"Captain, long range sensors are picking up unusually high energy readings from a large metallic object. Approximately four light years away," came the voice of Voyager’s boyishly handsome communications officer, Ensign Harry Kim.

Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship, Voyager, rose slowly to her feet, attempting to curb the flood of excitement coursing through her body, but she couldn’t keep the interest from showing in her blue-gray eyes.

It seemed like every time they had unusual readings, the crew of Voyager ended up fighting for their lives. One learned to be cautious.

"On screen," the compact woman ordered quietly, by her own example instilling courage and composure into her bridge crew.

The forward view screen changed instantly from a view of the stars to show a large, gray mass still a considerable distance away. It appeared tiny in the vastness of space and the hull was strangely fuzzed as though slightly out of phase.

Janeway raked her fingers through her shoulder length auburn locks in an unconscious gesture of frustration as she concentrated on the image. She hated not being able to see what they were up against!

"Captain, judging by the energy signatures and various species bio-readings, it would appear to be a manned space station." Tuvok’s voice was smooth, without inflection of any kind. As a Vulcan, he tended not to get very animate about anything; at least not that he would allow it to show.

But this was not a normal happenstance and a bit of excitement was expressed subtly by his arched brow. After months of one confrontation after another with various inhabitants of the Delta Quadrant, Voyager could really use an overhaul. Not to mention some well-earned shore leave for the crew, assuming things checked out.

Tensions among the crew were becoming more tangible than usual, especially between Voyager's Chief Engineer, B’Elanna Torres and a certain Astrometrics officer. B’Elanna's most recent encounter inside a Malon freighter and something called the V'har had her Klingon temper more easily frayed and Janeway was finding herself refereeing between the two head-strong women on a steadily increasing basis. Something had to give.

"Can't you clean it up a little?" Commander Chakotay asked, the tribal tattoo over his left eye wrinkling slightly as he frowned, trying to force his eyes to focus.

"Sorry, Commander. Not from this distance; Voyager's systems took quite a beating when that Malon freighter exploded," Harry apologized.

"Tuvok," the energetic captain interrupted, "send a subspace message on all frequencies to the station keeper. Let them know we're interested in obtaining supplies and making repairs. See what they expect in return. I'll be in my ready room until we find out something further. You have the bridge, Chakotay."

"Yes, Captain."

"Understood,"

Janeway stood and walked across the command center and down the short flight of steps before entering her inner sanctum.

Kathryn sat wearily behind the desk and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. She was tired and on edge. She had been putting in double and triple shifts, along with everyone else, trying to get the ship repaired since the freighter incident. It was so hard to make needed repairs being stranded 55,000 light years from the Alpha Quadrant since space stations were few and far between.

This could be just what they needed.

The door chime interrupted Kathryn’s thoughts. "Come," she called curiously.

B’Elanna Torres literally stalked into the room. Her hands were fisted at her sides and Janeway could see her jaws tensing as she ground her teeth together.

Kathryn lifted a hand, forestalling B’Elanna's torrent. "What's she done, now?" she asked with humor coloring her eyes.

"It's not funny, Captain!" the Klingon-Human hybrid growled. "I can't get a damn thing done with that Borg cluttering up the engine room. Every time I turn around, she's in the way. She doesn't even ask permission before starting some obscure project."

B’Elanna took a breath trying to calm herself. Janeway listened with a half smile curling her mouth. She knew it was best to let the younger woman vent her wrath.

"Just now, I was trying to recalibrate the aft nacelles. I couldn't understand why I kept coming up with a 0.34 phase variance until I realized Seven was re-configuring the plasma conduits. Every time I made a modification, she nullified it!"

Janeway stifled a sigh. These conflicts were getting out of hand. But, Janeway thought she might be able to try a different approach with the engineer rather than choosing sides this time.

"You know B’Elanna, she's just trying to help," Kathryn began.

"I know, but can't your pet Borg help somewhere else?" B’Elanna knew she had gone too far by the look in the captain's eyes, and regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

"That'll do, Lieutenant." Janeway's eyes were flint gray. "You'll be interested to know we've picked up a space station on long range sensors. With any luck we'll be able to make repairs there, and you'll be able to get Seven out of your hair for a while."

Although this was welcome news, it was delivered in coldly enunciated words. B’Elanna retained enough common sense in her fury to know she wasn't out of hot water yet, and tried not to act entirely too overjoyed. "Understood, Captain. Sorry about that, but she just makes me so crazy sometimes," B’Elanna offered apologetically.

Slowly Janeway relented, letting the brief surge of anger drain out of her.

"B’Elanna, we're all tired. I know it sometimes seems as though Seven is deliberately getting in the way, but she really is trying. And I know she's been pulling extended shifts so others can get some rest. I think she's starting to feel it. I'll talk to her and get her to regenerate."

"Thanks, Captain." B’Elanna offered her a wry glance. "I guess I'll try using some of Tuvok's meditation techniques in the meantime."

The captain smiled knowing the engineer had recently trained with the Vulcan in an effort to learn to control her temper. Needless to say, the experiment hadn’t been a complete success.

Leaving the captain to her thoughts, B’Elanna started back to the engineering department. She still needed to get the aft nacelles aligned.

Kathryn's eyes followed the form of the olive-skinned woman as she left the room. As soon as the ready room door hissed closed Janeway pressed the gold communicator on her left breast.

"Janeway to Seven of Nine," she said wearily.

"Seven here, Captain."

Honestly, the young woman sounded as Vulcan as Tuvok, she thought with a dismayed sigh. "Seven, I’d like to see you in my ready room."

There was a slight pause before Seven responded in a neutral tone, although Kathryn was sure she detected a faint trace of exasperation. "Understood,"

Seven knew instinctively that the summons somehow involved Lieutenant Torres. Obviously the engineer had been complaining to the captain… again.

Seven passed the Klingon on her way out of engineering. Neither woman deemed it necessary to look at the other. On B’Elanna’s part, she felt like she had ‘just run to mommy’ to ‘tattle’. But, she couldn’t have Seven constantly usurping her authority. And she might be able to get her modifications finished with the blonde ex-Borg out of her hair for a moment.

On Seven’s part it was simply unnecessary to acknowledge the lieutenant. And truth be told she was a little angry, but refused to give the engineer the satisfaction of knowing that.

Seven exited the turbolift on deck one and walked over to press the chime requesting entrance to the captain’s ready room. At one time she would not have bothered and would just have entered without announcing herself, but for some reason the captain’s approval had become important to her. Since Janeway had severed her from the collective her opinion had come to mean a great deal to the younger woman.

She entered as soon as she heard Janeway’s husky voice inviting her. Seven walked over to stand at polite attention in front of the desk, calmly linking her hands behind her back.

Janeway looked at her studiously for a moment before speaking. "Seven, its come to my attention that you and Lieutenant Torres have been arguing, again."

Seven inclined her head toward the captain, and raised her right brow. "Indeed, Captain. I was not aware of such an occurrence. When was this altercation supposed to have occurred?"

Janeway was stunned for a moment. B’Elanna hadn’t actually said they had argued. Just that Seven’s actions had been counter-productive to her own. Had B’Elanna even mentioned the problem to Seven?

"It was supposed to have been this morning," she said with a frown. "She said you kept reconfiguring plasma conduits while she was re-calibrating the aft nacelles."

"Ah," Seven said with understanding. "That explains why my modifications would not hold. But, I assure you captain, Lieutenant Torres did not say anything to me."

The young woman seemed completely unremorseful about having caused a problem and Kathryn could understand how infuriating that must be to the fiery tempered engineer.

"Well, I admit she should have come to you with the problem before talking to me," the captain began carefully.

"Perhaps she did not think I would accede to her request," Seven offered tentatively.

"Would you?"

"Perhaps not," she allowed. "Lieutenant Torres is not always logical in her thought processes. If I felt her reasoning was flawed, I might have ignored her. Also…" the young woman broke off, looking quickly at the captain as though she had said too much, and Janeway was surprised to see a faint touch of pink color her cheeks.

"Also…what?" Now we’re getting to the heart of the subject, Janeway realized.

"I find myself easily angered by her. I know of no other member of the crew who affects me in this manner. Although occasionally you do as well."

Seven was nothing but honest. Being in the Borg Collective for eighteen years, completely devoid of emotion tended to do that to a person, Kathryn ruefully acknowledged. She held in the urge to laugh as she realized Seven was completely serious.

"Seven, why do you think it’s so easy for B’Elanna to make you angry?"

"Because she is erratic. Rather than limiting our discussion to logic, she becomes emotional and makes disparaging remarks about me."

Janeway felt a brief surge of anger toward her chief engineer. Her feelings for the Borg were almost maternal and she knew instinctively that while Seven’s outer persona was arrogant, inside she was extremely sensitive. She realized it wouldn’t help matters to fly off the handle and controlled her emotions with an effort.

"I see. So not only do you become angry, but perhaps her comments also hurt your feelings?" she inquired gently.

Hurt my feelings. The blonde considered the words carefully. "Yes, Captain. I believe that is an accurate statement."

Somehow, Janeway felt this was her own fault. She had intervened between the two enough times that she should have seen this. As captain, it was her responsibility to ensure the crew got along or worked out their problems to ensure the smooth operation of the ship.

