Summary:  This story was originally posted to ASC on July 31, 2003. The crew of the Enterprise and some of Voyager's former crew join forces to find a missing Seven of Nine.  SPOILER WARNING--events from all seven VOY seasons are discussed in varying degrees of detail.

Author's note1: Feel free to archive to any pertinent site.
Author's note2: This is the canon Voyager crew post-Endshame with Whoa Nellie's Reasons of the Heart Enterprise crew.  We also chose to ignore all inanity in Nemesis, so Janeway is still a captain.

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun playing with them.
Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail.

Whoa Nellie's Picard/Vash Romance Fan Fiction website is at:
http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/Galaxy/7926/

Whoa Nellie's Sci-Fi Romance Fan Fiction website is at:
http://www.geocities.com/whoa_nellies2000/
 

 Eye of the Beholder

 Silence hung heavily in the conference room at the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards.  Captain Kathryn Janeway looked around the table at the familiar and unfamiliar faces there.  The EMH, who still hadn't chosen a name, sat beside her studying readouts.  Almost everyone was reviewing information of some type.  To the left of the Doctor sat Harry, now Lieutenant Commander Kim.  He glanced up from his PADD long enough to meet her gaze and give her the boyish smile and nod that she remembered so well from Voyager.  Across the table from Harry, Tom and B'Elanna were discussing a report quietly with each other.  It was too bad that, owing to Tom's prior dishonorable discharge from Starfleet, he hadn't been able to retain his status and rank upon their return; he had become a good officer during their time in the Delta Quadrant.  Starfleet had offered B'Elanna the opportunity to complete her Academy work and enter Starfleet service officially, but she had decided against it.  Instead, B'Elanna and Tom had taken positions as civilian consultants at Utopia Planitia.  They made a great design team, incorporating the ship design and operation advancements that they'd developed aboard Voyager into new shuttles, runabouts and ships.  Harry, Tom and B'Elanna, along with Seven of Nine had quickly become the premier design team at the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards.  Many of the former Maquis had taken jobs as civilian consultants either with Starfleet or the administrations of their home planets.  At the far end of the table, studying Janeway as she studied everyone else, was Admiral Buthed, a Rigellian who had initially refused to allow her to be at this meeting.  She'd gone over his head for authorization to be part of the investigation and Admiral Buthed had been very displeased.  The door slid open to admit Admiral Owen Paris.

 "Please," Admiral Paris waved for everyone to sit back down.  "I apologize for the delay; I was waiting for this report."  He took a seat next to Tom.  "Sensor sweeps of Utopia Planitia and every planet in this system failed to turn up any indications of Seven of Nine.  By all evidence, she's not in the Sol system anymore."

 With a muffled grunt, Admiral Buthed made a notation on his PADD.  "AWOL."

 "Wait just a minute," the EMH's strident voice overrode the chorus of protests from around the table.  "Seven would not just leave without a very important reason."

 Admiral Buthed held up his PADD.  "There was no evidence of a struggle."

 The Doctor held up his own PADD in rebuttal.  "Her alcove shows an interrupted regeneration cycle.  If she was leaving voluntarily, she would have completed regenerating; at the very least, she would have shut down the alcove.  The fact that it was still powered up when Harry went looking for her indicates that she was taken by surprise in the middle of regenerating and didn't have the chance to struggle."

 "I agree with the Doctor," Janeway said.  "It's much more likely that Seven has been taken by someone, against her will if not by force."

 Harry remembered something.  "The Ferengi," he blurted out.  "They went to pretty big lengths to steal her nanoprobes before."

 "What about the Romulans or the Breen?" Tom suggested.  "Seven's knowledge of Borg technology makes her pretty valuable to any number of races."

 Admiral Paris nodded thoughtfully.  "No Romulan or Breen vessels were anywhere near the Sol system, but both have cloaking capabilities.  Those would be plausible possibilities."

 B'Elanna leaned forward.  "Harry, didn't you and Tuvok redesign the sensor arrays at Starfleet facilities in this sector before he went back to Vulcan?"

 "Yeah," he replied.  "They're still working on making changes to sensor arrays on ships and starbases beyond this system, but Tuvok and I supervised the work in this sector ourselves."

 Janeway caught on.  "The upgraded sensors should show any anomalous readings that might indicate whether or not a cloaked ship was in the region.  Good thinking, B'Elanna.  Mr. Kim--" her instructions were cut off by Admiral Buthed loudly clearing his throat.

 Admiral Paris spoke up before Buthed could comment.  "Commander Kim, request sensor logs for a period of 72 hours prior to her disappearance from every facility in this system and analyze them.  I'll expect a report as soon as possible."

 Before Harry could verbally acknowledge the order, their briefing was interrupted by the arrival of Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Commander Chakotay.  Chakotay nodded, smiling at his former shipmates.

 Picard addressed the admirals.  "I apologize for the interruption, but Commander Chakotay here believes that this missing individual may be related to a recent attempt on my life and I agree."

 "Commander?" Admiral Buthed shot Janeway a disparaging glance when they simultaneously addressed Chakotay.

 Chakotay uploaded the information from his PADD into the computer console and pulled up the display.  "The recent assassination attempt was made by a group known as the Eh-Cu'oral.  They're a small, fanatic sect who idolize the Borg."

 "They what?!" Janeway gasped.

 Picard pointed to the picture displayed on the viewscreen.  "That is Martin Sharock, a political science professor from the Mars Colony University and one of three men who tried to kill me at the Daystrom Institute's Annual Symposium recently.  Some of Professor Sharock's publications are being displayed as well.  Their philosophy is that by forcing everybody into conformity with regard to what is best for society, we can solve all problems with life as we know it.  The Borg, to them anyway, are the last, best hope for a perfect, utopian society."

 Admiral Buthed studied the information intently.  "So you think Seven is with this sect and has gone AWOL to assist them in their plans?"

 "No," Chakotay replied firmly.  He brought up another image.  "This is a report from the U.S.S. Collins.  They discovered and raided a base where members of this sect were attempting to construct an interplexing beacon.  They managed to capture the engineers, but many others escaped."

