Running Up That Hill:
A Janeway / Seven Series

Author: ladydameon
Co-Author(s) / Beta: Lain Stardust

General Disclaimer(s): See previous chapter(s).

Chapter 8: Perceptions
Rating: PG / T

Summary: Seven of Nine reveals her intentions to Captain Janeway.

Author's Note: Reading the previous chapter(s) is recommended. Adjusting weight-lifting equipment in the 24th century isn't like today. We imagine the degree of technology allows the user to adjust the physical weight resistance of free weights via a control panel on the outside of the barbell and/or dumbbell. Size does not matter and no more moving plates—think Eureka!

With keen interest, Seven of Nine observed as Lieutenant Rollins vaulted off the 10-meter dive platform, completing two summersaults before slipping into the water with a marginal splash. Once he resurfaced, Rollins swam to the side of Pool Four as the computer stated his score—8.75. The smattering of spectators who sat on the bleachers clapped as the next diver, Ensign Nicoletti, took position.

"Why do you not participate, Kathryn?" Seven asked softly, even though they sat on the far end of the pool, a considerable distance between them and the others clustered on the end by the dive platform.

Seven followed Nicoletti's graceful aerial maneuvers. However, her entry was poorly executed as the ensign produced a significantly greater splash, thusly earning a lower score than the bulkier Rollins.

"Oh, I'm not that good," Janeway said, dismissing the notion with a slight wave of her right hand. She sat back, leaning on her elbows, which were resting on the bench behind them. "Besides, I dive for the fun of it."

"Perhaps you shall reconsider. Your form is quite remarkable."

A sideways glance accompanied a crooked smile. "Thanks." Leaning a tad closer to Seven, the captain asked, "Why don't you compete, Seven?" Raising an eyebrow, she continued, "I'm sure that with practice your technique would be exceptional."

The computer relayed the current placements of the night's competitors after Round Two; Crewmen Mitchell was in the lead by a solid half-point.

Whether or not the flutter in her chest was from the captain's proximity or the idea of freely leaping from the third tier of the dive platform, Seven wasn't entirely certain, but she did know she couldn't break eye contact with Janeway. Although she had become adept at determining when particular people teased her, the ex-drone could still find herself befuddled by emotionally-charged situations and, increasingly, by her captain.

At the lack of response, Janeway settled back in her reclining position, releasing a low chuckle. Her attention returned to the divers as Round Three started.

Seven studied Janeway's profile while considering her next course of action. Thus far, the evening had progressed remarkably well despite her self-perceived inelegance. No one seemed overly curious as to their interactions. Feeling more confident, Seven considered the current phase complete and decided it was time to move on, but before she could say anything further.…

"Bridge to Seven of Nine."

Tapping her combadge, Seven responded, "Seven of Nine here."

"Report to Astrometrics; there are some anomalous readings on a direct intercept course with Voyager. I want you to try to identify the source before I notify the Captain."

"Understood, Commander," Seven said, closing the channel. With slight disappointment, she stood to leave the simulation. It had taken nearly all of her free time during the last week to refine the holographic Kathryn Janeway to its current point—almost life-like.

"Leaving so soon?"

Pausing, Seven returned her attention to the hologram. "The Commander requires my assistance in Astrometrics, Captain." She was a bit perplexed over her automatic response. Normally, she didn't have any problems ignoring the questions of holograms in any simulation.

"Alright," the holo-Janeway paused. Tilting her head, she suggested, "Perhaps we can visit that sidewalk café in Buenos Aires another time."

Surprised to find herself almost automatically responding again, Seven of Nine ordered the computer to end the program. She had already wasted a minute in frivolous conversation with the hologram. Quickly, Seven traversed the corridors to the turbolift and on to Deck 9, all the while still annoyed at being interrupted.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Voyager's XO walked into the Astrometrics Lab at his typical lumber. "Any ideas?" he asked, saddling up the center console, invading Seven's personal space in the process and missing her slight frown.

"The anomalous reading detected by long-range sensors is a short-range probe." Seven entered a series of commands on the console, bringing the object of concern up on the large viewscreen. The device's schematics ticked alongside as it traveled through space. "As far as I can ascertain, the probe's current search pattern is taxing its limited power reserves. It must recharge every one-hundred-sixty-eight hours for a period of approximately five hours."

"Go on," the First Officer prompted unnecessarily.

"While recharging, the probe temporarily stops transmitting its telemetry." Entering another sequence of instructions, Seven displayed the inbound probe in relation to Voyager's current position. "Recharge will be complete in approximately forty-eight minutes; however, if the probe maintains its current course, Voyager will be detected in less than fifty-five minutes."

"So, we have roughly an hour to get out of the way," Chakotay said, more for his own benefit. "Can we determine if it's friend or foe?"

"No, but the search parameters developed by Commander Tuvok have indicated two potential pirate ship configurations zero-point-two light-years from the probe's present position." Seven altered the display again to include the closest vessel. "Power fluctuations in their communications array may indicate the vessel could be relaying the data to other ships." She pressed another chain of buttons, returning to the view of the probe.

"Could be transmitting to a hundred different ships," the XO muttered.

"There is another element you may find of note, Commander." Seven brought up the sector map illuminating the two ships of interest and the probe in relation to Voyager. "The sensor array onboard the probe is only capable of transmitting telemetry a maximum of three light-years."

"Interesting," Chakotay said as he drummed his fingers on top of the console. "Then, what good is the probe?"

It was obvious from the probe's construction that it had no redeeming scientific value, as it looked to be barely holding together.

"I believe the vessels are using the probe to supplement their sensor arrays." Seven of Nine tapped her console, causing the viewscreen to split between the two ships. "Both vessels have sustained serious damage."

Nodding, the First Officer read the ticking schematics. "Those ships shouldn't even be flying…. Send the tactical data to Tuvok's station and request a risk assessment. I'm going to notify the Captain. I want you to keep an eye on them and contact me the moment anything changes."

"Yes, Commander," the Borg responded automatically. Curious about his concern, which seemed out of proportion to the threat, she asked, "Do you expect them to attack?"

With a solemn look, Chakotay turned to Seven. "I hope not."

The young woman watched as the commander left for the Bridge. Her gaze returning to the viewscreen, she understood the XO's reluctance to engage these ships. They were in no shape to travel through space, let alone attack a starship. Voyager's victory would be quick and her loses minimal.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Pulling her Starfleet arctic-gear jacket tighter around her, Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, the Chief Engineer onboard the USS Voyager smiled happily, despite the fact she was freezing to death. They had finally come across some tellurium. It had taken nearly five years to find a substantial supply of the unrefined mineral, restricting the ship to the limited quantities gained solely through trade.

The blasted material was tricky to locate and twice as difficult to mine. However, refining the raw ore would have been impossible if Captain Janeway hadn't procured the Inuldean's refining technology a few weeks ago.

When Astrometrics detected this trove of a planet, nearly every department head had salivated for the chance to stop at Treasure Planet, as Tom Paris had cheekily dubbed it. Currently, eight away teams consisting of approximately ten members each worked at five different locations mining the desperately needed mineral. Unfortunately, such a large operation required the assistance of the woefully mining-skill challenged.

Sweeping her gaze over her diligently working away team, Torres futilely rubbed her hands together in the hope that it would generate further warmth through the thick, protective gloves. She'd much rather be taking part in the mining process itself, but she needed to float from cluster to cluster in case anyone had questions or problems. At least the mission also doubled as a much-needed training exercise.

Her gaze rested on Crewman Tal Celes. The young Bajoran had honestly surprised B'Elanna, who had been expecting disaster with the woman's involvement, but Tal had exhibited a natural talent in extracting the mineral with little assistance. She took to the task rather naturally, able to read the rock like any other mining pro.

Torres chuckled to herself. She remembered the constant department and duty shuffling Tal Celes had been subjected to for the last few months. It seemed that every week the crewman was doing something different. The chief believed the Bajoran would crumble from the one-on-one attention of being one of Janeway's pet projects, and she had certainly never expected anything to come from Tal. Yet here she was, watching the previously written-off crewman fill container after container with tellurium.

Damn, Torres thought, if only I'd known about this talent sooner.

But then again, no one had been willing to take the time to help the wayward Bajoran. Even the First Officer had seemed content to keep Tal's duties light and relatively inconsequential.

"Chakotay to Torres."

Fumbling to hit the combadge on her puffy coat, Torres responded, "Torres here."

"Status."

"My team will reach quota in about two more hours, Commander." She looked around, not sensing anything out of the ordinary. "There's a pocket of dilithium not two kilometers from our current position that I would really like to check out before we leave—"

"Understood. Chakotay out."

With that, the comm channel was closed. Torres frowned as she scoped out the horizon. Again, she saw nothing but piles of rubble littering the rolling, rock-laden hill sides. Her eyes traveled the small cleft that loomed over them. The natural formation had offered some protection from the numbing winds, but the growing shadows chilled the half-Klingon to the bone.

She sighed and watched her hot breath dissipate before her eyes. There was no telling what Chakotay was trying to figure out. However, if it was important, Torres knew the team leaders would be immediately notified. She gazed out into the wasteland of rubble.

The captain had disappeared over an hour ago with a security team in tow.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Captain Kathryn Janeway was flanked by two security officers as she carefully walked across the uneven terrain littered with pebbles, rocks, broken boulders and leafless scrub. Occasionally, she would glance up from her tricorder, seeing nothing but the vast stretch of rolling stones as far as the human eye could see. Snapping the scanning device closed and stowing it, Janeway observed as Lieutenant Rollins stumbled but managed to keep his balance.

Ensign Golwat snickered, returning the lieutenant's earlier amusement of her own walking difficulties.

Rollins merely cleared his throat.

Crouching down, the captain began sifting through the loose rocks as she looked for something specific. It was, after all, their reason for trekking the rocky field for half a kilometer.

Golwat and Rollins exchanged a look, both relieved for the respite.

Glancing over her shoulder, Golwat could just make out the over-crop where the away team worked. All the while, she hoped they would just beam back to Voyager instead of stumbling back to the mining site. It had been a tad frustrating watching the captain step as if she were part mountain goat, never slipping. She returned her attention back to Janeway and crouched down. "An ebony cluster?"

The smooth and shiny cluster of ore was roughly twelve centimeters in diameter.

"A rock?" blurted Rollins. His eyes went wide. "We walked all this way for a rock."

The ensign scowled at the lieutenant. It wasn't their place to criticize the mission, just to ensure the captain's safety. But she would have to admit that it was slightly annoying. Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation hit her, and Golwat fell back onto her rear, laughing.

"What's so funny?" Rollins scowled.

Stowing the cluster in her satchel, Janeway cleared her throat to hide her own amusement. "Only that we're surrounded by rocks."

As if seeing for the first time, the lieutenant looked about him at a loss. "Oh," he managed. "I apologize, Captain."

Abruptly, Janeway held up her gloved hand. "None needed, Scott. If I was forced to traipse across this terrain for a rock, I'd be irritated, too." Patting her satchel, she added, "However, this was too good to pass up." She extended her hand and helped the ensign to her feet. "I think Naomi will be quite pleased."

Rollins snapped out an eager, "Yes, Ma'am," knowing all too well how desperately the girl had wanted to join her mother on this particular away mission. Having been the oldest of eight siblings, the lieutenant understood how the younger and mild mannered could get lost in the mix. Things worked similarly on most starships where the aggressive go-getters always seemed received the commendations and attention.

Yet, that wasn't necessarily the case with Captain Janeway, as she left the typical rigors of said actions to her Executive Officer while she focused on the other end—people like Tal Celes, Billy Telfer and Mortimer Harren. Rollins shuddered, remembering Tal's week in security under his purview. It was a miracle his squad had survived. Nonetheless, he had forced his fellow officers to toe the line. The Bajoran crewman had given it her all; she just didn't fit with security.

"I think Carey might put up a fight for that cluster, Captain. He's been hunting for the perfect base for his Devore ship for years." Golwat grinned, her white teeth brilliant against her blue skin.

The Assistant Chief Engineer, Joe Carey, had taken to making models of various vessels Voyager had encountered over the years.

The light conversation continued as the trio headed back to the main mining site. Rollins talked about Nicoletti's crystal fairytale castle. Golwat attempted to trump that with Ensign Molian's miniature replicas of the crew. Not for the first time, the captain was happy her crew took such pride and delight in their hobbies, even if they tended towards the slightly bizarre.

Maybe they need an extended shore leave, she thought.

Halfway to the site, Janeway lost her footing and slammed down onto one knee, luckily missing the worst of the jagged rubble. As she accepted Rollins's help up, she considered how she had fallen since her boot tread had maintained a solid grip. It almost felt like something had bumped the back of her knee, causing the drop. From that point on, the captain couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, but she ignored her gut instinct, thinking she was just being paranoid. Janeway frowned at how easy that particular feeling seemed to reemerge on a continual basis.

Suddenly, Golwat lost her footing, but the captain caught the ensign before she could tumble down. "Thanks, Captain," the Bolian smiled after regaining her balance. "But that felt weird, like something blunt knocked me in back of the knee.…"

"I felt the same thing."

The security officers pulled out their phasers while visually sweeping the horizon, which failed to expose any threat.

Activating her tricorder, Janeway scanned the immediate area but detected no life signs other than the away team. Setting the tricorder on continuous scan, she turned back to Rollins. However, before any further instructions could be given, the captain's expression contorted as a blast of hot, humid air blew in her face. She could have sworn she heard a snort as the rush of air was quickly followed by another, actually forcing her hood to fall back.

