chapter 13

 

 

Janeway rested her head against the back of her chair. The ready room door had just closed behind Chakotay, and she had a lot to think about. Jesus, what hadn’t happened? She’d had no idea of the Dakmorian threats to Voyager, the lack of support they’d been able to give the extraction team, or Lynne’s one-woman mutiny. Chakotay had looked sick when he’d told her about Lynne being phasered on the bridge, and it was only the obvious regret in his expression that kept her from climbing over her desk and throttling him on the spot. As it was, she hoped she didn’t run into Ensign Watson in the halls anytime soon. The line between captain and lover was hopelessly muddled when it came to her own crew injuring Lynne.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off the headache that she could feel forming. The Doctor had patched her up—god, it was nice to see out of both eyes again—but she had a residual ache that he’d said would linger for a few days, and that wasn’t helping the situation any. What the hell was she going to do about Lynne this time?

Her door chimed. Goddammit, were they just waiting in line out there?

“Come in,” she called. Her black mood dropped away as she saw her visitor. “Tuvok!”

“Captain.” He deposited a PADD on her desk and came to attention. “My report.”

“Please, have a seat.”

Only Tuvok and Seven could make sitting look like a military exercise, she thought as he assumed a ramrod straight position in his chair. She picked up the PADD with a smile. “You know, I could have waited until tomorrow for this. What did you do, write it on your sickbed?”

He inclined his head. “I expected that you would wish to be informed as soon as possible.”

“Thank you. But right now you’re more important. How are you feeling?”

“I am well, Captain. My injuries were largely superficial, and in fact my concern is for you. Are you well?”

“I’m okay. Can’t say much for Dakmorian hospitality, but it turned out all right.” She sobered. “Tuvok, thank you. Chakotay told me the nature of your mission to get me out; I had no idea.”

“Did he also tell you that there would likely have been no mission at all had Ms. Hamilton not challenged him?”

Well, that was news. “No, he didn’t mention that. He informed me of the Dakmorian threat to Voyager, and I agreed with him that he could not risk the ship.”

Tuvok looked uncomfortable. “Captain, I am not in the habit of second-guessing my superior officers. I obey my orders. But in this instance, I was not in total agreement with the Commander’s initial choice. Obviously the first priority was to protect Voyager, but he felt that you would not wish others to risk their lives for you and was reluctant to assign personnel to a likely suicide mission.”

“Well, he was right about that, Tuvok.”

“Nevertheless, your value to this ship must be taken into consideration. Like it or not, you are not the equivalent of a single crewman. Voyager depends on you to a very great extent, and would be crippled without you.”

Janeway didn’t know how to respond to that. At last she said, “Tuvok, you can’t assign values to individual lives.”

“That is incorrect, Captain. Your recovery was critical to the survival of this ship, and Ms. Hamilton reminded Commander Chakotay of that fact. Now, I cannot defend the manner in which she chose to remind him, but the fact is that her direct and very public intervention in the decision-making process changed the course that was eventually decided on.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, a sign of discomfort that spoke volumes. “Captain, I know that you must review the Commander’s decision regarding Ms. Hamilton’s assault charge and subsequent sentence. I am here to advocate for Ms. Hamilton. Her actions were not well-considered, but I am also aware that she was under an extreme personal stress at the time. Given the extenuating circumstance, as well as her actions on Dakmor, I believe that her involvement in the extraction mission was adequate restitution for her actions on the bridge.”

Janeway stared at him. As chief of security, his recommendation regarding charges and sentences carried a great deal of weight. As her trusted friend and advisor, his opinion was highly valued. He knew that her position in this matter was very difficult, and in essence he was giving her his approval to let the whole thing slide without further comment or action.

“Thank you, Tuvok,” she said. “I’ll take your recommendation under advisement.” She knew he understood the real message.

Thank you, old friend.

 

 

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After Tuvok’s departure from the ready room, Janeway called up the security logs for the bridge. Selecting the time index for Lynne’s confrontation with Chakotay, she settled in her chair to watch. The scene that played out before her was like nothing she’d ever witnessed on a starship. She was stunned at her partner’s ferocious display of loyalty, love and faith; and completely dismayed at the manner in which Lynne demonstrated those qualities. After Seven carried Lynne’s unconscious form off the bridge, she reset the time index and watched it again. When Lynne reacted to Chakotay’s invitation to choose personnel for a suicide mission, she knew exactly what was going through her partner’s mind.

You really love her, don’t you? Lynne had asked. I’m pretty sure the average captain would look at the success-to-failure risk on that one and dismiss it as a suicide mission. How ironic that they’d discussed Janeway’s mission to rescue Seven mere days before Lynne accepted a mission with a similar goal and a similar probability of failure.

Janeway logged off her terminal, handed the comm over to Chakotay on her way across the bridge, and stepped into the turbolift. Moments later she was in Cargo Bay Two, gazing up at the still form of Seven in her regeneration alcove. How many times had she stood here, watching this woman? She had been ready to give everything, including her life, to save Seven from the Borg Queen. And today Lynne had been prepared to do the same thing for her. It was humbling to be on this end of the equation, to be the one sacrificed for instead of the one making the sacrifice. For the first time, she wondered how Seven had felt about her captain risking everything for her. They’d never spoken about it after that day. Now she wished they had, because she could use some of Seven’s very logical thought processes right now. Seven probably had it all analyzed, catalogued and stored away. She, on the other hand, was floundering in her conflicting emotions. High on the list was guilt that her actions had set Lynne on such a dangerous path, but there was also a fierce pride there, too. She was proud of her partner, and so happy that in spite of everything, Lynne loved her enough to come after her.

Loved you enough to kill for you, came the unbidden thought, which brought her right back to the crippling sense of guilt.

She turned her gaze to the woman in the alcove next to Seven’s. If ever there was a woman who knew about guilt, it was Revi. Her face was smooth, unlined, set in the blank expression so characteristic of Seven when she regenerated. So different from when they were awake.

It seemed strange to have two women here now. She’d watched Seven regenerate so many times, deriving a sense of intimacy and peace when it had been just the two of them—even if Seven had never known she was there. But now there were three, and if Revi stayed on Voyager, it was never going to be the same.

They were so different, these two. Seven, tall and lean and light, her stern exterior concealing a generous, caring heart. Revi, shorter and with a more powerful build, and dark exotic looks that belied the hurt, grieving soul within.

So much grief. So much guilt. Herself, Revi, Seven, Lynne—they were all too closely acquainted with loss. Life was just too short sometimes.

All the more reason not to leave anything unsaid, she thought. And with a renewed sense of purpose, she turned and left the cargo bay.

Soon she was in her quarters for the first time since she’d gone to Dakmor. She walked straight to the replicator and ordered a glass of whiskey and soda, then stood in her living area, studying her surroundings and thinking hard. At last she tapped her comm badge.

“Janeway to Hamilton.”

“Hamilton here.”

“Lynne, if you’re free, I’d like to see you in my quarters as soon as possible.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Not five minutes later her door chimed. Janeway opened it, took Lynne’s hand, and pulled her into a fierce hug. They held each other tightly for a long time, letting the tension of the last few days drain out of them. At last Janeway pulled back just far enough to see into Lynne’s eyes, noting that the Doctor had removed all physical traces of her ordeal.

“I love you,” she said. “I love your loyalty, your belief in me, your determination, and your unwavering sense of self. And I’m sorry that I walked out on you before and ignored your messages. I didn’t understand, Lynne, but that’s not an excuse. I should have talked to you.”

Lynne crushed Janeway in her arms again. Her body shook as she cried, and Janeway felt tears come to her own eyes as well.

“Thank you,” said Lynne through her tears. “God, that was exactly what I needed to hear. Kathryn, I was so afraid something would happen to you and it would end like that. I couldn’t have lived with it. I couldn’t…” She broke down completely then, and all Janeway could do was rub her back soothingly and hang on tight.

Eventually Lynne cried herself out, and Janeway was able to move them to the couch.

“I’ve had a traumatic couple of days, how about you?” she asked, holding up her drink.

Lynne laughed shakily and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, it’s been a bit rough. I’d kill for—I mean, I’d love a gin and tonic.”

“Coming right up.” Janeway retrieved the drink and pressed it into Lynne’s shaking hand.

“Thanks.” Lynne downed half the drink in one gulp and rested her head against the sofa back. “Christ, I’m so tired.”

“Maybe we should have this conversation later,” said Janeway as she sat down, putting her back to the armrest and crossing her legs beneath her.

“No way. I can’t live another hour with this between us.” Lynne straightened up and turned to face Janeway. “Tuvok had a few words with me while I was…” She stopped and ducked her head, her gaze darting to one side. “Um, Kathryn, you do know I got thrown in the brig again, right?”

“Yes.” Janeway suppressed a smile as she watched Lynne’s nervousness increase at her short answer.

“Oh. How much trouble am I in?”

“None.”

“What?” Lynne met her gaze again. “None?”

Janeway just shook her head.

“Kathryn! Stop with the enigmatic act and tell me what’s going on! I’m dying here.”

Janeway did smile then. “Okay. Yes, I know all about it and yes, I was racking my brain trying to figure out what to do with my authority-defying lover this time. And then I had a little visit from Tuvok, who defended your intentions if not your actions, and recommended that I let Chakotay’s decision stand. So I am.”

Lynne’s eyes went round. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t have anything you want to say about that little scene?”

Janeway was having far too much fun with this, especially given the things they still hadn’t talked about. But Lynne’s disbelief was just too amusing.

“No, is there something you think I should be saying?”

Lynne’s jaw dropped open, and Janeway couldn’t stand it any longer. She broke up laughing, and oh, it felt so good. Every time she looked up, the expression on Lynne’s face set her off again, and she knew she was on that knife edge where laughter runs very close to tears. Finally, she wiped her eyes and sat up straight again.

“Are you quite done?” asked Lynne.

Janeway snorted, tried valiantly to control herself, and went off into another fit of laughter. Lynne gave an exasperated sigh and flopped back against the couch.

At last Janeway felt she had herself under a modicum of control.

“I’m sorry, Lynne…”

“No you’re not.”

Janeway made a most uncaptain-like sound, but managed not to lose it this time. She reached for her disgruntled lover’s hand. “You’re right, I’m not.” She sobered. “Yes, Lynne, I do have a few things to say about that little scene. I watched it on the security log.”

