Parts 12 - 15
Disclaimer: Well, everyone knows the song, so I won't bore you by repeating it. Not Mine. Mighty Paramount. No disrespect. Resistance is Futile... wait... strike that last one. Morgan Dalton, however, is my own creation, with a little creative theft in the form of her mutant abilities. Yes... I stole shamelessly from a Marvel X-Men comic book for that.
Ratings and Warnings: NC-17. Well, first warning has to do with f/f sexual situations. Yes there are a few graphic descriptions of two consenting adult women engaged in hot monkey love. The second warning has to do with this being the first time I have attempted Voyager fiction in a looooong time. Yes... since before Seven of Nine ever showed up. Not to mention that this is the first time I've ever crossed to the 'Dark Side'. Namely B'Elanna/Seven romance. There is also some Janeway/f at some point, but we'll cross that handcuff... err... bridge, when we cum... err... come to it.
Comments to katelin_b@hotmail.com
That being said... on with the show.
Chapter Twelve
B'Elanna grumbled slightly as the computer chirped, alerting her to the time. She slapped the pillow over her face and groaned, not wanting to get up. As her mind floated up from the fog, she knew it was the end of Alpha shift. The engineer had notified the computer to wake her in time for dinner, in the hopes that she would be able to work out enough to make her sleep through the night before her next shift. There was nothing more dangerous to a ship than a Chief Engineer who was dead on her feet.
"Alright, I'm up," B'Elanna groused, tossing the pillow across the room. She sighed in relief when the alarm deactivated, and blinked up at the ceiling for a long moment. "No, I'm not," she decided, closing her eyes again with a little smile. The heaviness of sleep began washing over her again, making her head swim. A feeling she gladly surrendered to.
A mild chirping reached her as she dozed, and after a moment, she groaned. "Now it's sentient?" she slurred, referring to the computer, before she realized it was a different buzzing this time. Someone was at her door, holding a finger on the chime. "Paris," she snarled, jumping up, fully awake at the thought of finally having a reason to kill him.
Not even bothering to throw a robe on over her skin tight shorts and belly top, B'Elanna stomped to the door, the vengeful side of her wanting him to see what he couldn't have before she tore his head off. She flexed her well-defined muscles once to wake them up completely, and put her most intimidating scowl on in full force. B'Elanna hit the door release and barked, "What?!" to nothing but air.
A small squeak made her look down, as Mizoti took her hand off the buzzer and backed up in fright. "Mizoti?" the engineer softened her voice, and immediately crouched down, "Sorry, I thought you were someone else." When the young girl didn't respond right away, B'Elanna noticed the tears in her eyes. "What's wrong?" She looked left and right down the corridor and then studied the young girl's face, waiting for an answer.
"It's Seven of Nine," Mizoti responded, trying to be brave and hold back her tears, "When we finished our lessons, we returned to Cargo Bay 2. She was not there as she normally is. Azan found her behind some containers. She is experiencing the upset that I did, Lt. Torres." She was babbling in her attempt to stay focused, but her worry at seeing her caretaker so unlike herself, was nearly overwhelming.
"Where are the boys?" B'Elanna asked quickly, scooping the girl up.
"They have sealed the door with a Borg encryption code," Mizoti explained, wrapping her arms around the Klingon's neck as they began moving down the hall at an accelerated rate, "They told me to come get you after I explained your calming effect yesterday."
B'Elanna nearly stumbled in her stride at that comment, so innocently made by a young girl who had no concept of the vulnerability of emotions. For an instant, she debated turning around and sending Mizoti back to her brothers, but her memory of running into Seven in the corridor several hours earlier made the decision for her. The engineer increased her fast walk to a jog, reaching up and supporting Mizoti's back with her other hand while she ran.
B'Elanna paid no attention to the wide eyed stares she got as she ran, barefoot through the corridors, not even realizing she hadn't donned her robe before racing off with the little ex-Borg in her arms. Rounding the last corner, she nearly crashed into the twins, skidding to a stop just in time and setting Mizoti down on the deck next to them. "You two okay?" she questioned, more in her command voice, than the soft voice she had used with the little girl. They were boys after all, and were just at that age, ex-drone or not, that emotions became something to hide, while they tried to prove how resilient they could be. This time was no exception.
Azan puffed up his chest until he looked like he was going to turn blue from the strain, and nodded curtly. "We are functioning within normal parameters, Lt. Torres," he stated, his twin Rebi nodding at the same time.
"Good," she said quickly, with a curt nod, "You two watch after your sister. She is going to need lots of comforting, and I expect you both to take over that task and be there for her, understood?" She raised her eyebrow and tried to look stern. Kahless, I sound like my mother, her mind grumbled.
"Yes, Ma'am," they said in unison, puffing up even more at being given something important to do. She nodded again and stepped up to the door, stopping herself just in time.
"Ahem?" she cleared her throat and looked at them, pointing at the door. She nearly laughed when they scrambled to release the encryption codes and crouched down to whisper in their ears as Mizoti watched on in puzzlement. "Here's a tip," she said quietly, but no less seriously, lest the boys think their job wasn't as important as she had purported it to be, "Females like your sister recover more efficiently with hugging and ice cream. I believe Neelix can get you some in the Mess Hall." She straightened up and watched them nod in unison, biting her lip to refrain from telling them how annoying it was to watch them do that. Down right creepy.