"Captain?" the officers whispered in unison.

She blinked a few times as a hefty nose seemed to come into focus before her eyes, but it really wasn't there.… Or was it? Janeway watched large nostrils flare in avid interest. It was then the there-but-not-there nose touched hers. For a moment, the captain could have sworn she saw a massive creature nearly seventeen hands in height, a thick, tousled mane of brown, and warm, chocolate eyes. As the beast broke contact, Janeway lost the image of the animal, and all sense of its presence vanished.

"I think it's gone," she finally said.

"What was it?" Rollins asked.

Opening the tricorder, Janeway said, "I'm not really sure, but I don't think it wanted lunch."

"I just saw this giant mass of . . . smoke," whispered Golwat, still in awe over what she had just witnessed.

"Let's get back."

Thankfully, they returned to the mining site without further delay, relieving some of the captain's tension and paranoia. The tricorder had failed to record any indication that the creature even existed, let alone interacted with them. Any further speculations were cut short when.…

"Chakotay to the Captain."

"Janeway here."

"We have a bit of a situation." The commander continued to explain the exact state of affairs, how the probe was currently recharging, how the ships were suspected pirate vessels and how much time was left before possible detection.

"Risk assessment?"

"Minimal, Captain."

"What's our current quotient?"

"Sixty-eight percent."

Holding back a curse, Janeway quickly considered her options. "Pending knowledge of their intentions, we'll continue mining operations until the last possible moment. Inform the other teams to prep for immediate personnel extraction when necessary."

"Understood. Voyager out."

The away teams, consisting of over half Voyager's crew compliment, had been working for the better part of a day, and they still hadn't managed to reach the desired 80 percent mark. Ever since coming across those accursed pirates, trade had been increasingly difficult, and ship repairs seemed to eat right through their already sparse reserves.

Janeway gritted her teeth as she walked towards Torres. She could tell Chakotay had already contacted the chief as the Klingon's eyes locked onto hers. No doubt, B'Elanna was going to argue that they needed this planet's precious resources. It was something she knew all too well.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The Red Alert klaxons sounded as Captain Janeway trotted out of her Ready Room and onto the Bridge. Since returning to the ship, she had dreaded the inevitable conflict that was about to ensue. All attempts to determine the incoming vessels' intentions had so far failed; as such, they would have to be regarded as hostiles despite their dilapidated condition.

Voyager desperately needed the resources conveniently located on the planet below, which lay unclaimed amidst the desolate sector. The captain would be damned if she would turn tail and run from such a prize because of voiceless scavengers. However, she was confident if a dialogue could be established, she could appeal to their baser needs—perhaps a few hundred kilos of refined ore? But Janeway needed to get them to talk to her first. Worst case scenario, she'd disable them, placate them with trade, and continue her day.

"Report," Janeway snapped, crossing her arms as she stood in the center of the command deck.

"The vessels are entering weapons' range," Tuvok informed her.

"They're still refusing to respond to hails," added Harry Kim.

Ever since the ships had altered course, the ensign had tried to establish contact with them, as per the captain's orders, but they had steadfastly refused to acknowledge Voyager. He had even scanned to see if their communications array was functional. Sadly, it was working just fine.

"Break orbit, Mr. Paris and turn us to meet them, one-quarter impulse."

"Aye, Captain," replied the helmsman, his fingers dancing across the console.

In a slow, elegant arch, Voyager broke orbit and moved away from the planet.

Idly scanning his console, Chakotay sat stiffly in his chair, willing the Spirits to guide these people away, as the would-be assailants didn't stand a chance against a starship. Shifting his gaze, he watched the controlled, slow tap of Janeway's thumb on her arm. The XO had read the same reports and was equally aware of the ship's status. He agreed with his captain's plan of making a deal or, at the very least, chasing them off.

Suddenly, Tuvok broke the heavy silence. "They're powering weapons."

"Open a channel," the captain ordered. Immediately after the alerting chirp, she solicited them to stand down while indicating her desire to reach a peaceful solution.

Their response was weapons' fire.

"Shields at ninety-eight percent," said Tuvok.

Gritting her teeth, Janeway took a step forward to lean on the rail behind the pilot pit. "Mr. Tuvok, disable their weapons."

From the primary hull, a single, orange-yellow beam lashed out from a forward phaser array, connecting to one of the pirate vessels and igniting a mass of sparks and fire.

"Weapons disabled on the lead ship," responded the security chief. His hands moved to establish a lock on the second vessel. "Second ship appears to be retreating."

"The disabled vessel is hailing, Captain," Kim apprised the captain with a touch of relief.

"Finally," Janeway sighed as she moved towards her seat. "Open a channel—"

Suddenly, the weapons-disabled ship exploded. Its debris bombarded Voyager's shields, forcing a peppered dance of blue-white across the viewscreen.

"What the hell was that?" The captain gripped the rail between her and Tuvok.

"The second vessel fired, destabilizing the lead ship's warp core," the Vulcan relayed with a slight quirk of an eyebrow. "Shields are down to fifty-seven percent."

"They fired on their own people," Chakotay muttered. His eyes locked with Janeway's. "No indication that survivors were transported."

"They're coming back around. Weapons are firing." Kim gripped his console as Voyager shuddered from the multiple impacts. "Hull breeches on decks five and ten, force fields are holding."

"Shields down to forty-two percent."

Janeway snarled, "Disable their weapons."

After Voyager took another battery of hits, Tuvok managed to achieve the appropriate target lock and fired. "The vessel's weapons array is offline."

"Ah, we have a problem." Paris shifted in his chair. His hands danced across the helm, all the while hoping Janeway heard him over Tuvok's and Harry's status reports: shields were down another ten percent, and a couple more hull breeches and two causalities had resulted from exploding EPS relays. "They're trying to ram us!" the pilot exclaimed as he barely managed to maneuver Voyager to dodge the frantic movements of the oncoming ship.

"Disable their engines." The captain stomped across the command deck to grip the rail behind Tom once again.

"Propulsion is offline," relayed Tuvok after completing the task.

Finally! Janeway was about to sigh in relief when….

"I'm detecting an overload in their power distribution grid, Captain."

"Harry, tell them to lower shields for emergency transport." Janeway strutted across the deck toward Ops.

"No response." Kim glanced up.

Voyager shuddered again.

"Now what?" Janeway's gaze snapped to Chakotay.

Not quite believing what he was seeing, the First Officer's mouth fell open as he read the incoming sensor information ticking across his console. "They locked onto us with a tractor beam," he said while turning toward his captain.

"Hail them!" Janeway was livid. This whole exchange had served absolutely no purpose, and the loss of life was utterly senseless. It could have been completely avoided if these damned people would just talk!

Obediently, Kim opened a channel. But just as he was about to halt his attempts, the viewscreen activated to reveal a young, scruffy boy roughly fourteen years of age. A mass of tangled black hair twisted about his head, falling into startled and scared eyes.

Janeway rushed to the forward portion of the command deck, gripping the rail. "Please—"

A loud booming voice off-screen roared, "We do NOT surrender!"

Just before the viewscreen went blank, the young boy's gold-amber eyes gave the alien captain a pleading, hopeful look.

"Their power grid is near critical," Kim said through an impossibly tight throat. His hands had started to shake as he continued to input commands. Who keeps kids on a ship like that? Valiantly, the ensign attempted to push down the looming bout of nausea. There could've been kids on that other ship and they….

"Any attempts to disable their shields or tractor beam will result in an overload." Tuvok said when his captain's eyes landed on him. The Vulcan knew the captain was probing for options as she avidly searched the gazes of her Bridge crew.

Understanding the implications, Janeway ordered, "Mr. Paris, gently put some space between us and them."

It was the safest method of burning out the tractor emitters and might provide enough time for someone to talk sense into the crazy man in charge of the pirate ship.

"Aye, Captain." The helmsman sounded far more confident than he actually felt. His hands felt sweaty as his mind raced to calculate his captain's order.

On tenterhooks, the captain of Voyager continued to hope that someone on the alien vessel would see reason or that B'Elanna or Seven would rush in with some elaborate yet insanely simple means of saving these people. Janeway glanced back at her First Officer, knowing he had long ago alerted the women to the plight.

Chakotay merely shook his head. We have no miracles.

Gradually, Voyager's shudders increased as her engines pulled her away from the desperate pirate ship, which held on by a thread. Its shield bubble flickered gold as the power grid became even more unstable, forcing the shields to drop intermittently.

"Can you manage a transporter lock, Harry?" Janeway asked. Her voice was still clear and commanding as she stepped down to stand next to Tom, placing what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder. It must have helped because the helmsman took a shaky breath and his hands stopped trembling—a little.

"No, Ma'am," the ensign answered, defeated. The shields were too unpredictable and the window of opportunity too small. The transporter lock kept getting disrupted from the power fluctuations.

It only took another fifteen seconds for the alien vessel's power grid to finally overload, creating a chain reaction and decimating the ship, leaving no survivors.

As the pirate ship exploded, Tom felt the grip on his shoulder tighten. He glanced up at his captain, surprised by his bleary vision but not missing the lone tear that streaked down Janeway's cheek. He had no doubt in his mind that they had killed non-combatants before on their journey during skirmishes with enemy ships, and it was highly likely that they would again. It just always felt worse when one knew it, especially when there were kids involved.

Her hand absently moved to Paris' back and gave him a slow pat. Looking down at his watery eyes, Janeway swallowed, forcing down the lump lodged in her throat. She gave him a faint nod of solidarity and quietly ordered, "Return us to orbit, Tom." As he responded, the captain crossed the command deck and gracefully sat in her chair. "Damage report."

Chakotay listened as Harry and Tuvok rattled off one thing after another. Most of the damage was thankfully superficial and wouldn't take much time to affect repairs. His dark eyes casually studied Janeway. The First Officer tried not to flinch as the dark, titanium gaze suddenly slid onto him.

"Dispatch an away team to dispose of the probe."

"Aye, Captain."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Lieutenant Rollins and Ensign Golwat watched their captain from an unacceptable distance since Starfleet protocol mandated that security officers should remain within arm's reach at all times. However, as Captain Janeway's primary (and preferred) escorts over the years, the pair had learned to bend that particular rule—mainly out of self-preservation.

"How long do you think she'll scan?" Golwat asked.

"As long as she needs to," Rollins replied with shrug.

They shared a look before fanning out, sweeping the area around their captain in a wide arc, discouraging animals and crewmen alike.

With annoyance, Janeway snapped her tricorder closed. Hours of scanning and she had absolutely nothing to show for it. Her gaze cut to Rollins then Golwat, relieved that they didn't encroach upon her desire for space and distraction. She glowered when she heard Torres yelling orders to her team. Thankfully, repairs to the ship had taken less than a day to complete, and mining had resumed first thing this morning.

Currently, the away teams were wrapping things up, stowing equipment and sealing the last few containers of the various minerals and ore they had procured. Once everything was beamed aboard, Voyager would resume course towards the Alpha Quadrant and hopefully out of kamikaze pirate range.

Slowly, Janeway reopened her tricorder and began entering another set of scanning parameters, a slow and daunting process given the density of her padded gloves. She still had time to locate the elusive creatures, maybe archive a detailed scan for later analysis. At the very least, she hoped for some small distraction of scientific discovery as there had been no diversion from her insomnia last night, resulting in a midnight tour of Voyager. However, Janeway dared to hope for one today via dragging Seven of Nine down to the planet's surface to help look for the mysterious animal.

Unbelievably, the Borg's combadge had been set to unavailable in addition to her being logged off duty, which had been happening quite often lately. The last significant amount of time the pair had spent together was their last swim lesson. Since then, Seven had been spending an inordinate amount of time on the Holodeck, alone. Janeway had overheard Tom Paris inquiring about Seven's Holodeck usage, but he only managed to garner the vague justification of running simulations. Later, Chakotay had mentioned in passing that Seven of Nine requested a lighter duty rotation for the duration of Voyager's orbit, unless her expertise was requested.

The captain's curiosity had been peaked by this uncharacteristically secretive behavior from the ex-drone. She just didn't know how to tactfully ask the young woman about it. She certainly wasn't going to impede on Seven's personal time to do it. Of everyone on ship, Captain Janeway understood the necessity for private time.

Immediately, Janeway should've recognized the benefit of the situation—distance. Which, of course, was absolutely crucial in dissuading a crewmember from becoming infatuated with a superior officer, or was it a superior officer becoming preoccupied with a subordinate? Regardless, there hadn't been any clear verification either way. She just knew what she felt and what she perceived Seven of Nine could be feeling for her.

But the fact remained; Kathryn Janeway missed Seven of Nine. No matter how she tried to distance herself, the young woman continued to invade the captain's thoughts and each time with greater frequency. One thing was certain; something had to give before there was another incident.

Activating the new algorithm, Janeway watched the fluctuating sensor readings.

"Captain?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Janeway turned to greet Ensign Wildman. "Sam, what can I do for you?" she queried warmly.

"Actually, Captain, I wanted to see if I could lend you a hand." Smiling, Wildman lifted her science kit. "I heard you were fascinated by some of the local wild life."

"Any help would be greatly appreciated since I've come up with nothing."