Now she had Lynne’s full attention. “Oh shit, you saw that?”

Janeway nodded. “And I have rarely seen such a display of loyalty. Lynne, you are my hero and my champion. With you watching my back I don’t see how anything in this universe can stop us from doing whatever we want to do. Now,” she raised her hand to stop Lynne from speaking, “I can’t say that I approve of your choice of phrasing, and you will publicly apologize to Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Parker, and Ensign Watson. But as for the rest, I understand exactly what you were doing and why, and I love you for it. From what I hear, you’re the main reason I’m sitting here right now. So thank you, sweetheart.”

Lynne seemed momentarily at a loss, but then she relaxed. “You’re welcome. And I’ll apologize to Chakotay and Parker.” She frowned. “I don’t have much to say to Watson, though.”

“Lynne…”

“Okay, okay, I’ll apologize to her too. But she’s not on my happy list.”

“I know what you mean. I’m going to have a hard time not jumping down her throat myself, but I have to leave that issue to Tuvok. You didn’t see what I did, Lynne. Close-range stun shots have a lot of power, and your face almost made a high-speed acquaintance with the upper deck rail. Seven saved you.”

“She did? I didn’t know that.”

“Mm-hmm. And then she pretty much ripped Chakotay’s testicles off with a few well-chosen words. Poor Chakotay had a really bad day.”

Lynne shook her head. “That was a bad day for everyone, Kathryn. Some more than others.” She reached for her drink, took a large gulp, and put it back down.

I know, sweetheart. Janeway wanted, no, needed to talk to Lynne about what had happened in that prison. Lynne’s eyes no longer held the glaze of shock that she’d seen on the shuttle, but she knew the emotional shock would take much longer to heal. And the hardest part was knowing that the responsibility for that blow to Lynne’s psyche lay directly on her own shoulders. If she hadn’t knowingly put herself in danger, Lynne wouldn’t have come after her. Wouldn’t have killed for her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Lynne beat her to it.

“Okay, now that we’ve got my little vacation in the brig out of the way, and I’ve gotten some alcoholic fortitude in my system, I really need to tell you something.” She took Janeway’s hand in both of her own, caressing it gently before raising her head. What she said next completely derailed Janeway’s train of thought.

“Kathryn, when you asked me to move in with you, you scared me to death. It wasn’t you,” she added hurriedly, “it was the idea of leaving my quarters. And I didn’t even figure that out until Tuvok came to have a chat with me in the brig. All I knew at the time was that everything was moving too fast, and I was losing control, and…I just froze. I’m really sorry about that. I acted like an idiot, but I didn’t know how to tell you what I was feeling. I know you thought you were asking me to take a step forward with you, but what it felt like to me was that you were trying to pull me away from the only security I have left.”

“Your own space.” Janeway silently thanked Revi for her insight.

“You knew that?”

“No,” Janeway admitted. “I had some help. Ironically, mine was also a holding cell conversation.”

“Revi?”

“Yes. She’s remarkable, Lynne. I’m looking forward to learning more about her, and I think you’re really going to like her.”

“Hey, the woman patched you up and helped me save Tuvok. I already like her. By the way, is she okay? I haven’t seen her since we got back.”

“She’s still regenerating. Seven checked her program a couple of hours ago and it was only eighteen percent complete. Apparently it’s been a very long time since Revi regenerated, and her systems were running dangerously low. She’s probably not going to be up and about for another four days.”

“Wow. Well, I’m glad we have the facilities to help her out. So what did she tell you?”

“She just pointed out that you’d already given everything up for me, and I was essentially asking you to give up the one thing you had left, your own quarters. That hadn’t even occurred to me—all I could think of was that you didn’t want to move forward, and if we couldn’t go forward, what could we do? I was already envisioning the end of our relationship.”

Lynne looked stricken. “Oh god, no! That was the last thing on my mind. I just felt like I was being pressured, and I got scared and dug my heels in. I never meant for you to think…” she trailed off. “Kathryn, don’t ever think that, okay? If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Janeway was floored—Lynne had never said that before. Her decision at Earth had certainly implied it, but she had never come right out and said it, and then her reluctance to move in had seemed to imply a lesser commitment. Without ever hearing the actual words from her partner, Janeway had been left to draw her own negative conclusions.

While she was busy picking her jaw up, Lynne was still speaking.

“I do want to live with you, Kathryn, and it will probably be sooner rather than later, now that I understand what’s going on in my own head. But I need a little time to adjust to—well, everything. I’m just not ready yet. Can you understand that?”

Janeway pulled her hand out from Lynne’s and reversed their clasp. “I understand that completely. And I’m sorry that I ever made you feel pressured, Lynne; it wasn’t my intention. Take all the time you need, and let me know when you’re ready. And while you’re thinking about it, would you consider a different question?”

“What’s that?”

“Would you consider marrying me? Someday, when you’re feeling secure and don’t mind making yet another change?”

There was a very long pause while Lynne’s eyes went to the size of saucers.

“It occurred to me…well, frankly Revi suggested to me that I didn’t really offer you a serious commitment,” Janeway said into the silence. She was hoping she could talk the look of shock off Lynne’s face. “I hadn’t thought about it because to me, having you move in was the first step of an engagement. But you didn’t know that because I didn’t tell you. So I’m telling you now, Lynne. I want to commit to you. Totally. And I’m willing to wait for as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable with that.”

Still Lynne said nothing. Janeway was starting to get nervous, when her lover suddenly smiled.

“Aren’t you supposed to get on your knees when you ask me that?”

Janeway relaxed. If Lynne was teasing, they were okay.

“I will if you really want me to.”

“Not necessary.” Lynne stood up and pulled Janeway’s legs out from under her, turning her and putting her feet on the floor. Then she crawled onto the couch, straddling Janeway’s thighs and locking her hands behind her neck. “I’ll get on your knees instead,” she said, just before bending down and giving Janeway one of the sweetest, most loving kisses the captain had ever experienced.

When they broke for air, Janeway looked into Lynne’s happy face and said, “Is that a yes?”

“That’s very much a yes, and a thank you for asking, and an I love you more than I can say.”

“Hmm. I had no idea a kiss could say so much.”

“Non-verbal communication…it’s so efficient.”

Janeway reached up, pulled the band off Lynne’s braid, and began pulling her fingers through the thick hair, gradually undoing it into the curtain of brown and silver that she loved so much. Lynne closed her eyes and hummed happily, as she always did at these times.

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother putting my hair up around you,” she said.

“Because you and I both enjoy taking it down so much.” Janeway used one hand to push the newly freed hair away from Lynne’s neck, then leaned forward and gently kissed the pulse point. She brought both arms around Lynne’s back and squeezed tightly, resting her head against Lynne’s chest and reveling in the physical contact.

“I didn’t know if I would ever get to touch you like this again,” whispered Lynne. “God, Kathryn, I was so scared.”

“I know,” Janeway murmured. “I felt the same way when I realized who that Dakmorian officer was, fighting for a phaser. And even worse when you beamed me up alone.”

Lynne squeezed her, then shuffled backwards and stood up. “Scoot up,” she said, making a circular motion with her finger. Janeway understood, turning and making room for Lynne to slip in behind her. They settled into one of their favorite positions, with Lynne resting against the arm of the couch and Janeway resting against her, back to front. Lynne slid her hands around Janeway’s waist and sighed contentedly. “Much better. I needed this.”

Janeway let her head fall back against Lynne’s shoulder. “Me too.”

They basked in a companionable silence, broken only by the sound of glasses being lifted from and returned to the coffee table. When Janeway’s glass was empty, she got up and went to the replicator, snagging Lynne’s nearly empty glass along the way. Returning with refills, she settled back into position and asked, “Will you tell me what happened today?” She’d already read Tuvok’s report, but obviously he didn’t have all the details—and she wanted to hear it from Lynne’s point of view.

Haltingly at first, Lynne described their mission, with considerably more color than Tuvok’s factual report. Janeway felt a chill as she listened to the story of their hijacking the hovercraft, knowing that Tuvok had taken a calculated chance that the Dakmorians would land to investigate. She heard the horror in Lynne’s voice when she described holding the officer’s head as he writhed in agony under the forced mind meld, and then she heard the fear as Lynne spoke of the firefight in the cellblock entry.

After leaving Tuvok behind, Lynne had followed Janeway’s life sign through the corridors, ducking and dodging various Dakmorians who were hurrying toward the firefight. Twice, though, she’d been accosted by police who realized she wasn’t what her uniform seemed. She’d disabled both, and then—

“Stop,” said Janeway. “Back up. Disabled them how?”

“The nerve pinch Tuvok taught me,” said Lynne, as if this were something perfectly ordinary.

“You can do a Vulcan nerve pinch?” Janeway was astonished.

“Well—yeah. Why?”

“Lynne, nobody can do a Vulcan nerve pinch except Vulcans. I’ve never heard of a human using it, except for Seven.”

“Really? Tuvok didn’t say anything like that when he taught me how to do it. It’s not that hard.”

“Well, there has to be something special to it, or a lot more humans would be using it.”

There was a long pause, and even without looking Janeway knew that Lynne had her thoughtful face on.

“I guess there is,” Lynne said at last. “I mean, Tuvok didn’t teach it to me until just a few weeks ago, when I’d finally made it past a particular block in my meditation exercises. A lot of Vulcan martial arts is closely tied to mental discipline, so maybe Vulcans don’t teach that pinch because so few humans are willing to go through the meditation aspects of the training. And,” she said slowly, “it’s also possible that most humans just don’t have the hand strength. The pressure point is deep inside the shoulder, and you really have to press hard to reach it. I’ve spent most of my adult life dangling from rocks by one hand or the other, so I have more hand strength than the average human.”

Janeway shook her head and smiled. “You’re something else, you know that? Got any other special skills I should know about?”

Lynne’s voice was serious. “I don’t know, Kathryn. I mean, I didn’t even know the nerve pinch was that special. Tuvok has taught me a lot of things, but he never tells me how common the knowledge is or how easy or difficult it is for others to learn it. It’s like I’m learning in a vacuum. He’s either teaching me one-on-one, or he’s got me in the holodeck working with training programs, or else I’m working on strength and flexibility routines in the weight room. I don’t have anyone else to compare myself to, but Tuvok always says I’m making satisfactory progress, so I know I’m doing all right.”