B'Elanna stepped into the Cargo Bay and let the doors close behind her, but not before she heard Rebi ordering the small collective to the Mess Hall. She smiled and reinstated the Borg encryption code they had used, so that an unknowing crewmember wouldn't walk in on them. When it chirped quietly, she turned toward the darkened room, lit only by the green glowing light of the alcoves.
Seven was no where in sight, so B'Elanna assumed she was still huddled up where ever the children had found her. She hunted through the Cargo Bay, her feet making little noise on the deck plating, checking behind every container large enough to hide a 6 foot blonde. She finally found the young woman huddled behind an antigrav crate in the back corner of the large storage room, her knees tucked up under her chin, and her long arms wrapped tightly around her legs.
B'Elanna felt her heart pang with sorrow at how small and fragile the woman looked. With her eyes closed, the engineer couldn't judge how red they were from crying, but the tears, dried white on her cheeks, left little doubt that it had been going on for some time. Instantly she knew what was wrong. The children had gotten their comfort, but people often forgot that Seven still had the innocence of that little 6 year old that had been assimilated so many years ago. And there had been no one to comfort Seven and promise her that things would be okay.
Without thinking, B'Elanna stepped around the antigrav crate and wiggled herself in between Seven and the wall. The ex-Borg started when she realized that she was not alone, trying to get up and wipe her eyes at the same time. B'Elanna shushed her quietly, saying nothing more, and simply made herself comfortable and pulled Seven toward her, and folding her strong arms around the lanky body.
It was only the briefest of hesitations before Seven relented, curling up against B'Elanna's chest, her long legs draped over one of B'Elanna's thighs. She closed her eyes again, letting out a very shaky breath as her body convulsed in a dry sob. Seven thought she would lose control of her tear ducts again, but nothing happened. She was simply content to rest against the engineer's soft chest, her natural human instincts making her wiggle in even closer. Seven's arms folded up and her balled fists were tucked under her chin, resting in the valley between B'Elanna's breasts, as the Klingon's strong arms responded to the motion and held her a little more tightly.
B'Elanna used one hand to loose Seven's hair from its austere bun, remembering how her father would stroke her hair when she was upset as a child. It always seemed to calm her, and Seven, it seemed, was no different. As the caramel skinned woman threaded her fingers through the blonde hair, she felt the tension begin to drain out of the ex-Borg in her arms. What in Kahless's good name are you doing, B'Elanna's mind screamed at her, You're sitting on the cargo bay floor, cuddling a Borg?!
The Klingon ignored her mental voice, and stayed where she was, her fingernails lightly scraping the base of Seven's skull as her body rocked gently from side to side. She remained silent though, her discomfort drawing the line at singing, or even humming a soothing tune. B'Elanna admitted she didn't know what to say to the blonde woman that would ease her pain, but perhaps her presence was enough.
"Everything will be okay, Seven," she finally said, unable to stand the eerie silence any longer. She cursed her verbal clumsiness, when the softly spoken words set off another round of fresh tears. She held Seven a little tighter still, squeezing in response to the ex-Borg burrowing into her chest. B'Elanna tried not to think how good it felt to hold her, her mind telling her alternately that she was crazy to be enjoying the sensation.
B'Elanna didn't know how long she stayed there, holding Seven. The ex-Borg's latest round of tears had stopped, and she had been silent for several minutes. When the engineer looked down, she saw that the young woman's eyes were closed, and her breathing had slowed. She smiled softly and resumed stroking the long blonde hair, shifting to relieve the cramp her back had gotten from too long spent in one position.
Her slight moving caused Seven to grumble and shift in her sleep, and she stilled immediately, not wanting to wake her. She looks so innocent when she sleeps, B'Elanna's mind added helpfully, before she silenced it with a frown. A frown that melted away instantly when Seven's shifting began again. "Go back to sleep, Seven," she whispered, not wanting the young woman to wake completely, "I'm here."
Seven grumbled again softly. "Mmno," she slurred, pulling her hands down from under her chin, and placing them on B'Elanna's thighs to steady herself, "Inefficient." Her mind was still trying to regain it's clarity, having had little experience with sleep since being severed from the Collective, and none in the last several months.
"Shhh," B'Elanna insisted, curling her arms behind Seven's back and gently pulling her back, "You don't have to be efficient all the time." She felt Seven's arm give out again, and she slumped against the engineer's strong chest, her long arms tucking up around the small of B'Elanna's back.
As Seven's artificial left hand came into contact with the muscle spasm in the engineer's back and her eyes opened again. "You are damaged," she declared with something closer to her normal voice, though it stayed low. It seemed that she wouldn't be falling back to sleep any time soon.
"It's just a cramp, Seven," B'Elanna answered quietly, shifting a bit more, but not removing her hand from the ex-Borg's hair, "It will go away." Seven had made no move to rise, and the Klingon was finding the motion just as soothing. She nearly purred when the ex-Borg's strong human fingers found the offending muscle and began rubbing it gently. All the while, ignoring the inner voice that was screaming at her to bring the embrace to an abrupt end.
She hummed softly, without really noticing, and rested her cheek on the top of Seven's head, pulling her a little closer. Seven's long fingers had dipped into the wide elastic waist of her exercise shorts, following the path of the complaining muscle, and B'Elanna closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of such a gentle touch. Her own hand stopped playing with the long blonde hair, and took up position at the base of Seven's skull, massaging the muscles there.
The ex-Borg's answering sigh sent a small ripple of arousal through B'Elanna's body, but she was too relaxed to be concerned about it. She was floating in a haze of sleepy pleasure that she hadn't experienced in a very long time. "You are purring," Seven whispered softly, nudging her head closer to B'Elanna's chest as her fingers continued their gentle massage, "I have never heard you make that sound."