"I’m sorry, Seven. I’ll speak to B’Elanna. But, in the meantime, you do have to remember that she is in charge of engineering. When you’re helping out down there, you need to let her know before undertaking any tasks. To avoid just this sort of problem," she explained.

"I will consider your words, Captain." Seven turned toward the door, understanding that the conversation was over.

"Seven…" Janeway said, stopping her.

Seven turned around and watched as the smaller woman got up and came around the desk.

Janeway placed her hand on Seven’s right bicep in a comforting gesture, feeling the outline of the starburst implant that gave the young woman’s human arm additional strength through the material of the blue bio-suit. In an unconscious gesture meant to reassure, she rubbed her thumb over the warm metal.

"I’m sorry she hurt you," she said gently. "Sometimes, B’Elanna’s Klingon temper gets the better of her. I know that doesn’t make it any better, but try to bear it in mind."

"Yes, Captain. The doctor has advised me to ‘take it with a grain of salt.’ I am unsure what sodium chloride has to do in relation to this topic, but I understand that I must make allowances."

"Do me a favor, too," Janeway said softly.

Seven looked at her curiously wondering what the favor could possibly be.

"Go regenerate." She continued before the Borg could interrupt. "I checked the logs. I know it's been approximately seventy-two hours since you last regenerated. It's not going to help matters if you collapse from exhaustion."

"I will comply." Seven would have sighed with frustration just then if she had that particular Human affectation.

She left and Janeway had just re-seated herself at the desk with a fresh cup of coffee when the door chime sounded.

"What is this, Grand Central?" Kathryn grumbled before inviting in her next visitor.

Commander Chakotay walked over and handed her a padd.

"Here are the initial read-outs on the space station, Captain. Administrator H’rath extends his welcome and says we are free to barter for supplies and repairs."

"Well, that sounds positive," she said perusing the padd while her first officer lowered his bulk into the chair beside her desk.

"You won’t say that after you finish reading," he predicted with a grin.

Janeway sipped from her cup while studying the padd.

"Is this accurate?" she asked, sitting the cup on her desk.

Janeway was appalled. The space station’s hull showed signs of multiple breeches held in place by forcefields. It was clearly dilapidated and in need of much repair, itself.

"Oh, it’s accurate, all right. We’ll be lucky if they even have the technology to make repairs, much less be able to utilize it. But, Neelix says he’s heard of this place. Space station Goeth, he called it. He says we should still be able to obtain supplies and get in a little R & R for the crew."

"This place looks seedy to me," Janeway admitted. "Did he say anything else?"

"He said the scourge of the quadrant hang out here. If we are going to afford time off, I recommend crewmen carry hand phasers."

Chakotay watched closely for a startled expression to ghost across the finely chiseled features. He wasn’t disappointed.

"Hand phasers, Commander? Will the administrator allow that?"

"Evidently, it’s expected," he said calmly.

Janeway sat back and stared at the top of her desk. Sometimes she felt the weight of the universe rested heavily on her narrow shoulders. She didn’t like affording down time in a place like this, but knew the crew needed a break.

"I guess we really don’t have a choice," she said finally. "Every one could use some time off. Tuvok’s got his hands full with altercations breaking out all over the ship. The crew is worked to the point of exhaustion. Not to mention the repair time we need, assuming the station can provide for that."

"I concur, Captain. I’ll take an away team and check things out first. If every thing is alright, I’ll set up a rotating schedule for leave."

"Sounds good, Chakotay. Keep me informed."

                     ********************

B’Elanna was furious. They finally find a station where they can take some leave, and she had to keep working to make repairs. It wasn’t fair. Someone would probably get into a fight and shore leave would be cancelled before she ever got a chance.

On top of all her frustration, Seven was still hanging around like a stone around B’Elanna’s neck.

With Voyager at station keeping, there was little for the ex-Borg to do in Astrometrics, so she filled her time by helping out with the repairs. B’Elanna had tried to talk Seven into taking some personal time on the station, but the young woman had declared it an inefficient use of her time.

Still, they had been lucky the station could accommodate them. Goeth didn’t boast any dilithium, but they could cover just about everything else.

The repair crews had been working on the exterior hull plating inside one of the cavernous maintenance bays all day. When the relief shift finally arrived, B’Elanna informed Seven that she was going to have a drink before returning to her quarters.

"Is that wise?" Seven asked with an arrogant quirk to her cortical implant.

"It’s only one drink, Seven," B’Elanna growled. "I know I’m not on leave, but if I’m off duty, surely I can have one lousy drink before heading back."

B’Elanna put her hands on her hips, daring Seven to defy her.

"That was not my concern," Seven pointed out, surprising the half-Klingon. "The captain has stated all personnel must be accompanied on the station."

B’Elanna pulled her lips back in an expression that could not be confused for a smile, showing slightly pointed teeth.

"I’m a big girl. I have my phaser, and I don’t need a bodyguard."

The Borg hesitated momentarily. She didn’t want to anger the volatile engineer and certainly there was little harm that could result in one drink before returning to Voyager. However, she had no wish to encounter the captain’s wrath, which would happen if B’Elanna stayed on station alone.

"I will accompany you," she stated emphatically.

"What? You?" B’Elanna sputtered in disbelief.

"Do you have an objection to my presence, or to me personally, Lieutenant?" Seven asked, suddenly surprised at the emotion tightening her chest and trying not to show anything in her expression.

B’Elanna bit back the automatic response, "I always object to your presence," when she saw the look of hurt that rested briefly in the blonde’s ice blue eyes.

"No, of course not," she said gruffly. What an ass she could be, sometimes, she thought. "Let’s go find a bar."

They walked down the main avenue of the station in silence. B’Elanna was looking for just the right place. They had passed two establishments that Seven thought would have been adequate. Apparently there was some special requirement for the Klingon that those places did not meet.

When B’Elanna finally chose a bar and strode briskly for an empty table in the back, Seven was surprised. This was by far the smokiest, dirtiest place they had seen. It was extremely packed and the noise was at such a level, the young woman could barely hear her own thoughts.

Seven placed her chair against the wall and sat facing the crowd. She had seen the captain do this on occasion and recognized the sound tactics behind such an action.

"Oh, relax," B’Elanna whispered, seeing the look of distaste on the other woman’s face.

A waiter walked toward them, seeing the uniform and recognizing a potentially good customer.

"Two house ales," B’Elanna ordered, tossing the replicated coinage onto the tabletop. The scruffy waiter scooped up the metal and scurried away.

"Lieutenant, alcohol impairs my cortical implant and motor functions." Seven informed her.

"So don’t drink it," was the easy retort.

"I do not understand."

"Seven, this is a bar. If you don’t have a drink in front of you, you’ll stand out. Just sip it. Or if you don’t like it, I’ll switch mugs with you when I finish mine." She offered helpfully.

"I see. So this is a ploy whereby you will be able to have two drinks instead of the one you originally spoke of," Seven surmised.

"Whatever works." B’Elanna grinned, continuing to eye the crowd.

The waiter soon deposited their drinks and scurried quietly away. Seven took a small sip of the oatmeal thick beverage, and gasped slightly at the heat that burned down the inside of her thoracic cavity and into her stomach. That was enough of that.

B’Elanna affected not to notice the heat and downed a quarter of her drink in one draught. She had been watching the crowd until she felt her companion’s sudden, intense scrutiny.

"What?" she asked testily, turning her head to meet the Borg’s icy gaze.

"You enjoy that?" Seven was incredulous.

"It’s not so bad."

A sudden movement in front of their table caught the women’s attention.

The alien standing in front of them was distinctly rat-like from his beady, black eyes to the gray fur lightly dusting his body. The only differences were the oddly human ears and the absence of a tail.

"Yes?" B’Elanna asked suspiciously.

"You are the famous engineer of the wonderful, large ship that docked earlier today, yes?" The thing rasped at her.

"Depends whose asking…and who’s been doing the talking."

B’Elanna was instantly distrustful of the musty thing. Whether it was something instinctual or just because she didn’t like the odor coming from it, she wasn’t sure.

"No need to be worried," he (it) hissed, taking a seat without waiting to be invited.

"I am a friend, Taral. The stories of your engineering skills are plentiful from your crew. I am here to make you an offer."

"Unlikely, that you are a friend," Seven intoned.

She noticed B’Elanna’s questioning glance.

"Species 1765, the Zeist," Seven explained, never taking her eyes off the uninvited guest. "Considered unremarkable, and unworthy of assimilation by the Collective. What technology they have is stolen, and they lack the necessary knowledge to maintain and repair that technology. They acquire members of other species to perform such tasks."

"No doubt that is true," the alien interrupted. "But whomever we acquire is rewarded handsomely."

He turned his attention back to the engineer. "You, for example could have command of your own ship, with a crew freely at your disposal. All we ask in return is that you pass your knowledge on to others of our consortium."

"In other words," B’Elanna said sarcastically, "I get to be the captain of a rag-tag ship, with ‘unworthy’ technology, and a ratty crew." She was for once grateful for the Borg’s assimilated knowledge.

"In so many words," Taral conceded, with a whine in his voice.

"No thanks, I already have a job," she said dismissively.

"Don’t decide now. I’ll let you think it over."

