as if in response her little Mistress gave her another mild jolt that made her toes tingle.
"Ummm . . ." she moaned.
Before she could move or clear her mind enough to formulate a response to Seven's hails, the door opened and a ray of light from the corridor beyond seared her dark-adapted eyes for a moment before it closed. Kathryn scrambled to adjust her robe to cover her breasts.
"How the hell did you get in here?" she shouted hoarsely, rising and belting the robe tightly. "How dare you come in here without permission?"
"You did not answer my hails," Seven replied.
"For a damned good reason," Kathryn fumed.  She experienced another disconcerting twinge in her nether regions--it would have been hilarious if she weren't so bloody furious.  And frustrated.
"I thought that perhaps something untoward had happened to you."
"Sure you did!" Kathryn said sarcastically. "Now get out!"
"I need to speak with you!"
The Captain reigned in Kathryn's temper with an effort. "And it couldn't wait till morning?"
There was a slight pause, then; "No it could not!"
Kathryn took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Okay, what is so important that you couldn't take it to Chakotay? What's so bloody important that you had to disturb my rest?" she demanded.
"The computer indicated that you were not yet asleep," Seven said. Kathryn heard the haughtiness in her voice.
"Sleep and rest are not necessarily the same thing," she countered shortly. "What is this about, Seven? I left instructions that I wasn't to be disturbed tonight except for serious matters."
"It is regarding Celes Tal," Seven replied. "I want her transferred out of my department as her primary station."
"What? Wait a minute--your department?"
"Yes, her efficiency rating remains low and her work continues to be sloppy," the ex-Borg said complacently.
"Yet her efficiency rating for her rotations in Stellar Cartography and Engineering have climbed steadily for the last year and she continues to receive excellent commendations from her supervisors in both departments," Kathryn observed quietly as she turned to gaze out the viewport.
Seven didn't take the hint. "I believe that her friendship with the Lieutenants Delaney may be a mitigating factor in her rating in Stellar Cartography, Captain," she said.
"So you're saying that Megan Delaney allowed her personal relationship with the Ensign to affect her judgement regarding Tal's competence as an officer?"
"It may not have been intentional on the Lieutenant's part," Seven allowed generously and Kathryn wanted to laugh. "But humans are prone to such failings."
Kathryn turned her head to study the former Borg, this young woman she'd tried to take under her wing.
"Yes, humans are," she said returning her gaze to the viewport again. "But Vulcans aren't prone to such failings as far as I know. Are you suggesting that Lieutenant Vorik's evaluations are coloured by his feelings for Ensign Celes?"
Kathryn heard the young woman's gasp of surprise as she followed the argument to its logical end.
"What exactly has Ensign Celes done?"
"She performed the analysis and diagnostics of the new sensors we received from the Bretori inadequately," Seven said harshly. "And when ordered to redo it, she became insubordinate, refusing to perform the analysis in the correct fashion and telling me that if I wanted it done, to do it myself!"
Whoa Tal! Kathryn couldn't help the smile that hovered on her lips. What had started out as a reclamation project of a group of young crewmembers that had fallen through Voyager's cracks, had borne fruit as each of the young people had blossomed Kathryn considered Celes Tal's new found confidence one of her brightest success.
Back in the alpha quadrant, the young woman might have been more suited to a career of kindergarten teacher than Starfleet officer; but out here she'd needed to know that others had confidence in her abilities before she could believe it herself. Not exactly the kind of personality that stood up well to Borg ideals of perfection. But the Delaneys had picked up where Janeway had left off quite nicely.
Seven held a PADD out to Kathryn who could just make out the smug curl on the former Borg's full lips.
Good God! Kathryn thought with sudden recognition as she accepted the PADD.  Seven enjoys tattling!
And why shouldn't she? Most little children--especially little girls--enjoyed the thrill of having power over others, precisely because children often had no real power. But Seven wasn't powerless and wasn't exactly a child--though she's not exactly an adult either, Kathryn's conscience prodded and she suddenly felt a pang of shame for her jealousy of this adolescent.