“I have a feeling you’re doing more than all right,” said Janeway. “But we digress. Go on with your story.”

“Well,” said Lynne, “we’re at the hard part now. Right after I disabled that second guy is when I came around the corner and saw you and Revi—and the guy holding an energy weapon on you.” She squeezed Janeway so tightly that the captain could barely breathe. “You know, Kathryn, I think I wasn’t really operating in reality during that mission. It was all so completely foreign to my normal experience that I just kind of watched it all from the outside, you know what I mean? It was like it was happening to someone else, not me.”

“I know the feeling.”

“And then when I saw that man getting ready to kill you, I had to come back into myself. Everything narrowed down to a single thought. Now I know what ‘single-minded’ really means—I had absolutely no other thought in my head besides stopping him. Fear wasn’t a factor anymore; in fact, I didn’t feel anything at all except an absolute certainty that I had to take him out. And I did,” she said flatly.

Janeway remembered her own words from just hours ago. Tuvok, you can’t assign values to individual lives.

That is incorrect, Captain, he’d said. He and Lynne had both valued her life more than their own, and now Lynne had killed for her.

She started to get up, to face Lynne and talk about this, but Lynne just tightened her arms and held her there.

“Then before I could shove him off me,” she continued in an even voice, “he just sort of flew into the air and Revi introduced herself. Now there’s a handy person to have around in an emergency! I’m glad she and Seven are on our side.”

Janeway nodded, suddenly feeling sad and helpless. She’s not going to talk about it. Oh, Lynne, you’ll have to at some point.

“So after I got you out, Revi and I headed back. We only saw three Dakmorians in the halls, but they were easy to knock out. Revi took out one of them and I don’t think he’s going to recover for awhile. Anyway, we took their weapons, so each of us had two. But then we got to the cellblock entry, and all the guards who’d been in the cell block were clustered at the door, trying to get in. Revi and I stood just around the corner and had a discussion on what to do. She wanted to bluff them with assimilation, but I thought that might just make them fight harder out of fear or desperation. I wanted to use my uniform and ‘rank’ to order them to one of the other entrances, but Revi pointed out that my disguise didn’t hold up well at close range. The only other option I could think of was a major firefight. Fortunately, Revi came up with another one.”

Janeway was riveted, having not yet heard this part of the story.

“Well?” she asked, when Lynne paused.

“She found a communication panel and—I don’t know, I guess she assimilated it. She punctured it with her assimilation tubules and went inside the computer to assess the building layout and the latest security report. Turns out that Tuvok had collapsed the other two hallways leading into the cellblock entry, so the door all the guards were at was the only entry left. But it was fused shut, damaged from the explosives. Revi found an air duct that went over the room, so we went down the hall to the nearest air duct access, got up into it, and crawled right over all those guards into the room. And you know the rest. I heard Revi telling you about us digging Tuvok out and setting up the transporter enhancers while we were coming back on the Delta Flyer. We heard the guards cutting through the door with a laser as we were setting up the enhancers, so I was in a bit of a hurry to get out of there.”

“Yes, I was in a bit of a hurry to get you out of there,” said Janeway. “The Doctor was a little amazed at how fast I could move considering he hadn’t finished with my broken ribs yet.”

Lynne dropped a soft kiss on the side of Janeway’s throat. “I’m very glad Revi stayed behind,” she said, “because I have to admit that part of me actually liked the idea of just shooting my way through those guards. I was so furious about how they’d hurt you, Kathryn. Killing them all didn’t seem like such a bad idea.”

Janeway struggled to come up with some way to reply to that, but then Lynne spoke up again. “Besides, I’m not sure I could have gotten Tuvok out by myself. It’s handy having someone around who can send her mind into computers. Not to mention lift really heavy objects.”

She reached over for her drink, and a silence settled over them. Janeway’s mind was whirling, thinking of Lynne’s kill and her willingness to kill again, of Tuvok’s sacrifice, of all the individual choices made and actions taken over the last two days, including her own to knowingly put herself in danger. Would she have done it if she’d known the full repercussions? But if she hadn’t, it would have meant standing aside and letting Revi be beaten and taken away, possibly irretrievably, and she simply could not have done that. As soon as Revi had agreed to her invitation to come to Voyager, she’d become Janeway’s responsibility.

And you are the crew’s responsibility, she thought with sudden clarity. It works both ways. They did what they had to. Lynne did what she had to. No, actually, she did a bit more.

Lynne squeezed her around the waist. “Hey. You in there?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking. You realize that if you were Starfleet, I’d be putting a citation in your file for your actions today.”

“A citation?”

“Mmm hmm. For bravery and acting above and beyond the call of duty. If I’m not mistaken, your mission was to get me out, correct?”

“Of course.”

“So when you had me inside the transporter pattern enhancers, your mission was over. No one would have questioned you for stepping in there with me. Did you know that Tuvok never expected you to come back?”

“Really? That doesn’t say much about his belief in me.”

“Not at all. He was just being logical. And logically, he knew that his death was necessary to buy us enough time to get out. It didn’t occur to him that you would be so illogical as to take even more time, in order to come after him. Lynne, you risked a lot.”

Lynne’s voice was firm. “I told you once before, Kathryn, I’ve never lost a member of a climbing team and I don’t intend to start. Besides, my personal hero once told me she would never, ever leave a crewmember behind, and I’ve always tried to emulate her. Well, for the last ten months or so, anyway.” She squeezed Janeway again. “Leaving Tuvok to come after you was absolutely the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The only way I could do it was to believe that I could go back afterwards. I’m just glad Revi was there—not just to help me go after him, but because of that little distraction she pulled off earlier. I’m pretty sure that made the difference.”

“It did. Tuvok said the additional alarms drew off enough of the Dakmorians to allow him to throw those charges. He couldn’t do it while both of you were there, because he knew the explosions would probably kill everyone within a 30 meter radius.”

“So he blew the place up knowing he’d die, too.”

“Yes. Fortunately, he had the protection of the desk and a Vulcan’s hard head.”

“Thank god for that.”

They fell silent again, simply enjoying being still, safe, and together. There was so much left to talk about, but for now, it was enough.

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 14

 

 

Seven was deeply immersed in her calculations, using two different computers in Astrometrics. She was plotting their course through a system she’d just finished scanning and the calculations were intricate, due to the unusually large number of asteroids in the system. She was enjoying the challenge. To her, mathematics were a form of art—the numbers and formulas themselves were clear, concise and utterly predictable, like the colors used in painting; yet they could be used to create intricate, layered, unpredictable results. For Seven, the world of numbers was one both familiar and foreign, and she reveled in discovering new facets that her formulas could show her.

Her concentration was broken, however, when Revi completed her regeneration cycle. She felt it the moment Revi became conscious. She had felt a similar awareness literally billions of times before, when a drone came on line in the Collective and waited for its next instructions. But this was different. Revi’s presence in her mind was fuller, multidimensional—it was the difference between the empty vessel of a Borg drone and the fully actualized, vibrant mind of an individual. To Seven, the difference was breathtaking. And there was something else as well—Revi’s presence was far stronger than it had been when she first arrived on board.

: Seven? :

: I am here. :  Seven left her calculations running and walked out of Astrometrics, headed for the nearest turbolift.

: Is this readout correct? Have I actually been regenerating for over four days? :

: Yes. Your systems were very near failure. Why had you not regenerated before? :

: Kind of hard to when there aren’t any regeneration units around. I wasn’t going back to the colony, and I certainly wasn’t going to hail any Borg ships. :

: I have been wondering about that. You realize that had you not eventually located a regeneration unit, you would have died. :

: Yes. :

The short answer was devoid of emotion. In fact, Seven now noticed, there were no emotions at all accompanying Revi’s thoughts.

: I understand why you would not wish to go back to a Borg ship, but why were you not making your way back to the colony? :

: Because it wasn’t that much better than a Borg ship, Seven. We were separate from the Collective but still part of a hive mind. I couldn’t live with that any longer. That’s why I left it. :

The turbolift arrived at deck eight and Seven strode toward Cargo Bay Two. : But the alternative was not to live at all. :

: That’s right. :

The only possible conclusion was difficult to believe.

: You were committing suicide? :

: I guess you could call it that. It wasn’t anything I was actively pursuing; I just knew eventually I’d wind down and it would all be over. :

Seven walked through the doors and stopped. Revi spun around from where she’d been reading a console, the expression on her face one of complete surprise.

“Well,” she said, “I guess the connection isn’t totally inclusive. I had no idea you were on your way over here.”

Seven closed the distance between them and looked down into dark brown eyes. “I, too, once considered suicide, but it was immediately after I had been severed, when the silence in my mind was too much to bear. I do not understand why you would wish to die when you chose to make your mind silent.”

Revi’s expression darkened, and Seven suddenly felt buffeted by waves of anger and guilt. “Because I didn’t choose the memories, Seven! I didn’t choose to be hated, feared and reviled by every sentient being that I met! And I didn’t choose a life of complete and utter loneliness. Gods! Do you know how lucky you are to have found a home here? You may have some difficult memories, and maybe not everyone on this ship wants to be your friend, but you do have people who care about you very deeply, who respect you and accept you. I would give anything to have that!”

She stopped, and the emotions that had swamped Seven abruptly vanished.

“I’m sorry, Seven,” she said. “You didn’t deserve that, and I know you felt it.”

“I do not feel it now.”

“No. I can prevent the transmission of emotions unless I’m distracted or…well, overwhelmed. I’m a little muddled right now, and I don’t need to be spilling that on to you.”

: Why do you feel ‘muddled’? :  Seven switched to direct communication, hoping it might help her understand.

: Because, Seven, when I stepped into this regeneration unit I chose life. I’m not one hundred percent certain yet that it was the right choice for me. And if I was wrong, it’s going to take a long time to wind down to where I was when I came onboard. :

: Captain Janeway would say that it is always right to choose life. :

: Captain Janeway does not have my memories. :

: No. But she has some of her own that sometimes keep her awake at night. :

Revi’s eyes widened, and then she smiled.