The alien rose suddenly, departing before B’Elanna had a chance to respond.

"It is unlikely that they will give up easily," Seven said to a suddenly nervous half-Klingon.

B’Elanna wasn’t in the mood to stay in the bar. It was time to head back to Voyager.

*******************************

At 0800 hours the next morning, the senior staff of Voyager was in the conference room. It was time for the staff meeting.

Neelix had droned on and on about what supplies they had managed to obtain, and mercifully sat down.

The other departments had already given their briefings and the captain asked, "If there’s nothing else…"

It was a rhetorical question, a prelude to dismissing the officers. The doctor and Voyager’s helmsman, Tom Paris had almost risen to their feet, when Seven answered.

"Actually, yes. There is something that I should mention."

"Seven?" Janeway asked, curiously.

The Borg was reticent at the best of times. It was unusual indeed for her to offer information that did not have to do strictly with the Astrometrics department.

"Yesterday afternoon, Lieutenant Torres was approached by a member of the Zeist species. They offered to make her a captain of her own ship."

B’Elanna felt all eyes on her and shot an exasperated look at Seven.

"B’Elanna, why didn’t you mention this?" Chakotay asked, the tribal tattoo over his left eye wrinkled as he frowned.

"Because it wasn’t important. I told them I wasn’t interested."

"Lieutenant, it is true that you declined their offer. However, it is still important."

"Seven, what do you know about this species and why is it important if B’Elanna has already refused their offer?" Janeway asked. If Seven was mentioning it, then it was relevant. If one of her crew was in danger, the captain wanted all the information she could get.

"As I told Lieutenant Torres, the Zeist were considered unworthy of assimilation by the Collective."

"Bet they were disappointed," Paris muttered, derisively.

"Indeed," Seven continued. "All of their technology is stolen and they need to periodically gather new species to care for their ships for them. Taral indicated to the lieutenant that their acquired species are compensated. That is not true. They are taken against their will if they do not go voluntarily. The Zeist see their offers as generous and are offended when refused."

Seven looked from Janeway to B’Elanna wanting to be extremely careful how she phrased what she wanted to say.

"I believe Lieutenant Torres could be in danger on the station."

"Oh, Seven, come on," B’Elanna growled. "It can’t be that bad. Are you trying to make sure I don’t get any leave?"

"B’Elanna, please…" the captain silenced her. "Seven, is it really that serious?"

Seven spared the auburn haired woman a condescending look. "I am Borg. I do not exaggerate."

"Captain…!"

Janeway ignored the engineer’s plea and looked around the table. "Ideas?"

"Well," Chakotay began. "She needs shore leave as much as anyone else. With the stress she’s under, maybe even more."

"I agree," the doctor said. "It could be mentally and physiologically detrimental to deny her some down time, captain."

"True," said Kim, "but we don’t want to lose her, either."

"I wish you wouldn’t talk about me like I’m not here," B’Elanna grumbled.

Janeway held up her hands for silence. There was a grin curling her lips as she took in B’Elanna’s disgruntled expression. "It’s alright, Lieutenant," she assured her. "I have no intention of denying you down time."

B’Elanna breathed a sigh of relief as her shoulders relaxed.

"However…"

B’Elanna felt her shoulders tense up, again.

"I don’t want you on that station alone for any reason. I know that’s my standing order already, but I also know you like to…take chances? Any time you are on the station, you will be armed."

"Okay, Captain," B’Elanna said with a big grin. "I can do that."

"B’Elanna, I mean it."

She could see the captain was serious and forced the smile off her face.

"Yes, of course, Captain. I promise."

I promise I’ll be careful, she amended to herself.

"Very well, if there’s nothing else."

Everyone looked around the table carefully before leaving the conference room.

Janeway sat thinking for a moment after the room emptied. She was pleased by Seven’s protectiveness of the Klingon engineer. Although the two had always shared a less than friendly relationship, Seven was becoming defensive of her adopted collective that made up the crew of Voyager.

****************************

Voyager had been at Space Station Goeth for two weeks. Repair crews were putting the finishing touches to the bussard collectors.

B’Elanna finished the final modifications on the sensor array and put her tools back into her kit. She looked at Ensign Kari Jamison, who was assisting her, and grinned.

"Well, that’s it. I think we deserve to celebrate a little."

The two women walked out of the maintenance bay and entered the station’s main corridor. As soon as they walked out, B’Elanna saw them.

A group of the Zeist creatures were waiting for her. She felt her fingers tingle and wanted to reach for her phaser. She didn’t because she didn’t want to start a fight. Janeway would have her hide. And more importantly, no more shore leave.

A tall, skinny male creature immediately stepped in front of the women. The other five Zeist casually arranged themselves beside their leader.

"I am Danar. Leader of the Zeist Consortium aboard this station."

"That and a couple of coins will buy you an ale. What do you want?"

B’Elanna was tired and not in the mood for this. She felt her Klingon blood begin to boil and had to clench her fists to keep from killing this thing where it stood.

"I have come to see if you have re-considered our offer," he said smoothly.

"Look, no offense, but I’m not interested," B’Elanna snarled. "Why can’t you just take no for an answer?"

The creature pulled his head back as though he had been struck. "You would so blatantly dare to insult me?"

"I’m not trying to insult you," Torres said, trying to find a diplomatic way out of this. "I’m really not. But you must understand, I already have the best job in the galaxy. I appreciate your offer, but I can’t accept."

Danar moved too fast for Torres to see. His hand slipped into his jacket, reaching for a weapon.

"Don’t," Jamison warned in a deadly voice.

B’Elanna saw that the half-Bajoran had already pulled her phaser and had it trained on the Zeist. Damn she was fast!

"I will shoot you, if you make me," she warned.

Danar slowly removed his hand. "You win, for now. But if I were you, I would be very careful in the future. You will not always be so lucky."

The women backed up to the maintenance bay without speaking. There would be no celebrating today. It was time to head back to the ship.

B’Elanna managed to talk Jamison into keeping their little adventure to themselves. It wouldn’t do for the captain or the commander to hear about it. She promised the ensign that she would take extra precautions when she was on station, and that seemed to satisfy the young officer.

The next day saw the completion of all ship repairs, and the start of most of engineering enjoying some well earned down time.

B’Elanna had every intention of getting good and blasted. The only problem was finding someone to go on station with her. Tom and Harry had already left. Kari had her friends, and most of the department was already gone, but she didn’t want to defy the captain and go on her own.

I know, she thought triumphantly. I’ll ask Seven.

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine."

"I knew it. She thinks shore leave is irrelevant." B’Elanna snorted as she headed for the turbo lift to take her to deck eight.

Torres saw the Borg as soon as the cargo bay doors hissed open. She was inputting commands into a console and didn’t look up when B’Elanna entered.

"B’Elanna Torres, how may I assist you?"

"How do you do that?" Damn, she was infuriating.

"Elaborate," Seven said finally looking at her.

"You always know it’s me without even looking. How?"

"I possess enhanced Borg hearing. I identify you by several things. The sound of your respiration, your hear-beat is more accelerated than a human and your footfalls are heavier. And the scent of your skin," she said, as though explaining to a child.

"My skin?" she was flabbergasted.

"Yes, your scent is.... spicier than others," Seven explained calmly.

"And you can do this with everyone?" Torres asked in astonishment.

"No, only those with whom I spend most of my time. Yourself, Captain Janeway, Tuvok…"

"Okay, okay. I get the idea."

"Was that what you came to ask me?"

B’Elanna shot a quick look to see if the blonde was being sarcastic. She looked sincere and B’Elanna was amazed to realize that for all her intellect, she really was quite naïve.

She took a deep breath and spit it out before she could change her mind.

"No. I came to see if you would go to the station with me."

Seven quirked her cortical implant at the half-Klingon engineer. "Indeed. Why me? You have made your dislike of me apparent. Could you not find another to accompany you?"

She wasn’t going to make this easy, was she, B’Elanna thought.

"No, Seven," she answered honestly. "Tom and Harry are already gone. And by the way, I like you fine."

"Lieutenant, I understand that you and Lieutenant Paris are engaged in a romantic relationship. If you wished to join him, I am sure he would not mind."

That did make B’Elanna hesitate for a moment. Seven was right. Shouldn’t it be Tom she went to the station with? Then she realized that his already having left was just an excuse. She had been getting tired of his juvenile antics lately and she needed a breather. She didn’t want to spend time with him. Then she completely surprised herself with the comment that she was sure came out of her own mouth.

"I don’t want to be with him. I want to spend some time with you."

B’Elanna was amazed at the brilliance of the smile that slowly covered the Borg’s face. It made her look younger and sweeter, somehow.

B’Elanna felt the breath catch in her throat. Why had she never noticed how lovely the young woman was? The Borg implants didn’t distract from her beauty, but seemed to enhance it somehow.

"Very well," Seven said that in the softest voice B’Elanna had ever heard her use. Seven quickly logged off her terminal and turned to B’Elanna with an expectant expression.

"Um…okay…fine," B’Elanna stammered. "First thing we have to do is get a phaser for you out of the armory. You know the captain’s rule about being armed here." She added unnecessarily.

B’Elanna pushed the uncomfortable feelings away and walked out of the cargo bay with a Borg trailing closely behind.