 "An interplexing beacon?" B'Elanna echoed incredulously.  Her hands rubbed the length of her arms before dropping down to find and hold one of Tom's hands in hers.

 Admiral Paris spoke up.  "How does this connect to Seven's disappearance?"

 Picard pointed toward the display.  "They got all of the notes on the project; at least, they retrieved what they think are the notes.  The information was gibberish, a booby trap of some sort on the files according to Starfleet; but the information appears to contain logarithmic equations reflective of interplexing transmissions.  Without their engineers or their notes, . . . "

 "Seven is the only person who would have the knowledge to construct another interplexing beacon," Janeway finished Picard's line of reasoning.

 Admiral Buthed deactivated the display.  "So she did leave voluntarily with these people."

 "I don't believe that for a second," Janeway leveled her most imposing glance at the Rigellian.  "She has had ample opportunity to return to the collective over the past five years.  Not only has she fought to remain an individual, but she was instrumental on many occasions in Voyager's success against the Borg, using her knowledge of them to our advantage."  Janeway's voice softened a little.  "She once told me that Voyager had become her collective.  The thought of returning to life as a Borg drone terrified her."

 "Once a Borg, always a Borg," said Admiral Buthed.

 A chair tumbled backward to land on its side.  Picard stood, barely-controlled anger visible in the tightly clenched contours of his face.  Recent dealings with the Eh-Cu'oral sect had reopened old wounds that had barely had time to scab over.  His every word was terse and clipped.  "It is safe to assume that this sect kidnapped Seven of Nine in order to force her to construct an interplexing beacon."

 "She would never cooperate," the EMH asserted.  He shuddered briefly.  "Even under tortuous circumstances she refused to divulge information to me, thankfully.  She certainly wouldn't cooperate with this group of psychos."

 "I agree with the Doc," Harry said, Tom and B'Elanna echoing his statement.

 Admiral Paris looked down the table toward Janeway as Picard retrieved his seat.  "What about the other Borg, the boy?"

 "Icheb," B'Elanna supplied.

 "He's fine," Chakotay assured them.  "Captain Picard contacted Starfleet Academy and they're assigning a security detail to him as a safeguard."

 The EMH provided further assurance.  "Without a cortical node," he pointed out.  "Icheb wouldn't be nearly as valuable as Seven."

 "Besides," Tom added.  "Icheb barely spent any time in the Collective, what with his genetic code being a debilitating Borg virus.  His information on their technology isn't as extensive as Seven's."

 Admiral Paris nodded to Picard.  "You've had more time to consider this and it is the best theory to this point.  What are your suggestions, Captain Picard?"

 "Do we have any idea when or how she was taken?" Picard asked.

 Harry responded.  "Yes and no; we know when she disappeared, but not how they got her out of the Fleet Yards.  I can pull sensor logs from every ship and sensor array in this system.  Since this group is humanoid, we're probably not dealing with cloaked vessels.  We'll have to track every vessel that passed within transporter range of Utopia Planitia when Seven disappeared; registries, passenger manifests, destinations . . ." he began making a mental list as he spoke.

 "Excellent," Picard acknowledged.  "Work with my chief of security, Commander Lar.  Admiral Nechayev has assigned the Enterprise to work with Captain Janeway in locating and retrieving Seven of Nine."

 "Admiral Paris," Janeway spoke up.  "Can you have all Starfleet ships scanning for unusual energy signatures or non-standard emissions of any kind?  Seven may try to send a message."

 "I'll send the order personally, Captain Janeway," Admiral Paris said.

 The EMH signaled for everyone's attention.  "There's something else.  Without a regeneration alcove, we only have about two weeks to find her, maybe less."

 "Why?" that was the first thing Admiral Buthed uttered after his Borg comment had drawn Picard's wrath.

 "If Seven is unable to regenerate for longer than ten to fourteen days," the EMH explained, his voice subdued, "her cortical node will begin to fail.  Within a month the damage will be irreversible."

 B'Elanna exchanged a glance with Tom.  "Wouldn't Seven be able to construct an alcove for herself?" she asked.

 "Of course," the Doctor answered.

 Tom picked up her theory.  "Send the parameters for power usage of an alcove in your message, Dad.  You can pull the logs from Voyager's computer database on her alcove there; have the ships investigate every power signature that matches a regeneration alcove."

 "The components!" Harry exclaimed.  "We can check to see if anyone makes purchases of the components necessary for a regeneration alcove; some of the parts aren't exactly standard equipment."

 "All right," Admiral Paris nodded.  "There's a lot to be done, let's get to work."

 As everyone began filing out of the room, Picard paused to converse with Janeway.  "It's a pleasure to see you again, Kathryn.  How have you been settling into life back here in the Alpha Quadrant?"

 "Jean-Luc," Janeway greeted him.  "Things have been blissfully uneventful, until now," she added wryly.

 "Well, I hope we'll have time for a drink," Picard suggested.  "According to Commander Chakotay, you do a mean impersonation of me."

................................................................

 She was no longer aboard a ship, of that she was certain.  Seven felt herself materialize and, although she was blindfolded, she was able to determine that she was on a planet--perhaps a large space station, she amended quickly.   It was quite extraordinary that, after spending virtually her entire life in space, the difference between a ship and a planet or other massive object was easily discernible.  She had discovered this aspect of her sensory system during those first months on Earth.  It had been most unsettling after the first week and she had finally accepted a position at the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards in orbit around Mars with the request that she be able to reside at the Fleet Yards.  Her quarters there were nice in comparison to the serviceable cargo bay aboard Voyager.  Over all, life back in the Alpha Quadrant was surprisingly satisfactory; she often spent weekends with her aunt in Texas and there were many social outings with various members of Voyager's crew who had remained in the Sol sector.  Of course working with Harry, Tom and B'Elanna at the Fleet Yards had made her transition much easier.  Many other individuals looked at her with obvious distaste, but those whom she had known on Voyager treated her identically to their previous interactions in the Delta Quadrant.