: In other words, stop feeling sorry for myself? :

: In other words, you are not alone. :  Seven closed her eyes and concentrated on her own memories—of her time as a Borg, of Janeway talking her down from her suicidal frenzy after being separated from the Collective, of her midnight “philosophical discussions” with the captain and some of the things that Janeway had revealed during those discussions. When she opened her eyes she saw an expression of shock on Revi’s face. Then she nearly took a step back as Revi’s emotions came flooding down the link: astonishment, profound gratitude, sorrow. Revi blinked and Seven observed tears tracking their way down her cheeks.

: Seven, I have never felt anything like that. Thank you for that incredible gift. :

Seven was surprised. : I thought you could sense emotions. Why have you never felt anything like that before? :

: Because you sent more than emotions—you sent actual images. I could see, Seven. I could actually see your memories. That has never happened before; at least, not without me consciously entering the mind of another. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself. :

: I simply wanted you to understand. Captain Janeway spent weeks trying to get me to understand the same thing—that I was not alone. Revi, living is the right choice. :

A tiny tendril of hope came down their link. “I’m beginning to think you may be right, Seven.”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “Of course. I’m always right.”

Revi eyed her for a moment and then threw her head back and laughed, loud and long.

“Oh, gods, that was wonderful. I haven’t had a good laugh in ages. Thanks, Seven.”

“I fail to see what was so amusing. I was merely stating a fact.”

Revi waved her finger in Seven’s face. “You forget that I see into you, my friend. If you want to bluff me you’ll have to learn to shield your thoughts.”

“Then I shall endeavor to do so, since I am attempting to master the art of bluffing. Captain Janeway has recently convinced me that it can be a useful strategic tactic.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be a master in no time.” Revi grinned at her, and Seven felt a sense of friendship that she normally felt only around Kathryn, Lynne, B’Elanna and sometimes Tuvok. But their mental connection put Revi in a unique category. She had a feeling that expectations based on prior relationships would not apply to this one.

“Thank you,” said Seven. “Now I must pass on a message. Captain Janeway asked me to invite you to see her when your regeneration cycle was complete.”

“By all means, I would love to.”

Seven tapped her comm badge. “Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway.”

“Go ahead.”

“Captain, Revi has completed her regeneration cycle and has agreed to see you.”

“That’s very good to hear, Seven. Please bring her to my ready room. Janeway out.”

Seven turned to leave, but Revi stopped her.

: Seven, wait. :

Seven turned back and raised an eyebrow expectantly. Revi suddenly seemed a little shy.

: I would like to give you something, in exchange for what you just shared with me. :

: You do not need to give me anything. :

: I didn’t say I needed to. I said I wanted to. :

: Very well. :  Seven waited.

Slowly, Revi walked up to her and wrapped her in a hug. Seven stiffened at first, but then a warm feeling of comfort and affection flowed down their link, and she found herself relaxing under its soothing influence. Awkwardly she raised her own arms and wrapped them around Revi’s back. She could feel the metal ridges beneath Revi’s shirt, and knew exactly what lay beneath.

: This is one of those things the Borg didn’t consider relevant, Seven. It’s a fundamental way of knowing that we are not alone, and one of the most basic of all human needs. A human infant that is denied physical contact will not thrive. As you are not thriving. You haven’t been held in a long time. :

: No. It is…a strange sensation. :

And yet there was a faint familiarity about it, too. Gradually her hold on Revi tightened.

: I think I know why it feels familiar, Seven. I can show you if you’ll give me permission to come inside. :

: Come inside? :

: To look beyond your surface thoughts and emotions. It’s an invasion of privacy unless you give me permission. But I think there’s something buried there that I can show you. A good memory. :

Seven hesitated, then made her choice.

: You have my permission. :

She felt nothing at first. Then her mind suddenly filled with an image:  her mother, leaning over her and smiling. Seven had never seen her face so clearly.

Annika, it’s time for bed.

But I’m not finished yet!

You’ve got all day tomorrow to work on it, and you’ve already managed to put me off for half an hour. Now it’s bedtime. Come on, sweetie, I’ll tuck you in.

Will you carry me?

A gentle, loving laugh.

You know, pretty soon you’ll be too big for me to carry you anymore. So I guess I’d better do it now while I can, huh?

Yes!

A warm, comforting sensation of being bodily gathered up and held close. Of her own arms going around her mother’s neck and her legs wrapping around her waist. Her head resting on her mother’s shoulder. Full body contact; soft, sweet. Her mother’s hand rubbing her back as she was being carried, then gently laid down on a bed and covered with a quilt. A feather light kiss on her forehead.

Goodnight, Annika. I love you.

I love you too. Will you help me finish tomorrow?

I’ll tell you what…if you’ll help me with some cataloguing tomorrow, I’ll help you with your project. Fair?

Okay. Goodnight, Mama.

Goodnight, sweetheart.

Seven came back to herself to find her head resting against Revi’s, their bodies molded together in a full-body hug that no longer felt strange. Revi was rubbing her back like her mother had, and she stayed there for a moment longer, enjoying the now-familiar sense of comfort, before lifting her head and stepping back. Revi smiled at her.

: I don’t feel any sorrow, Seven, so I’m assuming those are tears of happiness. :

Seven swiped at her cheek and looked with surprise at her glistening fingers.

: I did not know I was crying. Why am I crying? :

: A very human reaction to the kind of sweet memory we just saw. Seven, that was beautiful. Your mother loved you very much. :

: My mother and father were responsible for my assimilation. :  But the anger that Seven usually felt when she thought of that was somehow muted. She’d just seen for herself, felt for herself, how much her mother had loved her. The woman who’d looked at her, held her with such love and caring would hardly have intentionally placed her in danger.

She looked at Revi again. The warm brown eyes that looked back at her held nothing but understanding.

: Thank you. :

: It was my very great pleasure. Shall we go see Captain Janeway? :

: “We” are not seeing her. But I will be happy to take you to her. :

 

 

-----

 

 

Janeway was just wondering what was keeping Seven and Revi when her ready room door chimed.

“Come in,” she called.

Revi entered first and looked around in some confusion. Seven came in right behind her, touched her briefly on the shoulder, and indicated Janeway’s perch on the upper level. Janeway’s eyebrows went to her hairline. She’d never seen Seven touch anyone before, at least not casually.

Seven left, and Revi climbed the steps to stand in front of Janeway.

“Revi, it’s good to see you fully recovered,” said Janeway, extending her hand. Revi shook it and they sat down on the couch.

“Thank you, Captain. I haven’t felt this well in a long time—you’re certainly a full-service ship.”

“Well, we try.” Janeway examined her guest, who did indeed look very different. Revi’s eyes were brighter, her back was straighter, and she even seemed to carry herself differently.

“In the interest of furthering our reputation, can I offer you a cup of coffee?”

“No thanks. After four days of regeneration, the last thing I need is more stimulation.”

“I can’t imagine not needing stimulation in the form of coffee. Would you like water instead?”

“No, thank you, I really don’t need anything. But don’t let that stop you from enjoying your coffee. I remember something about your addiction from Chakotay’s thoughts.” Revi flashed an easy smile.

Janeway poured herself a cup and sat back against the cushions. “I wanted to ask you what your plans were. Is there anywhere in particular you wanted to go? Because I’m afraid we’ve left your last destination a few light years behind us.”

“Thank the gods for that. Actually, Captain, I have no plans anymore. My earlier plans are no longer viable, so I’m a bit at loose ends.”

“In that case, I’d like to extend Voyager’s hospitality to you. We’re headed back home, and though it may take us awhile to get there, I have no doubt that we will eventually. Your company would be most welcome.”

“I hoped you’d ask, Captain. I would like very much to stay aboard. Thank you.”

“There’s just one thing. Unfortunately, Voyager simply does not have the resources to carry passengers. Anyone aboard her for the long term will have to contribute in some way.” Janeway hadn’t pushed Seven or Lynne this way. She’d let them settle in, and eventually they’d both come to her asking for work. But Revi was different.

“Certainly, I understand that,” said Revi. “But I’m not sure what I have to offer in exchange for my passage.”

Janeway took a sip and fastened an even gaze on her guest. “I think you have a great deal to offer, Commander.”

Revi stiffened at the use of her rank. “Captain…”

Janeway held up her hand. “Please, hear me out.” She put the cup and saucer back on the table and straightened in her seat. “I’ve checked your records. They took awhile to read, actually; you have quite a few extra certifications and a number of citations. Oh yes, and that one rather interesting disciplinary write-up. But I’ll assume that what your captain thought was a still was actually an ongoing medical experiment, and by the way, we have a similar experiment going down on deck thirteen that I don’t know about. You might want to check with Crewman Chell.

“The point is, Revi, that your records list you as MIA, presumed KIA. The minute you were found alive and severed from the Collective, your status went active. As of right now you are a Commander in Starfleet. Now, if you truly don’t want to be, you can resign your commission. But I think that would be a damned shame, both for you and for us. You’re a Starfleet officer on a Starfleet vessel which happens to have a shortage of them.” She leaned forward. “Revi, we have a holographic Chief Medical Officer. You have the qualifications and the experience to double our capacity in the sickbay. You’re a godsend, frankly, and it would be tragic if you allowed your feelings of being undeserving to deny this ship and its crew the services of a highly qualified medical officer. We need you. And it might just be that you need us, too.”

“Oh, I think that’s already been demonstrated,” muttered Revi.

“Pardon?”

Revi looked at her in silence for several seconds. Then her shoulders slumped and she leaned back against the sofa.

“You’re probably going to hear this from Seven anyway, so I guess I might as well tell you. Captain, when you found me I was just a few weeks away from being dead.”

Janeway wasn’t sure which was more surprising, the information itself or the matter-of-fact manner in which Revi imparted it. “Go on,” she said.

Revi seemed relieved at Janeway’s lack of reaction. “At the colony we found that once we’d removed the majority of our implants, an adjustment to our nanoprobes enabled us to recharge both them and our systems simply by eating. We still regenerated once in awhile, but we did it because it reordered our cranial implants and gave us an extra boost of energy. I thought of it as something like going to a spa. It wasn’t until I left the colony and no longer had access to a regeneration unit that I realized it wasn’t just a boost—it was absolutely necessary for the ongoing health of my remaining Borg systems. Without it, my systems have gradually been deteriorating, and that little electromagnetic shock courtesy of the Dakmorians really didn’t help. So you’re right, Captain, I need you. I need that regeneration unit.”

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you go back to the colony?”