********************************

They were sitting in another bar. Seven was thankful the lieutenant had chosen a little better location this time. The air wasn't quite as stifling, although the noise level was still extremely high. Perhaps that was a pre-requisite to such an establishment.

Seven sat quietly contemplating her companion. B’Elanna continuously watched the patrons of the bar as though she couldn't bring herself to look at the young blonde.

Seven didn't mind the lack of conversation. It gave her time to reflect on her feelings. She didn't understand what she had felt in the cargo bay when B’Elanna said she wanted to spend time with Seven.

Their experiences with each other had always been so explosive. Yet, undeniably, she had felt an entirely pleasant tingle course through her veins at B’Elanna's statement. She did not believe she was malfunctioning.

In retrospect, she had to admit she had always looked forward to seeing the engineer. She even looked forward to arguing, and although she would never admit it, had even gone out of her way on occasion to provoke her, just to get a reaction.

It was confusing to the young woman because she realized she reacted the same way to Captain Janeway. The difference being that in the captain’s presence, Seven seemed to function better. In the Klingon’s presence, she was easily angered and distracted.

Seven remembered the doctor saying that sometimes, strong emotions such as antagonism were used to mask a deeper feeling. She wondered what those deeper feelings could be.

Seven looked at B’Elanna, as if to memorize her features. The high, proud forehead ridges, her slightly upturned nose. She was surprised to realize her heartbeat and respiration had elevated minutely. She felt a surge of tightness in her lower belly.

This is arousal! Why had she never realized how she felt? Was it because of Lieutenant Paris? Seven knew the two were in a romantic relationship. Maybe she had known subconsciously that there would never be any room for her in B’Elanna's life, and she had settled for what she could provoke from the half-Klingon. Anger.

She compared her feelings for the engineer to those she had for her captain. She was disconcerted to realize she had a similar reaction when thinking of the fiery redhead. Could one be attracted to more than one person? Seven dismissed her feelings for the captain as irrelevant. Although she had little experience with Human relationships, she realized the captain would be unlikely to get involved with a member of her crew.

Seven heard the sudden indrawn gasp from her companion and looked up to see what had caught her attention only to see the unmistakable sight of three Zeist entering.

They chose a table near the front of the bar, facing squarely toward the two women. When the waiter arrived at their table, they waved him brusquely away and stared openly at Voyager's engineer.

She was right, Seven thought, they do look out of place without beverages. And their hostile intent was obvious.

"I suspect it is time to vacate the premises," Seven stated calmly.

"S'okay," B’Elanna slurred. "We kin take 'em."

"Undoubtedly,"

Was it B’Elanna's imagination, or was the Borg being sarcastic?

Seven grasped B’Elanna's upper arm and hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.

"Hey..." B’Elanna began in an aggravated tone.

"No time, Lieutenant. You are inebriated and we are out numbered. I suggest it is time to leave."

"Always spoilin' my fun," she grumbled, but followed as steadily as she could.

Seven was not surprised to see the Zeist following at a not so discrete distance behind them. She quickly reviewed their options.

The Zeist had done nothing for her to justify an emergency transport to Voyager, so she couldn't justify the extra expenditure of ship's energy. However, she was uncomfortable with the condition of her companion. B’Elanna wasn't exactly in fighting form, and the Zeist were unlikely to be receptive to a diplomatic speech.

Chances were they were here to either kidnap the engineer or kill her. It was irrelevant that the engineer had an escort. If Seven were in the way, B’Elanna's fate would be her own.

The young woman finally decided to use an indirect route to the ship. Hopefully, she would be able to elude them in the winding corridors and numerous cargo and loading bays.

She dodged left down a narrow, darkly lit path, pulling B’Elanna with her. She still had hold of the smaller woman's upper arm since she was staggering.

B’Elanna retained enough awareness to know they were in trouble. She was taking long inhalations of air in an effort to clear her head.

"Take out your phaser," she whispered sharply.

Seven was startled she hadn't thought of that herself and quickly removed her fully human hand from B’Elanna's arm to reach for her phaser. She saw B’Elanna had already drawn her own.

Seven released her other hand; gratified that B’Elanna seemed to have sobered quickly.

"Down here,"

B’Elanna led the way into a large cargo bay filled with packing crates and miscellaneous garbage. The hull shown iridescently and forcefields covered a number of places where stars were clearly visible.

"This was not a good idea," Seven stated.

The forcefields would effectively block their communicators should they request an emergency beam out.

B’Elanna didn't respond as she shuffled down the center aisle in the cargo bay. She was headed for the back where they could take cover. Maybe they could hide from the Zeist. Their communicators might not work, but neither would any locators the Zeist might have.

Seven was just passing to B’Elanna's left when they heard shouts behind them. She dodged to the left behind a large tritanium crate as disrupter blasts fired. The blasts were so close she felt heat on the back of her bio-suit.

She turned quickly to see if the lieutenant had made it to cover and was dismayed to see her sprawled on the floor. She was lying on her back, and her uniform was smoking around her midsection. She must have turned toward the attackers when they had shouted.

"B’Elanna!" she shouted without thinking.

Seven crouched and ran toward the fallen woman. She scooped her up with her Borg enhanced arm, firing a blast of her phaser toward the aliens. She was gratified to see one of them fall and the others duck for cover as she ran behind another smaller crate with her burden.

She had to crouch with her back pressed against the crate to keep from being a target. Seven wrapped her left arm around B’Elanna and pulled the lieutenant tightly against her chest. She could feel blood from the abdominal wound seeping between the bands of Borg mesh on her fingers.

B’Elanna’s intestines seemed to have acquired a life of their own, trying to slide past the gaping wound. Seven pressed down hard, trying to hold the slippery guts inside. She leaned around the crate and could see the remaining two Zeist walking cautiously down the aisle.

Apparently, they were confident they could dispatch one woman. They didn't take into account that she was Borg.

Seven leaned and fired too rapidly for the aliens to react. She swept her phaser from left to right in continuous fire. Both aliens were stunned and dropped to a heap.

Seven dropped her phaser and lowered B’Elanna carefully to the ground. Belatedly, she realized her breath was coming in huge gulps. She attempted to slow her respiration. It wouldn't do B’Elanna any good if she passed out from hyperventilating.

The blonde used her Borg hand to neatly split the seam of B’Elanna's trouser leg and removed the material to use as a makeshift bandage for her stomach.

She eased B’Elanna up from the deck enough to slip the material under her back and tied it tightly around her waist. It was crude but would have to suffice. With that finished Seven grabbed her phaser and carefully hefted the smaller woman into her arms.

Seven strode briskly for the cargo doors while keeping an eye on the Zeist. She was unfamiliar with their physiology and didn't know how long a phaser stun would keep them out.

As she walked toward the door, she could feel the heat of B’Elanna's blood soaking into the front of her bio-suit.

"You will not perish, Lieutenant," she said, hearing a husky, quivering voice she barely recognized as her own. "Please...your continued existence has become important for my well-being."

Seven brushed her lips along the rippled forehead as she exited the doors.

She slid her left hand down B’Elanna's body and cupped it under the woman's thigh until she was completely supporting her with the Borg arm, and quickly tapped her communicator with her right hand.

"Seven of Nine to Voyager. Emergency transport, two to beam directly to sickbay."

She had never been so relieved as she was at that moment, when the familiar sparkles of the transporter matrix danced in her vision.

********************************

Seven heard the hiss of the sickbay doors open and almost immediately the voice of the captain.

"What happened?" Janeway asked abruptly.

That tone had caused lesser people to cower in unmitigated fear. One of her crew had been injured and the small, albeit formidable captain had her hackles up.

"We were attacked by the Zeist," Seven said simply.

Slowly, she turned away from the sight of the doctor operating on B’Elanna and faced her captain. What Kathryn saw made her blood freeze.

Seven was extremely pale, even for her. Her eyes looked dazed and Kathryn noticed her hands were trembling slightly.

"Are you all right?" Concern softened her voice.

She grasped Seven’s human hand and led her to the chair in the doctor’s office.

She had never seen the self-assured young woman so distraught. There was more here than an unprovoked attack.

Janeway squatted down on one knee in front of Seven so she could look into her eyes, still holding her hand.

"You want to talk about it?" she prompted gently.

"I…I…do not know what to say."

"It’s alright, I’m here," Kathryn said, rubbing the pale hand. "Just start at the beginning and go slow. I need to know what happened."

"We were in a bar," Seven began hesitantly.

Big surprise, thought Kathryn keeping her mouth shut.

Seven seemed unable to focus on Janeway’s face. Her eyes drifted everywhere but on the smaller woman knelt in front of her. "The lieutenant had been drinking heavily when three Zeist entered. It was apparent they were looking for us."

"Why apparent?" Janeway asked in a puzzled tone.

"They were not drinking. They sat and looked only at us."

"Go on," she prompted.

"I suggested it was time to return to Voyager. We left the establishment, and the Zeist followed. We were trapped in a heavily shielded cargo bay when the Zeist opened fire with disrupter type weapons."

Janeway made an effort to control the shudder she felt when Seven looked into her eyes. It had been a long time since she had seen such a desolate look. Kathryn could see the obvious pain, but there was something else…guilt?