The engineer smiled softly at the wonder in Seven's voice, and let the involuntary purr fill her chest, giving in rather than fighting it. She could feel Seven smiling against her chest as the massaging hand worked a little deeper into the slowly relaxing muscle. "Klingon's do that when they are happy," B'Elanna whispered right back, her face hidden by silky locks of blonde hair. Her inner voice was practically bellowing at her that this was beginning to go somewhere she didn't want it to, but it was ignored completely. Seven seemed to accept that answer with a silent smile, giving B'Elanna a little squeeze and continuing her massage.
They rested in silent comfort for several minutes, gently massaging and listening to each other breathe. Neither had the courage to put voice to what they were feeling in those long minutes, both more comfortable than they had ever felt. B'Elanna felt Seven's breath puff against her chest with every sigh, and each were answered by a burst of drowsy arousal in the Engineer. Just as Seven's body was reacting in the same fashion to B'Elanna's purring.
Slowly, without intention from either side, the touches began to change. B'Elanna's massage became a soft caress of Seven's spin under the collar of her biosuit. Seven's own touch had softened as well, merely tracing the slightly raised ridges, similar to the ones on her forehead. They traveled the length of B'Elanna's spine, not nearly as pronounced as a full Klingon's but still there. They ended where the human tailbone was located, in a little lump of bone and nerves that was very sensitive to the touch.
The touches became bolder as the minutes wore on, B'Elanna's light touches migrating from Seven's neck, around to her throat, up to her ear and across the line of her jaw. A caramel thumb slid across the blonde's cheek, and down over the slight cleft at her chin, gently stroking smooth velvety skin. Seven's head shifted, arching her cheek against the touch, making sure there was enough room for it to move without impediment, her own fingers splaying out under the waistband of B'Elanna's shorts. The entire palm of her hand resting on the warm Klingon's skin, her fingers moving back and forth, over and around the small of B'Elanna's back.
Seven's head was swimming with new and powerful emotions. Her entire body literally hummed with pleasing sensations that she didn't want to end. When B'Elanna's thumb stroked back down over her cheek, Seven's head shifted, and her full lips parted, letting the digit travel a new path. A path that she blessed with a soft kiss, to the thumb's lightly textured pad. She wasn't consciously thinking about what she was doing, remembering the Doctor's words. `Let yourself go and your body will remember its instincts', was what he had said. Now it appeared he was right.
B'Elanna felt the sensation under her thumb change and her purring increased yet again. It hitched briefly, replaced with a soft groan as Seven's lips gently kissed the digit. We shouldn't be doing this, B'Elanna's mind whimpered, nearly silenced by the tingles of pleasure shooting up from the base of her spine at Seven's delicate touch.
Her thumb felt blazingly hot where Seven's kiss had touched it. B'Elanna tucked the digit back, wanting to feel that sensation again, and pulled her head back, watching her own index finger drag across the silky smooth cheek. Through hooded eyes, she watched Seven's neck arch as it had before, and her finger was given access to those beautiful, parted lips. She held her breath, afraid the slightest sound would disturb the moment, and slide her finger so very gently over Seven's lips.
The blonde's head tipped back this time, B'Elanna's free hand supporting her neck. The engineer's fingertip followed the lips as they changed position, while she watched in awe, the entire experience bared to her eyes. She slide across Seven's bottom lip, feeling a charged energy throughout her body, the likes of which she had never known. B'Elanna's head swam, and she sucked in a ragged gasp as Seven's lips moved again, not kissing her finger, as they had her thumb, but closing around the tip, surrounding it with heat.
B'Elanna groaned deeply, her head dipping forward. Seven's eyes opened at the sound, glazed over with pleasure and hooded just like the engineer's own. At seeing B'Elanna watching her, she met the dark chocolate eyes, falling into them. She dragged her teeth gently over the fingertip before releasing it, watching B'Elanna's eyes glaze and dilate. Seven focused on those eyes, wanting them closer, her head raising slowly, feeling as though she was being pulled into their depths.
B'Elanna panted softly, sliding her damp finger over Seven's chin, and down her jaw. She searched those blue eyes, for what she wasn't sure, but all she saw was arousal and desire. Her mind screamed at her again to stop this, even as her finger gently tipped Seven's chin up a little further. B'Elanna's own lips descended so slowly, feeling herself being pulled into those ocean blue eyes, wanting to drown in them.
An eternity passed for the two women. Lost in each other's eyes. Lost in each other's touch. Seven felt B'Elanna's heated breath, once, twice, three times. A moment's hesitation, each searching the other's eyes, looking for any doubt, and finally the waiting was over. What seemed like years of waiting, but which had been merely a few moments, melted away, as lips brushed lightly.
The spark of pleasure to both women felt like electricity, jolting their entire bodies. Seven's electronic hand came up from resting on B'Elanna's waist, cupping her cheek ever so gently. The stark contrast between warm of the fake skin, and the cool touch of metal that lined the fingers, shocked B'Elanna's skin, making her moan. "Oh, Kahless," she whispered, a plea or an oath she wasn't sure.
Seven's lips reached up once again. Where the last kiss had been barely that, a whisper of touch, this time it was sure. The ex-Borg moaned softly against B'Elanna's lips, pressing intently yet still ever so gentle. She had never felt this type of emotion before, so consuming in its power over her. "Lanna," she murmured against the engineer's lips, feeling them respond to her voice, and part softly, returning the pressure.