 A hand roughly gripped her arm, startling her.  Stumbling slightly as the unseen individual dragged her forward, she awkwardly regained her balance in spite of the pace that the individual set and the difficulty in balancing with her arms bound tightly behind her back.  From the sounds around her, they left a large, open room and traveled along several  corridors; there was a left turn immediately outside of the room followed by another left, two rights, a left and another right.  They occasionally passed by other individuals; by the time they arrived at their destination she had counted thirty-four individuals including her silent escort.  A door slid open in front of her and she was shoved inside.  When hands began fumbling with her blindfold, pulling her hair painfully in their clumsy attempt to remove the cloth, she spoke up.  "Unbind my hands and I will remove the blindfold myself."

 An uncomfortable surge of blood flowed into her fingers, momentarily cramping her arms and hands.  When the sensation passed, she efficiently removed the blindfold, blinking her eyes against the first glimpse of light she had seen since she had been kidnapped.  While she was not able to accurately determine time, more than four days had elapsed in her estimation.

 "Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, the prodigious prodigal daughter."

 The male voice was nearby, although her vision had not cleared sufficiently to allow her a clear view of the occupants of the room.  His tone was menacing and she had to force herself to remain calm.  "State your identity."

 "Don't you mean my designation?" he asked.

 The man was humanoid, his features were beginning to focus.  "Humans traditionally have names, not designations.  My question was accurate," she pointed out.

 He was approximately middle-aged, very near Commander Chakotay's age, she surmised.  His build could be described as bulky and his height was  not exceedingly tall, less than two meters, and he had bright red hair.  Curiously, he laughed at her observation.

 "I fail to see the humor in my previous statement," her voice held a hint of fear.  Starfleet had been extra cautious with her security upon their return from the Delta Quadrant out of concern for what some individuals might do to a former Borg drone.  When no threat appeared during the first year back, security precautions were subsequently relaxed; that was a decision she now regretted.

 "Pure Borg, through and through," the man chuckled.  "I am Bal Win, Professor Bal Win of the  University of Betazed and, please, relax.  We mean you no harm.  In fact, we want to help you and become more like you in the process."

 "Explain," Seven demanded.

 Win gestured toward a chair and when Seven ignored his invitation and remained standing, he shrugged and began pacing the room.  "We want you to assimilate us so that we may know the same perfection that you represent."

 That was not what she'd been expecting to hear.  "Your plan is flawed," she pointed out.  "I have seen perfection and it was not the Borg."  Her brief glimpse of the Omega particle was more vivid to her than the recollection of the Borg's experience with an Omega particle.  She had seen it with her own eyes, an individual and personal witness to absolute perfection.  That experience would not have been possible, nor as meaningful, if it had occurred while she was a member of the Collective.  She had learned then that absolute perfection could not, and therefore did not, exist in the universe.

 "Oh, but you're wrong, my dear," Win said.  "The Borg are perfection; everybody is equal, everybody does their fair share and serves equal purpose.  They are the ideal utopian society."

 Momentarily confused, she recalled that he was from the University of Betazed, which would indicate that he was most likely Betazoid.  "The Borg are a mindless, totalitarian society not unlike the Hymenoptera Formicidae or Apidae."  She was unprepared for the blow that sent her sprawling across the floor.

 "Borg are not animals!" Win screamed, standing over her.

 Seven slowly stood and gingerly probed her left cheek to ascertain the damage.  While she would likely experience a contusion in the area, there did not seem to be any significant damage.  "That is a matter of perception."

 Win visibly restrained his emotions.  "You will feel differently when we have returned you to your former perfection."

 "I do not wish to return to the Borg."  She was more prepared this time even though the second blow also knocked her to the floor.  "If you are going to continue striking me, perhaps it would be more efficacious for me to remain on the floor."

 Holding out his hand, Win helped her back to her feet.  "I do not wish to strike you at all.  I want you to assimilate me, all of us; let us join you. "

 "I will not comply," Seven replied firmly.  She tensed but no physical assault was forthcoming.

 Win ripped the material of her sleeve, baring her arm.  He began probing the implants there.  "You will comply, you have no choice in the matter.  Your body is perfection even if your mind no longer is."

 "That is not advisable," she cautioned.  "Without access to the appropriate technology, any attempt to assimilate you with my nanoprobes would result in your death.  If you insist, however, I would be happy to oblige you."

 The man who had escorted her from where she'd been transported into the facility stepped forward; she had forgotten that he was still in the room.  "She's lying, Bal."

 "No," Win gestured toward his own head.  "She is telling the truth.  No matter, she can still help us with Plan A--calling the Borg."  He turned to Seven.  "You will construct an interplexing beacon for us.  Yes," he overrode her before she could voice her objection.  "You will comply or you will die."

 It took some concentration, but Seven rerouted her cognitive processing through her cortical node via Borg subsystems still functioning in her body.  This method of cognition would give her a headache quickly, but it would prevent the telepath from eavesdropping on her thoughts.  She needed time to think, to evaluate her situation and determine a viable means of extricating herself from the situation.  "I will consider it, but first I need to construct a regeneration alcove."

 "Why?" Win looked at her suspiciously.

 "I am Borg," Seven announced as if it explained everything.  After a slight pause, allowing him to see her memories of experiences with cortical node failures, she continued.  "If I am unable to regenerate for longer than a week, my cortical node will begin to fail.  My last regeneration cycle was interrupted, therefore it has been nearly a week already since my last complete regeneration cycle."  It was only a slight prevarication as she could actually forego regenerating for approximately two weeks before experiencing difficulty, but constructing an alcove would give her the opportunity to get access to their computers and other technology.  Prevarication appeared to be necessary given her current predicament.

 Win nodded.  "Stu here will acquire anything you need for your alcove."

..........................................