"Lieutenant Torres was shot. It was my fault. I was unfamiliar with the layout of the station."

"Now you listen to me," Janeway ordered. "It was not your fault. If it hadn’t been for you, Lieutenant Torres would be dead."

"She may still die," Seven said looking away.

"It wasn’t your fault," the captain insisted in a husky tone. "It was the fault of the people who attacked you."

Janeway suddenly noticed the blood on the front of the blue bio-suit. She knew of the Borg’s efficiency and suddenly wondered at something else.

"Seven," she hesitated trying to decide how to frame the question. "What happened to the Zeist?"

The blonde raised her head with a snap, reading the real question in the captain’s eyes.

"I did not kill them. I stunned them. But I would gladly have done so. The only reason I did not is because I knew it would displease you." She looked down before continuing, "This is Lieutenant Torres’ blood?"

Janeway paled as she realized the amount of blood loss the woman must have endured. Her eyes became granite. If they hurried they might be able to have the administrator detain the aliens.

Janeway tapped her communicator and asked Tuvok to contact the administrator immediately. She gave the basic information he would need to emphasize the importance of the detention.

She turned her attention back to the woman still sitting forlornly before her. "It may be sometime before she comes out of surgery. Why don’t you go change, maybe eat something and try to regenerate for a while?" Kathryn suggested gently.

"I will not leave until I know the lieutenant will recover," Seven said in a voice that would freeze molten lava.

One of the traits of a good Starfleet captain was to know when you were defeated. Kathryn’s lips curled in a small smile as she realized the real meaning of futile would be trying to get Seven to leave.

Kathryn wondered suddenly if Seven’s path to humanity had carried her far enough to develop romantic feelings for the half-Klingon. Was it possible that some of the antagonism between the two actually stemmed from suppressed emotions? She was surprised at the sharp stab of jealousy she felt in the pit of her stomach.

Kathryn had always harbored a secret desire to establish a more intimate connection to the incredible ex-drone, but she had held back not wanting to push the young woman into something she wasn’t ready for. Now, Kathryn had the distinct impression that she had waited too long and forever lost her chance.

Slowly she inhaled, controlling the hurt and allowing her compassion to take over. If this was what was happening, she intended to support Seven in any way possible. The younger woman’s happiness meant more to Kathryn than her own pain.

She only prayed Seven would not be hurt. There was the Klingon’s relationship with Tom to consider, or worse yet what if B’Elanna didn’t return the Borg’s feelings? Still, she knew this was something that would have to play itself out without her influence.

"Alright," she relented, fighting the sting of tears, "But as soon as she’s resting, you will take care of yourself."

Seven was surprised Janeway had given up so easily, but was extremely grateful. She didn’t think she had the ability to walk out without knowing the half-Klingon would survive.

"Thank you, Captain," she said sincerely.

Janeway spared a parting glance to the containment area where the doctor was still operating. Then she headed for the bridge, intent on seeking justice for her crewmembers.

***************************

Seven was working at her console in Astrometrics. Her thoughts were constantly interrupted by memories of recent events.

B’Elanna had been in surgery for a little over three hours. The doctor finished and announced in his usual blustering way that the lieutenant would live… thanks to him, and said it would be several hours before lieutenant Torres would regain consciousness.

"May I see her?" she asked.

"Well…I suppose. But only for a moment," he admonished as he walked toward his office.

Seven had walked over to the bio-bed, looking down on the feisty woman. She was amazed at how much she had come to care for B’Elanna in such a short period of time.

She looks so small, Seven thought.

The brown eyes were closed, and the respiration came in small even breaths. Seven lifted her right hand and brushed her fingertips across the brow ridges. She had been fascinated with them since acknowledging the attraction she felt for the young woman.

Seven resisted the urge to press her lips where her fingers had been, knowing the doctor was probably watching through the transparent wall of his office.

Her fingertips continued to explore the skin beneath her, knowing it was something the engineer probably wouldn’t allow had she been conscious.

"I believe I love you, B’Elanna Torres," she whispered softly.

Seven had left sickbay then, intending to carry out her promise to the captain. After changing and consuming a small amount of nutritional supplements, she had regenerated for two hours.

When the regeneration cycle completed, Seven opened her eyes to see the captain standing beside her. She thought she saw a fleeting look of pain before the command mask slipped into place.

In a voice heavy with disappointment, Janeway informed her the Zeist had already recovered and vacated before the administrator’s security detail could locate them. Voyager was cleared for immediate departure and had now resumed course for the Alpha Quadrant. There was nothing she could do.

Seven forced her thoughts back to the present. It had been 6.2 hours since she left sickbay and she suddenly felt the need to see Lieutenant Torres.

As Seven shutdown her workstation, she realized how illogical she was being. The doctor had told her he would inform her of any changes in his patient’s condition, but she felt the overwhelming urge to see for herself.

Seven strode briskly, her hips swaying sensuously, for the turbolift. She took the lift to deck five, and walked down the corridor to sickbay. A quick scan of the room showed B’Elanna’s bed had been moved to a remote far corner to afford the woman some semblance of privacy.

Someone had gotten to sickbay before her, and Seven identified the visitor leaning over the engineer as Tom Paris.

His back was to the entrance, effectively blocking the Borg’s view of B’Elanna. Tom was bent over slightly and Seven could tell he was holding B’Elanna’s right hand with both of his.

The lovers were speaking in such low tones Seven, even with her Borg enhanced hearing, and could not tell what they were saying.

Seven felt a sudden crushing intensity within her chest. She was finding it difficult to breath and tears stung the backs of her eyes. She wanted to throttle him!

As quickly as the anger took possession of her, it fled, to be replaced with jealousy.

I want it to be me, she thought. I want her to speak to me in such a manner. But she loves him, not me.

Tom bent forward and pressed a lingering kiss to B’Elanna’s lips.

Seven gasped at the fresh onslaught of pain and whirled on her heel, leaving sickbay.

How could I ever think she would care for me? I am Borg. There is no one for me here on Voyager, she told herself. I am alone. I have been alone since I was severed from the Collective.

Feelings are irrelevant. B’Elanna is in love with someone else. The most she could feel for me would be sympathy. I do not want her sympathy I want her love. The love that she is incapable of giving.

Shoulders slumped; Seven went to cargo bay two. She went where the Borg alcove was. It was the only thing familiar in a suddenly hostile environment.

The heartbroken woman sat on the dais, taking harsh gasping breaths. She would not let the tears fall. She refused. Then, they were streaming down her face in an unstoppable flood. She leaned against the railing, muffling her sobs.

Eventually, the tears slowed. Seven carefully wiped at her face with her hands, before standing shakily. She set the regeneration cycle to wake her at 0600 hours.

She was Borg. She would continue to function. She would have no more interest in non-productive social activities. She would not pursue Humanity. Such things caused only pain.

Seven stepped into the alcove and closed her eyes as the regeneration cycle engaged.

*****************************

B’Elanna awoke with a start. She looked around carefully, recognizing the familiar walls of sickbay.

She started to sit up and found she couldn’t move. She felt pain in every fiber of her being.

"Doctor?" she asked loudly, hoping the hologram would hear.

"I’m here, Lieutenant," he said, walking up next to the bio-bed. "You can’t move because you have a regenerative pack attached to your midsection."

"What the hell happened? Did you get the number of the shuttle that hit me?"

"Very droll, Lieutenant."

The E.M.H. told B’Elanna how she had been struck by the disrupter fire and rescued by Seven.

"You would have died had my skill not been so extraordinary. You will still need several days in sickbay to recover," he concluded.

"That’s just great. I feel like I’m on display."

The doctor took a deep breath, which was completely unnecessary for a hologram, as he considered the situation.

An unhappy Klingon would not ensure the smooth operation of the medical facility, far from it.

"We could move the bio-bed to the far corner. It would afford you some privacy. That’s the best I can do, I’m afraid. I need to monitor your progress. And stop complaining. It’s the least you can do after bleeding all over my sickbay."

That’s some bedside manner, Torres thought. Still, it was more than she had hoped for. She agreed reluctantly, and was forced to remain still as the doctor pushed the bed across the room.

"Seven was quite concerned about you," he informed her cheerfully while moving the bed. "She was covered in your blood, but wouldn’t leave until she knew you would recover; even after the captain ordered her to."

He didn’t notice the look of shock on the lieutenant’s face as he continued his monologue.

"From what I understand, she actually put her own life in danger to save you. That’s not what I would consider very efficient for a Borg. I didn’t know you two had become such good friends."

The doctor finished moving the bed and finally seemed to notice how quiet his patient was.

"Lieutenant? Are you alright?"

"Uh…fine, doctor. I guess I’m just tired," she lied.

"Yes, well, you should get some rest. You’ll probably have visitors soon."

The holo-doctor made sure B’Elanna was comfortable before retiring to his office.

B’Elanna’s thoughts were centered on a certain blonde.

She remembered the bar, and the beginning of the shoot-out. She had heard shouts and turned around, for some stupid reason. She remembered trying to maintain consciousness. After that, her memory became fuzzy. All she had was a few disjointed images.

The engineer had a vague memory of Seven lifting her out of the aisle and ducking behind some cargo. She definitely remembered the feel of the Borg’s soft breasts against her back. She must have lost consciousness then because she didn’t remember anything else. Well, almost nothing else. She remembered Seven saying her name, B’Elanna.