B'Elanna's head swam at hearing Seven's soft voice, feeling tremors of desire shake her body. She let her lips open, accepting Seven's breath into her body as she tasted those sweet lips, exchanging the gift for her own tongue. She let it slide between her teeth to brush lightly over Seven's lips, hearing the answering groan of approval.
Seven wrapped her lips around B'Elanna's tongue and sucked on it briefly, raking her teeth over it as she had done the engineer's finger. Her hand slid down to feel the vibrating chest she rested against as it's purring increased yet again. Seven's need grew deeper and stronger, and she snaked her own tongue out to dance and rub every available surface to it. While the kiss was still infinitely gentle and tender, an urgency had developed, both needing to feel each other more than they were being permitted.
With the urgency, came trepidation, and B'Elanna was first to recognize it. "Oh, Kahless," she groaned, pulling back from the sweet warmth of Seven's mouth, trying to ignore the protesting mewl of disappointment. She was panting for breath, and desperately trying to ignore the heat that had formed in the pit of her stomach.
Seven seemed to sense her need for space and dropped her head again, resting her cheek on the Klingon's strong chest, also struggling to pull enough oxygen into her starved lungs. "This," Seven gasped, gulping in air, "This is referred to as `rushing things'?" She felt as though she had been thrust into a plasma manifold. Her body felt so incredibly hot and energized.
B'Elanna let out a weak chuckle and nodded into the ex-Borg's blonde tresses. "Got it in one," she murmured, trying to calm her body and control her breathing. Every muscle she could name, and several more she could felt clenched in anticipation. "It's not appropriate," she tried to explain, before Seven could regain enough equilibrium to ask, "Because of the situation. You were distressed, and not in control of your emotions."
"Had I controlled my emotions," Seven countered in a soft murmur, "This would never have happened." She was still pressed against B'Elanna's chest, though her hands had moved into a slightly less tempting position, wrapped around the engineer's ribs. It seemed that her hands were content, for now, with holding, rather than exploring. After several long moments, she whispered once again. "I wanted it to happen."
B'Elanna couldn't think of anything to say at that, so she didn't. She merely returned to holding the young woman, and stroking her hair soothingly. "But for us both to be sure that this isn't a need merely for comfort, we should wait until Icheb has recovered," she ventured, dropping a soft kiss into Seven's hair, "Do you understand that?"
"Yes, Lanna," Seven replied, easily accepting that the use of B'Elanna's shortened name was appropriate for the circumstances, "I need to focus on Icheb at present."
B'Elanna reached down and tipped Seven's chin up to look in her eyes. "We," she corrected softly, a very serious look on her face, "We need to focus on Icheb." Seven smiled genuinely at that, and cuddled back down into B'Elanna's chest with a softly pleasant sigh.
"We," she echoed, liking the way it sounded, "Yes. We will focus on Icheb." With that resolved, she ignored the rest of her thought processes, deciding not to examine what had happened between herself and B'Elanna until a later time. There would be plenty of opportunity to think, while this was her first chance to fully appreciate what it felt like to be held in the arms of another. Her body settled into a pleasant state of drowsiness, recovering from its earlier turmoil, and Seven stretched out her senses. She listened to the slight purr that remained deep in B'Elanna's chest, signifying that she was not nearly as worried as she had originally thought. While the events would require discussion, now was certainly not that time.
Chapter Thirteen
At the end of Alpha shift, Janeway found herself wandering in the direction of Sickbay. She didn’t want to admit it, but she found the ship’s newest passenger very intriguing. And the Captain wanted to know her better. Where she had been, what she had seen. Growing up in such a different time. The stories she must have to tell.
Smiling unconsciously, she nodded in greeting to the few crew members she passed, not bothering to notice that they hustled faster once they saw her, late for their shifts. Janeway’s focus was hardly on the time, rather on midnight hair and ocean blue eyes.
Rounding the corner, she stepped into Sickbay, glancing around to see if the Doctor was active. Seeing that he wasn’t, she stepped over to Morgan’s bedside, watching the young woman sleep, apparently comfortable in the clothes that had been replicated by the Doctor. It was short lived however, Janeway forgetting that Morgan’s sense of smell worked even when she was sleeping.
“Hello, Captain,” she said muzzily, working her way out of sleep at the familiar scent twitching her nose. A soft chuckle reached her ears and Morgan forced her blue eyes to open.
“I guess I’m going to have to accept that I can’t sneak up on you,” Janeway said with a smile, resting her hands on her hips in a relaxed pose.
Morgan grinned and sat up, stretching unused muscles with a quiet groan. “I guess,” she agreed, pulling one knee up to wrap her arms around. The young woman regarded Janeway with a curious expression. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” she commented idly.
“Well I just finished my shift,” the Captain informed her, leaning a hip against the edge of the bed, “And I thought I might introduce you to the wonders of the twenty-fourth century.” She looked down at a soft rumbling sound, realizing it was coming from her own stomach and grinned sheepishly. “After dinner of course.”
Morgan chuckled and shook her head. “I’d love to,” she agreed with a smile, “If you can get the sawbones to let me leave.”
Janeway smirked. “Hey, I can do anything,” she said smartly, “I’m the Captain.” She helped Morgan step down off the bed and made sure she was balanced, before looking around. “Besides,” she added with an impish grin, “We just won’t tell him.”