 Beverly shrugged off the lab coat she wore as she entered her quarters after her duty shift.  Chakotay was there; his transfer to the Enterprise had been approved so quickly that she was certain Jean-Luc had pulled some strings.  Rather than moving into his own quarters, Chakotay had moved in with her.  Not that it mattered, his mind had been everywhere except her since that woman disappeared.  As was becoming typical over the past week, he was in front of the computer console completely absorbed in his work.  She knew Seven of Nine was the same woman that he'd been involved with back on Voyager even though he'd neglected to mention that little tidbit to her.  Of course, he'd barely said more than 'good morning' and 'good night' to her in almost a week.  She'd pulled up Seven's file in Sickbay earlier in the day to see what, or rather who, she was competing with for his attention.

 "Hi," she said after hanging up her coat.  "What are you working on?"

 Chakotay acknowledged her greeting with a vague nod.  "Seven's personal logs for the past year.  If anyone from this sect approached her for an interview or to try to recruit her, that would at least give us a contact person--a starting point for a search."

 Getting a glass of wine from the replicator, she started to ask Chakotay if he wanted anything but realized that he'd already turned his attention back to the log entries.  She took a long drink before speaking up.  "You know, I'd understand if you wanted to move into private quarters.  We entered into this living arrangement pretty fast."

 It was her broken tone of voice that got his attention, then her words.  "Why would I want to do that?  You're not having second thoughts about marrying me, are you?"

 He was acting completely innocent.  "Me?" she exclaimed.  "No, but what about you?"

 "What about me?"

 A week of frustration capped off by seeing that picture spilled out.  "You've spent more time with *her* over the past week than you have me; you barely even notice that I'm here.  Yet for all of your attention to her, you never seemed to get around to mentioning that you were romantically involved with her."

 Chakotay stood, stretching to work out muscle kinks in his back from long hours at the console.  "That was a long time ago, another lifetime.  It--"

 "Meant nothing?"  Beverly advanced on him, she hadn't meant to yell at him, her intent had been to have a calm, rational discussion with him.  She never had been able to remain calm and rational around him.  "I know you better than that, Chakotay.  You don't let someone get that close to you unless they mean a great deal to you."

 "Lasted two months," he finished his sentence calmly.  "The first week and a half or two weeks were in the Delta Quadrant.  Within six weeks of our return, we ended the relationship amicably."

 "That's seven weeks longer than you and I had before," she noted sullenly.  She'd wanted him to talk to her, but now that he was talking she didn't feel any better.

 Chakotay walked around the table, he reached toward her but she moved away.  "What is this about, Fireball?"

 Accessing Seven's file, she enlarged the file image of the former Borg.  "Since you've been so engrossed in her disappearance that you barely notice me, I pulled up her file to see for myself."  She spun the viewscreen to face Chakotay.  "Look at her!  She's half my age and twice my bust size; the very epitome of perfection."

 "Perfection is in the eye of the beholder," he murmured softly.

 "Don't even try to tell me that you don't find Miss Blonde Bombshell attractive," Beverly spun away from him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.  "Ever since you got word that she was missing, she's practically all you've thought about."

 He tried to pull her into his embrace, but again she resisted.  "I'm sorry, honey," he cajoled to no avail.  This time he grabbed her arm and refused to let her go.  She flailed wildly at him, sobbing and screaming at him to just leave, but he held her firmly, trapping her against his chest until she stopped struggling.  Her shoulders shook with weeping.  Perching on the edge of the desk, he waited patiently until she cried herself out.

 God, would she never stop embarrassing herself in front of this man.  This entire maudlin display was absolutely ridiculous.  Then again, she thought as she ran her hands along his broad, muscular chest, she was in his arms; not at all an unpleasant place to be.  He was stroking her hair, not really trying to make her stop crying, just comforting her.

 "You need to understand," he began when her tears had mostly subsided.  "We were a lifetime away from home; as far as we knew, we would spend the rest of our lifetime and then some trying to get back if we ever got back at all.  There was no back-up, nobody but each other to rely on as we fought and explored our way through uncharted space seventy-five thousand light years from home.  Everybody relied on me, the crew as well as Captain Janeway depended on me to provide a sense of stability.  Kathryn and I were parents to a ship's complement of more than a hundred people who looked to us for structure, guidance and hope while trying to provide for their needs and safety and meeting new races-- not all of them friendly."

 Beverly relaxed against him, just listening.  He'd never really spoken much about how his time aboard Voyager had affected him.  This intimacy meant more than she could say.

 "For some reason, Seven developed a crush on me.  I knew she was the emotional equivalent of a teenager, it was just that after seven years of being Commander Chakotay, it was nice to be treated like a man again."  He gently lifted her chin, to gaze directly into her beautiful, blue eyes.  "Yes, she is a beautiful, young woman, one whose immaturity I could never bring myself to take advantage of.  Yes, I have been preoccupied with Seven's disappearance, but not because of our prior history.  The Voyager crew became a pretty close family and I still feel somewhat responsible for them."

 Something he said stuck in her head.  "You never . . . with her?"

 Chakotay smiled tenderly.  "I'm not saying I've been a monk since the Academy, Fireball.  With Seven, there were innocent dates, a few kisses and nothing more."  His hands dropped down to cup her hips and rock her against the evidence of his desire for her.  "You, on the other hand, have always been the most beautiful, perfect woman I have ever known past, present and future.  I want to behold you and be held by you every night for the rest of my life."

 Winding her arms around his neck, her lips sought his, her tongue delving into the moist cavern of his mouth for a deep, passionate kiss.  It felt so good to have his arms around her, holding her tightly.  Their bodies pressed together, crushing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest.  She writhed against him, the tingling in her nipples sparking into a familiar ache.  Leaving his mouth, she kissed her way down his throat, flicking the bobbing Adam's apple with her tongue as she passed.  When she reached the top of his uniform, her hands quickly stripped off the layers of cloth to bare his chest to her mouth.  His smooth, coppery skin was hot under her lips, the salty taste of her tears mingling with his own masculine essence.  A hardened nipple grazed her tongue, his large hands entangling in her hair to guide her mouth back to the dark nub.  He was arching into her kisses, coaxing her to take the nipple into her mouth.  All she wanted him to think about at that moment was what she was doing to him.  She tormented the nipple, alternately tugging sharply on it, lashing it with her tongue and suckling strongly.