"We'll have to change that," Wildman said as she set her case on the rocky ground and opened it. All the while, she began outlining the highlights of her preliminary research completed last night after reading Janeway's report on the encounter. The ensign handed the captain a PADD containing the relevant info. "I was reminded of an animal back in the Beta Quadrant with similar features called a warg."

This was exactly the reason why Samantha Wildman joined Starfleet and specialized in xenobiology. She loved the subtle parallels between one planet's flora and fauna and another's. Unfortunately, it was a rare opportunity indeed to be able to study any alien animals for very long as Voyager was generally running away from hostiles. Ensign Wildman usually had to make-do with a series of tricorder scans and, if she was really lucky, a holo-picture or two.

As the captain began her typical litany of questions, Samantha's shoulders released their tension, and she entered the customary, easy dialogue with her CO. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with Captain Janeway. Far from it, actually, as none of the science division personnel had any trouble relating to or conversing with her. That was part of the reason Wildman had applied for a position under Janeway's command over six years ago.

No, this tension was born from concern over how to offer support in light of yesterday's skirmish.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The day was absolutely delightful!

At least, that was how the ex-drone imagined Neelix describing her current setting. She glanced around with an absent air, but in fact, she took in every nuance of the sidewalk café and its surrounding area. Her eyes studied the tall, flowering trees that shaded her and her companion from the warming Buenos Aires sun while limiting the curious glances of passing pedestrians.

Finally, the café waitress returned and deposited their desired beverages before quietly slipping away again.

Seven of Nine frowned at a steaming mug of house blend that sat before her. The almost-black beverage smelled acidic and bitter. She knew she wasn't going to like it even with liberal additions of sugar and milk. (Or would cream be better?) The true conundrum, however, was how she was going to add the necessary elements with the cup full to the brim.

Thankfully, her companion must have been well aware of Seven's inner plight as she casually exchanged the black coffee with her own drink, a light and frothy cappuccino—something the younger woman would hopefully find much more flavorful.

At the time of ordering, Seven had been a tad astounded and was considering the possible implications of an unacceptably programmed hologram of Kathryn Janeway. However, she chose to ignore the atypical behavior to see where the situation may lead.

The Borg tilted her head as the captain simply smiled, resting her chin in her hand. Tentatively, Seven raised the wide-brimmed mug to her lips, smelling the contents. The aroma was sweet and smooth, hinting at the beverage being a pleasant experience. Her senses did not mislead her. The cool, sweet, melting cream and the hot, mild liquid tempered with sugar mingled in her mouth, each complementing the other.

"Intriguing," she said gently, returning the mug to the table. Her gaze returned to Janeway.

"I thought you might enjoy that particular cappuccino." The smile hadn't left the captain's face nor had her eyes left Seven. "This café's house blend tends to be a tad robust for my usual tastes." Janeway took a sip of her coffee. "That said," she glanced around them, her gaze lingering on the small expanse of visible sidewalk through the curtain of flowering trees, "it does lend itself a greater sense of privacy." Blue eyes immediately returned to Seven who was mildly stunned by the hologram's directness.

Currently, this was the most reasonable behavioral approximation emulating the real Kathryn Janeway, but it was still marginally off, even with incorporating up-to-date knowledge of the various happenings of the ship.

Since recovering from the failing cortical node crisis almost two weeks ago, the ex-drone had an unrelenting desire to approach the Captain of Voyager romantically. She just didn't know how to go about it, thus the simulations. Once her own emotions had been made clear, and quantifiable evidence of Janeway's own interest had been documented, Seven had undergone extensive research in the matter of a starship captain becoming involved with a subordinate both romantically and sexually. Needless to say, she was surprised by the subtle distinctions of propriety and ultimate lack of any concrete breeches of protocol. All of this led her to believe her goal to be well within reason.

This was, of course, why Seven of Nine started her holographic exercises with a completely uninterested Captain Janeway. That singular experience had hurt immensely. She had been further astonished at her reaction to the holo-Janeway's rather stern and somewhat cold rebuttal. Even knowing the situation wasn't real, the Borg became all too aware of how her emotional responses made them seem as such, which in turn, lead her to research holo-addiction. Throughout the process, a part of her considered she may be taking the need for success to an extreme, but Seven would not allow the captain to outmaneuver her. In any case, she believed Holodeck preparations were tactically sound.

Given all of this relevant information, as well as not wishing to confuse her emotional responses between the Janeways, Seven of Nine had effectively cut off all recreational contact with the real captain—at least until the conclusion of her research and the formulation of a suitable means of obtaining her objective.

"Do you feel we need privacy, Kathryn?" Seven asked, intrigued by the open surprise she was experiencing.

Resting her elbows on the table, Janeway leaned forward, eyes avidly searching her companion's face. "I was going to ask you the same thing." She paused. Her voice was softer as she added, "You've been very attentive, Seven. I can't help but wonder…. Why you have been so elusive these last few weeks?"

Her heart hammered in her chest, but after a moment, Seven replied with surprising outward calm, "I've been hesitant as to how to converse with you."

Janeway's brows furrowed. "You've never had a problem telling me what's on your mind."

"The topic is personal."

"Oh," the hologram responded, casting her gaze off to the side. "I don't want to pry." Her eyes fixed back onto Seven as her hand slyly interlaced with the younger woman's. "But does this personal matter have something to do with me?"

"Perhaps." Again, Seven was surprised at the holo-Janeway's candor, but it somehow felt correct for it didn't take long for anyone to realize what Kathryn Janeway wanted, Kathryn Janeway usually got.

Flashing a crooked grin, the captain slowly caressed her thumb over Seven's captured hand. "Well, state your purpose," she teased with a small smirk, "and I'll see what I can do to accommodate you."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Oh, that's disgusting!" complained Mortimer Harren as he attempted to flick a glob of thick, clear goo off of his glove.

"Hey, watch it!" cried William Telfer, stepping away from Harren's flailing hand and the subsequently flying gunk. Removing his own glove, the crewman tentatively touched his face where some of the substance had inadvertently landed. "Ew, this stuff feels like mucus."

"I don't know if you should be touching that, Billy," offered Tal Celes as she pulled a spare cloth from her field pack.

Accepting the cloth, Telfer wiped at his face. "It's warm, too. As cold as it is, how can it be warm?" He glanced to Tal and Harren.

"Who cares?" snapped Harren as another, larger glob of slime blobbed onto the upper arm of his arctic jacket. "Where is this stuff coming from?"

Looking all around, Tal couldn't find any apparent reason why splotches of mucus were dripping on Harren. She did, however, find it a tad amusing. Pulling out a tricorder, Tal offered, "I'm not picking up anything."

"Maybe that's what the captain and Sam have been looking for," offered Billy as he pointed to the pair off in the distance, only about 10 meters away.

"Hey, Wildman, I found your snot!" Harren shouted, beyond perturbed as several more drops appeared on his jacket's shoulders.

"Oh no," mumbled Tal as both Janeway and Wildman looked in their general direction. Quickly, she resumed packing her equipment. Darn it, Harren, she thought. I've managed to go this entire away mission without drawing any attention to myself. And you had to go and ruin it.

Looking up at Harren's outburst, B'Elanna Torres absently placed her toolkit on top of a nearby storage drum full of ore. She was about to head over to the trio to see what the problem was when her toolkit inexplicitly fell onto the ground. The contents tumbled out in a clutter.

"What the...?" Immediately, Torres moved to retrieve the scattered instruments. It was then she noticed that the toolkit had a mass of mucus all along one side. Absently, the lieutenant attempted to wipe the substance off with her glove, but succeeded in only smearing it further. She lifted her glove up to sniff the clear, viscous liquid. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she spread her fingers and watched the stuff stretch between them. "Well, these are getting recycled."

The engineer was about to pull the slimed glove off when a blast of warm air blew across her face. Startled, Torres shook her head. She quickly glanced about, looking for the source. After a few seconds, she pulled off her glove, intending to drop it on the equally gooey toolkit. However, her hand never made it to the toolkit as it connected with something warm and extremely furry.

Her brows furrowed as she slowly turned to face whatever it was she just knocked. Still, Torres wasn't prepared for what she saw: a giant dog, much akin to an overgrown terran Tibetan mastiff, with a matted and tousled mane around its scruff. She might've been a tad worried over the proximity of the beast's fangs to her arm if not for the soulful gaze level with her own. Large green eyes locked onto hers, and a strange sense of peace washed through her.

Walking towards Harren and company, the captain's attention was drawn to the clatter of Torres' falling toolkit. She observed for a moment but became concerned at the engineer's rapt gaze at what appeared to be empty air. Immediately, Janeway halted Wildman with a hand on the arm while focusing her tricorder towards Torres.

"Incredible," muttered the ensign as she read the tricorder. "The creature is exhibiting a controlled state of bio-refractive camouflage on the cellular level. I wonder what type of ecological event or predator would trigger such an evolutionary response." Wildman gently took the device from her captain.

Good question, Janeway thought as she glanced around the mining site. Most of the away team was either discovering strange globs of mucus on their equipment, which was apparently slobber from the wargs, or appeared engrossed by some invisible sight. Even though those enthralled displaced no outward signs of distress or harm, the captain was still concerned for her crew's immediate welfare during this first contact.

Just as she was about to slap her combadge and call for a beam out, Janeway's arm was tugged away. Albeit gentle, the force of the pull nudged her a few steps away from Ensign Wildman.

Suddenly, Rollins and Golwat were standing next to Wildman with their phasers drawn, having heard Harren's shout a few moments ago, alerting the security team to move closer to their captain.

"Captain?" inquired Golwat.

"It's alright," Janeway answered, motioning for them to hostler their phasers. "I think if they wanted to hurt us, they would've done so by now."

Reluctantly, the two security officers lowered their weapons.

And that's when it happened…. A massive warg of nearly twenty hands with large, vibrant, hazel eyes and brown-silver fur appeared before the four officers. Its intelligent gaze swept over each in contemplative curiosity, eventually locking solely onto Janeway as if recognizing or understanding her status amidst the herd. Never breaking eye contact, the captain slowly removed a glove and raised her hand towards the creature's muzzle.

"Captain?" whispered Rollins tensely, hand gripping his phaser's handle.

"Easy…." Whether or not Janeway was attempting to soothe the beast or the security officer was anyone's guess, but she held her hand stationary. She could feel the exploratory sniffs and snorts even at the current distance.

Tentatively, the warg raised a front paw and took a step forward. When it noticed no discouraging movements, it took another step until it finally closed the space between Janeway's open hand and its snout. After a few encouraging nudges by the warg, the captain stroked the short, soft fuzz of the muzzle. The more she physically interacted with it—no, him, as the warg was definitely male—the more peaceful and content she felt. At first, the sensation seemed superficial because of the new experience, but gradually, the feelings spread out, seeping into the recesses of her tired soul.

"I think they're touch empathic," Janeway said. She absently reached behind the warg's left ear. Working her long fingers into the thick, matted mane, the captain began a slow scratch. The beast responded with a slight head tilt into the gesture and omitted a low, rumbling growl that was almost a purr. A love growl, Janeway smiled.

An awed exclamation from nearby broke her almost hypnotic connection with the creature. Still rubbing and kneading, Janeway glanced around to see over thirty wargs mingling amongst the away team. Gradually, the curious beasts meandered behind their alpha as the away team fell in behind their captain. When everyone halted, the alpha warg graced Janeway with an affectionate touch with his nose.

Following that, the warg stepped back and once again locked gazes. He adjusted his stance and swung his head high to release a melodic howl. The other members of his pack quickly joined in, adding their own unique voices to the harmony. And just as quickly as they had appeared, the wargs literally disappeared from sight.

"Wow!" muttered Tal Celes. "That was amazing."

"Yeah, that was well worth getting slobbered on," responded Harren sarcastically. Although his words lacked appreciation, Mortimer Harren was indeed very impressed, and he hated dogs.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate 54201.1: All of the away team participants have been cleared for active duty as none, after an extensive physical examination, exhibited any adverse effects from their interactions with the wargs. Without any forensic evidence one way or the other, I would dare speculate that this wildlife encounter has had a positive psychological effect on those who were present. That is, if the rumors I've heard are correct.

Voyager's Executive Officer casually observed Ensign Harry Kim pace back and forth in his office. If the young man wasn't so obviously upset, Chakotay would have laughed and perhaps think Kim was pulling his leg. However, he wouldn't expect such behavior from Harry—Tom maybe—but not Harry.

"It's a little late for those greenhorn jitters isn't it, Harry?" Chakotay smirked, privately amused by the ensign's panic. Of course, he knew Kathryn Janeway's intimidation all too well, especially when she was on a tear.

"Sir, I'm serious," Harry hissed adamantly. "She's been prowling the Bridge ever since we broke orbit a few days ago, and frankly, it's getting very disconcerting. I'm not the only one who's noticed, either."

"Prowling?"

"Yes!" Kim dropped down in the chair across from Chakotay's desk, finally feeling he was getting somewhere. "For the last hour of Alpha shift, she kept pacing the command deck like a caged tiger." He shuddered, remembering the first time he had seen a tiger, how the beast would occasionally snarl or roar while flashing long, sharp fangs.

The young man was obviously upset, that much was clear, and Chakotay had avoided prolonged exposure to the captain's alleged new Bridge behavior so far, just managing to catch quiet comments here and there. But in his defense, the XO had been working awfully hard in his office for the majority of his shifts since Voyager resumed course.