“Works for me,” Morgan commented seriously, then adopted Janeway’s impish grin, feeling very much like a teenager again, “Let’s go before someone comes in and activates him.”
The two women tried unsuccessfully to stifle giddy laughter as they hurried from Sickbay, and towards the Messhall.
***
“This is remarkable,” Morgan uttered quietly, looking out the Messhall window and watching the stars streak by. She hadn’t eaten much of the mess that passed for food, more interested in the peculiar chef and other sights around her. As an X-Man she had seen some amazing things, but all of them combined hadn’t equaled the sight of so many alien races meandering around the Messhall and offering greetings to her.
“What’s that?” Janeway asked around a rather bland mouthful of whatever it was she was eating. She had long ago stopped asking Neelix, realizing it she was better off not knowing. “The ship? Technology has had a long time to advance itself in 400 years.”
“No,” Morgan shook her head and smiled into the Captain’s eyes, “The people.” She finally set her fork down, unable to stomach any more of the strange concoction. “Everyone is so accepting. Such a diverse crew, and no one is judged.”
Janeway smiled warmly. “I’d like to think we’ve moved beyond most prejudices,” she nodded, “There is a remarkable diversity in the universe, and human kind has worked very hard to evolve beyond it’s hatred.”
“It’s a nice change,” Morgan smiled, “Just take some getting used to.” She was accustomed to being hated or feared by almost everyone, regardless of how they acted. Her natural suspicions would no doubt rule her for a long time to come.
“I can understand that,” Janeway commented solemnly, putting her own fork down and lacing her fingers, “But perhaps being stranded out here on Voyager has given you a unique opportunity.”
“How so?” Morgan asked, genuinely curious.
“It gives you the time to familiarize yourself with the twenty-fourth century and all it’s differences,” the Captain explained, “Certainly a stepping stone to being found in the Alpha Quadrant and thrust into society in one fell swoop.”
Morgan’s eyes went wide for a moment and she nodded. “I see what you mean,” she nodded, giving a little shudder for emphasis, “That would be a little overwhelming.”
Janeway noticed the hint of fear that flashed briefly across Morgan’s eyes before being well hidden and felt a sudden sympathy for the woman she had just met. Unsure if she should approach the subject or not, the Captain decided to try a flanking maneuver that would make any counselor proud.
“You know, Morgan,” she began, lacing her fingers together on her lap, “We have another crew member that you share quite a bit in common with.”
That seemed to perk her attention a bit, and the raven haired woman leaned forward slightly. “Do tell, Kathryn.”
“Well not in past experiences,” Janeway hedged, holding up a hand to forestall Morgan’s budding curiosity about possible other mutants in their midst. “But definitely in present circumstances. Seven is a survivor of a very different kind, but unique to this crew and the federation none the less. Her acceptance and integration to this ship didn’t happen overnight but it has given her a sense of family and friends to help her through the rougher points of adapting to a new environment. She’s even adapted to the point that she is now primary care giver for 4 children who were rescued from the same situation.”
Morgan’s curiosity was overshadowed slightly, and she smirked. “Okay, I’ll bite,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “Seven?” It was an unusual name, even in her experiences with the X-Men.
Janeway sobered slightly and mirrored her dinner partner’s pose, relaxing for a longer conversation. “Her birth name is Annika Hansen,” the Captain explained, “But she was captured by a cybernetic species, called the Borg, at a very young age and given the numeric designation Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One. She’s much more comfortable with that, than her given name, so we call her Seven for short.”
“I can understand that,” Morgan nodded, reaching forward to play with her food again. The Captain had explained that with the need to conserve energy on the ship, certain concessions had to be made, but Morgan’s stomach just wasn’t ready to accept the food yet.
Janeway noticed that their newest arrival had consumed even less of her meal than the Captain, and mentally went back over the conversation they had been sharing while on the way to the mess hall. She pushed her tray away and smiled, recalling Morgan’s description of something called a Peanut Buster Parfait from a restaurant called Dairy Queen. “Wait here for a second,” she said and stepped over to the replicator.
Morgan wondered what the Captain was up to, watching her tap several keys on the screen, and nearly fell out of her chair laughing when she was what had appeared on the tray. Her mouth watered at the thought of hot fudge and peanuts, but she politely waited until Janeway had returned to her seat before reaching forward.
Taking one of the ice cream treats, Morgan immediately dug in, moaning happily around the mouthful of fudge. Already scooping up her second bite, she looked up to the Captain, who was still looking at her dessert, unsure if she should reach for the spoon sticking up, or toss the mess away before it declared itself alive and tried to attack her.
“Kathryn, it won’t bite you,” Morgan chuckled, smiling happily, “It’s the best tasting thing in the universe.” She reached out and flicked a fingernail against the tall glass dish, making it ring slightly. “Just try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll gladly finish your share too.” She smiled wickedly and spooned up another mouthful of her own treat.
Deciding she wasn’t going to be out done by a civilian, regardless of the century she came from, Janeway dug out a respectable sized bite and steeled herself for the worst. She popped it in her mouth and froze for an instant, shocked by how good it actually was.
Morgan nearly choked on her ice cream at the look of utter bliss on Janeway’s face that was quickly accompanied by a soft moan of delight. “Oh my God, that’s good,” Janeway groaned, taking another bigger bite of the dessert.
Morgan grinned smugly around her spoon and nodded, sucking every bit of fudge she could from the metal. “Some things from the 20th century just can’t be improved on,” she confirmed.