Lord, I hope you know what you're doing, Chakotay, she prayed silently.
She called for an increase in the illumination and sat down, taking her time to read the PADD and ignoring Seven's shuffling from one foot to the other. Invitations to sit down were apt to be met by a cold "I'd rather stand," so Janeway had stopped asking.
Kathryn's eyes widened in surprise as she read the report--she'd tried to keep abreast of Harren, Telfer and Celes' progress as much as humanly possible for a Captain charged with the safety of 146 lives, but this--
"Seven, exactly what is wrong with this report?" she asked curiously, scrolling further through a highly original and startling diagnostic analysis of the Bretori sensors and how Voyager could better utilise them. An analysis that made sense given this area's tendency towards ion storms and given the Bretori's innate understanding of their little sector of the galaxy. Kathryn even recognised her old field of study--massive halo compact objects with their attendant space-warping gravity wave distortions and ion storms--as the basic starting point of Tal's analysis. The intuitive leaps were surprising for the timid, uncertain young woman Celes had been, but not for an officer confident in her knowledge and her ability to find the right answer.
"She neglected to run the analysis according to the revised protocols as described in the Amended Protocols to the Astrometrics Sensor Array Database, which you asked me to implement," Seven replied.
"Yes, but as far as I can see, she ran the Standard Protocols and everything is well within tolerance--in fact, if we implement a number of her suggestions, it will improve the astrometric sensors' scanning resolution by a significant margin," Kathryn pointed out.
"That is debatable," Seven said; Kathryn could hear the sneer in her voice.
That is the problem, isn't it, my lovely Borg? Kathryn thought sardonically. For all your vaunted individuality now, you still can't believe that a mere human--and a rather lowly and flawed one at that--can improve on Borg perfection.
"Furthermore," Seven continued in obvious disdain. "The Standard Protocols are flawed. They make little provision for the subspace eddies that can be a problem as our course brings us closer and closer to the Galactic Core or the gravity wave distortion effects."
Kathryn didn't bother to smother the spurt of irritation that erupted at Seven's officious and condescending manner; no wonder Celes had found the courage to stand up to her.
"If you had actually read the report instead of dismissing it out of hand," Kathryn said evenly as she rose and turned to face the young woman. "You would have realised that Ensign Celes' recommendations regarding tuning the sensors to follow a modified protocol used for scanning massive halo compact objects would do away with the problem of grav-wave distortions inherent in our proximity to the core. For in effect, isn't the Galactic Core nothing but the most massive of all massive halo compact objects?"
Seven's jaw fell open in surprise, but Kathryn recognised the mulish obstinacy that quickly replaced her shock. She continued without giving the other woman a chance to speak.
"And given the distance we intend to maintain from the core, these effects you're so worried about would probably not be much of a problem for these sensors even if they used the Standard Protocols. When I agreed to the amendments you suggested for the sensor protocols, we didn't have the Bretori sensors and I certainly did not intend them to be the only protocols to be used in Astrometrics and if that's the case, then some changes clearly have to be made." Kathryn held the PADD out to her. "And I think we'll start by implementing Celes' protocols."
"You can't be serious!" Seven shouted in disbelief. "She's incompetent and insubordinate and she shouldn't be allowed near important ship's systems just because you want to play favourites!"
Kathryn shook her head in disbelief, staring at Seven as if seeing her for the first time. "I'm going to ignore your incompetence in this instance--probably because I am playing favourites!" Seven's eyes widened as Kathryn threw her own words back at her. "Because it can be nothing but incompetence when someone in your position refuses to read and evaluate work on its own merits. But I will not ignore insubordination! You are going to study the work and come up with a plan to implement Celes' protocol and you are going to do it tonight!"
"I will not!" Seven shouted obstinately.