 Spirits, she was so hot.  Fire was streaking through his body and creating a throbbing ache straining at the fabric of his pants.  Her silky red hair streamed through his fingers, the delicate scent of her floral perfume wafting through the air.  Small hands stroked and caressed every inch of his torso as her mouth licked its way across to titillate the other nipple as she had the first.  Then she dropped to her knees, her lips brushing lower, reacquainting themselves with his ribs and then lower still to torment the  indentation of his navel.  When she began fumbling with the snap of his trousers, he shifted to kick off his boots so she could remove them, discarding the pants in the pile with the rest of his clothes.  He moaned, frustrated when she began licking and kissing her way up from one knee, along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.  His only warning was a flicker of a smile on her face before she took a mouthful of skin and sucked hard, marking the tan skin.  He couldn't seem to breathe, the heat of her mouth so close to his  straining length.  He expected her to do the same thing to the other thigh, so he was completely unprepared for her to envelop him completely and begin sucking him.  His body shuddered violently and he pulled her away before this interlude ended too quickly.  Sweeping her into his arms, he claimed her lips in a deep, searching kiss as he carried her over to the bed.

 Everything spun around her and then Chakotay's lips were on hers, his tongue stroking and caressing the recesses of her mouth.  His arms held her securely, his muscled body carrying her effortlessly to lay her on the bed.  He stood there, unconcerned with his nakedness and magnificent in his aroused condition.  The copper skin was covered with a sheen of sweat, the full illumination of the room providing a perfect view of every luscious inch of him.  She reached out, wanting to continue tasting him, but he avoided her grasp.  Straddling her, his fingers trailed along her collarbone, teasing her with his touch.  She wanted to feel his hands on her skin so she reached for the fastening of her uniform, but he caught her hands and trapped them over her head with one of his own larger hands.  His knuckles grazed her breast as he opened the snaps of her uniform jacket sending a taunting ghost of sensation through her.  Her body was squirming under him, needing to feel him more fully.  Cold air against the skin of her stomach drew a gasp from her lips when he finished opening the jacket and tugged her shirt out of her uniform pants.  Without releasing her hands he inched his way down, sharp streaks racing through her when his tongue probed  her belly button.  She was confused when the sensation stopped abruptly and she looked down at him.  The mischievous twitch of his eyebrow followed by a flash of dimple gave her all the clues she needed to tell her what he was going to do.  She arched her back, pushing herself toward his mouth and squealing with pleasure as his mouth latched onto the taut skin of her stomach and marked the creamy white skin just as she had him.

 He smiled into her skin, her breathless moans increasing sharply with his action.  His body was throbbing painfully, demanding that he finish this torture quickly.  He made quick work of her uniform, tossing the pieces to the floor as he removed them.  Her breasts tempted him and he yielded to them, pausing to lick the full mounds before gripping a hard nipple in his teeth and flicking at it with his tongue.  His fingers glided down, finding and manipulating the swollen bud of her arousal.  She was clutching the comforter, twisting mindlessly and whimpering wordless pleas.  He suckled her breast, occasionally tugging on the stiffened tip with his teeth, listening to her pleasure-tinged cries.  Tethering her just short of the pinnacle, he raised his head to watch her.  Her hair was strewn over the pillows, whipping around with the frantic movements of her head.  She was passionately wild and unrestrained in her responses.  Those full, red lips were open, gasping and showing brief glimpses of that talented, pink tongue.  Her hips ground themselves into the pressure of his hand, wordlessly begging him for more.  He increased the pressure of his fingers, dipping them into the dripping wet depths of her body before returning once again to rub and torment her intimately.  His name echoed around the room, ripped from her throat by an orgasm that shook her entire body.

 Beverly hadn't even caught her breath from her release when she felt Chakotay's knee pressing her legs wider apart.  In a heartbeat, his weight pressed her into the mattress as he drove himself completely into her.  His body pounded into her and she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, wanting every piece of him that he was willing to give her.  She shifted her legs up higher around him, groaning with pleasure at the sensations that coursed through her when he began stroking even deeper into her body.  The urgency was more intense this time, her body gripping his rock-hard length with every stroke and pushing herself into his hips for more.  Every muscle in her body tightened, arousal spiraling out of control until it snapped, spasms of satiated pleasure coursing through her.  She was still quivering with her release when Chakotay came, holding himself inside her with one, last, deep thrust and grunting his own satisfaction.

 He felt utterly drained yet blissfully complete.  Rolling onto the bed beside her, he listened to their intermingled breathing as it slowed.  His fingers danced through the beads of sweat on her skin, caressing the mark he had left on her stomach.  "Spirits, you are so incredibly hot, Fireball.  I will never get enough of you."

 "And you still have the tastiest thighs--" she broke off laughing when the fingers that had been lightly gliding along suddenly found ticklish spots to torment.  There were still a few things that she needed to discuss and now seemed as good a time as any.  "Chakotay, what about children?  At my age, I can't give you a child."

 "Neither could Seven."

 Beverly rolled to her side, her hand resting on his chest.  "Why not?"

 Chakotay covered her small hand with his.  "She was assimilated as a young child.  Her body was developed in a maturation chamber so non-essential organs were ignored.  Her reproductive organs were never developed since the Borg don't reproduce themselves like that.  The lack of hormones and blood flow to the organs during critical stages of physical development resulted in--"

 "Organ atrophy," she whispered.

 "Even in the beginning of our relationship," he continued.  "I assumed that she wouldn't be able to have children because of the Borg implants and nanoprobes still in her body.  It didn't make any difference to me then with her and it doesn't make any difference to me now with you.  A part of me wishes that I'd had a family, Fireball, but finding you again was a blessing that I wouldn't turn my back on for anything.  I love you, I have and will always love you."

 Beverly found herself flat on her back with Chakotay's body covering hers.

 "No matter what obstacles you throw between us, I am not walking away from you this time," he warned her softly.  "Unless you can honestly tell me that you don't love me, then I am staying exactly where I am.  I've talked to Captain Picard, as soon as this is over, he's agreed to marry us--unless you've changed your mind and don't want me anymore."