During that time, the commander had been preparing the next batch of crew rotations, his recommendations on shift change requests, the multitude of projects' status reports, compiling the numerous material requests by various departments for the captain's review and approval, not to mention crew evaluations and departmental reports. He really didn't envy her job and sure as hell didn't want it.

"Alright ensign, I'll speak with her." Chakotay glanced at the chronometer on his wall console. It was already slipping well into Beta shift, and thankfully Tuvok was covering the Bridge. Looking back at Kim, he said, "I suggest you go get some rest. Aren't you covering Gamma shift tonight?"

"Yes, Sir." Harry slowly stood up. After taking a few steps towards the door, he said, "Thank you, sir."

"It's what I'm here for, Ensign." The commander smiled as he added, "Let's keep this just between us, okay?"

Kim simply nodded and left.

Once Harry was gone, Chakotay sighed. He had, in fact, noticed Janeway's restlessness, but he couldn't remember the last time it had reached this degree of intensity. Later, he thought as he looked down at the piles of PADDs scattered on his desk, I'll deal with it later.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

As the pneumatic doors swooshed open, Commander Chakotay stepped into the Ready Room with a tote full of PADDs. He squared his shoulders as he mentally prepared to do battle with his stalwart captain. A smile spread across his face, somewhat amused by his own melodramatics.

"Commander," Janeway greeted, seated behind her desk. Her eyes narrowed slightly at his smirk.

Cradling a cup of coffee, that's a good sign, he mused. "Captain, I come bearing gifts." Chakotay dropped down into a seat across from her and began sorting the PADDs on the desktop.

"A fruit basket is a gift, Chakotay." Setting down her coffee, Janeway gestured towards the quickly multiplying PADDs that continued to consume her desk. "These look suspiciously like paperwork."

"I'll remember that for next month's crew rotation and progress reports." His smiled broadened at her indignant sort.

"Let's get this over with."

The next few hours where whittled away by the tedious task of reviewing approximately a hundred-and-fifty crew performance evaluations, general crew rotations and a few requests for departmental transfers. The captain was quite pleased with the overall performance of her crew, especially that of Crewman Tal. When they reached her report, the First Officer mentioned the half-Klingon's surprise at Tal's mining aptitude and suggested to permanently transfer the young woman to Maintenance.

Maintenance wasn't a department for slackers on any starship, let alone Voyager since it was stranded in the Delta Quadrant. It was those dedicated individuals who kept the ship flying and in the fight. Although technically a sub-department of Engineering, starship maintenance was usually reserved for those who could think on their feet and institute quick, reliable patches until more permanent repairs were feasible. It was also Maintenance who oversaw cargo, resource storage and processing.

Janeway was quite pleased that Tal had managed to find her niche and that the Senior Custodian was more than happy to take the young woman under his wing. Maintenance always needed extra help.

"What are these?" the captain asked, picking a PADD up from an untouched stack.

"Resource requests," supplied Chakotay. "It seems the vultures are circling." He pursed his lips at her noncommittal grunt and watched as she dropped the PADD down on the desktop. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready for lunch. Care to join me?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Eat another platter of leola root crisps?" The commander was relieved when Janeway smirked at the gentle teasing.

"No," the captain drawled. After a brief pause, she added, "I did that yesterday. It's not funny, Chakotay. The way I've been eating, I'm surprised I haven't burst a seam in my uniform."

Clearing his throat, Chakotay asked, "Has the Doctor given any explanation to your change in appetite?"

Rolling her eyes, Janeway replied, "No, he only said to eat healthy. Of course, it doesn't really matter since I've only gained muscle mass."

"Maybe it's all the training," he supplied.

"Perhaps." She really didn't want to have this conversation, disclosing all of her eating habits and the inevitable examination of her diet—past, present and future. She'd just survived that particular lecture from the EMH not several weeks ago, after all.

Chakotay watched as Janeway ever so slightly tapped her finger on her desk. That had been the signal for the last few days when she was about to start pacing. However, the moment she shifted to stand, he remarked, "There's something else I wanted to discuss."

"Oh?"

Delicately now, he reminded himself. "Yes, a few of the Bridge crew have expressed some concerns." Chakotay paused for a moment before adding, "They're telling me that you seem more . . . intense." At her arched eyebrow, he could tell she didn't quite understand, but it was the only way he could describe her behavior.

"Intense?" At her XO's nod, she requested, "Please, elaborate."

"Well, in a nutshell, you're driving everyone to distraction." Chakotay saw the storm rolling in across the horizon of blue-grey, but he valiantly pressed onward. "The familiar comfort of your presence isn't so calming at the moment. Some people are starting to get a tad paranoid."

"I see."

With a sigh, he wasn't sure Janeway was seeing what he wanted her to see. Trying a different approach, Chakotay admitted, "We're just concerned."

"Duly noted, Commander," the captain responded sharply. Closing her eyes, Janeway took a slow breath, her expression visibly softening. Running a hand through her hair, she conceded, "I'll try to keep my intensity turned down while on the Bridge."

An unmistakable glint flashed in Chakotay's eyes as he said, "You might want to bypass Main Engineering, too. It seems B'Elanna has been rather low key lately, and everyone's waiting for other shoe to drop. Honestly, I don't think they could take any more excitement." At her nod, the First Officer picked up his sole remaining PADD and stood. He contemplated his captain for a moment. "With all this extra energy, why not ask Tuvok for an extra session or two? Or, have Seven play a few rounds of Velocity?"

"I might just do that." Janeway smiled, in the process relieving his tension and a portion of hers. She made a conscious decision to limit her pacing to the corridors, Ready Room or her quarters. However, the dropping of the former Borg drone's name had brought the intensity right back. "If that's all?"

The First Officer nodded once and trotted out the door, all the while hoping he had averted disaster.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Humming quietly, Neelix worked on shredding a bin full of rich, leafy green heads of lettuce in the solitude of the Galley. He was quite pleased with the latest harvest yield from the Aeroponics Bay. Also, his planned dinner offered the perfect opportunity to finish off the last few loaves of Inuldean breads that the crew had enjoyed so. In his peripheral vision, Neelix noticed a familiar presence enter and approach—one he hadn't seen much of the past few weeks, especially in the last couple of days.

"Where have you been hiding?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible. There had been some talk about the ex-drone's activities or, rather, the lack there-of, and murmurs about Seven's sudden increase in Holodeck usage.

"I have not been hiding," supplied Seven of Nine, stepping around the counter to assist Neelix in preparing the roughage for consumption.

"Well, not being seen can sometimes be associated with hiding," the Talaxian explained. He eyed her pointedly. "There has been some speculation on how you've been spending your free time lately."

"Indeed." She was well aware of the rumors and idle chatter, which had increased exponentially since Voyager resumed course for the Alpha Quadrant. It was expected, but what surprised the Borg was the honest concern for her well-being.

"People have gotten used to you milling about. Socializing, even," Neelix remarked. "Ensign Machesney actually asked if you were alright."

"I am aware." Seven didn't wish to expound upon it. Neither did she wish to relay that the ensign had visited the Astrometrics Lab one day under the guise of having a question and had taken that opportunity to inquire about her emotional and physical status. Although surprised by the young man's honest concern, Seven had simply offered him the same vague reasons she gave Lieutenant Paris—simulations.

Neelix frowned. "Really, Seven," he mildly scolded, shaking his fist full of leafy greens in her general direction. "I thought you wanted to woo the Captain, not alienate her."

"It was not my intention to alienate her."

Finally, he slapped the lettuce back into the bin, having completed his shredding and inquired. "What have you been doing on the Holodeck?"

"Simulations."

Neelix blinked a few times. "Yes, everyone knows that, but simulations of what?" he insisted.

"Social interactions."

Pursing his lips, Neelix eyed the ex-drone with suspicion. "For someone who's usually so precise, you're being awfully elusive." He watched her for a few moments, lost in his own thoughts. What could possibly be so embarrassing about using the Holodeck? Gently, Neelix asked, "These simulations don't happen to include a certain starship captain, do they?"

Looking over her shoulder to ensure no one was observing their conversation, Seven of Nine nodded in affirmation.

Voyager's morale officer frowned. "I always found the holograms of the crew to be impersonal and stiff. They're nothing like the real person."

"I have made the appropriate adjustments to the Captain's hologram. I assure you, it is quite accurate. Would you like a demonstration?"

"Maybe some other time," the Talaxian eyed the ex-drone for a moment. "So, what have your simulations included, exactly?"

Frowning slightly, Seven of Nine considered the question, mildly irritated that he continued to repeat it, and concluded that she must not have answered it to his satisfaction. "Clarify."

Clearing his throat, Neelix asked softly, "What have you and the hologram done together?" He had learned the more precise his questions, the more likely he was to get an answer.

"Nothing inappropriate, Mr. Neelix," Seven paused. After a moment of slight discomfiture, she added, "We partook of several social activities with and without the holographic crew's presence."

Annoyed with the inefficiency of her emotional response, she knew he only wished to assist her. With Neelix as her only ally, the former Borg realized that she needed any help she could get and readily began outlining the various scenarios: walks on the beach at Cape Henlopen, the crew's dive meet, a café in Buenos Aires.

Nodding, the cook considered everything Seven was telling him. "You've been pretty busy, but has this given you any insight into how to approach her?"

"I am uncertain." Seven's voice lacked its usual poise.

"Well," Neelix said lifting the bin containing the shredded greens, "I guess you'll just have to wait for the right opportunity." He slid the container into one of the stasis cabinets. "And before you ask," the Talaxian continued as he closed the cabinet door, "I think you'll know it when you see it." He smiled as he turned to face her again.

Of course, Seven of Nine did not share his confidence in her ability to know when to actually follow through with her endeavor. Interacting within the safety of the Holodeck was one thing, but to actually approach someone in the real world was something else entirely. She dreaded rejection just as much as acceptance. What would be worse: knowing that Captain Janeway found an ex-drone romantically insufficient or that Seven was completely unable to effectively romance the captain?

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Observing his captain's progress of military presses while utilizing the barbell, Tuvok discreetly made adjustments to the weight capacity of two dumbbells with a press of a button. He was quite pleased with her development but slightly confounded at her increased physical prowess. Undoubtedly, the matter would require further testing and observation.

Dropping the barbell into its cradle, Janeway asked, "How are B'Elanna's sessions going?" She absently wiped the bar down despite the fact that she'd only barely begun to perspire. "Chakotay mentioned she's been rather composed lately." With a frown, the captain accepted the two dumbbells from Tuvok, adopted the appropriate stance, and began a series of biceps curls.

Tuvok tilted his head as an eyebrow arched ever-so-slightly. Not only did Janeway not register the weight increase, but she exhibited no signs of additional strain. "Our meditation sessions have exceeded my expectations." The Vulcan paused for a moment. "If you are amenable, I believe she would benefit greatly by participating during our sparring sessions."

Janeway nodded as she finished her final set. "I don't see why not."

Switching her positioning, she started the first rep of hammer curls. The captain understood why Tuvok wanted to include Torres in their hand-to-hand training. It would provide a different form of focus and a more controlled means for her to express some of her exuberant amount of emotional energy. That wasn't to say the idea of Janeway having her ass handed to her repeatedly by the Klingon-hybrid was appealing.

"Very well, I shall ask her." Tuvok watched as the captain began lateral rises. "Icheb—"

Janeway smiled as she interrupted. "He would benefit from training with us, as well?"

"Indeed." The security officer prepared the area for their martial arts session by arranging a series of floor mats.

Stowing the dumbbells on their rack, the captain asked, "Are you wanting to invite anyone else, Tuvok?"

She chuckled at the almost imperceptible furrow of his brows but quickly cleared her throat as she took position directly across from him. It wasn't a smart thing to tease a Vulcan before engaging in combatives. Kathryn Janeway had learned that the hard way.

Her Chief of Security didn't wait long before he launched into a series of fluid attacks—the first of which she just barely managed to counter. Tuvok quickly had her on the defensive as he forced her backward across the mats. Desperate to break the onslaught, Janeway saw an opportunity and immediately swept into a crescent kick. Her goal was to knock down his hands and expose him for a close attack. However, things didn't quite go to plan as Janeway found her face firmly planted in a mat.

Pushing herself up, the captain frowned as Tuvok patiently waited for her to regain her bearings. Janeway closed the distance between them, a silent signal of her desire to continue. The Vulcan resumed his relentless assault, but this time around, she was doing a better job of blocking his blows and even landing a few hits of her own. Janeway was somewhat taken unaware by Tuvok's ferocity, unused to this degree of opposition during their previous training.

Falling into the rhythm and predictability of their movements, the captain's mind started to wander. And suddenly, Janeway couldn't catch her breath as she was overwhelmed by a blindingly sharp pain in her stomach.

Tuvok had landed a solid punch squarely in her solar plexus.

"Captain?" he inquired, concern clearly lacing his voice.

"I'm fine," Janeway panted through the searing pain. She attempted to walk it off, occasionally doubling over and holding her stomach. Taking slow breaths, the captain forced the throbbing down to a dull ache. "No wonder the security teams whine about your sparring rounds."

"It was not my intention to land the blow, Captain." Tuvok briefly considered suggesting a visit to Sickbay but knew it would be futile. "Until now, you have successfully countered that particular assault."

"Now, I think I have some proper incentive to continue blocking it." Janeway dropped onto the mats, her adrenaline spent. She rubbed her forehead and pinched the bridge of her nose. The blow should've never landed, and she shouldn't have lost focus.