Revi sighed. “Remember the phrase “live free or die”? That’s why. But now I have another option. If I want to live, I need to stay with you. But the price you’re asking is too high. I can’t serve as a medical officer. I’ll do anything else you need, up to and including cleaning the Jeffries tubes, but sickbay is not an option.”

Janeway let that hang in the air while she retrieved her cup and took a thoughtful sip. She had a serious issue on her hands now: a Starfleet chief medical officer who had just admitted to a passive form of attempted suicide and was refusing to perform the duty for which she’d been trained. In a normal situation, she’d put the doctor on medical leave and assign her to counseling until her issues could be somewhat resolved. But this wasn’t a normal situation; she had no counselor; and she was certain that allowing Revi to walk away from her vocation would be the worst thing she could do. She was equally certain, however, that it would take some strong maneuvering to get Revi back on her path.

She put the cup down. It was time to play hardball.

“Why not?” she asked. “Because you were personally involved in assimilations?” Undeterred by Revi’s stricken look, she continued, “Because you performed assimilation surgeries on other humans? People you knew? Maybe even your own crew?”

The color drained from Revi’s face. “How…how do you know that?” she whispered.

“Seven told me that medical and repair drones were used in assimilations. Given your extreme reluctance to even consider resuming your duties as a doctor, the rest was pretty easy to guess.” Janeway laid a gentle hand on Revi’s leg, trying to counter the increasing panic she saw in her eyes. The doctor looked as if she might bolt from the couch any second. “I’m so very sorry,” she said quietly. “That’s a burden no one should ever have to bear, least of all a doctor.”

Revi dropped her gaze to Janeway’s hand, staring at it in silence. “Then you understand,” she said hoarsely. “You know why I can’t do this. I’ve violated my oath and every principle I’ve ever lived by.”

“I understand that you were taken as a prisoner of war, converted to a Borg drone with no individual will, and used by the Collective to perform actions that you had absolutely no control over. There is no shame in that; it’s happened to many others before you and many after.” Janeway squeezed her leg, then reached out for her cup and took a sip. “But you do have control now,” she said casually. “And yet you’re still letting the Borg use you.”

Revi’s head came up, her eyes narrowed. “Exactly what do you mean by that?”

“I mean you’re letting them dictate your life. It’s like you’re still a drone. You’re a highly qualified doctor and you’re talking about scrubbing Jeffries tubes? That’s not the voice of a woman whose will is her own.”

Revi stared in disbelief. “What happened? You got back into your nice safe captain’s chair and suddenly I’m fair game? Who was that person sharing my cell on Dakmor?”

“A person who needed to focus on getting us out of there. Now we’re out, and I’m back in my nice safe captain’s chair, focusing on the best interests of my crew—of which you are now one.”

“And you think it’s in my best interests to impose your will on me? How lovely; I can trade the Borg for you. No thanks, Captain. You don’t have the right to dictate my career choices. It’s my life.”

“No, it’s not,” said Janeway. “Not anymore. Look at you. They’ve stripped you of your will and you still haven’t gotten it back. You’re not what you were before they took you. As long as you let your feelings of guilt keep you from resuming the life you had before, the life you worked for and trained for and fought for, then they are still winning. Do you want to spend the rest of your days under their control?”

“You—” She stopped, visibly struggling to keep her anger tamped down. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she finished in a tight voice.

“I’ve dealt with this before, Revi. You’re not the first ex-Borg I’ve had on my ship. So yes, I do have some idea of what I’m talking about. I have an idea that they’ve broken you to the point where you won’t let yourself live again. And I think you’re stronger than that.”

Revi’s self-control snapped. “Who the hell do you think you are? Gods! You sit there with your dainty little coffee cup in your beautiful ship and you dare to say you know how I feel? You think you can just headshrink me and everything will be okay? Well it’s not okay, Captain! It’s never going to be okay!” She pushed herself off the couch and stood, anger bristling in every line of her body. “I don’t want the rank and I especially don’t want the title. If resigning will get you off my back then that’s what I’ll do. It’s been a long time since I felt like a Starfleet officer anyway.”

She glared, breathing hard and waiting for a challenge.

“If you truly want to resign, I have no choice but to accept,” said Janeway calmly. “But before it comes to that, I would like your answer to one question.”

“And what would that be?”

“Is it really me you’re angry with?”

For a moment Revi stopped breathing. Her head dropped, her spine relaxed, and with an almost liquid movement she sank back onto the couch, covering her eyes with her human hand and taking a deep breath before meeting Janeway’s sympathetic gaze.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” she said, calm once again. “You’re right, it’s not you I’m mad at.”

Janeway nodded. “I know. And I wish I could figure out some way to help you not be so angry at yourself.”

“Myself? What makes you think it’s not the Borg?”

“Because your self-hatred is barely below the surface. I can see it. I just don’t know how to help you with it. All I know is, you’re a brilliant doctor who had her whole life in front of her, had it taken away, then miraculously got it back again—and now you’re voluntarily throwing it away a second time. Please don’t let them do that to you. You don’t deserve it.”

They stared at each other in silence, but Revi’s body language spoke volumes. The fear was gone and the anger had burned off; now Janeway could only wait to see what was left. When the ready room door chimed she cursed her visitor for having such excruciating timing, then herself for not putting a lockout on the door.

“Damn,” said Revi. “It’s Seven. Let her in, Captain. It’s my fault; she’s worried about me.”

Janeway just looked at her. What the…?

The chime rang again, and Revi nodded.

“Come,” called Janeway. Seven stepped inside and walked quickly to stand in front of them.

“Captain,” she said, giving Janeway a cursory nod. Before Janeway could even respond, Seven had focused her attention on Revi.

“Are you all right?”

Revi gave her a wan smile. “I’ve been better, Seven, but it’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Janeway watched this interaction with steadily increasing confusion and concern. “Will somebody please explain to me what is going on here?”

Two heads turned to look at her, then back at each other. Seven gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Captain,” said Seven, “Revi and I have a Borg interlink connection.”

This didn’t help at all, but Janeway was pretty sure she didn’t like the sound of it. “A what?”

“A Borg interlink connection,” Seven repeated patiently. “Revi has a transceiver embedded in her cortical implant which allows her to directly link with other Borg. As soon as she came on board Voyager we connected. We can hear each other’s thoughts as if we were still in the Collective.”

Janeway felt a chill run down her spine. “Are you telling me that you’ve formed your own miniature hive mind?”

“No, not at all.” It was Revi who answered. “We’re not thinking in unison or controlling each other in any way. I think the closest equivalent would be what Betazoids experience. Full Betazoids can read both thoughts and emotions; Seven and I have a very similar connection, though I believe it’s stronger because we can share memories and images as well. We can also shield our emotions, which is what I was doing when I came in here. But when I got angry a moment ago, I lost my shielding and Seven got the full blast. I suspect she felt a few other things, too.” She looked up at Seven, who nodded.

Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose. Well, here was a whole new wrinkle.

“Revi, Captain Janeway is correct,” said Seven suddenly.

Janeway lifted her head. What?

“What?” said Revi. Her voice had an edge to it once again.

“You are allowing the Borg to control you. I did the same thing when I first came aboard, though our circumstances are different. I have much to feel guilty about as well, and I’ve had to learn how to process that. But you cannot let it destroy the rest of your life.”

There was a long silence while the two women stared at each other. Janeway held her breath, waiting for Revi’s explosion; feeling both relieved and a bit puzzled when it didn’t come.

“Seven,” whispered Revi at last, “you don’t know.”

“Then show me,” said Seven in a gentle tone that Janeway had never heard before.

“No, you don’t want—”

“Show me,” repeated Seven. Then added, more quietly, “Please.”

After a long pause, Revi closed her eyes, and Seven followed suit. Janeway watched, stunned, as their hands moved toward each other and clasped. Suddenly she felt like an intruder in her own ready room. What was happening here was intimate beyond her understanding, and she didn’t know what to do. If she stood up and left, would she disturb them? Was she disturbing them staying here? She examined them more closely. No, they didn’t seem to be aware of her on any level. And god, was Seven crying? They both were!

She had just decided to quietly leave when their eyes opened again.

“Do you see now?” Revi’s voice was heartbroken, and Janeway felt tears start to her own eyes just to hear it.

Seven pulled on Revi’s hand, prompting her to stand up. For a moment they stood in silence, staring into each other’s eyes.

“Yes,” said Seven. “And I forgive you.”

Revi’s head dropped, and a choked sob tore its way from her chest. Seven stepped in and carefully folded Revi into her arms, rubbing her back.

Janeway was pretty sure she was going to need a spatula to scrape her jaw off the floor.

“Ladies,” she said, “the ready room is yours. I’ll be on the bridge.” With that she walked out. She didn’t think they even heard her.

 

 

-----

 

 

Seven was stunned by the images Revi had shown her. Most Borg assimilation surgery was done without analgesics, since pain became irrelevant as soon as the new drone’s mind was fully assimilated. Therefore the pain was only felt for seconds to minutes before it was shut off by the Collective.

But Revi had seen every second of that pain. She had caused it. She had watched while the faces of people she knew twisted in agony, cried out for mercy, called her by name. She showed Seven image after image, and in the background of each one was a faint memory of Revi’s own voice. The tiny part of her brain that had remained untouched by the Collective was crying along with her victims, repeating the same words over and over. Forgive me. Please, forgive me. The horror and grief that Seven felt in Revi’s mind touched parts of her own memories—things she’d made a point of not recalling.

She understood, better than anyone, why Revi was so helplessly buried under her guilt. And when the barrage of images ended, she knew what her friend needed.

“Do you see now?”

Seven pulled Revi up and looked into her eyes, clearly seeing the pain there that she had felt so strongly.

“Yes. And I forgive you.”

: Oh gods! :  Revi broke down completely, her emotions pouring out unchecked. Seven wrapped her up in her arms, an act that now felt perfectly natural.

: How can you? How can you do that? :

: Because I was assimilated too. Someone did to me what you did to the others. I know what they felt. So do you, because it was done to you as well. We were all victims, Revi. :

The thoughts that came from Revi were incomplete and incoherent. Seven could barely keep up with the jumble of pain and guilt, but underneath it was a hope, a belief that someone could truly forgive her, even knowing what she’d done.

: Look into my mind, Revi. Feel it for yourself. :

Revi’s sobs lessened, and a sense of wonder began to grow.