Seven had never called her by her name before. She had always called her lieutenant, sometimes accompanying that with her last name, but never B’Elanna.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but she also remembered a wealth of emotion in Seven’s voice when she had said the name.

Then, apparently, the young woman had insisted on staying with her, defying the captain’s orders until she knew B’Elanna would survive. B’Elanna’s lips quirked with that thought. Seven was always defying the captain.

I noticed the doctor didn’t say anything about Paris. Where was he during all of this, she wondered feeling abandoned.

The doors to sickbay hissed open, drawing her attention. She glanced over; surprising herself by hoping it would be Seven of Nine. She was equally surprised to discover her disappointment when she identified the visitor as Tom Paris. Speak of the devil…

"Hey," he said softly.

Tom leaned against the edge of the bed and took B’Elanna’s right hand into both of his.

"You gave us quite a scare. How are you feeling?"

B’Elanna looked into his eyes, searching for the spark of excitement she used to feel. When had the thrill fizzled out?

"B’Elanna?"

"What…oh, sorry. Just thinking. I’m okay. I hear I have Seven of Nine to thank."

"Yeah, evidently the station has monitoring devices in the cargo areas, in case of theft. Unfortunately, their security doesn’t view those video outputs unless an incident actually occurs. The captain was able to obtain the digital chip from the Administrator."

"You mean it actually recorded the attack?" That was great, they would be able to prosecute the scoundrels! B’Elanna felt a growl rise in her throat.

"Hold on a minute," he said, sensing her growing excitement. "By the time the Administrator sent a security detail to the cargo area, they were gone."

"Damn. It figures. Why can’t we get a break, just once?"

"You did," Tom insisted softly. "You’re alive. The captain reviewed the file and Seven is probably due for a commendation."

He leaned closer to Torres, and she was suddenly aware that he was going to kiss her. She was dismayed to realize she didn’t really want him to. Tom pressed his lips to B’Elanna’s. She hesitated, not wanting to hurt his feelings by pushing him away.

The doors to sickbay opened and someone entered the room. Seven observed the scene and left quickly, completely unnoticed by the lovers.

B’Elanna pushed gently against Paris’ chest.

"Tom," she said quietly. "I really think I need some rest."

A frown crossed his face fleetingly. "Uh, sure. But, I’ll be back to see you later," he promised. "I’ll bring you some dinner."

"Sure," she smiled.

B’Elanna heaved an unaccountable sigh of relief when he finally left.

She had been released to her quarters after three days spent recovering in sickbay. B’Elanna was feeling pulled in two separate directions and couldn’t seem to find any resolution to her dilemma.

On one hand she was missing the blonde woman that had saved her life. Seven hadn’t been by once to see her, and it was driving the engineer crazy. Had she said something to Seven after being injured that had made the woman uncomfortable?

Of course that would be nothing new, B’Elanna readily admitted to herself. Verbal sparing was a normal part of their everyday interaction. Still, she had thought they were starting to get along better and was disappointed to realize she seemed to be the only one who felt that way.

Then there was Tom. For some reason she was having trouble forcing herself to spend time with him. When he wasn’t around, she missed him. But when he was, he irritated her. She loved him, but it was different. Somehow not as encompassing as it used to be. More like a strong friendship. There just wasn’t any fire, and she craved fire!

Logically, she thought, I should call things off. But honor demanded that she stay with him. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong. His juvenile antics aside, he had stood by her through everything.

This is ridiculous, B’Elanna thought disgustedly.

She looked up with a snarl when the chime to her quarters interrupted her musings. The Klingon invited in her visitor without moving from her comfortable position sprawled out on the couch. The doors slid open to reveal Lieutenant Paris with a smooth green bottle in his hands.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting. "I thought we could celebrate you being out of sickbay with a nice bottle of Chateau Picard."

"Uh, I’m not really in the mood, Tom. But thanks anyway."

The fair-haired helmsman stopped walking toward her and frowned mightily. "You haven’t been in the mood for much of anything lately," he observed. "Want to talk about it?"

He sat the bottle on the coffee table and settled down beside B’Elanna on the sofa. While he waited patiently for her reply, he gently picked up her hand.

B’Elanna was vaguely aware that she didn’t want any physical contact with him. She gently disentangled her hand and scooted a little further away.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Want to explain that? B’Elanna, I know you went through a lot on the station, but please don’t pull away from me."

B’Elanna felt a brief stab of remorse at the hurt look on his face, but her honor wouldn’t allow her to dissemble or flat out lie to him.

"Look, Tom…something did happen. Or at least I think it did. But, I really don’t want to talk about it, right now. I need to work through some things."

Hesitantly, he searched her eyes. "This isn’t about the attack is it?" he said suddenly. "B’Elanna, is this because I wanted an open relationship? You know I only wanted that so we could explore other possibilities. I didn’t want to crowd you," he finished desperately reaching for her hand again.

B’Elanna kept her hands firmly in her lap. Yeah, she knew why he wanted an open relationship. Because that way he could chase every woman on the ship, while she sat in her quarters. It just wasn’t in her to see more than one person at a time.

Maybe that had been the beginning of it. Maybe she had known then it would never work.

"I’m sorry, Tom," B’Elanna said in a soft tone. "Maybe it’s for the best if we take a break from each other for a little while."

There was no response for a moment, and she could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. He was searching for a way to convince her not to call it off. Then something seemed to click.

"There’s someone else, isn’t there?" But it was more of a statement than a question.

"I…I don’t know," she answered honestly.

"What? How can you not know?" he asked, clearly not believing her.

B’Elanna felt her ire rising as he continued to push her. "Tom there is no one else. I’ve only been with you," she said with a snarl. "I’m not the one chasing around all over the ship."

When no more information was forthcoming, he said. "So this is about us having an open relationship. Why couldn’t you just tell me before?" he asked growing angry.

"No, Tom. You don’t under…" she began.

"You know, B’Elanna," he said, feeling a sudden need to be hurtful, "if I didn’t feel like I had to wrestle with you in bed, maybe I wouldn’t have wanted an open relationship!"

"What?" she growled, feeling her face flush in fury.

"Yeah," he continued. "Maybe I’d like some tenderness sometime instead of a fight!"

Tom knew he was out of line, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. It had hurt that B’Elanna seemed to be pushing him away and he gave in to the urge to lash out.

"Okay, that’s it," B’Elanna warned. "You’re right, the open relationship does bother me. If you love me, you should be happy with just me. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling the way I do about Se…someone else. I care about you, but things just aren’t working out."

At her words, he suddenly felt the wind leave his lungs as he realized what was happening. He was about to lose the love of his life. All the fight abruptly went out of him.

"I’m sorry," he said sincerely. "I don’t want to lose you."

"I love you, Tom. But I need to work some things out in my mind. I’m not sure what my feelings are for…this other person. Maybe I’m reading things into the situation that simply aren’t there. But, I have to know for sure."

"I guess I can understand that. You need support right now. Not being pushed when you’re not ready. Are you going to tell me who the lucky fella is?" he asked in a vain attempt at humor.

"No," she said gently. "All I can tell you right now is that you are who I am involved with. I may be confused but I do still have honor. Just don’t expect a lot from me right now."

"Okay. How about if we go slowly," he suggested. "Can I take you to dinner tomorrow? Chez Sandrine’s. I promise not to push."

"All right," she relented. "Tomorrow."

B’Elanna felt a grin start to curl her lips at the boyish enthusiasm on his face.

"Dinner," she said feeling the ice start to melt around her heart.

********************************

Tuesday morning B’Elanna was back in engineering. She was up-dating herself with everything that had gone on during her recuperation. All systems were operating at peak efficiency since the retrofit at the station, but she still wasn’t happy. The feelings she had developed for Seven of Nine left her feeling confused.

The sudden attraction and desire for the blonde had surprised her. Much of her past antagonism for the ex-drone had been born of the belief that Seven had no Human emotions. She had thought Seven was unfeeling and arrogant.

After everything that happened recently, she realized she had been wrong. She kept remembering the wealth of emotion in Seven’s voice when she had said B’Elanna’s name in that cargo bay. She remembered the warmth of the arms wrapped around her, protecting her. She had thought Seven had feelings for her, romantic feelings. Now she wasn’t so sure.

The engineer’s eyes were distant as she sat at her desk contemplating that morning’s staff meeting.

She had been looking forward to seeing Seven of Nine. She hadn’t seen the young woman for almost a week and had missed her. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem as though the feeling was mutual.

Seven hadn’t looked at her once during the entire meeting. She had little to say and for the most part stared at the conference table in front of her.

After the meeting, B’Elanna had tried to engage the young woman in conversation. Seven made some comment about adjusting the long-range sensors and left B’Elanna gaping at her like a terran fish.

"Uughhh," she growled and got out of her chair. Maybe she could find something to do in main engineering to take her mind off the shapely Borg. She took a deep breath, trying to force her irritation into the pit of her stomach.

B’Elanna strode into engineering to see the object of her desire running calculations at console four. She headed in that direction. Maybe if she couldn’t get Seven into a personal conversation she could talk about work. Anything to be able to look into those ice blue eyes.