The Vulcan watched his friend for a moment. Casually, he sat down next to her in his typical meditative pose and queried, "What weighs on your mind?"

Typically, their hand-to-hand sessions helped his friend to channel her carefully controlled and pent-up aggression. But in the last few months—especially after her mining excursion—he had noticed a distinctive change in her behavior. Try as he might, Tuvok had thus far been unsuccessful in determining the cause.

Considering her answer to his question, Janeway finally responded, "I don't want to subject you to my emotional turmoil, old friend."

"I would willingly shoulder anything that troubles you."

Bowing her head, Janeway smiled warmly. She was honored to have his friendship. "I'm not quite sure how to articulate it."

"Try," Tuvok prompted.

With a resolute sigh, Janeway rubbed her hands over her face. She settled herself in a crossed-legged position across from Tuvok. Maybe it was time for a moral compass check. "It's Seven of Nine."

The Vulcan waited patiently.

"I think I could fall in love with her. Hell, I think I am falling in love with her."

His only response was a slight tilt of his head. This wasn't the issue Tuvok had been expecting to deal with today. Yes, he had speculated that Janeway's fondness for Seven of Nine could eventually blossom into the romantic but not this quickly. Nor did he believe the captain would ever verbalize her feelings. As such, the Vulcan knew he must tread carefully.

"Why does this trouble you?" Tuvok sought clarification. From his observations of human behavior, he knew that admitting the emotion was half of the battle on the path to acceptance; and once his friend accepted her feelings, she could finally do something about them and regain control.

"That's the question, isn't it?" Janeway sighed as she rested her chin in her hand, her elbow digging into the side of her bent knee. "I've had her undivided attention for so long." The past few days had been hell with Seven preoccupied doing whatever it was she was doing.

"Have you sought her company?"

"I tried, before Chakotay told me she requested a lighter duty rotation until she was specifically requested."

"Curious." Of course, Tuvok had noticed the former Borg's increased Holodeck usage, but the reasons why didn't concern him as it was not impacting her duties or ship safety.

"My thoughts exactly," she exclaimed. A sheepish look crossed her features as the captain said, "But it's not like I can just demand to know what she's doing without cause or force her to spend time with me, especially when she's followed the appropriate protocols." With a sigh, she added, "I've gotten used to her company."

He could sense Janeway's subtle fear that Seven of Nine may have out grown her or grown tired of her as sometimes humans do, but Tuvok was certain that was far from the case. "Even when you were in conflict with each other, Seven of Nine has always held you in high regard. I find it improbable that she would simply cast her relationship with you aside so readily." He felt the weight of his own transgressions against one of his closest friends. "I must apologize for neglecting our friendship. Your resilience and fortitude of character makes one forget that you are, on many levels, secluded from the rest of the crew."

"Nobody has to hold my hand, Tuvok."

"Perhaps, but it is . . . gratifying when someone offers." He saw the surprise flicker across her face. "I need not remind you that there are many reasons why individuals seek out a mate. Beyond the biological, the greatest reason is that of companionship." Aware that he had her full attention, Tuvok continued, "And as you have stated before, you're not only the captain of this vessel, but the leader of our community. Your self-imposed resolution to remain solitary for the remainder of Voyager's journey would be a great disservice to yourself and to the crew."

"As goes the captain, so goes the ship, hmm?"

"Precisely." Tuvok weighed his next words carefully. "Do not dally when making a decision to pursue a romantic relationship with whomever you choose, for you might miss an opportunity." He didn't feel it appropriate to mention her options were extremely limited.

"I'm not even sure she'd be interested." A myriad of doubts flittered through the captain's mind. She didn't even know if she should—let alone if she could—pursue a romance. Pieces of previous conversations with Chakotay and the Doctor jumped out at her. She frowned as she mentally listed her options, which were not all that appealing.

"Would not Seven's input in the matter be required to determine her interest?"

Before anything else could be said, the pneumatic doors of the gym opened and Lieutenant Rollins entered.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sirs." Rollins took a step back to leave. "Usually, you're done by now."

"That's alright, Scott." Janeway stood with a wince. As she brushed the wrinkles out of her grey, workout pants, she added. "I think I've taken all the torture I can muster for one day." Tentatively, the captain tapped her stomach and seriously considered going to Sickbay.

"Indeed," Tuvok commented as he rose.

Absently, he observed her as she talked with Rollins while still pondering their conversation. There were many factors to evaluate and a multitude of outcomes to examine, but the Chief of Security saw no major issues with Captain Janeway taking one of several select crewmembers as a lover. Naturally, rank was a key element as anyone under lieutenant-junior-grade would be unfeasible in regards to ship's operation. An alien would face great resistance from the crew itself—in both the crew's scrutiny of the alien's motives and their own, at times overzealous, protectiveness of their captain. And a hologram wasn't enough for a dynamic personality such as Kathryn Janeway's, despite the crew's torrid speculations.

Returning the mats to storage, Tuvok contemplated his eventual role in the matter, knowing as he did how humans had an overwhelming tendency to drag anyone close to them into their personal dramas. His friendship with Kathryn Janeway was different with her being such a fiercely private individual. As he watched her leave the gym, the Vulcan knew he would have to make his stance of support clear.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

In her usual parade rest, Seven of Nine stood before the captain. She honestly hadn't any idea why her presence was requested as she had already forwarded the latest astronomical report only thirty minutes ago. Seven casually chanced a quick glance to Janeway, who silently regarded her from behind the desk. Her heart fluttered as her mind raced to run comparisons of previous looks and speculations as to why she had been called to the Ready Room.

Immediately, the younger woman returned her gaze to a fixed point behind the captain's head. Ever since she had started the simulations with the hologram, the ex-drone found her personal interactions with the real Janeway more profound. In that same moment, she realized it was the other woman's eyes: the varying shades between blue and grey, the depth of the subtle lines around the eyes and mouth. The very shape of the eyes was something Seven could never quite get right on her holographic model of Kathryn Janeway.

"You've been spending a lot of time in the Holodeck," Janeway said softly. She could sense Seven's tension but had absolutely no idea why it was even there.

Not wanting to prolong this conversation, Seven immediately responded, "I have been careful not to allow my personal time to interfere with my duties, Captain." By the slight furrow of Kathryn's brows, she quickly surmised that was not the reason for this visit.

"This isn't a reprimand, Seven." The captain's voice was soft, tender even. Curiosity was driving Janeway as she wanted to know and understand why her young friend appeared to be extricating herself from their friendship. She stood and eased around the desk, removing the physical barrier in the hope of facilitating a more personal connection despite the locale.

Sitting on the edge of her desk, Kathryn drummed the fingers of her right hand on the front of it. "I've been keyed up given our latest interactions with the pirates, and those wargs have been a pleasant mystery to try to unravel. I haven't necessarily had the time to properly address . . . this." She gestured between them, indicating this was indeed about them. And I've missed you, danced about her mind, but the words failed to leave her mouth.

Taking in Seven's confusion, the captain gathered the conversation wasn't going well. She wasn't used to these situations and was even less confident as to how to handle it. Janeway quickly back-peddled, changing the direction of the discussion. "What have you been doing on the Holodeck?"

"Simulations."

"Of what?"

"Social interactions." Seven realized her answer wasn't quite convincing as Kathryn cocked her head slightly. The expression was something new for the former Borg to ponder.

"The Doctor's doing?"

"No, they are situations of my own design."

There was no reason to drag the EMH down with her. Seven recognized the carefully camouflaged distress in her friend. Nonetheless, she knew Janeway would not push any further, respecting her privacy too much, but Seven wanted the captain to push and demand to know. At least that way she could be sure of some degree of affection and not just the tentative and speculative evidence gathered thus far.

Before she realized it, Seven said, "I did not wish to consume all of your free time. The Commander frequently comments on your irritability and that I should refrain from bothering you."

Instantly, Janeway was standing directly in front of the ex-drone, her right hand trailing down Seven's upper biceps and stopping just about the elbow. Their gazes held for a moment. "You don't bother me, Seven," she rasped, the tightness in her throat spreading to her chest. With a sigh, the captain closed her eyes briefly, dropping her hand. "I suppose . . . I just want to make sure I haven't offended you in some way."

All the while, Seven was keenly aware of Kathryn's hand releasing her, aware of how the fingertips seemed to caress her until the sensations were only a ghost of a touch. "You have not offended me, Kathryn," she said in a low voice. Relief washed over her as Janeway responded with a broad smile.

"Good." The captain's eyes shifted away for a moment but quickly returned. "I've missed you," she whispered, her heart thumping wildly. Janeway took a slow breath and backed away as the intensity of the moment was quickly overwhelming her, her words making her feel needy and exposed.

Taking a chance, Seven readily allowed her affection to manifest: a slight upward curl of the lips, an almost unperceivable widening of the eyes, a bold step forward to close the distance between them. "As have I."

Again, Janeway smiled. She felt as if all was finally right in her world again, even as her chest tightened more at Seven's bold proximity. "Well, I guess things can return to relative normalcy—"

"No."

Janeway frowned. Had she missed something?

Ignoring the look of utter devastation, Seven carried on, believing this to be the opportunity of which Neelix spoke. "I wish to court you." The words came out strong and confident despite her inner turmoil.

"You do?" Janeway asked in a rush of expelled air. She was completely unsure of how to respond. Of course, Kathryn had suspected, dared to entertain the notion but never expected Seven of Nine to be actively interested in her romantically. Ultimately, the captain had envisioned them dancing around one another until some variable changed the game or until someone recognized the beauty that was the former Borg drone and took her away from the starship captain.

Seeing that her quarry was indeed obtainable, Seven answered, "Yes." She spent the next few moments watching intently as the expression in Kathryn's slightly widened eyes changed from dazed surprise to something almost predatory. Seven swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and found she had forgotten what she was about to say.

Abruptly, Voyager rocked to starboard. The Red Alert klaxons immediately sounded as Chakotay called Janeway to the Bridge.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Voyager's bow was thrust upward as another series of explosions went off along the ship's shield perimeter.

Exiting her Ready Room, Janeway stumbled into the side of tactical as she continued toward the command deck. "Report," she snapped, both hands gripping a rail as the ship shuddered from multiple impacts.

"Shields are down to eighty-nine percent," reported Tuvok. "We appear to have entered a minefield. The alien vessel has not actively opened fire." Focusing primarily on his readings as he worked to determine the attacking vessel's greatest points of weakness, he was still able to track the captain's progress to her chair. His eyes briefly cut to Seven of Nine who had taken position at the auxiliary science station.

"The ship's configuration is consistent with the one we encountered near the Kutain Order's outpost," called Ensign Kim from Ops.

The Borg must have felt the Vulcan's gaze because just before Tuvok looked away, their eyes met. Feeling the subtle flush of embarrassment, Seven focused on the task at hand—pursuing Kathryn wouldn't matter if they were both dead. She resolved to later determine if Tuvok had witnessed her hand gently supporting the captain as she stumbled on the Bridge.

"Evade them, Mr. Paris." By this time, the captain had dropped into her seat and was scanning the ticking readings on the command console.

"Aye, Captain," Paris responded automatically.

Chakotay glanced up and said, "They literally came out of nowhere—nothing on conventional sensors or Astrometrics scans; and naturally, they've haven't responded to hails."

Another series of explosives discharged, filling the viewscreen with blue-white light. White sparks dropped from overhead as inertial dampeners fought to regulate the starship's ragged and jerky movements.

"I keep running into mines, but there's nothing on sensors," complained the helmsman as he continued evasive maneuvers.

"Seven, scan for nearby nebulas or pockets of irradiated particles," Janeway ordered, ignoring her First Officer's curious expression.

Voyager listed hard to starboard as another series of spatial charges detonated. A couple of the junior Bridge crew were thrown onto the floor. Harry Kim had to grip his station in order to remain upright.

"Decks six and twelve have lost power," stated Kim. "Multiple EPS relays were blown out on Decks five and ten. Attempting to compensate, and repair teams have been dispatched."

"I have detected a class-two micro-nebula approximately zero-point-three light-years away, Captain," Seven calmly said, not understanding the immediate importance of such an insignificant spatial anomaly. She had theorized in a previous Astrometrics report that the series of micro-nebulas dotting this sector may actually be the last dissipating remnants of a much larger, solitary nebula created by a supernova.

"Damn it," Janeway cursed softly. She should have anticipated this or at least had Seven or Harry filter out the interference caused by the irradiated particles after the encounter near the Kutain outpost. Being distracted of late, she hadn't connected the dots given Seven's last report. Of course, this attack was also highly unusual as once thwarted, the same pirates had never attacked a second time. Paying no heed to her First Officer's inquisitive expression, the captain ordered Tuvok to return fire. "I'm done playing these games. Disable them, Tuvok."

"Aye, Captain," the Vulcan responded, his targets already locked in anticipation of the order. "Firing phasers."

Janeway craned her head around to face Seven of Nine. "Recalibrate sensors to filter out any irradiated particles, specifically from the nebulas."

Once more, the Federation starship shook, but this time it was from enemy fire. As the ships arced away from each other, the hot orange-gold of Voyager's phasers connected with the attacking pirate vessel's key systems. In a matter of seconds, the battle was over.

Now able to effectively dodge the mines, Paris called out, "I see the mines. Wow, there are a lot of them!"