: You do. I don’t understand it, but you do. :

: Revi, believe this—we were all victims. Including you. But there is one thing that you must believe above all else. :

: What? :

Seven pulled away and looked into Revi’s eyes.

“We were victims. But now we are survivors.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Janeway drummed her fingers on her chair. She’d gotten a few odd looks upon emerging alone from her ready room, but she had simply taken her seat and sent a cool gaze around the room. That particular act never failed to inspire the bridge crew to pay close attention to their own stations.

She had a problem, however. It had been nearly half an hour, and she had no idea how in the hell she was going to get back in her ready room. Should she contact Seven over the comm link? That would sound a bit odd. She certainly couldn’t walk up to the door and request entry. And she definitely didn’t want to just walk back in there.

A blinking light on her console alerted her to a new message. She accessed it.

 

Captain, please return to your ready room.

Seven

 

She couldn’t help but smile. Short, sweet and to the point—totally Seven. And how thoughtful of her to realize Janeway’s dilemma. It wasn’t too long ago that Seven would simply have walked onto the bridge and announced that the ready room was now available.

“Chakotay, you have the bridge.” She strode back into her ready room, thinking how strange it was to not know what to expect there of all places.

Seven and Revi were still on the upper level, but were now seated slightly apart on the sofa. Janeway walked up, took a seat on the other side of Revi, and looked at them both in turn.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, Captain,” said Seven.

Revi nodded. “We appreciate your consideration,” she said. “But I’m sorry that you felt you had to leave.”

Janeway examined them closely. Both bore the signs of recent tears, but other than that Seven seemed completely normal. Revi, on the other hand, looked like she’d been run over by a shuttle. Janeway thought that might actually be a good sign.

“I don’t know what just happened here,” she said. “But I’m going to assume it brought about some resolution.”

Seven looked at Revi expectantly. Revi gave her a tremulous smile, and Janeway had the uneasy feeling that they were communicating. This was going to take some getting used to.

“Captain,” Revi began uncertainly, “I want to apologize for losing control earlier.”

Janeway waved that off. “That’s not important, Revi. Well, not this time,” she amended. “I pushed you pretty hard, and I’m sorry about that.”

Revi nodded, then took a deep breath. “I would like to resume my duties as a medical officer. But,” she forestalled Janeway’s immediate question, “I’m not ready to go full time. In fact, I’m not sure what I’m ready for. I just know I have to try. You and Seven are right; I’ve been letting the Borg beat me, and that just isn’t acceptable. But I ask that you let me go into this at my own pace.”

Janeway was astonished, but she also wasn’t about to turn down a miracle. “Of course. We’ll work together to determine a schedule that you’re comfortable with. And I’ll notify the Doctor that he will have some part-time help.” And won’t that be a fun conversation! “Now there is the question of quarters,” she continued. “The chief medical officer’s quarters have been used as a VIP suite, since our holographic doctor has no need of them. They’re available if you want them.”

“That’s very generous,” said Revi. “I accept your offer, and I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.”

“It isn’t my expectations you have to worry about, Revi. It’s your own.”

Revi’s smile was wry. “You have no idea what you just condemned me to, Captain. My expectations tend to be pretty high.”

“I know. That shows in your file.” Janeway rose. “I hate to kick you out, ladies, but I do need my ready room back. Seven, will you show Revi to her new quarters?”

“Certainly, Captain.”

Seven and Revi made their way to the lower level, but Janeway stopped them before they reached the door.

“Revi.”

“Yes, Captain?”

Janeway stepped down. “When you introduced yourself to me on Dakmor, you asked not to be called Commander or Doctor. However, as an active Starfleet officer, you’re going to have to use your title. Do you think you can get used to us calling you Doctor Sandovhar?”

There was a long pause.

“It’s a name I haven’t heard for a long time,” said Revi at last. “Maybe it’s time for me to take it back. I guess I can get used to the crew calling me that. But Captain, I'd prefer it if you continued to call me Revi. It would seem odd at this point to revert to formality.”

It would be unorthodox, but Janeway could live with it. Besides, what on her ship was orthodox, anyway?

She extended her hand. “In that case, Revi, welcome to Voyager. It’s a pleasure to have you on board.”

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 15

 

 

As it turned out, her conversation with the Doctor was the easy one. He expressed enthusiasm for the advent of another doctor in the sickbay, for reasons that Janeway should have expected if she’d thought about it.

“At last!” said the Doctor. “Someone educated enough to actually appreciate my accomplishments. Not to denigrate you or the crew, Captain, but it has been somewhat…deflating, to consistently develop ingenious solutions to the problems we keep running into out here, only to find a distinct lack of understanding on your parts as to just how difficult those solutions really are. I often get the feeling that the crew simply expects miracles from me, as if they were as common as a hypospray. Of course,” he added with one of those self-important smiles that drove Janeway up the wall, “miracles are the norm for me. Still, it will be nice to work with someone who recognizes them for what they are.”

“Yes, well, I believe you will find that Doctor Sandovhar has a few tricks up her own sleeve that may be new to you,” said Janeway, anxious to end this conversation and get out. “She has undoubtedly learned a great deal from her time with the Borg.”

“A great deal about assimilation, you mean,” sniffed the Doctor.

“Doctor.” Janeway leveled an even stare that brought the Doctor up short. He might be holographic, she thought, but even holograms weren’t immune to what Lynne called The Glare O’ Death. “I would appreciate it if you would restrain yourself from any references to assimilation around Doctor Sandovhar, unless the current situation requires it.”

“Why? Isn’t that what she did?”

Janeway managed not to snap at him, but it was close.

“Yes, it is, Doctor. And if you will review your psychological files, you’ll find that unwilling participation in such activities would be devastating to a human doctor who had sworn to cause no harm.” She paused, giving the Doctor time to consider that information. “Revi is very sensitive about her Borg activities, and she will need time and assistance in recovering from her memories of that involvement. You will violate your own Hippocratic oath if you impede her progress in any way. Do you understand?”

The Doctor actually flinched from the quiet force of her final words. “Yes, Captain, I fully understand. Rest assured that I’ll help her in any way I can.”

“I don’t want you to help her, Doctor.” Janeway still had vivid memories of the Doctor’s attempt to ‘help’ Seven with what he thought were repressed memories—it had been a disaster. “I just want you to work with her and deal with her as one doctor to another. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” he answered with some hauteur. “Naturally I will reserve my opinion regarding her professional capabilities until I see them demonstrated. But I will keep an open mind, and I won’t make any reference to her past Borg activities.”

“Thank you.” Janeway paused, wondering if she should mention the other issue looming in the distance. Then she shook her head. No. No need to worry about that until Revi proves that she can handle a sickbay again. She bid the Doctor a good day and walked out, turning possibilities over in her mind. The fact was, a human Chief Medical Officer outranked a holographic one. If Revi was able to recover sufficiently to fill her old role as CMO, then she would naturally take control of sickbay. Janeway imagined the Doctor’s response to the news that he was being demoted, and winced. Now that would be an unpleasant conversation. But it wasn’t anything she needed to think about just yet, thank god.

No, the Doctor had been easy. But when she called Chakotay into her ready room to inform him of the change to sickbay personnel, the vehemence of his objection surprised her. She’d expected him to have some personal issues with Revi’s presence, but hadn’t thought they’d cross over into his professional considerations. They did.

“Captain, I can’t agree with this decision.” His back was stiff and he radiated tension.

“I’m not asking you to agree,” she said mildly, covering her surprise at his agitation. “I’m simply informing you of the situation.”

“But Captain! How can you place the physical and mental well-being of this crew in the hands of someone who has already proven herself untrustworthy?”

“And how has she done that, Chakotay?” Was he referring to her time with the Borg, or her involvement with the Cooperative?

“By showing that she’s perfectly willing to force a person to engage in activities against their will! Captain, you didn’t approve of the Cooperative’s actions then. Are you changing your opinion now?”

“No,” she said evenly. “In fact, my first conversation with Revi touched on that. I told her it was wrong and she agreed. And I seem to recall that her first conversation with you involved an apology for that very thing. Are you not going to accept that apology, Chakotay? Will you hold her individually responsible for the actions of the entire Council, just because she’s the one who happens to be here to bear your wrath?”

He didn’t respond, only clenching his jaw. Janeway could almost see steam coming out of his ears. She leaned back in her chair, watching him.

“Think about it from her side, Chakotay,” she said in a quieter voice. “You make a difficult decision that seems right at the time, and certainly saves thousands of lives. Then you rethink it and decide that perhaps it wasn’t the right decision after all. You admit that you wronged someone, you apologize to them. What else can you do?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. You’re right, Captain, she’s done everything she can. But it doesn’t make up for the fact that when it came down to it, she chose to use another human being for her own purpose, without that person’s will or permission. How can you trust her to act in the best interests of our crew, especially in a medical capacity, when she’s already shown that she believes people are tools to be used as she sees fit?”

“That’s my job, you know.”

“What, trusting people?”

“No. Using people as tools, as I see fit. It’s what a captain does. The crew of a starship are tools, available to me to use for purposes that they as individuals might not understand. But they have to obey my commands, even if they don’t want to. Do you hate me for that, too?”

“That’s different and I think you know it. The crew of a starship have individual will. They choose to follow you. Revi didn’t give me that choice.”

“They choose to follow me when they sign on to Starfleet. Once they’re part of the organization, however, they’ve given up a great deal of their personal choice. When I send someone into a life-threatening situation I can’t stop to ask if that’s all right with them. I have to send them whether they want to go or not.”

“Captain, you say that it was wrong but now you seem to be justifying it by comparing it to the Starfleet command structure. It’s not the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. But the difference isn’t that big, and as a captain who is personally responsible for one hundred and forty-eight lives, I can fully understand why Revi and the Council made the decision they did. They didn’t decide to play mind games with you just to abuse you. They decided to commit what they considered to be a lesser evil in order to prevent a greater one.” She leaned forward again, bracing her forearms on her desk and pinning Chakotay with her gaze. It was critical that he understand the concept she was trying to get across, or he’d never be a decent captain.