"Oh yes you will!" Kathryn said in a low voice, her temper rising to the boiling point with the inevitability of a solar flare. "Computer, lock onto Seven of Nine's commbadge signal and execute Janeway Transporter Protocol 3-sub-A4.  Hold in pattern buffer and await instruction, Janeway pi alpha 1-1-omega!" she ordered, hurrying to her console as Seven dissolved with a startled cry of surprise.
#
Chakotay straightened his posture in the Captain's chair for the umpteenth time. He was brooding. He knew it; hell, everyone on the bridge--and probably the entire ship--knew it. But ever since his conversation with B'Elanna in the mess hall the night of Kathryn's birthday--the night he'd taken Seven on their first public date to Tom's impromptu party for Kathryn--he had been brooding.
He had stepped back and taken stock of his relationships with Seven and with Kathryn. B'Elanna's words from that night haunted him.
"I saw a man whom I thought I knew playing a game. I hope to God I'm wrong about it, because if I'm not, then it's one sick, twisted little game and I guess I really didn't know that man at all!"
Was that what he was doing with Seven? Playing games to get back at Kathryn for all those times she'd rejected him? For all the chances she'd squandered?
No, face it Old Man, his little voice goaded. You squandered those chances as surely as she did. You never pushed the issue. Instead you let the questions lie, unasked and unanswered. Why? Perhaps because you were afraid of the answers.
Every time his mind brushed up against his memories of his time with Seven now, invariably he heard B'Elanna's voice--the voice of his conscience? He heard B'Elanna calling Seven Kathryn's daughter.
Daughter!
And no matter how much his mind shied away from it, that thought once voiced, was made suddenly and irrevocably real. It didn't matter that he and Kathryn had never been physical; rationally there was nothing wrong with his relationship with Seven. But rationality had nothing to do with it. Deep down the sense of wrongness persisted and he realised it had been there all along; he'd just refused to acknowledge it.
His complex, unconventional relationship with Kathryn, had been spun from unspoken dreams and unacknowledged hopes on both sides, and if it had been all been a game, he had played it as well as she had. Kathryn's daughter should have been verboten--off limits in whatever little games they played between them. He wondered how long it had taken his alternate self in Admiral Janeway's version of the future, to realise this and if he had, why did he still marry Seven?
The moment he'd met the Admiral, his first thought had been that something had sucked the life out of Kathryn and eventually he'd come to understand that the old woman he'd known over those few days had been tempered by more than time and experience. The ineffable vitality that Kathryn had radiated from the moment they'd met--face to face on her bridge against the backdrop of Caretaker, Ocampa, Kazon, 75,000 light years, Starfleet, Marquis--was gone from every cell of the Admiral's being.
In the years he'd known Kathryn, that inner light had flickered and even faded at times--like now--but it was always there. And it had re-ignited briefly in Admiral Janeway's eyes as she left on her suicide mission to face the Borg Queen. But he wondered now what had quenched it in the first place--another sixteen years in the wilderness? Having to watch the man she cared about--dare he believe loved?--fall in love with and marry the daughter she loved? Again his mind skittered away from the uncomfortable thought.
He'd always thought of Seven as Kathryn's protégé, reclamation project--safe impersonal labels without the emotional resonance that something like substitute daughter or adopted child would have. He'd deliberately placed the former Borg in the same category as Harry, Tom Paris and B'Elanna, young officers looking to their Captain for mentoring and perhaps a little healthy hero worship. But he doubted that she saw them or any others she'd taken under her wing over the years as her children--well, except perhaps Harry those first years, he thought smiling.
He frowned again. Why hadn't he seen the kind of emotional investment Kathryn had made in Seven? The same kind of emotional investment she'd placed in Kes and to an extent Naomi, though she was careful never to overstep her bounds with Samantha. And even if Seven couldn't recognise that mother-daughter relationship for what it was, why hadn't he seen it and stayed the hell away from the young woman?