"Shields are down to seventy-five percent, but the vessel's weapons array, propulsion and shield emitters are offline," informed the security chief.

The captain glanced at Chakotay and back at the screen.

"What are you thinking?" the XO inquired gently.

"That I want some answers," Janeway said, rising from her chair.

"Captain, I'm reading a power surge in their warp core," Harry exclaimed, glancing up.

"Hail them." The captain took a defiant stance—hands on hips and feet shoulder-width apart—in the middle of the command deck.

"Channel open."

Pushing himself out of his command chair, Chakotay stood next to Janeway.

"Alien vessel, this is Captain Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager, please respond." Janeway glanced back to Kim who only nodded, indicating that the other vessel was at least listening. "We'd like to offer aid in repairing any damage done to your ship." Waiting a little longer and relaxing her arms, the captain tapped her thumb along the side of her forefinger, and with a slicing gesture, she ordered Harry to close the comm.

The commander kept his eyes on the captain. He knew better than to repeat his previous question, although Chakotay already had a pretty good idea.

A persistent beeping drew Kim's attention back to his console. "Captain, they're not regaining containment. The core is going critical."

Turning back around, Janeway asked Seven, "How many people are onboard?"

"The crew consists of approximately 34 individuals of varying age and species." Seven immediately answered.

"Approximately?" the XO asked, studying the ship on the viewscreen. It was a small ship, maybe five or six decks total, and wouldn't offer enough living space for 34 people.

"Detailed scans indicate that several females are currently in various stages of pregnancy." The ex-drone returned her focus to the captain. Subtly, she glanced around as she sensed the unfamiliar tension amongst the Bridge crew.

"Tuvok, secure the Shuttle Bay and begin making preparations for our guests."

"Aye, Captain," the Vulcan acknowledged as he set security measures and teams into motion.

"You're going to beam them aboard?" Chakotay murmured.

After all, it was his role to play devil's advocate. He was all for saving lives from a senseless death, especially the children, but this particular group of raiders had proven they were extremely skilled at being dangerous. As a whole, the pirates had been nothing but a thorn in Voyager's side. Every time they got ahead, a pirate vessel would swoop in and undo all their hard won progress—on top of the usual fiasco that was Voyager's life in the Delta Quadrant.

Janeway cut a hard glare at the commander, but Kim interrupted whatever she was about to say.

"Their core will breech in less than thirty seconds!"

"Tuvok?" the captain turned on her heel to return to her chair.

Chakotay followed suit as his concerns were effectively set aside by the captain's decision.

"The Shuttle Bay is secure, Captain."

"Harry?"

"We've got them," the ensign eagerly relayed, glancing over his console. "Ten seconds before the core loses containment."

"Tom, get us out of here."

"Aye, aye," Paris said as his hands entered a series of commands.

Just as the alien vessel exploded, Voyager arched gracefully around several remaining clusters of mines, slipping into warp once clear.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Captain Janeway strode into the Brig. Passing Lieutenant Ayala, she gave the ex-Maquis a nod, which he solemnly returned. She stopped in front of the cell and quickly assessed the man contained inside.

Standing with his back to the archway in the middle of his cell, the pirate captain was a short, stocky Brenari male in his mid-forties. Dark brown hair was cropped short but long enough to twist about his head in clumps. His clothing was tattered, torn and covered with stains. Sensing a new presence, he half-way turned to face his oppressor. His face, as well as his exposed forearms, was also covered in dirt and bore the occasional scar, the rough appearance serving to enhance the hate burning in his hazel eyes. Absently, he flexed his clenched hands.

"This wasn't how I wished to conduct our first meeting, but your striking my Chief of Security didn't go over very well," Janeway said. She waited a moment and continued, "Your crew is safe. Those who want it and are cooperating are receiving medical care and a hot meal."

Currently, Neelix was once again convincing everyone to partake of a sonic shower. The first attempt didn't go well; Lieutenant Rollins ended up in Sickbay, and a few of the pirates were stunned. Of course, this rattled the children and the small bit of trust gained was lost. However, everyone had seemed mostly eager for the meal, which went a long way in making amends.

Janeway thought she saw a flicker of relief in the pirate captain's eyes, but they quickly returned to their previous display of odium. Holding in a sigh, Voyager's captain glanced back at Ayala who kept his eyes on the prisoner. She returned her attention to the imprisoned Brenari.

"I'm trying to give you a choice—"

"You should have let us die."

The pirate's voice was higher than Janeway would have predicted, maybe because of his rugged and disheveled appearance. She wasn't about to let her preconceptions get the better or worst of her in this instance. The enemy wasn't at the gates but rather welcomed inside. She was also aware how easily these people hid their resourcefulness and their intelligence. Slowly releasing irradiated particles while traveling at sub-light speeds to mask a vessel's approach and hide a minefield wasn't a tactic from the dim witted.

"My crew and I aren't in the business of killing indiscriminately," she returned. The wound was still fresh from the previous pirate encounter with the two raiders, as the young boy came to mind.

"That will be your undoing." Turning to fully face his adversary, the Brenari captain hissed with venom, "We won't be the last to make an attempt on your ship, Captain."

"To what end?" Idle threats didn't interest her; she needed facts, at least some semblance of information on how the pirates operated, even their goals would be helpful.

He narrowed his eyes but remained silent.

"If you won't talk, I'm sure I can find someone who will," Janeway retorted softly.

"My crew won't serve you," the pirate captain countered.

"I'm not looking for them to serve. I'm just looking for someone to talk." She realized she hit a nerve as the man before her snarled in contempt. A hot meal, clean clothes and a warm bed could go a long way in convincing any number of his crew to start talking. Compassion for the sick, elderly and young had already loosened several of the women's tongues.

"It can't be that simple," he jeered.

"I'm afraid you'll find it is precisely that simple." Janeway held her ground under the continued scrutiny. She was finally feeling like they were making headway.

The pirate captain's distain seemed to deflate from his body as his head and shoulders drooped. Exhaustion laced his voice as he dropped down onto the lone bench. His hazel eyes searched Janeway as he said, "It doesn't matter anymore. Our fates are sealed."

"What do you mean?"

"Without a ship, we have no power, no protection. By saving us, you've only condemned us to a worse fate."

"I can't keep you onboard indefinitely, but I'm willing to ferry you and your crew out of this sector." She stopped at his indignant snort.

"Your goodwill notwithstanding, it doesn't matter." Quickly, he was on his feet and only inches from the force field.

Despite being contained, the sudden actions caused Ayala to jump slightly and un-holster his phaser. Janeway didn't flinch.

"They already know we're here," the captain whispered. His eyes took on a crazed gleam as he gestured wildly with his hands. "As soon as you deposit us planet-side or on some space station, the other cells will swoop in and snatch us up! We'll be enslaved. Our families will be broken apart as we're traded for our skills and whatever information we may have about you or your ship."

The Brenari took a few steps backward before spinning in place and running his hands through his hair. He was severely paranoid, that much was obvious, but he was also greatly concerned for his crew or, more accurately, his family. His mind raced around in circles. The children were the most vulnerable and their most precious cargo. They tried to spare the children the horrible fate that would befall them if the ship was taken, but that hadn't been possible. He had failed.

Janeway easily related to his plight as she observed the pirate captain's downward spiral and listened to his mutterings of torture and pain. Briefly, she wondered if this was a hazard to their lifestyle and if that other pair of pirate ships had fallen to similar disillusions. Their dialogue had ground to a halt and she still needed answers.

"There is a Norcadian woman named Sazeti about four months pregnant." Janeway noticed the man's hands had slowly stopped fidgeting and picking at his clothes. "She had contracted a disease that's fairly common among their species, but if left untreated, it could turn lethal for her and the child." Once his gaze focused on her, Janeway pressed onward, hoping her words were reaching his rational mind. "Our doctor was able to cure them among others."

Unshed tears gathered in his eyes, the pirate captain didn't dare hope. He searched his captor's face. "You're only looking for information."

Obviously, the Norcadian woman was personally important to him. His wife, perhaps?

"Yes."

"About what, exactly?" With more calm than previously displayed, the Brenari man sat on the bench but held on with a white-knuckled grip.

"How did you become a pirate?"

His eyes lost focus as he submerged himself in the memory. He talked about his life as a boy and how his family had barely survived until one day, a group of men and women came through their village proclaiming a better life in space—a free life. His father had been captivated, but his mother was leery. Eventually several families from the village had left with them. Their new life wasn't at all what they had expected or hoped. It was filled with even greater hardship and strife than life at the village.

Only months into the journey, his father had been killed. Unable to return home, his mother had had to use her body to provide for her children—to procure food and a decent place to sleep. His older sister had been sold without their mother's consent to another crew and was never seen or heard from again. His younger sister had been fancied by the ship's First Mate. In exchange for her undivided attentions, the First Mate had gotten him the coveted position of Cabin Boy.

"My sister was barely a woman when the First Mate took her to his bed, but he treated her well enough." The captain paused in his tale as he took in a shuddering breath. "She lived a good life until the ship was taken over by another group. Of course as custom, she was used and killed." Clearing his throat, he continued, "I got lucky. As a cabin boy, I was privy to the previous captain's secrets, and fortunately, the new captain believed in catching flies with honey. Over time, I rose amidst the ranks and eventually earned my own ship. We tried to break away from the control of the Capos, but we couldn't."

It was then he stood and closed the distance between Janeway and himself once again. "Not all of us want to be free from this life. There are even some amongst my crew who had thrived and reveled in it. The Capos harvest us from the dredges of society and allow the dangers of living to weed out the weak and useless."

"For what purpose?" Janeway asked, her voice rough and her throat constricted. She felt conflicted about whether or not to believe his story and equally enraged by it.

Spreading his arms wide, the pirate captain said, "For this, for ships as grand as yours. All I know of the politics is that they always seek powerful ships. We had no choice to track you or to attempt to take your ship. Failure to do so would mean certain death. As it stands, several of the Capos know you're from the Alpha Quadrant, but that is a secret they will take to their graves."

"Increase their chances of success, hmm?" Despite herself, Janeway smirked. So far, she hadn't learned anything that made these pirates seem any more dangerous than the usual Delta Quadrant fare—that was as long as Voyager avoided these Capos, these greater captains.

"Naturally," he said as his head dropped down. "I wish I could offer you specifics, but I cannot. The less I know, the safer I can keep my crew." Looking up, the Brenari said, "Currently there's only one other pirate group in this sector, led by twins. They travel in a group of two small vessels and use a probe as a scout."

"Yes, we had the pleasure of their acquaintance a few days ago." For the first time in their conversation, Janeway looked away from the pirate captain. The image of that poor boy flashed in her mind. Pursing her lips, she thrust the guilt down as this wasn't the time or the place for such feelings.

"Obviously, they did not survive their encounter with you," he said softly.

"No."

Sadness settled across his dirty and marred features. "You need to steel yourself. They will hunt Voyager until it is taken or destroyed."

"I am perfectly steeled," she countered with an edge in her tone. Janeway couldn't afford for this man to witness any more doubt or weakness.

The Brenari eyed her for a moment. "Your compassion and reverence for life, they will use that against you."

It wasn't a threat. It was an omen, and Janeway felt that truth down to her very core.

She couldn't stop her eyebrow from arching in response to his latest declaration. Casting a hard look over her shoulder at Ayala, Janeway was beginning to formulate the social structure in which these wayward peoples functioned, and how they created and maintained a unique culture comprised of a variety of species. She also wondered if those in power were responsible for the deviant threads weaved into their way of life or if they were simply the social norm. However, if Ayala's look was any indication, Janeway would bet on the former, especially given this pirate captain's desire to break free.

Turning back to the man in the Brig, she asked, "Will you continue to answer my questions?"

He was surprised by the bite in her words. In response, the pirate captain bowed with considerable grace before Janeway. "I live to serve my Capo."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Lieutenant Tom Paris thought of himself as a pretty nice guy, and he felt pretty good about himself for the first time in a very long time. Thanks partly to taking Captain Janeway up on her fateful offer over six years ago, Paris was Chief Helmsman on a state-of-the-art starship and married to someone he loved very much. Someone he loved a little more each passing day. In moments of sheer sappiness, he'd admit as much to B'Elanna, which usually led to lovemaking or her simply laughing at him—good naturedly, of course.

Tapping a PADD against his wrist, Paris casually moseyed down the corridor towards the Astrometrics Lab. It wasn't often that he had to physically meet with Seven of Nine regarding work. She usually had the upcoming sector mapped out for him a week before reaching the previous sector's border. However, this was a special case with the avoiding of pirate ships and trying to find the pirates onboard a suitable place to live. Yet, even before all of this new drama, Tom had become concerned about Seven on a personal level. It wasn't something he actively sought but something he just happened to notice.

Normally, Tom saw her bopping around the ship, doing her thing. Sometimes he thought the ex-drone was downright enthusiastic about annoying the Chief Engineer, but even they had managed to reach a truce in their animosity over the years. After all, didn't everyone need an arch nemesis? Tuvok had Neelix. Chakotay and the Doctor had himself. Harry had every woman on the ship...

Since the captain's injury on Liratic Prime, Seven of Nine had been her almost constant companion. The two strong-willed women managed to get along swimmingly (both figuratively and literally). This had surprised just about everyone. It was a common sight to see them together. For a while, the Borg increased her socialization with the rest of the crew. Then, shortly after it began and people started getting used to it, Seven of Nine became withdrawn and spent all of her free time alone in the Holo-Lab or Holodeck.