“I’m beginning to see that,” Janeway mumbled around a mouthful of ice cream and peanuts, “Something this good has to be terrible in terms of nutritional value.”
Morgan sucked lightly on her own spoon and gave the captain a strange look. “Nutrition? What’s that?” she asked with a straight face.
“My point exactly,” Janeway smirked, deciding to add to her recipe database. This was one experience she would have to repeat often. “Just hope the doctor doesn’t catch us.” She continued to eat the messy treat without even the slightest bit of regret.
Morgan grinned into her dessert, nearly half eaten, and then glanced up at the Captain. She bit her lip to hold back a laugh at the sight before her. She wasn’t entirely successful however, and a quiet snort escaped, alerting the other woman.
Janeway looked up, the long handled spoon still in her mouth, and frowned quizzically; A frown that deepened when her action caused Morgan to explode into a fit of giggles. “Whmf?” the captain mumbled around the spoon. She grumped and pulled the offending utensil out of her mouth, silently shaking it at her ship’s newest arrival, a comical threat to start explaining.
“I believe it’s the fudge moustache you’re sporting,” a sarcastic voice filled in before Morgan could catch her breath. Both women looked up, shock evident on their faces, and Morgan was sure she heard the captain mutter a soft curse. The Doctor himself was frowning down at them with utter disapproval.
“Busted,” Morgan sighed, putting her spoon down. She looked back to Janeway who was quickly trying to wipe away the sticky fudge with a napkin. “The warden himself comes to collect his escapee,” she deadpanned, making the captain grin.
“Don’t worry Thelma,” Janeway used a reference from her favorite 20th century movie, watched so many times she could nearly recite it word for word, “I’ll bust ya out again soon.”
Morgan barked a quiet laugh, amazed at the captain’s subtle reference and grinned impishly. “I’ll be a waitin’ fer ya, Louise,” she drawled with a wink.
The Doctor watched his patient rise from the table with a stern expression, fully prepared to lecture both her and the captain about obeying the CMO’s orders. They were for the good of the patient after all. Before he could even open his mouth, however, the messhall doors opened and a very angry Klingon engineer stormed in, followed by a very whiney Human pilot.
“But B’Elanna, we can work this out,” Tom begged, trying to get her to stop and look at him.
“I don’t want to work on it,” she ground out through clenched teeth, “I’ve been working on it for months now, and nothing’s changed. Now please drop it.” Janeway knew instantly what had happened, and felt a slight pang of regret that two of her senior officers had ended their relationship. Rather B’Elanna had ended it, and Tom wasn’t accepting it. She normally wouldn’t interfere in their personal lives, but the argument was growing heated and she didn’t want Tom to end up in Sickbay because he poked the Klingon one too many times with the proverbial stick.
B’Elanna simply wasn’t in the mood for his antics. Not after the day she’d had. After reluctantly pulling herself away from Seven, promising to bring the children back, she had helped the tall ex-borg into her alcove and set her regeneration cycle. She was grateful for the time to herself on the walk to the mess hall, feeling the need to work out what had just happened between them.
A quick stop at her quarters to get dressed had resulted in a meeting with Tom Paris, who’d just decided that they were going to have dinner together, no matter how she felt about it. He had even let himself into her quarters without her permission. That wasn’t what irked her the most. He had tried to get her to forget about bringing the children back to the cargo bay. “They’ll find their own way back eventually,” he had reasoned.
That was what snapped it. B’Elanna might not be comfortable around children, but she was responsible. She knew she just couldn’t leave them, and more over, she had promised Seven she would get them home. She told Tom as much, but he just wouldn’t accept her reasoning, getting mouthy and asking if it was just an excuse to avoid him.
B’Elanna had snapped. She finally gave in to the urges she’d been having for weeks, and told him it was over. Even that hadn’t really worked. Now instead of being belligerent, he was whining, and it was driving her nuts. Not even walking out and heading for the mess hall had made him take the hint that she didn’t want to talk to him.
“B’Elanna,” Tom whined, “You’re not being fair about this.”
Taking a deep breath, the Klingon engineer visibly tried to calm herself down, which surprised nearly everyone in attendance. It wasn’t very often that B’Elanna even attempted to keep her temper in check. “You’re causing a scene,” she growled through clenched teeth, finally realizing that even the children were watching from their corner.
“That’s because you’re not listening,” he snapped back, grabbing her arm firmly when she tried to walk away, yet again. Janeway noticed this and flinched while the entire room held their collective breaths.
“Ensign Paris!” she barked, and this time Morgan flinched, unused to the command voice Janeway could call up when she wasn’t happy. She knew she was probably saving Tom’s life by stepping in now, rather than let them try to work it out. Another few seconds and B’Elanna probably would have lost the control she was working so hard to keep.
Morgan watched quietly in awe at what was unfolding before her. Her body had tensed up instinctively when she smelled the young woman’s hostility, so much more powerful a scent than she was used to. So much so that it nearly overwhelmed her.
“Captain!?” Tom squeaked, immediately letting go of B’Elanna’s arm when he realized who had barked at him. He cringed when Janeway’s famous force ten glare pinned him, and he could almost swear his eyebrows were starting to smoke.
“Not a word, Mr. Paris,” Janeway snapped, holding up a forestalling hand when he opened his mouth to offer some excuse, “I will see you both in my Ready Room. Right now.” Her tone left no room for refusal, though B’Elanna did try.