Had he and Kathryn been playing "their game" so long he'd forgotten that there were others who were not privy to it and its rules? Had he forgotten that life was not a game--was never a game?
A sudden scream jolted him bolt upright as Seven materialised a hair's breadth from the viewscreen's panorama of cold space and colder stars. The young woman took an involuntary step forward, ran smack! face first into the screen, tripped over her own feet and as her arms pin-wheeled desperately, fell back onto her ass still screaming.
There was utter silence for a few stunned moments, before a roar of laughter shook the bridge--before Chakotay gathered up his wits and hurried across the bridge to Seven's side.
"Seven, what's happening?" he asked, crouching to offer his hand. She was trembling as she took it; her eyes brimmed with tears, which threatened to overflow as the laughter continued. He turned to glare at the bridge crew, to chastise them for their gross insensitivity, but the laughter stopped abruptly. He frowned for a moment, and then realised that they weren't looking at him but at the viewscreen above his head.
Slowly he turned his gaze to it. Kathryn Janeway, three metres tall, eyes flashing intense, blue flames, was standing with her hands on hips--a pose that could have been ludicrous in that fluffy white robe if not for her inherent dignity. She loomed over him.  Her glare was enough to melt duratanium hull plating. But even so, the fact that she probably wasn't wearing anything under the robe insinuated itself into his psyche and would surely torture him later.
Seven rose quickly and backed into him, visibly shaken--so un-Borglike that he automatically put his arm around her shoulders and she shrank into his protective embrace. But the action barely registered. All he could do was look at Kathryn and think, "Oh shit!"
"Commander Chakotay," she said in a low, dangerous voice. "Did I or did I not leave strict orders that I was not to be disturbed tonight?"
Shit!
"Yes, Captain!" he replied, deftly disentangling himself from Seven.
"And did you or did you not make those orders known to all departments?"
SHIT!!!
"Yes, Captain!"
"Including Astrometrics?"
Oh Fuck!
"Yes, Captain!"
Kathryn folded her arms across her chest and glared down at him. "Then how is it that Seven of Nine came to my quarters demanding entrance and when I ignored her, invaded my privacy using your command codes, Commander?" she demanded.
FUCKING HELL!!!!!
Chakotay stared open-mouthed at her, and glanced at Seven, who was trying her damnedest to look defiant, before returning his gaze to Kathryn again. Judging by her damp hair and the robe, the Captain was fresh from a bath--an image of Kathryn Janeway dripping wet from another bath and wearing only a towel rose unbidden in his mind and he felt the stirrings of something he'd long thought dead.
However, unlike that earlier bath, Kathryn's skin was dry, so she must have been out of the water for quite a while. Something about her posture caught his attention--oh, she was spitting mad all right, but there was a languid quality to the way she held herself, as if it took all her willpower to stay upright. He studied her face, noting her heavy-lidded gaze that belied her obvious fury, her moist, swollen, pink lips--the flare of her nostrils and skin that seemed to glow with the aftermath of something more earth shaking than a simple bath. Even in anger, Kathryn exuded sensuality; it took his breath away.
FUHHHCCCCKKKK!!!!!!!!
His thoughts reeled with the implications; Seven couldn't possibly have barged in on her at such a time! Not THAT!!! He alone of perhaps everyone on the damned ship knew how precious little time Kathryn took for herself. To have someone--to have SEVEN--barge in on such a private time, it was a wonder Kathryn hadn't beamed the young woman into open space. Then he thought of Seven's manner of arrival on the bridge and realised that it had been a warning to the ex-Borg of just how angry and upset the Captain had been.
"I don't know, Captain," he replied hoarsely. Glaring over his shoulder at Seven again, he continued, "But I will find out, Ma'am!"