Stepping into Astrometrics, Paris was pleased to catch the former Borg alone and offered a happy greeting. "Hello, Seven."

"Lieutenant Paris, how may I assist you?" Seven asked in her usual manner, acknowledging him with a passing glance over her left shoulder.

"I just wanted to see if you managed to map out the next sector, yet." Tom propped himself on the steps on the right leading to the viewscreen dais. He didn't feel comfortable enough to slip into the center console alcove with Seven standing there in the middle.

"I have only completed eighty-percent thus far." Pausing for a moment, Seven said, "The last few weeks have been eventful."

Snorting, Paris replied, "No kidding—between the Borg, pirates, and a pseudo-Maquis mutiny, I don't imagine you've had much free time."

"Indeed."

Ducking his head in hopes to hide his smirk, Tom decided to just get to the point. "You've been keeping to yourself lately." Paris did his damnedest not to flinch under the hard look attempting to bore straight through his skull. It was almost as bad as Janeway's—almost.

When the lieutenant failed to break eye contact, Seven returned her focus to her console and muttered, "Everyone seems preoccupied with my behavior as of late."

"We're just expressing our concern, Seven." Paris flashed her a genuine smile.

"I thought it was another demonstration of how the crew can effectively disseminate information."

"Probably that, too, but some of us honestly do care." He chuckled lightly but quickly sobered. "Has someone upset you?"

It was hard to tell who was surprised more by the question: Seven for having been asked or Tom due to Seven's reaction.

When she looked away without comment, Paris furrowed his brows in concentration. "You know despite rumors to the contrary, I am a pretty good listener." He paused for a second before adding, "I also know when to keep my mouth shut. Heck, I'm married to the biggest busy-body onboard and work regularly with the ship's gossipmonger." Tom leaned back onto his elbows as he thought about all the dirt he'd heard over the years. When Seven still remained quiet, he said, "No pressure, Seven. I just wanted to let you know—if you needed or even wanted it—that I'd be willing to lend an ear."

Seven of Nine continued to work as Lieutenant Paris talked about the benefits of communication. He had done so with her in the past, and like before, he was currently proclaiming how learning to effectively communicate had both saved and enriched his relationship with B'Elanna Torres. She had witnessed firsthand how turbulent the Klingon-hybrid could be and wondered again at Tom's sanity. However, the former Borg was also impressed with his perseverance.

When Tom reached a lull in his impromptu speech, Seven handed him a PADD containing a map of the next sector. "Thank you for your words of advice, Mr. Paris."

"It's Tom, remember?" He flashed his boyish smile.

Not missing a beat, she continued, "I will give your offer further thought."

Standing up, Tom accepted the offered PADD. "Thanks, Seven, and I meant everything that I said. Sometimes it's good to have someone outside whatever the issue is to act as a sounding board. Kind of like what you do for me. I'll let you know if I have any problems plotting our course." With that, the helmsman nodded his goodbye and trotted out of Astrometrics. He really did like Seven of Nine. She could be a tad extreme at times, but who couldn't?

Seven watched Paris leave and realized just how tempted she was to bring him into her confidence.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Reluctantly heading to the Brig, Neelix rounded a corner and was quite pleased to see Captain Janeway walking down the corridor towards him. The normally bubbly Talaxian was slightly worried about the upcoming interaction with Voyager's captain, especially given all the excitement of late, but the commander had graciously delegated the duty to him. You are our official ambassador and resident trader, Neelix. He frowned remembering Chakotay's cheeky grin.

"Captain," the Talaxian greeted as Janeway got closer. "Do you have a moment?"

"Walk with me," she offered, never slowing down while strutting towards the nearest turbolift.

Scurrying to keep up with her quick steps, Neelix said, "A trader named Gar has made contact and wants to trade about ten kilos of iridium ore."

After pressing the lift's call button, Janeway turned towards Neelix and crossed her arms. "What does he want in exchange?" She wondered at how fortuitous it was that Gar had a sizable quantity of the one ore not obtained during their Treasure Planet layover.

"He suggested about twenty isolinear chips and some fresh foodstuffs."

The turbolift arrived and three crewmen exited, each nodding greetings to their captain and morale officer.

Stepping into the lift's entry way, Janeway said, "Offer him fifteen chips and enough foodstuffs for ten days."

"Yes, Captain."

Right before the lift doors closed, she added, "I'm going to leave this exchange in your and Mr. Chakotay's capable hands."

"Yes, Ma'am," Neelix said. As the doors hissed shut, he released a sigh of relief. It was so hard to predict how the captain would react sometimes. He nodded contentedly to himself and set about informing the commander. Mr. Gar would simply have to wait until after the crew's dinner.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Entering the Shuttle Bay, Janeway passed Lieutenant Rollins and Ensign Golwat flanking the large pneumatic doors and strode directly towards Tuvok who was speaking with two other security officers standing sentry by a Jefferies tube hatch.

Taking the opportunity to assess the situation, Janeway looked for any collaborating signs of the Brenari captain's story amongst Voyager's idle passengers. While her observations were inconclusive, she noted the pregnant women had huddled together in a far corner of the bay while keeping the younger children within reach. Some of the more exuberant youngsters bounced on top of the cots, sometimes hopping from one bed to another, filling the cavernous bay with their laughter. Voyager's captain couldn't completely hold back the smile that threatened to emerge. Despite the circumstances, children usually found an inventive way to entertain themselves.

One of the pregnant women, Sazeti, had noticed Janeway's appraisal and had sought to end the children's boisterous play. However, a quick shake of the head and a slight hand gesture from the captain stalled Sazeti's hasty means of ending the horseplay. Janeway saw clear relief in the woman's eyes. Before pulling her gaze from group of pregnant women and children, the captain observed Sazeti speaking to the other women as the children continued to play.

At least one thing had been confirmed from the various reports and observations, as well as her own conversation with the pirate captain: Their children were beyond precious. They were the first to receive medical attention, the first to eat, and the first to take comfort from soft beds and warm blankets.

As her gaze continued to sweep the rest of the Shuttle Bay, Janeway covertly spied a sequestered cluster of about seven individuals whispering and glowering at her over their shoulders. That's when the tension sharply settled between her shoulders and started to seep up her neck.

"Things seem a bit tense," the captain quipped as she reached her security chief.

"Indeed," he said. "I was about to contact you, Captain. An escape attempt was thwarted only a moment ago as several of the pirates sought access to the Jefferies tubes." The Vulcan discreetly indicated the isolated group. "They managed to locate an auxiliary port panel in the floor. I have reassigned additional personnel to more effectively monitor the situation."

Janeway nodded as she openly studied the ragtag crew scattered throughout the Shuttle Bay. She had to get these people off Voyager, and soon. The safety of her crew depended on it. "Was there a skirmish?"

Her attention was drawn to a few cots that had been knocked over—some were bent while others were clearly broken. She watched as several teenagers and adults were rummaging through them, removing useful items (blankets, pillows, etc.) and perhaps determining if the cots could be repaired. Or if the pieces can be fashioned into weapons, she thought darkly. Others were attempting to salvage provisions that had been spilt on the deck.

Unaware of his captain's internal musings, Tuvok continued to recount the events, "As a pair accessed the floor panel, others failed to adequately distract the personnel on guard duty. The encounter quickly degraded into a brawl when additional security was requested. Apparently, when escape was no longer possible, several individuals erupted into a desperate rage and escalated the encounter. A few of those involved required medical attention and have been taken to Sickbay."

"That explains the need for a few new cots and fresh provisions," the captain sighed. She was really getting tired of these people sucking them dry at every turn. Janeway got the distinct impression her boundaries were being tested. But she couldn't help but wonder what had made these people so desperate and paranoid.

"It would appear so." Tuvok fell into step next to the captain as she headed towards the Shuttle Bay exit.

Nodding, Janeway said, "See to it, Mr. Tuvok."

She decided it was time for one final chat with the pirate captain before allowing him to rejoin his crew. A few hours were apparently too long, as his continued absence spurred the more restless members into action. Hopefully, by the lack of retribution at the failed escape, Janeway could garner the captain's cooperation and, through him, that of his people. But these were a very mistrusting group, and the few who had shared their names had mostly done so due to a slip of the tongue.

"Aye, Captain." Turning, the security chief motioned for the two officers by the Jefferies tube hatch to follow him. He got maybe five steps away when his attention was redirected back to Janeway. Immediately, Tuvok signaled for the officers to hold their position as he assessed any possible threat towards his CO.

"Captain Janeway?" Sazeti cautiously approached, fully aware of the watchful gazes and visible tensing of all the guards.

Stopping right before activating the pneumatic doors, the captain turned to face the pregnant woman. "How may I be of assistance, Sazeti?" The honest question earned a genuine smile from the woman, but Janeway frowned as the cluster of seven slowly advanced towards them.

In hesitation, the pirate captain's wife briefly glanced over her shoulder at the other pregnant women. "I was wondering when my husband may rejoin us," Sazeti asked, turning to once again face Voyager's captain.

"Don't beg, Sazeti," snarled a tall, burly alien of unknown species as he closed the distance between him and Sazeti. He carefully rested his broad hands on her shoulders. His dark aqua eyes darted to the two armed guards flanking Janeway. He was exotically handsome with his chiseled features, downy, chocolate brown hair, elongated pointy ears and caramel skin speckled with tiny freckles of bronze.

"When is it begging to ask a question, Tuller?" Sazeti shrugged out of his grip and spun to confront him. She took several steps back, leaving herself easily within Janeway's reach. "I have to know."

Tuller's eyes darted from Sazeti to Janeway, constantly gauging the shrinking space between them. "I'm First Mate," he hissed. "You will heed my orders."

His nervousness and paranoia was starting to get the better of him. After the failed escape attempt, the increased number of armed guards, and the continued absence of their captain, Tuller only wanted to keep everyone safe and together. However, logical thought and planning weren't exactly a priority for his mind at the moment. He lunged for Sazeti to save her from Voyager's captain. The abrupt action startled the woman as she scurried back and slammed into Janeway.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Janeway said, her voice low and hard as she instinctively moved to steer the frightened Sazeti towards an anxious pair of pregnant woman who lingered at Tuller's right side. She watched as their gazes darted between her and the First Mate. "Sazeti just wants her husband back—something which I will happily oblige once everyone calms down."

"Why should we trust you? These are not your people," countered Tuller with every bit of venom he could muster. "You expect us to believe that you actually care?" Already, the Captain of Voyager had seduced his crew into a false sense of security. In all likelihood, their captain was already dead. It was only a matter of time before the children were taken away and those who wouldn't submit were slaughtered. He took several bold steps forward. "We will never submit to serve you."

"Captain?" inquired Rollins from Janeway's left. He halted further action when she signaled for him to hold position.

In her peripheral vision, Janeway could see Tuvok and the other security officers readjusting their positions to maximize containment. If the glower her Chief of Security leveled at her was any indication, there was no doubt she'd be hearing about her unacceptable behavior later. Ultimately, it was unavoidable.

"I only wished to speak with your Captain privately," Janeway said with an even tone and a neutral expression, but before she could elaborate further, she was interrupted.

"You tried to separate us." Tuller's chin rose defiantly as a taunt to her failure. He didn't believe any of the alien captain's words, as her actions told him otherwise.

"Yes, but only to move you all to someplace more comfortable and safer." She paused to nod her head towards the avidly watching children. "A shuttle bay is no place for children."

"Please, Tuller," pleaded Sazeti. "Captain Janeway has been kind to us." How cruel could their captors be if they saved herself and her unborn child from disease?

The First Mate snapped his head back to Sazeti. "It's a trick!" He returned his glare to the puny, female captain before him. "All the Capos talk about a better, safer way of life for our children. They only take the useful and devour the weak." His eyes burned with loathing.

"I'm truly sorry for the hardships you've endured, but we have no intentions of taking your children or forcing any of you into service onboard this ship." Janeway attempted to explain, still keeping her voice calm and movements subtle.

"You destroyed our home," Tuller bellowed. "It took us years to earn that ship, and now, it's gone!"

Too quickly, the situation had spiraled out of control. All of the armed officers present had their phasers drawn, which momentarily stalled the advancement of any others who might offer aid to their comrade. Janeway had to regain control, ideally without allowing the circumstances to escalate into violence. Unfortunately, as demonstrated by the interview with the Brenari captain, things would have to be settled on terms the pirates would understand.

It didn't matter that Voyager had hailed them repeatedly. It didn't matter that Voyager only requested a dialogue or that they offered aid in repairing the damaged pirate ship. It didn't matter that the pirates had attacked them first. Hell, it didn't even matter that the crew of Voyager had saved their lives—the lives of their children. No, the only thing that mattered was that these people were powerless onboard Captain Janeway's ship, and no manner of words or actions would convince them that she was honestly concerned for their welfare.

As she quickly scanned the Shuttle Bay, Janeway knew Tuller was the key to defusing this situation as the rest would follow his lead. She would have to force the First Mate to submit and the rest would aptly fall into line. Hopefully, when their captain was returned, they would realize that not everyone had an insidious objective and wished them harm. She doubted that last bit, but one could hope.