"Hey, Seven," she said with forced cheer.

Seven started and looked up abruptly while entering a string of commands into the computer.

"Warning, warp core breech imminent," came the feminine voice of the computer.

"What the hell are you doing?" B’Elanna shouted.

Seven quickly overrode the core breech and input the corrected string of alpha-numerics.

B’Elanna’s temper had already been riding the edge and this was the last straw.

She stalked over to the Borg and placed her fisted hands on her hips.

"For someone whose father was a Borg drone and her mother a maturation chamber, I’d expect you to be more intelligent than making a stupid mistake like that," she growled.

She could have bit her tongue off at the root when she saw Seven’s head snap back at the insult. Then the soft blue eyes filled with tears. Seven turned without a word and left engineering.

"Damn. I’m such a p’taq," B’Elanna murmured, surprised at the blonde’s reaction. She had never seen such a display of emotion from the woman and felt about two centimeters tall.

She hadn’t really been angry with Seven. She was just frustrated. Frustrated for wanting the taller woman so badly, and lacking the courage to do anything about it.

B’Elanna knew she had to apologize. She would never be able to look herself in the mirror until she did. Even still, she knew the ache in those eyes would haunt her the rest of her life.

Quickly, she checked the console and made sure they wouldn’t lose the warp core. "Vorik," she called to the young Vulcan engineer. "Cover for me, will ya. There’s something I need to take care of."

"May I remind you, lieutenant, your duty shift ends in approximately ten minutes. I will cover for you in the interim," he stated politely.

"Thanks, Vorik," she smiled. "I owe you one."

As soon as she walked into the corridor she said, "Computer, locate Seven of Nine."

*****************************

Seven couldn’t believe the tightness and pain in her chest. After everything that had happened, she couldn’t believe B’Elanna would speak to her like that.

Leaving engineering, she took the turbolift to deck fifteen. It was the lowest deck on the ship. Seven walked down a small, rarely used corridor that was used to access a maintenance hatch. Being in so remote a location on the ship, it was rare to find anyone here.

She needed to be alone. Anyone could walk into the cargo bay or the Astrometrics lab so she couldn’t go there.

Tears coursed freely down her cheeks as she walked unsteadily to the maintenance hatch. She forced the hatch open and squeezed into the tight space. There was enough room for her to crawl in on her knees. Seven turned and sat with her back against the hull, knees drawn up. Her head rested on her knees while her shoulders shook with sobs.

She seemed to always be crying lately. Sorrow seemed to be the only Human emotion she could feel.

The Borg heard a slight noise and looked up. B’Elanna was climbing into the maintenance hatch. Seven turned her face away; not able to bear the sight of the face she loved so dearly.

"Lieutenant Torres," she said, "Why did you follow me? I apologize if I left before you could finish insulting me."

B’Elanna flinched. Deserved that one, she thought.

The darker woman crawled over next to Seven. She could feel the heat radiating off the woman and could smell her clean, sweet scent. Her heartbeat seemed to speed up of it’s own accord and her nostrils flared.

Dammit, she chastised herself, Klingon bloodlust. She took a calming breath.

"Seven," she began gently, "I’m sorry. I was way out of line. I didn’t mean what I said."

"Then why did you say it?" she asked without looking at B’Elanna.

"You don’t make this easy, do you?"

Seven finally turned toward her and B’Elanna felt her heartache to see the tracks of tears. "Is there some reason I should make this easy?"

"No. I guess not," B’Elanna admitted. "Look, Seven…

"Do not worry, Lieutenant. I understand this is not the first time you have insulted me. I cannot explain my lack of self-control. I’m sure I will ‘get over it’".

"Stop it, will ya? You shouldn’t have to get over it. I shouldn’t talk to you like that. No one should."

B’Elanna hesitated as she realized Seven had a point. They had argued on countless occasions. Why was it suddenly so upsetting for the ex-drone?

The caramel colored engineer deliberately took Seven’s mesh encased left hand between her own, deciding it was time to work out their differences. The metal was surprisingly warm and briefly distracted B’Elanna from what she meant to say.

"Seven…I have a confession to make."

The Borg was very interested in what could make the gruff woman’s voice so gentle.

"This is hard for me to say," she began by forcing herself to look deeply into Seven’s eyes. "I find I’ve been having feelings lately. Feelings I don’t really understand." She paused for a moment. "Actually, that’s not true. I do understand the feelings, I just don’t know what to do about them."

"Lieutenant, I do not understand," Seven admitted breathlessly.

"B’Elanna…please call me B’Elanna. You did on the station. I remember that."

"B’Elanna…" she enjoyed saying the name, the way it felt on her tongue.

"What I mean, Seven, is that I …care for you. Very much. I just don’t know what to do about it. You know I’m involved with Tom, Seven."

Gently, Seven placed her right hand against B’Elanna’s soft cheek, gasping slightly at the warmth.

"What are you saying?" she asked softly.

"I’m saying I’m attracted to you. I care for you and don’t want to hurt you. But a purely physical relationship isn’t what I want either. I’ve had that in the past, and I don’t want to have it in the future."

"What I feel for you is not ‘purely physical’. I love you," Seven whispered desperately, feeling the tears slide down her cheeks. "I love you so much that it is painful."

"Seven…" she gasped tears stinging the backs of her own eyes. "Seven you don’t know that. Have you ever felt these kinds of feelings before?"

"No," the young woman admitted reluctantly. "But I believe I know how I feel now."

Slowly B’Elanna leaned toward the gorgeous blonde. Seven felt her eyes closing against her will. Soft lips caressed her own. Seven had never been kissed before, and she felt warmed and comforted by the soft pressure. B’Elanna’s strong, soft tongue stroked her lower lip. Seven gasped in surprise and the tongue took advantage of the parting lips to slip inside, past her teeth exploring her mouth with authority.

B’Elanna enjoyed the sensation of the full lips against her own, even as she knew she shouldn’t. She pulled away, gently disentangling herself from the strong arms.

"Seven. I can’t do this. I owe Tom the respect of being faithful to him."

"Do you not love me?" she asked wrenchingly.

B’Elanna searched the yearning face and knew she couldn’t lie. "Yes, Seven. I do."

To Seven’s amazement, B’Elanna’s eyes became heavy-lidded with desire and she reached up to gently stroke the pale cheek. Seven pulled B’Elanna against her chest and into another kiss. She thought the Klingon tasted wonderful and she knew she would never get enough of kissing her.

Their mouths parted only so they could suck in another breath then resumed consuming each other. Seven pulled the other woman onto her lap so that B’Elanna was straddling her. B’Elanna broke the kiss panting for breath, and felt the Borg nuzzling her hair.

"I love you," Seven repeated into the delicate ear.

"Seven…" she gasped, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. B’Elanna pulled back to look into twin pools she could lose her soul in. "Darling, I love you, too. But I want to go slowly and do this right. That means I have something I need to deal with."

"You are referring to Lieutenant Paris."

"Yes. Until I can settle things with Tom, I can’t allow things to escalate between us," she said.

"Explain," Seven demanded with a touch of her typical arrogance. "I love you. You love me. Is that not enough?"

B’Elanna chuckled. Sometimes the younger woman had a way of seeing straight to the heart of the matter.

"Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. Honor demands that I end things properly with him."

"You mean you would end your relationship with Lieutenant Paris so that we could be together?" she reasoned.

The Klingon sighed trying to think of the words to make Seven understand. "Seven, my personal beliefs would never allow me to break up with someone just so I could be with someone else. If he and I were both full Klingons that would mean one of us would have to die. And we don’t want that," she added dryly.

"Indeed," Seven agreed with a note of distress.

"To tell you the truth, things have been over with Tom for a long time. He even dates other women. This is about something else. This is about me wanting to have a clean start with you. With no baggage or anything hanging over our heads. This is about me wanting to do the honorable thing, for once. Can you understand?"

"I believe so," Seven stated gently. "Now that I know you love me, I will wait patiently. I will do what I can to assist you in remaining honorable. When will you speak with him?"

B’Elanna lost track of the conversation as she stared into the pale blue eyes of her love. She watched them darken to a cobalt blue with sudden desire and found herself closing the distance between them.

She stopped just before making contact with the wonderful soft lips. "What?" she breathed softly into Seven’s mouth, feeling disoriented.

Seven swallowed convulsively, trying to concentrate. "When will you speak with Lieutenant Paris?" She almost didn’t recognize the voice husky with desire as her own.

The small engineer pulled back with considerable effort. "Tonight," she said. "I’m having dinner with him at Sandrine’s."

"Would you like me to be there?" Seven offered.

B’Elanna grinned at the image those words conjured up. "I’m not sure he’d appreciate it if you just showed up with me for dinner, love."

Seven felt a thrill course through her at the endearment, but would not be distracted, again. "I did not mean to join you. I only meant to be inside Sandrine’s, should you need me." she explained.

"I’m just teasing you, darling. But, seriously, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I appreciate that you want to be there to support me. But this is something I need to do on my own."

"Very well," Seven agreed reluctantly. "But you will tell me as soon as you are finished with your discussion," she demanded.

"Yes, dear," B’Elanna joked, kissing her tenderly.

******************************

Tom waited patiently for the Klingon to join him. He had reserved their favorite table in a dimly lit corner and had his plan all worked out. He didn’t think B’Elanna would object.