“Sometimes, Chakotay, it’s not a matter of choosing between right and wrong. Sometimes it’s a matter of choosing between wrong and more wrong. Those are the choices that keep you up at night, and that’s the choice for which Revi apologized to you. And if you can’t accept that apology, if you continue to judge her character by a past decision that she wasn’t even fully responsible for, then I feel sorry for you. Because someday you’re going to have to make a similar decision, and your own lack of sympathy and compassion is going to come back to haunt you. You’ll be as hard on yourself as you are on her, and that’s going to put you in a bad place.”

He held her gaze for a few moments longer, then looked away.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll think about what you said, and I’ll try to keep an open mind. But I’m also going to watch her.”

Janeway barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. “Will you be watching her for the sake of the crew, or for your own sake?”

“In this instance there’s no difference.”

“I think there is,” she said. This is going nowhere, dammit, and I’ve still got to check on Revi.

She stood up, indicating that their meeting was at an end. “You do what you feel is right, Chakotay. But don’t let your own mistrust infect anyone else in the crew, and I had better not see it affecting your professional interactions with Doctor Sandovhar. We have a chance here to help both her and ourselves, but it’s a delicate situation. If I hear your opinions from any other source, I’m going to come down on you like a ton of bricks. Do I make myself clear?”

“As crystal.” He wasn’t going to back down.

“Good. Then you’re dismissed.”

As the door hissed shut behind him, she sat back in her chair with a muttered curse. She hated it when they butted heads, and it often seemed to happen at times when she least expected it. Well, Chakotay was a professional. She trusted him to deal with his feelings on his own time. As for her, her shift had ended some time ago and she still had to drop by Revi’s quarters before she could relax. She logged out of her terminal and allowed a smile to cross her face. At least she had something to look forward to this evening.

 

 

-----

 

 

“So how did it go with Revi?” asked Lynne. She and Janeway were occupying opposite ends of the couch, enjoying another album from the twenty-first century music library. Janeway had discovered that she loved blues, and Lynne had quite a collection of it.

“She’s agreed to start working part time in sickbay. We haven’t worked out the schedule yet; I wanted to give her time to settle into her quarters.”

“Kathryn, that’s fantastic!” Lynne was resting against the sofa arm, her long legs tangling with Janeway’s. “And a hell of a turnaround. You said she couldn’t even stand to hear the word ‘doctor’ before. How did you get through to her?”

Janeway relaxed against her own sofa arm, facing Lynne. “I didn’t. Seven did.”

She enjoyed the look of total surprise on her partner’s face.

“Oh, really,” said Lynne, crossing her arms over her chest. “Okay, spill it. You’ve got a story to tell.”

As Janeway described the events she’d witnessed in her ready room, Lynne’s eyebrows crawled into her hairline.

“So now I’ve got two ex-Borg in a Borg interlink, and I’m not really sure how I feel about it,” Janeway concluded. “Though I certainly can’t argue with the results in this instance.”

“Jesus, Kathryn, I think it’s amazing! Can you imagine? What an incredible gift—imagine if you and I could hear each other’s thoughts and emotions. Think of all the arguments we’d have avoided if we could have understood each other on more than just a verbal level.” Lynne widened her eyes comically. “Ooo, think of the sex.”

“Seven and Revi aren’t you and me,” Janeway reminded her. “Seven is still very undeveloped in some ways, and Revi’s bound to have a huge influence on her with this connection. Whether she means to or not. And Revi herself isn’t exactly emotionally healthy right now. I think I’ll be keeping a close watch on this.” With an internal start, she realized that she had just echoed Chakotay’s words.

“Kathryn.” Lynne’s voice was firm. “Maybe you don’t need to. Maybe it’s time to just let Seven make her own way. You can’t protect her forever, and honestly, I think she can take care of herself. Didn’t you just say that she’s the one who got through to Revi?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then it doesn’t sound like Revi’s the one who did the influencing, does it?”

Janeway looked across at Lynne’s knowing smile.

“Are you telling me to butt out?”

Lynne threw her head back and laughed. “And another twenty-first century idiom makes the leap! It does sound great coming from you, I must say. Yes, Kathryn, I’m telling you to butt out. Let it happen. Mostly because I don’t think you have a chance in hell of stopping it. With that kind of connection, Seven is going to be outside your influence. And you know what I think? I think they need each other. I think this could be the best thing that ever happened to Seven, and it sounds like it may be one of the best things that could happen for Revi, too. Think of it—for Seven’s entire stay on Voyager, she’s been the one being taught, the one who doesn’t know, doesn’t understand, isn’t like the rest. And now—”

“And now she’s able to help someone else.” Janeway had caught up and was now racing ahead. “Someone else who shares her experience, who understands. And Revi has someone who knows exactly what she’s done…” She trailed off. “Oh. That’s what was going on.”

“What?”

“I just figured out how Seven got through to Revi.”

“Are you going to share?”

Janeway mentally replayed the scene she’d witnessed, and nodded.

“Seven asked Revi to show her something. I think she saw exactly what’s been haunting Revi, and when she said she forgave her, Revi finally had someone who knew the truth, someone who was actually qualified to offer forgiveness. I don’t think those words from anyone else would have meant anything. She certainly didn’t respond to me telling her that she had no reason to feel guilty.”

“Okay,” said Lynne. “That makes sense. It’s definitely the first step, anyway. Maybe if somebody else forgives her first, Revi can eventually forgive herself.”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of Revi forgiving herself,” said Janeway, thinking of the many deaths she herself had been responsible for. The names and faces of every Starfleet crewmember who had died under her command would be etched in her memory forever. And then there were the thousands of nameless, faceless lives that had ended at her command to fire. All of the deaths by space battle were self defense and morally justifiable—but the fact remained that she had given the orders that ended sentient lives. She had come to terms with most of her decisions and their consequences, but there were some things for which she could not forgive herself. And that, more than anything else, was the true burden of command.

“That’s probably never going to happen,” she continued. “The best she can hope for, I think, is to come to some sort of peace with it—to stop hating herself, accept it as something she can’t change, and move forward from there. Right now her self-hatred is eating her alive, and that’s what Seven will be dealing with.” And does Seven have the wherewithal to do that? she wondered. Lynne’s confidence in her friend was encouraging, but Janeway wasn’t convinced that Seven, for all her formidable intelligence and rapid emotional growth, could handle what was ahead.

Although she’d certainly handled Revi in the ready room. She shook her head. Maybe Lynne was right; maybe she should stop worrying about something she had no control over and just trust Seven to do what she could. After all, Seven never gave anything but her best, and her best was usually pretty damned good.

Lynne, however, was still processing her last words. Her voice, when she spoke, was very quiet.

“Are you speaking from experience? Do you…understand what Revi is feeling?”

Janeway looked out the window at the passing star streaks. Did she? Could she really understand?

“Only partially,” she said at last, still gazing out. “Our situations are very different. Revi swore an oath to do no harm, yet she did great harm to a great many people, some of whom she knew. My oath is to protect my crew and the interests of the Federation, and any deaths I’ve caused have been to serve that oath. So I don’t feel the same guilt that she does.”

She turned her head and met Lynne’s gaze directly. “But you know, Lynne, that everything changes when you take a life. Everything. Anyone who has killed, however unwillingly and for whatever noble reason, can understand at least part of what Revi feels.”

It was a not-so-subtle invitation to talk, but Janeway had already used up her subtlety in earlier attempts, to no avail. Lynne still hadn’t talked about the man she’d killed on Dakmor, and Janeway had gone beyond concerned to downright worried.

Overt invitations didn’t seem to work any better than subtle ones. Lynne’s face closed off, and she looked away.

“I’m a bit tired,” she said as she swung her legs off the couch. Standing, she extended a hand to Janeway. “Come to bed?”

Janeway looked up, reading nothing in her guarded expression. Suppressing a sigh, she took Lynne’s hand. They prepared for bed in silence, and Janeway wasn’t sure what to expect when they finally slipped between the sheets. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see Lynne move to the other side of the bed, adding a physical distance to the mental one that was already making itself painfully felt. Instead, she was lovingly gathered up and tucked into their normal spooning position, her back to Lynne’s front.

“Good night, love,” Lynne murmured.

“Good night, sweetheart,” said Janeway softly. But her eyes remained wide open, staring into the darkness. After several minutes, she spoke again. “Are you ever going to let me in?”

There was no answer. Lynne had fallen asleep.

 

 

-----

 

 

Janeway wasn’t sure what time it was, or why she’d suddenly woken. She lay still, listening. A moment later a deep, shuddering intake of breath broke the silence, and she rolled over. Lynne was curled up and facing away from her. Gently she laid her hand on her partner’s bare shoulder.

“Lynne? Are you okay?”

Lynne stiffened for a moment, then her shoulder slumped. She turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, her eyes reflecting the glitter of the warp field streaks passing by the window.

“Not really,” she said in a whisper.

Janeway leaned over, brushing a lock of hair away from Lynne’s face. “Want to talk about it?”

There was a long silence; so long that Janeway dropped her hand and rolled onto her back once more. Staring at the ceiling along with her lover, she felt the lead weight of failure. Lynne was hurting, and she knew why—but she couldn’t do a damned thing about it. Not without being invited in, and Lynne had erected some formidable walls.

To her surprise, Lynne shifted and turned onto her side, nestling her head on Janeway’s shoulder and snuggling in. Immeasurably comforted by this gesture, Janeway rested her cheek against the dark hair and wrapped her arms around her lover. She said nothing, however, thinking that maybe, just maybe, silence and physical comfort might work where conversational gambits had not.

Or maybe it was just time. Because Lynne wrapped her own arm around Janeway’s waist and began to talk.

“I know what you’ve been trying to do,” she said quietly. “And I appreciate it, really. A lot of what you said is true—everything does change when you take a life. But that’s not my problem.”

Janeway couldn’t fathom where this was going. She squeezed Lynne and said, “Okay. Can you tell me what your problem is? You know I’ll do anything I can to help, even if it’s just to listen.”

After another long silence, Lynne sighed, her breath tickling Janeway’s skin.

“I don’t know, Kathryn. I don’t like myself much right now, and I’m a little afraid that when I tell you what’s going on, you won’t like me much either.”

Janeway squeezed Lynne more tightly and dropped a kiss on her head. “Lynne, I love you, and I can’t imagine what you could say to change that. What is it that has you worried?”

Lynne began rubbing her hand gently along Janeway’s side, where the ribs had been broken.

“It’s just that…everyone seems to be expecting me to be all torn up over killing that Dakmorian. But the problem is, I’m not.”