Boldly, Janeway inched closer, knowing her proximity would insight the First Mate into action. She knew his type, hot headed, impulsive, and greatly unsettled from the growing paranoia. This wasn't an opportunity he would miss. The captain just hoped she didn't screw it up because if Tuller took her out, the pirates would view Voyager as their new vessel, and only death would cease their attempts at taking control of it.

Narrowing his eyes, Tuller glared down at Janeway. "I could break you like a twig," he sneered, unimpressed by her bravado.

"Try it," she whispered in challenge.

Instantly, Tuller shoved Janeway and raised his fist to strike.

Easily regaining her balance, the captain expertly deflected the incoming punch and landed a decisive back-fist blow into Tuller's solar plexus. She quickly followed with a hard hand chop into the tender flesh of his neck. Thankfully, all of this happened before anyone else could react.

On his hands and knees, the First Mate was gasping and gulping for air.

"We have rules onboard my ship, Mr. Tuller," Janeway said sternly.

Not missing the man's wince, she paused to force herself to take slow breath. No Starfleet officer liked resorting to violence, especially within view of children. Instantly, her heated stare jerked upward and locked onto each of the six pirates standing fanned out behind the downed Tuller. By lifting her chin defiantly and visibly taking her eyes off of the First Mate, Janeway had effectively rendered and labeled him as inconsequential.

She allowed self-deprivation to fuel the fire behind her words as she said to everyone, "I'm not interested in your servitude or feigned compliance."

"What do you want?" Tuller rasped as he shifted to peer up at the Capo.

Tired of repeating herself, Janeway glanced down at the man before her and said, "For you to behave like the intelligent people I know you to be."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Sounds like a whack job to me," B'Elanna Torres said as she leaned back in her chair. She tucked a piece of hair behind an ear as she chanced a glance around the Briefing Room table.

"Perhaps, but his fears are warranted," Neelix commented. Turning towards the captain, he added, "They're very suspicious, Captain. It took a great deal of convincing to get them to even accept some food."

"Let alone medical treatment," groused the EMH. He had to virtually battle every mother-to-be to allow a simple examination. "The children were extremely malnourished, which I've managed to counteract to an extent, but several adults continue to refuse treatment."

"Their reluctance to our assistance aside, the adults still pose a significant security risk. Our attempts to relocate them to a cargo bay or observation lounge have resulted in several physical confrontations." Tuvok paused as he raised an eyebrow. "They do not wish to be separated, even if temporarily, and have continually demanded the return of their leader."

"Safety in numbers," Chakotay said, tossing a sideways glance to Janeway. "They're in survival mode. I've noticed several families hiding food."

"Um, not to add to our ever growing list of problems," Tom Paris interjected, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, fingers interlaced, "but how much do they actually know about Voyager?" He caught Janeway's hard gaze. "It's just that I overheard one of the kids mention Naomi."

"How could they?" sputtered Neelix, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "She's been with me, her mother, or Seven since they were beamed onboard. Could some crewmember have mentioned her while interacting with any of them?"

"Doubtful," answered Tuvok. He was very strict and meticulous with his security detail. Standard protocol dictated no extraneous or non-essential conversation with the prisoners or with each other. "But within possibility."

"Well, none of them are telepaths, as far as I can tell," supplied the Doctor. "I don't think we've ran into a telepathic race since crossing the Devore Imperium."

"I think they might've already known some stuff about Voyager, Captain," Harry Kim interjected. "I've had time to confirm with the sensor logs that this last vessel was definitely the same one we encountered at the Kutain outpost. I mean, it really wouldn't be farfetched to assume a few of the crew came over from another ship, or since the previous crew failed to apprehend Voyager, one of these Capos awarded the ship to someone else."

"Deltra did supply that the crew changes often onboard a pirate vessel," added Seven of Nine. "This could be an example of that phenomenon."

"It would make sense," Chakotay said, swiveling his chair to face Janeway. Not having the opportunity to speak with her privately since before her interview with the Brenari captain, he was curious about what she planned for their pirate passengers.

"As fascinating as all this speculation is . . ," the captain paused, knowing what she was about to say next wasn't going to be well received by all, "the fact is they can't remain onboard." Immediately, Janeway tossed her hand up, forestalling the sputtering objections emerging from Neelix, Paris, Kim and the Doctor. "We're all painfully aware of the trials and tribulations of their existence, but frankly, they don't want our help. Neither do I have any intentions of simply abandoning them in the wind."

"What do you have in mind?" asked the commander.

Standing, Janeway circled around to the other side of the table as she spoke. "Within reason, we'll outfit them and drop them off at the nearest suitable location."

"A wise course of action," Tuvok said, indicating his approval. Arching an eyebrow, he turned to the First Officer and explained further, "The longer they are onboard, the more potential information they are capable of gaining."

"Which they'll probably just end up sharing," Torres muttered with a scowl. She knew what was coming: all that hard earned ore was going to be given away! The engineer didn't protest any more, though, understanding that these people needed a chance at a fresh start. "Well, I guess that means more mining exercises are in our future."

Not surprised by Torres's snappy retort but, rather, her quick resignation to the loss of precious supplies, Janeway raised an eyebrow as she continued her slow walk around the room. Perhaps Tuvok was right, she mused, catching the Vulcan's subtle tilt of his head and arched brow.

The others were oblivious to their silent communication.

"That's the spirit, B'Elanna," praised Neelix, pleased that the usually grumpy woman was looking to the brighter side of their predicament.

Narrowing her eyes at the Talaxian, the half-Klingon grumbled, "I didn't say I was happy about it."

With furrowed brows, Chakotay asked, "I can understand providing raw materials and tools for them to establish a proper homestead, but how much technology are we going to afford these people? Are we going to give them a communications device or weapons?"

Completing her circuit of the room, Janeway halted at the head of the table. "I have yet to make that determination. In the meantime, B'Elanna, Doctor, Neelix, I want an inventory of everything we can spare."

"Aye, Captain," they chorused, each understanding they would be responsible for their area of expertise: Neelix—provisions, the EMH—medical supplies, and Torres—tools and raw materials.

"I'm assuming we won't want Gar to know about our passengers?" asked Chakotay. "We're not due to rendezvous with him for a few more hours."

"Not if we can help it." Janeway was relieved the others held in their disquiet. A headache had already settled in for the long haul, and she didn't see it breaking anytime soon. Quickly, the captain barked out a few additional orders and dismissed the meeting, sending the senior staff into action.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Tuller will not cause any more trouble, Captain Janeway," Achenar, the Brenari pirate captain said, interrupting Janeway's searching glances as the unescorted pair walked the perimeter of the Shuttle Bay. "Nor will any of your crew."

She nodded in understanding but uncomfortable with the ramifications of being this group's new Capo.

After her confrontation with the First Mate, Janeway ordered the pirate captain returned to the bay as a sign of good faith. It wasn't her original intention to conduct their dialogue in the Brig or have it last as long as it did; nonetheless, it was rather a forced condition by Achenar's violent reaction to being separated from his people. Originally, Voyager's captain had wished to conduct the interview in full view of all 34 pirates, but Tuvok and Chakotay had adamantly expressed valid concerns she couldn't ignore. They didn't believe adequate security would be plausible without presenting an overwhelming show of force, which would've prevented any productive discussion. Thus, the pirate captain was dragged to the Brig and his crew left to their fear and paranoia.

Upon her return to the Shuttle Bay, Janeway was graciously greeted by the Brenari captain. He even finally told her his name, it being Achenar, and explained that the sharing of names with enemies or captors was a sign of weakness as names were of great importance amongst those living the pirate's life.

Under the watchful gazes of both pirate and Starfleet, the two captains continued to converse, and Janeway finally got some real answers.

Yes, the pirate community first learned of Voyager via the isolationists on the Liratic home-world, and from what Achenar had heard through the grapevine, the capture of the starship had steadily increased in prestige as the Capos had grown impressed with the vessel's exploits and Janeway's continued cunning.

No, Achenar hadn't been captain when his ship attacked Voyager near the Kutain outpost. The vessel was awarded him by the region's Capo after the previous crew's failure. It had been that particular Capo's last opportunity to make an attempt on the starship. He went on to explain how his crew scurried to the fringes of their previous Capo's territory, hoping to eventually disappear and start a new life. However, the crazed twins had sent out word of Voyager's position. It had left Achenar with no choice if he wanted to keep his ship.

"We were surprised to learn you were orbiting the Ghost Planet," Achenar said. Despite his reservations, he had grown to admire his new Capo. She possessed a deep sense of honor and respect for all things but, most importantly, of life. "Although rich with resources, no one stays very long."

"Why is that, exactly?" Janeway asked softly, her curiosity evident by the slight tilt of her head.

Grinning, Achenar responded, "It's haunted, of course. I've heard stories of strange happenings. Untouched equipment would fall over or break. People would say they were pushed or shoved. Some even claimed to be bitten or scratched." He paused for a moment in thought. "We never found any practical evidence to support such claims, but we didn't venture planet-side, either." Noting the interest in her eyes, Achenar gently offered, "One of the elders, Sirrus, knows of the legends surrounding the planet. I'm sure he would be happy to speak with you."

He was surprised at his Capo's interest in the old legends of mystical creatures on a long dead world. Then again, Achenar was now well-aware that this woman was indeed an enigma. There were not many who would free a captured crew, especially ones who rebelled so vigorously and had a great deal to offer.

Also, a part of him was disappointed his children wouldn't travel on such a powerful starship or learn the ways of such a courageous crew. At first confused, if not slightly insulted, by Janeway's outright refusal to absorb his crew, Achenar came to realize through their conversations that she did, indeed, understand their plight. She understood their drive for freedom and desire to find their own home.

"I would like that, thank you." Janeway had been pleasantly surprised and impressed with the depth and detail of the verbal history these people cultivated of not only themselves but of the region of space they'd traveled. She supposed it was from the not-knowing where they were going to be from one day to the next and the obvious blending of so many different species.

Stopping, he bowed. "It's our honor to serve, Capo."

Quickly glancing over her shoulder to gauge everyone's reactions, Janeway said clearly, "You really don't need to do that, Achenar."

Averting their gazes via various means, some pirates even bowed their heads as her crew seemed to stand a little straighter.

With his head still lowered, Achenar said, "For whatever it may be worth, it is our tradition."

As he had explained earlier, the Captain of Voyager had bested in him battle, and by defeating his First Mate in hand-to-hand combat, she had solidified their perception of her as their new Capo, at least until she was vanquished; and by destroying their ship, she had broken the tie to their previous Capo. It could be no other way. For her to continue disparaging their values would only countermand any fostering of independence. Janeway had their loyalty. Now, she just had to redirect it.

Resuming their walk, Janeway was relieved when Achenar fell into step beside her. "My First Officer is compiling a list of supplies for you to establish a life planet-side. Once it's complete, I'll have him bring it by for your review." She paused while watching the children chasing each other. "You'll have the opportunity to request additional items for consideration."

Achenar nodded. It was all more than he could ever hope for, let alone dare to request.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Hearing the pneumatic doors open, Seven of Nine glanced over her left shoulder to see Captain Janeway. She politely offered her customary greeting before returning her attention to the main viewscreen. The visit was sooner than she had anticipated, and she hadn't yet found time to confer with Neelix.

Janeway leaned heavily on the console to Seven's immediate right. "Please tell me you've located a planet." Absently, her fingers rubbed between her eyes before pinching the bridge of her nose. With a slow inhale, the captain dropped her hand to study the current readout.

"I believe so, Captain." Seven entered a few commands, bringing up a different planet. It was a small M-Class moon roughly 1.2 light-years off Voyager's current course. She proceded to outline the pros and cons of depositing the pirates at that specific location. Upon noticing a somewhat unfocused stare, the Borg offered, "I can continue the search if this planetoid is unacceptable."

"No, I think it'll do. Transfer the data onto a PADD for me, please." Janeway slipped around the console as Seven shifted to other side. Pressing a series of buttons, the captain slapped her combadge. "Janeway to the Bridge."

"Go ahead, Captain," replied Chakotay.

"Has Neelix completed his trade with Mr. Gar?" The captain had only met the short, cat-like alien in passing as she had more pressing matters to attend.

"He left a few hours ago."

"Very good, I'm sending coordinates to the helm for a small M-Class moon about a light-year off our present course." With the information transfer complete, Janeway waited for her First Officer to acknowledge and close the channel.

"A new home for our guests?"

"Hopefully," Janeway replied taking the proffered PADD from Seven. "I still have to inform them, but I think they'll be quite pleased."

"Course laid in, Captain."

"Warp six, Commander. Janeway out." Slipping out of the alcove of consoles and Seven's personal space, Janeway tapped the PADD against her open palm. She had gotten halfway to the pneumatic doors and stopped.

Curious at this unusual behavior, Seven of Nine asked, "May I be of further assistance, Captain?" She rotated her body to fully face the other woman, hands clasped behind her back.

Turning on her heel, Janeway tilted her head as she carefully regarded the ex-drone. "Our last conversation in the Ready Room…," she paused, offering a cursory moment for Seven to catch up. "Did you mean—?"

"Paris to Janeway."

Never losing eye contact with Seven, she automatically responded, "Janeway here."

"Sorry to bother you, Captain, but we have a situation. I would suggest we meet in the Briefing Room."

"Very well, Mr. Paris. I'm on my way." Taking several steps backward, a subtle sadness etched across her features, the captain engaged the pneumatic doors, reluctantly turned, and exited Astrometrics.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Chapter 9:
Critical Care Vignette