“No excuses, Captain,” she said as Janeway glared at her, “But I promised Seven I would bring the kids back to regenerate.” Her tone was sincere, and the Captain could tell she really did feel bad for airing her dirty laundry in public. B’Elanna was a private person by nature, and Tom’s actions had not only angered her, but embarrassed her as well.
“Five minutes,” Janeway agreed with a nod, a major concession for her, but it was for the sake of the children. She turned away from the pair and regarded Morgan and the Doctor, who was busily scanning her with a tricorder. “Sorry for the interruption,” she tried to force a smile, “But it seems the children were rough housing again.” It was a weak joke, but Morgan’s quiet laugh brought a genuine smile to the Captain’s face.
“I hope they don’t give you too much grief,” Morgan replied, trying to ignore the Doctor’s clucking. She decided that a little silliness might help lighten Janeway’s mood, as well as save the two officers from most of her rage. Without any warning, she reached out and lifted the captain’s right hand, bowing regally at the waist and kissing her knuckles like a gentleman. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Madam Janeway,” she said primly, “I do hope we can do it again soon.”
Janeway chuckled and pulled her hand back. “I certainly hope so,” she agreed, “Without the excitement next time.”
Morgan winked slyly and called over her shoulder. “Come along Igor,” she said, “We must return to the lab.” She stopped dead in her tracks, as if remembering something and spun around, snapping her fingers. “Oh wait,” she said, pointing at the Doctor, who was looking more and more perturbed, “You Doctor, me Igor. I’m always getting that mixed up.” She started moving again with an exaggerated limp, dragging her right foot, left arm tucked up to her chest, and rasping comically.
Janeway watched, slack jawed, while Morgan continued her horror movie lab assistant walk right out of the mess hall. She shook her head and chuckled at the Doctor’s mumbling as he stomped after his patient. Finally, unable to avoid it any longer, she turned her attention to the two officers on their way to her Ready Room, and wondered what she would say to them.
It was clearly a simple break up, though a messy one, but Janeway couldn’t have her officers fighting in public, no matter how much they were hurting. She decided that a good firm brow beating and a warning would be enough for both of them this time. Feeling a bit better, she fixed her command mask in place and headed for the Bridge.
Chapter Fourteen
After making sure the borg children were safely in their alcoves, and double checking on Seven to make sure she wasn’t having trouble getting through her regeneration cycle, B’Elanna headed for the Bridge. She knew she was in trouble for the scene in the mess hall, and once again found herself growing angry with Tom Paris.
She didn’t have time to try and curb that anger, however, because she was suddenly knocked off her feet as the floor rocked beneath her. Battle Stations sounded before she even hit the floor and the red alert klaxon screeched in her ears. “Kahless!” B’Elanna muttered, pulling herself upright and barreling down the hall, heading for a turbolift that would take her to Engineering.
***
On the Bridge, Janeway just made it to her chair before the first impact. “Mr. Paris!” she barked, holding on for dear life, “Evasive maneuvers! Tuvok?!”
“Shields at 78%,” the chief of security intoned calmly, “Weapons at full power, Captain.”
Janeway gave a little gesture to the view screen, and the Hirogen vessel that it showed firing at them. “Do explain that their advances aren’t welcomed,” she commanded.
“Firing,” Tuvok replied, and the Bridge crew watched a photon torpedo impacted against the other ship’s shields.
“Their shields are down to 60%, Captain,” Harry noted with satisfaction.
“Target their weapons systems,” Janeway snapped another order, “Helm, bring us around for another pass.”
Another volley of Hirogen torpedoes impacted Voyager’s shields, blowing Harry away from his station as it sparked. “Shields are down!” Chakotay called, reading his own panel, “Bridge to Engineering. We need those shields!”
“I’m working on it, Bridge!” B’Elanna shouted, and over the com link the Bridge crew could hear the pandemonium in main Engineering. “No Carey that doesn’t go there! Damnit!! Engineering Out!”
The link was closed abruptly. Had the circumstances been any less serious, Janeway would have chuckled. At the moment, she only allowed herself a small smile, and focused her attention on the attacking ship. “I guess stopping to observe that nebula was a bad idea,” she muttered to herself, remembering that the only reason she had dropped them out of warp earlier in the day was to get sensor readings of a forming protostar. Once again, her scientist background had caused them problems.
An alert sounded sharply through the bridge, and Janeway’s head snapped around to look at Tuvok. “Report!” she barked, though she already knew what the sound meant.
“Transporter signatures on deck 4 and 13, Captain,” Tuvok called, rapidly moving to erect forcefields.
“Bridge to all hands,” Janeway shouted after activating a ship wide link, “Intruder alert!”
“Shields are back online, Captain,” Tuvok called, “And the Bridge has been sealed off.”
“Good,” Janeway nodded, “Mr. Tuvok, kindly disable that ship so we can get to cleaning out our own.” The Security Chief didn’t answer, but they all watched a full volley of torpedoes hit the Hirogen vessel, rocking it to port. Its main lights flickered briefly and then dimmed as it listed dangerously.
“Main power is offline, Captain,” Harry reported from a secondary station, wiping a trickle of blood out of his eye, “Shields, weapons, and propulsion. They’re dead in the water.”
“Attach a tractor beam,” Janeway snapped, moving toward the turbo lift after breaking out an emergency phaser, “They’re not going anywhere.”
“Captain?” Chakotay trotted up, weapon in hand, “You don’t think I’m going to let you have all the fun, do you?” Janeway leveled a glare at him and wanted to argue, but snapped her mouth shut, knowing that it was better than the alternative. Tuvok could rightly point out that regulations dictated the Captain remain in a secured area until the threat had ended.