She nodded, face grim. "See that you do, Commander," she said, "and effective immediately, I want the system overhauled and all command codes re-set. Get together with Commander Tuvok and see that it's done before alpha shift briefing in the morning. Furthermore, Seven of Nine is to be stripped of all privileges above Security Level 2--" Chakotay's eyes widened and he heard the bridge crew gasp in shock behind him. Security Level 2--the status of ordinary crewmen.
"You can't do that!" Seven shouted.
"Seven, be quiet!" Chakotay roared. The young woman's mouth closed with a snap as she stared at him in shock. "I'll see to it, Captain," he said turning back to the viewscreen.
"Until further notice, her work is to be supervised by either you or Commander Tuvok--starting immediately," the Captain continued harshly. "She is to spend tonight working on integrating Ensign Celes' protocols into the astrometric sensor array."
Chakotay looked at Janeway in confusion.  Celes? The young woman whose incompetence he'd listened to Seven complain about at least once a day for the last five months? The one Kathryn had taken on that little jaunt with two young men--a jaunt that nearly killed them all just so three misfits could have an away mission experience?
He realised that Kathryn was still speaking. "--impress on her the value of judging a person's work on its merits and not on spurious prejudice. If she refuses to do the work, throw her in the brig. Ensign Celes' protocols have been transferred to your command files as well as Commander Tuvok's, Commander Torres' and Lieutenant Nicoletti's files."
Chakotay replied with the only answer he could make. "Yes, Captain."
"Excellent Commander," she said formally. "One last thing--" Chakotay swallowed the urge to groan. "Please explain to Crewperson Seven of Nine, why, when Ensign Celes told her to perform the analysis herself if she wanted it done again, Ensign Celes was not being insubordinate!"
Father help me, Chakotay prayed silently, instinctively knowing that this was what had driven Seven to such a horrible invasion of Kathryn's privacy.
Chakotay cleared his throat and made himself turn to face Seven; she stood there livid with humiliation. He felt sorry for her--sorry for that over-weaning pride that had got her into this mess--but surprisingly little else. Damn, getting himself out of this mess was going to be impossible, but he deserved it.
"Insubordination implies rude behaviour to or refusal to follow the orders of a ranking officer or officer with greater seniority by a crewmember of lower rank or seniority," Chakotay quoted from regulations everyone knew by heart. "Crewperson Seven of Nine has no rank, therefore by definition, Ensign Celes cannot be considered insubordinate in her behaviour towards her, Captain."
He met Kathryn's steady gaze again. "Thank you, Commander," she said quietly. "Please see that I'm not disturbed again tonight. Good night."
"Good night, Captain," he answered and the viewscreen once again returned to the cold, brilliant stars.
"You can't seriously--" Seven began haughtily.
"Into my office, now!" Chakotay barked and seeing the hurt in her eyes, he knew that this was part of the reason Kathryn was afraid of pursuing a relationship with a crewmember--with him. Lovers had a hard time finding the line between commanding officer and bed partner. She stared at him for a moment longer, then turned on her heel and marched stiff-backed across the bridge into his office.
He tapped his commbadge tiredly. "Chakotay to Tuvok," he called.
"Tuvok here. What can I do for you, Commander?"
"Please report to my office, Tuvok," Chakotay said. "Sorry to disturb you, but we have a situation up here."
The Vulcan wasted no words. "On my way. Tuvok out."
Chakotay turned to face the bridge officers, who were suddenly very engrossed with their stations. "Lieutenant Ayala," he said. "Take another security officer and get down to the Captain's quarters. Post yourselves at either end of the corridor. No one--and I mean no one disturbs the Captain without going through Tuvok or me first!"
"Yes sir!" Ayala rapped out and moved quickly to the turbolift.
"Lieutenant Vorik," Chakotay called to the young Vulcan engineer. "You have the bridge."
"Aye Commander," Vorik acknowledged formally. He moved down into the command area. "I have the bridge."
Chakotay nodded, then took a deep breath and marched into his office.
#

Part 7
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