 Safe in the warm haven of his arms, she shook her head.  "No, never; I love you and I can't wait to marry you.  Although," she pointed out, looking down the length of their bodies, "if you stay exactly where you are right now, it's going to be a little difficult for either of us to take care of our duties."

............................................

 The display screen in front of Data flashed by at high speed.  Along with Harry Kim, he was cross-referencing sensor logs from more than three dozen ships, planets, outposts and space stations in an effort to track transponder codes for all traffic that had passed near Utopia Planitia during the specified time parameters.  Without slowing the display rate, "Harry, may I ask a question?"

 "Sure, shoot," he muttered, crossing another ship off his list as sensor information ruled it out as a possibility.

 "What is your opinion of Seven of Nine?" Data asked.

 "What do you mean?"

 Data searched for the appropriate phrase.  "How would you describe her?"

 Harry paused in his work and looked over at the android.  "Wow, that's a tough one.  How to describe Seven?  She's different--not bad different, just different.  Beautiful, not that she really notices that kind of stuff about herself.  Smart, sometimes in a scary kind of way; it's like she's got a computer bank in her head."  He laughed, remembering Seven's early days aboard Voyager.  "At first she had all of the personality of a computer program, but she grew, developed more individuality the longer she was away from the Collective.  She still tends to view things in black and white--I mean, concrete instead of abstract, not the actual colors.  She has normal color vision," he stammered.

 "I am aware of the colloquialism, Harry," Data assured him.  "You admire her."

 Harry flushed slightly.  "I like her, at one time I thought I loved her."

 "You no longer have feelings for her?"

 "No--I mean yes, I mean . . . " Harry tried to collect his thoughts.  "I guess I don't know how I feel about her other than as a long-time colleague and friend.  After more than five years, she's never given any indication of having feelings for me.  Unrequited . . . affection is hard to maintain, especially after seeing her demonstrate affection for others."

 Data halted his display.  "She is romantically involved?"

 "Not that I know of now," Harry replied.  "On Voyager she was involved with Chakotay and before that, as a Borg, she had some sort of relationship with another drone in Unimatrix Zero.  Since we've been back, there was a Vulcan doctor from the debriefing teams who she dated for a while.  That ended when he chose to return to Vulcan and she preferred to stay here."

 "I see," Data reactivated his display.

 Eyeing the android contemplatively, Harry asked.  "Why the interest, if you don't mind my asking?"

 "I am intrigued by her.  She is similar to my own nature yet also human.  I had wished to meet her; however, she was not in attendance at many of the festivities following Voyager's return."

 "Seven's not much for social occasions," Harry admitted.  "Maybe when we find her, you'll have a chance to talk to her."

 Data nodded an acknowledgement, checking the newest transmissions.  "I have been unable to contact the Biko, but the Saurian government and the settlement on Ophiucus III have confirmed receipt of the supplies that the Biko was delivering in that region.  Sensor logs from the Tellaran ambassador's personal ship confirm their arrival at their homeworld, which also significantly reduces the possibility that they are connected to Seven's disappearance."

 Harry double-checked the data flashing across his screen.  "The Zhukov just transmitted their logs which clears the Ferengi ship; it passed by them heading for the Sigma Erandi system and no humans onboard."

 "I have accounted for the ships on my list," Data said.  "Do you wish assistance with anything?"

 Harry cleared another ship from his list.  "Have we received a passenger manifest from the Ajax?"

 "They should not have been carrying passengers since their assignment was a patrol in Bajoran space near the Cardassian border."

 "Well then I'm down to one ship not accounted for," Harry said.  "A private transport ship departed from Tycho City four hours after Seven disappeared.  It was supposed to be heading for Izar Colony; a couple of professors traveling to the Meteorology Institute.  The problem is, Starbase 514 doesn't show them passing through the sector and Izar wasn't expecting them."

.............................................

 Harry and Tom entered the briefing room onboard the Enterprise and looked around.  Harry immediately recognized Lt. Commanders Lar and Data from his work with them up to this point.  He nudged Tom and pointed to where Chakotay was talking with a couple of women on the other side of the room.  They exchanged grins and winks over the sight of their former first officer engaged in conversation with two very beautiful women.  "You're married, buddy," Harry reminded his friend as they walked over to where the threesome were standing.
 
 "Impressive digs, Chakotay," Tom commented.

 "It's a nice place to call home," Chakotay replied.  "Hey Tom, Harry, this is ship's counselor, Deanna Troi and Chief Medical Officer Beverly Crusher.  Ladies, these are two of my Voyager crewmates, Tom Paris and Lt. Commander Harry Kim."

 They exchanged pleasantries with Beverly, Deanna and Chakotay providing information on the others in the room for Tom and Harry.  While Harry already knew Data and Geoffrey, he had not met the ship's Chief Engineer, Geordi Laforge nor the First Officer, William Riker.  Since this was Tom's first time on board the Enterprise, he didn't know any of the command staff.  Dr. Crusher recognized the Emergency Medical Hologram but didn't immediately recall that Voyager's EMH was advanced beyond the standard Mark I.

 "So where's B'Elanna?" Chakotay asked.

 "Miral," Tom said.  "She's teething and if you think cutting human molars is bad, you ought to try Klingon molars.  B'Elanna doesn't think anyone else can take care of her little girl as well as she can when her baby doesn't feel well," he pulled out a holoimage of his family and proudly displayed it for the group.

 The conversations in the room came to a sudden halt when the door slid open to admit Captain Picard and Captain Janeway.  Everyone quickly found their seats around the conference table.

 "Mr. Paris," Picard noted the young man's presence at the table.  "I want to thank you for the opportunity to take the Delta Flyer out for a test drive at the Daystrom Institute's symposium."

 Tom grinned and shot meaningful glances at both Janeway and Chakotay.  "It was nice to loan her out to someone who returned her in better condition than they took her out in."

 Janeway cast a disparaging look of her own back at Tom.  "Well, let's see where we are.  Mr. Kim, report."