She drew back and propped herself up on one elbow. Janeway did the same, meeting Lynne’s eyes for the first time. Despite the dimness, she could clearly see her lover’s face in the reflected starlight. Lynne looked tense and a little defiant.

“I’m not torn up, Kathryn. I don’t feel one iota of guilt. I keep waiting for it to hit, but it’s been days now and I still feel the same. I’m glad I killed him, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It bothered me far more to hold that officer’s head while Tuvok ripped his brain apart.” The defiant look faded, replaced by confusion. “How can that be? What kind of person does that make me, that I can kill without conscience? I never gave much thought to killing someone, since it wasn’t anything I ever expected to do. But I would never have expected this…this total lack of remorse. Kathryn, I’m not who I thought I was. I’m not who you think I am.”

Janeway reached out and covered Lynne’s free hand with her own. God, it was such a relief to finally be able to address this. She could handle anything as long as Lynne was willing to talk about it.

“Lights, one eighth,” she said, and they both blinked as the soft lighting came up. “All right. Let’s get the most important thing out of the way first. I still love you despite what you just said. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Lynne, a tremulous smile breaking over her face. “Thanks. I didn’t really doubt it, but it’s nice to hear.”

“I’ll tell you as often as you want,” said Janeway. She reached up and lightly ran her finger along Lynne’s jawline, enjoying the way her lover’s eyes closed at even that tiny bit of contact. Dropping her hand back onto Lynne’s, she continued, “Next, you need to understand that people react to their first kill in a lot of different ways. Overwhelming guilt is just one of them, and it happens to be the one that I—and probably a few others—expected you to feel. The fact that you’re reacting differently than expected doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“But—”

“Lynne, how many people did you kill that day?”

“One, but—”

“But you had plenty of opportunity to kill more. If you can put a Vulcan nerve pinch on someone, then I’d bet a month’s rations that you know how to kill with your hands as well. Am I right?”

“Yes.” Lynne’s voice was barely audible.

“But you didn’t. And then there was the firefight. You could have killed any number of men then. You used a stun setting on your phaser instead.”

“That wasn’t my decision, Kathryn. Tuvok set the phasers to stun. You know that’s standard procedure.”

“It’s standard procedure at first. The procedure changes along with the situation, and the day may come when you do set a phaser to kill. Or you may be forced to use a weapon that has no stun setting.”

“Which is what happened.”

“Which is what happened,” Janeway agreed. “If you’d had a phaser in your hand when you saw that Dakmorian aiming at us, would you have set it to kill before shooting him?”

“Well, no, but there wasn’t time, Kathryn. I’d have just stunned him because it was the quickest thing to do.”

“You could have stunned him first and then killed him,” said Janeway offhandedly.

“What? You are kidding, aren’t you?”

“Does that mean no?”

“I can’t believe you’re even saying that. Of course I couldn’t do that.”

“Oh, so you couldn’t kill in cold blood.”

“No!” Lynne’s eyes narrowed. “That was a set-up, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe.” Janeway smiled at the look on her face. “You said you didn’t like yourself because you could ‘kill without conscience,’ as you put it. But you can’t, Lynne. If you could, you wouldn’t have been so shocked at my question.”

Lynne considered this for a moment.

“Okay,” she said. “Point for you. But that still doesn’t address my main problem. Why don’t I feel guilty?”

“Don’t you? How did you feel about holding that officer’s head during the mind meld?”

She knew the answer already, and even if she hadn’t, Lynne’s expression told all.

“It was the most horrible thing I’ve ever witnessed,” she said, dropping her gaze to their clasped hands. “I felt like we were torturing him, and his only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She raised her eyes. “That whole mission was just unreal for me. In the beginning it was almost like a game, you know? Everything worked out exactly as planned, and I even enjoyed myself when we hijacked that transport. I mean, no one got hurt and it went just like clockwork. I…I even enjoyed stunning the men inside the transport.” A look of shame crossed her face. “It was so easy—a Velocity disc moves much faster than they did. They didn’t have a chance, and I felt…well, powerful, I guess. Everything was going great, and we were going to succeed, and nobody was going to get hurt or die. Or so I let myself think at the moment. And then…” Her voice trailed off.

Janeway waited awhile before finishing her sentence. “And then Tuvok did the mind meld.”

Lynne nodded miserably. “And I held him down. I held him down while he screamed, Kathryn. And then everything changed. I couldn’t pretend it was a game anymore. It was real, and I’d just helped Tuvok tear a man’s mind apart. He might as well have been dead. His blood may not be on my hands, but it…feels…like it,” she finished slowly. “Oh.”

Janeway waited.

“I killed two people, didn’t I? I mean, for all practical purposes.”

“Well, that’s not quite the conclusion I was hoping you’d come to,” said Janeway gently.

“But I don’t feel the same way about them. That officer—I hated it, Kathryn. I felt dirty when it was over. I feel dirty now. But I don’t feel anything like that about the other one, and he’s the one I killed outright.”

“The other was self-defense, Lynne. A completely different situation. It’s not unexpected that you wouldn’t feel the same thing for both men. So, you killed a man in self-defense—in the process of saving me—and you don’t feel guilty. Before that you helped destroy the mind of a man who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time—also in the process of saving me—and you feel terrible about that. Is that a fair assessment?”

“Well…yes, I guess it is.”

Janeway squeezed Lynne’s hand. “Then I can tell you with complete confidence that your moral compass is intact and that you’re perfectly normal. You haven’t suddenly become a bad person. You’ve just become a person who has crossed a line that can never be uncrossed. How you deal with that depends on you, and it’s okay if you aren’t overwhelmed with guilt over the man you killed. I think you’re paying the price for the officer instead.”

“I guess,” said Lynne doubtfully. “But don’t you think it’s strange that I’d feel guilty about the man I didn’t kill, and not about the man I did?”

“No, I don’t,” said Janeway in a firm voice. “I think you’re feeling remorse for the action that, to your mind, was the more reprehensible of the two. The fact that it’s not the actual killing doesn’t mean that you’re lacking a conscience, or that you’re not a good person. You are a good person.” She looked into Lynne’s eyes, willing her to believe. “If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

Lynne was silent for some time. Janeway watched the expressions flit across her face as she thought. Eventually her brow smoothed out.

“So you’re not disappointed in me?”

“No!” Janeway was startled by the question, and took a moment to regroup. “Lynne, when I saw you and that Dakmorian fighting, there was only one thing on my mind. I needed you to live. I was glad you killed him, because it meant you were still alive. Are you disappointed in me because I felt that way? Do you think I’m morally lacking because I could actually feel glad that you lived and someone else died?”

“No, of course not.” Lynne held her hand up. “Okay, okay, I get it. So there are no easy answers, and no standard accepted emotional responses, and what I’m feeling—or more importantly, what I’m not feeling—is okay.”

Janeway nodded. “There’s no script you have to follow. Life—and death—is never that straightforward.”

“Well, I knew the first half of that. I guess I have a bit to learn about the second part.”

“I hope you don’t,” said Janeway. “Learn it, I mean. That’s not something I ever wanted you to understand.”

Lynne looked at her closely. “Hey. You’re not feeling guilty about my part in this, are you?”

Janeway tried desperately to school her face into an expression that wouldn’t give her away, but judging by Lynne’s own expression, she failed miserably.

“Oh, Kathryn.” Lynne shook her head. “What a pair we are. I’m feeling guilty for not feeling guilty, and you’re feeling guilty for no reason at all. You know it’s not your fault that I was there.”

“No, actually I don’t know. You went down there for me, Lynne. You killed someone for me. Would you have done it for anyone else on the crew?”

There was a long pause.

“I can’t answer that in the abstract,” said Lynne at last. “I wouldn’t know until I was faced with the situation. But I went after B’Elanna on the Tsians’ home world, so the answer is probably yes.”

They watched each other in silence, and Janeway realized something as she looked at her partner’s serious face. It was in Lynne’s nature to take risks for the people who were important to her. That wasn’t something that Janeway, as captain, could control. Hell, she couldn’t control it as Lynne’s lover, either. She could only learn to live with it, just as Lynne would have to learn to live with the consequences of her own decisions.

“All right,” she said at last. “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t feel guilty for my part if you won’t feel morally bankrupt for yours.”

Lynne raised an eyebrow. “Emotional blackmail?”

“No, not at all. Emotional negotiation. A time-honored and respected practice.” Janeway flashed a smile, hoping to defuse the tension.

Lynne considered the offer. It didn’t take her long. “Okay,” she said. “You got yourself a deal.” She closed the distance between them, gently pushed Janeway onto her back, and snuggled in, resting her head on Janeway’s shoulder. “And I expect you to honor it, too,” she added, rubbing her hand up and down Janeway’s side.

“When have I ever not honored a deal?” asked Janeway.

“When you could find some devious way around the intent while still honoring the letter of it,” answered Lynne immediately. She tilted her head, meeting Janeway’s eyes. “But I love you for that, too. Just don’t try it here.”

Janeway wrapped her arms around her lover and squeezed. “Never.”

She was happy to stay that way indefinitely, enjoying the feeling of Lynne pressed into her side and the sight of the dark head beneath her chin. It wasn’t a position she often got to enjoy, simply because of their very different body sizes. Usually it was her head on Lynne’s shoulder. But now and then Lynne sought her out this way, most often when she felt vulnerable, and Janeway was always grateful for what amounted to an expression of trust.

Absently Lynne caressed Janeway’s injured side, her fingertips gliding over the recently healed ribs. Janeway closed her eyes and basked in the sensations. The gentle touch was lulling her to sleep, and she wondered vaguely if she should rouse herself enough to order the lights out. No, Lynne would do it. She sank further, until Lynne’s touch moved higher and brushed the underside of her breast. A moment later she felt a palm rubbing lightly across her nipple. All sleep immediately fled from her mind as her eyes popped open. She glanced down to find green eyes looking back, an expression in them that she hadn’t seen since before Dakmor. Lynne pushed herself up and straddled Janeway’s body, a full grin blossoming on her face.

“I was wondering,” she said, “if we could find some other way to go morally bankrupt? Because what I’m thinking right now is probably considered immoral on quite a few planets.”

Janeway caressed the full breasts that were hovering within easy reach. This night, she knew, was going to end a lot better than it had begun.

 

 

 

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