While waiting for his dinner companion, the helmsman thought about the staff meeting earlier that morning. He had been wondering who might have caught the feisty woman’s attention. When Seven had entered the conference room, his question had been answered.

To say he had been surprised would have been an understatement. But the flush that had crept up her neck and face had not been his imagination. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from the lanky young blonde. She had been painfully obvious in her attempt to not stare at the ex-drone, but her eyes kept returning to caress the Nordic features.

Tom couldn’t remember B’Elanna ever looking at him that way. He had seen anger and passion, but he had never seen that look of softly aching desire directed at him.

He had held the opportunity for utter bliss in his hands and tossed it into the wind. He knew this was the right thing to do. If he could do this right, maybe someday, she would forgive him for all the immaturity he had displayed throughout this relationship. Tom glanced over as the door to Sandrine’s opened. He smiled and stood, gallantly holding the chair out for the olive-skinned woman. He saw the brief frown mar her brown and knew she was wondering what he was up to.

"B'Elanna, you're looking lovely."

She had worn a midnight colored gown that barely reached mid-thigh. The elegant cut left her back and upper arms bare.

"Thank you," she said carefully. "You look nice, too."

The young man had made a concentrated effort to look nice and wore a navy blazer with a white silk shirt and tan slacks. B’Elanna wondered about his motives. He rarely dressed for dinner and always under duress.

"What’s the occasion?"

"What," he asked with feigned innocence, "can’t a guy try to impress you?"

"Sure," she retorted, not buying that answer for a nano-second, "but you’re not that guy."

"Ouch."

"Look, Tom. Let’s just have dinner and get it over with," she growled.

Tom took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. He knew it was better to do it now and get it over with. As the waiter approached, the young man waved him away.

"Let’s talk for a minute before we order, okay."

"Okay, maybe I should go first," B’Elanna offered trying to figure out how to start.

Somehow, he knew he couldn’t let her go first. Tom knew she would try to tell him about Seven and he knew her Klingon honor would be compromised. After all he had put her through, and all the second chances she had given him when he had pulled some stunt or ignored her for a car or new ship, he owed her this one. And if she never knew the truth, so much the better.

"Wait, B’Elanna. I really need to go first this time," he said softly.

She could see the sincerity in his eyes and acquiesced with a small nod.

"B’Elanna, I’ve been thinking about our conversation from last night. You were right when you said the open relationship was unfair. Please, hear me out," he said when she would have argued.

"I tried to convince you that things could be the way they were before. But, they can’t. You know I’ve been seeing other women."

His eyes focused on the tabletop. He couldn’t lie to her and look her in the face.

"There’s someone…in particular. I really care for her Lanna, and I want to spend time with her. Exclusively. I hope you understand," he finished, finally looking up to gauge her reaction.

B’Elanna was for once speechless. It was so perfect. Communication and honesty were paramount for successful human relationships. Klingon sensibilities demanded exclusivity. By Tom telling her he was interested in someone else, she was free to date whomever she chose.

"Tom, are you sure? You’re not going to change your mind?"

"I’m sure B’Elanna. It’s better this way. Now if you’re ready to order…"

Just the thought of that word sent a shiver of anticipation through her. All the feelings of desire she had been suppressing came rushing to the top and suddenly she didn’t know if she could wait for the blonde to wake up. B’Elanna felt a growl rumbling in her chest. She increased speed to the cargo bay, fairly rushing through the doors as they opened wide enough to allow entrance. She froze at the sight of the beauty locked in sleep inside the regeneration alcove.

Slowly, she reminded herself. She wanted to enjoy every new experience with the woman she knew was her soul-mate. She took the time to study the narrow features, the implants gracing her left brow and right cheek. Her hair, the color of spun gold and sunshine. Her hands, long fingered and sensual even with the Borg mesh on the left. Her body: long, lean, powerful and sensual.

B’Elanna checked the console and discovered there was only an hour left in the regeneration cycle. Obviously Seven had set the controls for a short cycle so she could find out the results of the Klingon’s dinner.

The compact engineer settled gracefully at Seven’s feet, leaning her head back to rest against the braced legs. She closed her eyes to rest briefly, waiting for the cycle to end.

Some time later, she felt movement behind her.

"B’Elanna?" came a groggy voice.

"I’m here," she answered, standing and moving so the blonde could step away from the alcove. Her arms encircled the slim waist as her head came to rest against a strong shoulder. B’Elanna smiled as she felt Seven’s arms enfold her.

"How was your dinner?" Seven asked politely while nuzzling the thick dark hair at the engineer’s temple.

"Better than expected," she answered honestly. "Tom told me he wants to see someone else."

The Borg took a moment to work through the social implications of both human and Klingon customs before reaching a conclusion. She released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

"We are free to be together," she said in a soft happy voice.

B’Elanna brushed her lips over the soft cheek and whispered, "Yes, and I want to be together. Now." She pulled back and grasped Seven’s hands. "Would you like to come to my quarters so we can talk?" she asked teasingly.

"Somehow," Seven said with a hint of humor in her eyes. "I do not believe talking was what you had in mind."

"No," B’Elanna confirmed. "But, we will be vocalizing a great deal."

The feral smile she bestowed sent a chill up Seven’s spine. "Indeed. I will comply," she said huskily.

B’Elanna chuckled as she took Seven’s hand and led her from the cargo bay. She didn’t release her hold as they walked through the ship, and she pointedly ignored the startled glances and outright stares of the crew.

When they reached the chief engineer’s quarters, talking was the last thing on their minds. Seven felt as though she had wanted and waited forever to hold this woman in her arms.

She turned toward B’Elanna, placed her hands on the broad shoulders and gently kissed her. Trying to absorb all of the tastes and textures of this small woman.

B’Elanna instinctively parted her lips, inviting the soft tongue inside. Seven groaned as she felt B’Elanna’s strong hands grasping her gluteus maximus.

The Klingon slid her hands up to grasp the blonde head between her hands, deepening the kiss. Seven bent without losing contact with the soft lips. Although the Klingon hybrid had a denser skeletal structure than a human, it was no match for the Borg enhanced strength. Seven lifted her easily and walked into the bedroom. She sat B’Elanna on the edge of the bed and finally drew away from the kiss.

"I want to see you," she whispered.

B’Elanna shuddered and looked into eyes colored cobalt with desire. The women slowly shed each other of their clothing. Seven eased B’Elanna back until she was lying on the bed. Seven lowered her tall body over the smaller woman, resting most of her weight on her elbows. She trailed her lips down the rich brown neck and down the swell of the small, upturned breasts. Her tongue darted out and swirled around a nipple.

B’Elanna gasped in pleased surprise. Seven planted small kisses across the chest to the other nipple while she continued to fondle and pinch the one she had just been teasing.

Sensation was tearing through B’Elanna’s body. No one had made her feel like this before. She was having difficulty holding a coherent thought. Her breath was coming in harsh gasps.

Seven was planting teasing touches down the soft pliant body. She followed her fingers with her mouth, licking and kissing what she had been touching. Her tongue teased the inside of the small indent on the muscled abdomen as her fingers gently stroked the soft inner thighs.

Seven’s leg slipped between the thighs and B’Elanna felt the scorching blast of sharp desire. She arched toward the Borg’s creamy white leg, painting it with moisture.

The powerful blonde slipped lower, spreading the legs apart and lying between them. She used her human hand to spread the brown hair away from the warm opening and sought between the folds with her tongue.

B’Elanna cried out sharply with the contact of the wet muscle. She couldn’t prevent her hips from moving, thrusting toward the insistent tongue.

Seven inhaled deeply, savoring the flavor of the woman. She had done vast research on same sex copulation, but nothing could have prepared her for this perfection. She could stay here forever.

B’Elanna’s breath was starting to come in uneven gasps and her thrusting had increased in speed. Seven knew she was craving release. She eased two fingers of her mesh-encased left hand into the opening.

The engineer’s eyes flew open as she realized what the young woman was doing. It was incredible. B’Elanna could feel the ripples in the mesh rubbing gently inside her.

"Seven…" she panted, "faster."

Seven felt a thrill of pleasure shoot through her at the sound of her lover’s voice. She increased the speed of her thrusting into B’Elanna and pressed down harder on the clit with her tongue.

B’Elanna blew with the force of a volcano. She grasped hold of both of Seven’s upper arms for support and all of deck nine, section twelve knew she was engaging in "intimate relations."

Seven sighed and nuzzled gently between the soft thighs. She loved the unique flavor of the strong woman. She slid up and snuggled into B’Elanna’s arms.

"Gods, you’re incredible," B’Elanna declared when she could breath again.

Seven began placing light kisses along her jawbone.

"Oh, no you don’t," the engineer said.

Seven was amazed at the ease with which the smaller woman flipped her onto her back.

"It’s my turn." She looked intently into Seven’s eyes. "I’m going to go slow. I want this to be special for you."

"It is special," Seven assured her. "You are here, and I am here. It will always be special."

B’Elanna returned her attention to the full Borg lips. "I love you." She breathed against them.

Seven lost all coherent thought as the young Klingon showed her exactly how much she meant those words.

The End

Home           Feedback can be sent to me here

Back to Susan's page