 "Yes, ma'am," Harry acknowledged.  "Operating on the assumption that they are beyond transporter range of either Mars or Utopia Planitia, Commander Data and I have tracked down every ship that was in the vicinity around the time of Seven's disappearance with one exception."

 Data displayed the relevant information.  "A private transport departed from Tycho City four hours and eight minutes after Seven of Nine's alcove indicated an interruption of the regeneration process.  The destination of the transport was listed as the Izar Meteorology Institute; however, they did not reach Epsilon Bootis.  The transport did not pass within sensor range of Vega Colony and neither the Tellaran ambassador's vessel nor any Starfleet vessels in Sector 001 encountered the vessel.  Additionally, Tau Ceti Prime did not pick up that transponder code on their sensor systems.  Unfortunately, there were no vessels in quadrants of Sectors 006 or 008 along the remaining vectors during the appropriate time index."

 Harry jumped back in.  "It could have landed somewhere just beyond the Sol system or rendezvoused with a larger ship just beyond sensor range.  The best guess right now is that they headed into the Beta Quadrant.  That's where we recommend concentrating the search."

 "Ships along the Neutral Zone have been alerted to stop and search all Federation vessels traveling through the region to prevent them from getting into Romulan space," Chakotay said.

 "Starfleet Intelligence is working on identifying Eh-Cu'oral members based on publications and communication with previously identified members," Riker supplied.  "Hopefully, that will narrow down this haystack we're searching."

 Lar added his report to the discussion.  "A review of security at Utopia Planitia showed no obvious breaches.  All personnel with clearance to the Fleet Yards have been interviewed and subjected to extensive background searches.  While two civilian scientists showed possible links to the Eh-Cu'oral and are being detained pending further investigation, no indication of an inside accomplice is evident."

 "Anyone who's worked at the Fleet Yards would know their way around," Picard noted.  "Seven's quarters weren't in a restricted area so anyone would have been able to enter without authorization."

 "We have every ship and starbase in the vicinity continuously scanning all frequencies for unusual transmissions in case Seven gets the opportunity to send a distress signal," Janeway said.

 Deanna had a question.  "Shouldn't they also be scanning for an interplexing beacon signature?"

 "Seven would never build a functioning transmitter," the EMH snapped.  Modulating his voice, he continued.  "She's far more likely to simply refuse to cooperate at all."

 Chakotay broke in.  "We're all agreed that Seven's in this by force and we know that she's not going to comply with their demands.  She might use the pretext of constructing an interplexing beacon as an opportunity to get a message out, however.  Seven would know better than anyone what interplexing frequencies would and would not attract the attention of the Borg."

 "We'll be joining the search in Sector 008 tomorrow," Picard said.  "The Enterprise will leave orbit at 1500 hours in order to allow Commander Lar to complete his investigation at Utopia Planitia and file his report."

...........................................

 Seven activated the power supply for the alcove and initiated a diagnostic.  It was a crude alcove, not as advanced as her own, but it would suffice.

 "What's that?" Stu asked, pointing to an intermittent energy signature on the display.

 Calmly, her thought processes routed through her Borg subsystems, she replied.  "Those are standard power cycling emissions.  They are within acceptable parameters."

 "So now you can start on the beacon," he said, reaching for his communicator.

 Seven stepped into the alcove and faced outward.  "Now I can regenerate.  The cycle will awaken me when it is complete.  Do not disturb me in the interim."

..........................................

 Vash finished clearing the dinner dishes from the table.  She looked over to where Jean-Luc was at his desk, completely focused on the PADD that he was reading.  She knew enough about the current situation to know that very deep, old wounds were being harshly chafed; something that was obvious from the endless hours of pouring over reports and the continual tension in his shoulders.  He didn't even notice as she removed his uniform jacket from the back of his chair to hang it up in their bedroom closet.  After changing for bed, she went back out into the living room.  On her next pass by his desk, she picked up the half-empty teacup from among the myriad PADDs scattered on his desk.  Cold, just as she suspected.  "Tea, Earl Grey, hot," she ordered the replacement and took it over to him.

 "Thank you, petite amie," Picard murmured not even looking up as she set the cup down on his desk.  Absently, he reached up rub a muscle spasm at the base of his neck.  From behind his chair, small hands replaced his to begin massaging his neck and shoulders.  He briefly closed his eyes as his wife's talented hands skillfully worked the muscles.

 Even through the fabric of his uniform tunic, she could feel the muscles of his neck and shoulders were taut.  Using the heel of her hand, she applied pressure to a large knot directly between his shoulder blades.  She heard his soft groan as the knot dissipated. "Want to talk about it?"

 "A lot of this is classified," he started to explain when she leaned over his shoulder, suddenly snatching the PADD out of his hand and tossing it to the desk.

 "I'm not concerned about the details of the mission."  She stepped around to stand in front of him, between the desk and him.  She gently stroked her fingers through the grey hair at his temple.  Her voice was as soft as her caress.  "I'm concerned about you."

 "I'm fine, chere," he assured her.  The feel of her fingers through his hair and the sight of her standing in front of him stirred his senses.  She was wearing the amethyst-colored negligee she had purchased for their shore leave on Castalia. The rich, jewel-toned satin skimmed her curves to fall into sweeping folds around her legs.  The plunging scoop neckline provided an enticing décolletage with only thin spaghetti straps to prevent the rest from escaping.  "You look lovely."

 "You're not fine and don't change the subject.  Your back has more knots than the rigging on a clipper ship.  You're preoccupied and working very long hours.  You barely touch your meals and you're not sleeping well.  Ship scuttlebutt has it that the captain sent his chair flying across the conference room during the briefing on Utopia Planitia with Admiral Buthed and Admiral Paris."

 Picard groaned inwardly.  Crossing his arms across his chest, he told her, "I stood up too quickly while making a point and simply knocked my chair over."

 "Right."  Her tone indicated she wasn't buying that explanation for a second.

 "Buthed is a complete imbecile," he huffed.  He wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose.  "Thank God Owen Paris was there."

 She perched herself on the edge of his desk gazing at him expectantly.  "So, talk to me, mon capitaine."