“Tuvok, you have the bridge,” she said, giving him a curt nod and stepping into the turbolift with her First Officer, determined to protect her ship.
***
In Sickbay, the first jolt had nearly knocked Morgan clear off her bed. She had been praying for an end to the Doctor’s incessant ramblings about obeying medical orders, but that had been a little too much. The blaring alert hadn’t stopped since, even though the shaking had stopped. Now she knew it must be going simply until they cornered the intruder that had boarded the ship.
Morgan paced around Sickbay like a caged tiger, champing at the bit for a chance to help, but knew she couldn’t do much. She didn’t know enough about the new century she was in to be any more than a hindrance to what they were trying to accomplish.
A loud clanking at the door startled her, and she growled instinctively, tensing for a fight. The Doctor stepped up beside her, just as the door was forced open. A very bloody Chakotay stumbled through the opening, gasping for breath. His uniform had been torn across the chest, and his combadge was missing.
“Call the Bridge,” he rasped as the Doctor helped him to the nearest biobed, “They’ve got the Captain.”
Morgan saw red. “Tell me where,” she growled, pinning the first officer with a glare, “What do they look like?”
Chakotay considered for a brief moment and ignored the sputtering indignation of the Doctor beside him. “Gray body armor, head to toe,” he said, meeting her eyes, “Up one deck.” Without another word, Morgan was gone, out the door with a throaty growl that made the First Officer almost feel sorry for the Hirogen intruders. Almost.
Morgan sprinted down the corridor, ignoring the flashing red lights of red alert. Her heart was pounding and the blood was roaring in her ears at the thought of her new friend being at the mercy of the enemy. That was her human reaction. On a deeper level, her animal instincts began to take over. Her nose twitched, trying to pick up strange scents, and her muscles coiled, ready to strike. She reached the turbo lift and jumped inside, letting the doors close behind her.
“Deck Four,” she growled, rubbing the skin between her knuckles. It always itched before a fight, her subconscious mind remembering the pain her claws made when they extended. As the door clicked and opened, Morgan flattened against the wall, waiting for something out of place; A scent that didn’t belong, a noise out of place. Anything that would tell her where the enemy was.
After two heartbeats, Morgan stepped out, staying down and close to the wall. She moved quickly and silently down the corridor, her senses extended. It didn’t take her long to come across the first of the fallen officers. He had been taken down with something sharp, in a deep gash across his chest, much like Chakotay’s injury, only deeper. His breathing was shallow, but steady, and Morgan was confident he would hold on long enough for the Doctor to get to him. She quickly tore off the leg of his trousers and balled it up, pushing it against the wound and resting his rifle over top to hold it in place.
Continuing on, Morgan found two more officers, both alive, but badly injured. She could clearly smell the blood over scorched material and wires, as well as an underlying tang in the air that she had never smelled before. Sure it was the enemy, as it was accompanied every so often with a hint of Captain Janeway’s unique scent, Morgan followed it like a bloodhound.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes for her to find the object of her hunt. There were only four of them, and two had already been injured by weapons fire. One was nearly dead. The other was still standing, but not without effort. He seemed to be the leader as well, by the way he commanded the others.
The two still standing were holding Captain Janeway immobile while the injured commander spewed threats of unimaginable torture if she didn’t order her crew to surrender. Backing up the threats were several long shallow cuts across her arms and abdomen, clearly visible on her skin because her tunic had been cut away, leaving her clad only in trousers and bra.
“Give the order Captain,” he cajoled, digging the tip of his knife under the flesh of her arm and drawing another bitten off scream from her lips, “How long do you think they would last in this space without you to lead them?”
Smart, Morgan acknowledged silently at his ploy, attacking her where she is weakest. Another muffled scream followed the audible snapping of bone, and the dark haired hunter decided to act. With an inhuman snarl, Morgan leapt around the corner, extending her claws as she bounced off the corridor wall, driving fist first into the leader and going down with him. She pulled her bloody claws out of his armor and slashed back as she spun, taking him across the face and throat. The remaining Hirogen dropped his hold on the captain and backed up, holding his hands up in surrender.
Something in his stance made Morgan twitch, so much so that when he finally lunged, thinking she was letting her guard down, she simply brought her fists up together. She rolled back, sinking them both hilt deep in his chest and kicking him off, over her head. Morgan snarled one final time, glancing around at the fallen enemy, before finally relaxing and letting her claws retract.
“Kathryn,” she said quickly, dropping to her knees beside the slumped woman, “Talk to me.”
“M’Okay,” Janeway grumbled, shifting slightly with a frown, “However, I do believe I will need to visit the good Doctor.” She pointed to her abnormally bent wrist.
Morgan grinned. “Now I know there’s something wrong with you,” she joked in relief, “There’s nothing good about the Doctor.”
“I think my combadge is somewhere in this mess,” Janeway motioned with a half-hearted gesture.
Morgan cocked her ear at a new sound and smirked. “No need to go rummaging,” she said, flopping down to sit beside Janeway, “The cavalry has arrived.” Just as she finished speaking, a squad of security officers rounded the corner, phaser rifles aimed.
“Gentlemen,” Janeway nodded, gently holding her broken wrist, “Join the party, won’t you?” They blinked down at her stupefied.
“Yeah,” Morgan chimed in, “Lousy toys though. They break way too easy.” The security officers continued to blink for quite a while.