 "Any situation becomes more ominous when the prospect of Borg involvement is raised."  He sat back in his chair.

 "We're not dealing with an actual Borg cube though."

 "No," Picard answered placing a protective hand on her knee.  It had been a statement but he saw the spark of fear in those beautiful blue eyes.  "An actual Borg cube is one thing I hope to never again encounter."

 "I thought the Borg transwarp hub Voyager used to return to the Alpha Quadrant was destroyed."  Vash remarked pushing a stray lock of hair back from her face.

 "That hub of transwarp conduits was destroyed.  However, it was only one hub out of six throughout the galaxy," he sighed.  "At least Admiral Paris was able to convince Command to allow Kathryn and me to handle this investigation."

 "Why wouldn't they?  No one has more direct experience with the Borg than you or Kathryn.  After all, you were the one who took command of the fleet and destroyed the last Borg cube to threaten Earth."

 "I wasn't even supposed to be there," Picard muttered shaking his head.  Seeing his wife's confused expression, he explained, "I had been given direct orders to take the Enterprise to patrol the Romulan Neutral Zone.  Command wanted to keep me out of the battle; they were concerned about how I would react given my history with the Borg.  When it became obvious that things weren't going well, I defied a direct order . . ."

 "And flew the Enterprise into the battle taking over command of the fleet," she finished for him.  She let out a low whistle.  "That took some serious cojones, Johnny.  The bottom line is you defeated the Borg.  Twice."

 "And both times it almost cost me my very soul," he conceded solemnly.  Reaching out, he tenderly cupped her chin in his hand.  "And I have so much more to lose now."

 "Is that what the nightmares have been about?" she inquired softly.  Wordlessly, he nodded and she offered, "want to tell me?"

 "No," his firm answer brooked no argument.  He picked up the PADD she had taken from him moments ago.

 "Jean-Luc, you've read that report three times since coming home.  Reading it again will not change the content in it nor will it help you find that woman any faster," she admonished gently.

 He keyed a few commands on the PADD.  A picture of a beautiful, blue-eyed, little girl with long blond hair filled the screen.  He handed the PADD to Vash.  "Annika Hansen, daughter of Erin and Magnus Hansen, currently known as Seven of Nine.  That is the last known picture taken of her before her parents' ship crashed and they were captured and assimilated by the Borg Collective.  Annika was approximately six years of age at the time.  She may have been a few years older, Starfleet Intelligence can't seem to make up their minds about just exactly how old she was."

 "Very pretty little girl," Vash brushed her fingertips over the picture before setting the PADD back on the desk.

 Picard stood up and walked over to look out the window at the vastness of space.  "I was a grown man, a seasoned Starfleet officer with decades of commanding a starship behind me and I almost didn't survive the horror of assimilation.  She was just a child."

 Vash moved to stand behind him.  "You and Kathryn will find her and you'll stop these people; but not by exhausting yourself."

 He turned around to face her cupping her cheek with his palm as his other hand stroked her hair.  "Je t' aime."

 "Je t' aime," she echoed, her eyes drifting shut as Jean-Luc lowered his face to hers.  Her lips opened pliantly under his as his mouth found hers for a long, slow, passionate kiss.  When the kiss was finally broken, they were both breathing unevenly.  Clasping both of his hands in hers, she led him toward their bedroom.  "Come with me, Captain."

 "Without a doubt that is the best suggestion I've heard all day," he quipped allowing her to guide him into the bedroom.

 Vash stopped at the foot of the bed.  Releasing her hold on Jean-Luc's hands, she unfastened his uniform tunic.  She reached up, pushing it off the masculine slope of his shoulders and stripping it from him.  She slid her hands down the tapering lines of his body to the waistband of his trousers and tugged at his T-shirt, pulling it free of his waistband.  Her hands skimmed over the sculpted muscles of his chest as she pushed the thin cloth out of her way until Jean-Luc finally pulled it off over his head.  She took a step back and directed, "lay down on the bed."

 Picard�s eyes hungrily raked over the enticing curves of Vash�s body.  His voice was deep and seductive, "you first, madame."

 She openly admired the sight of his lean, hard body stripped to the waist.  "Admittedly, there is nothing I find more thrillingly primal than my body writhing beneath your virile, muscular physique.  However, mon capitaine, that position makes it difficult for me to give you a back massage."

 "Back massage," he muttered in feigned defeat.

 "Back massage," she reiterated gesturing to the bed, watching while he pulled off his boots and laid face down in the middle of their bed.  Gathering the satiny folds of her negligee, she crawled up his body and straddled his upper thighs.  Splaying her small hands across the small of his back, her thumbs followed the strong curve of his spine all the way up to his shoulders and down again.  Her hands traveled over the firm planes of his back searching for knots.  She kneaded the sore tense muscles, listening to intermittent groans escape him with each knot she worked out.  One particularly nasty knot at the middle of his back caught her attention.  Placing the heels of her hands on the knotted muscle, she raised up on her knees using her body weight to manipulate the muscle.

 "Merde," Picard grunted as the knot dissipated under the pressure she was applying.

 Vash moved her hands along his back, working the stress and strain out of him as she went.  Gradually, she felt him relax under her ministrations.  She allowed her hands to glide down the masculine slope of his shoulders to linger on the bulging biceps of his upper arms, tantalized by the play of the strong muscles beneath her fingertips.  She draped herself over his back, her body savoring the feel of Jean-Luc's hard, powerful form through the thin fabric of her negligee.  She drank in his clean, masculine scent while nuzzling his neck.  "Now, I'll bet that feels better."

 "Yes, it does indeed," he admitted.  In a charmingly wry tone, he added, "am I limited to only a back massage or are there other possibilities?"

 "When have I ever denied your desires, O'Great Lord of the Bridge," she teased in a seductive purr.  She let out a squeal of surprise when Jean-Luc swiftly switched their positions, putting her on her back and covering her body with his own.  He captured both of her small wrists in his large hands, pinning them on either side of her shoulders with the hard length of his body pressing her down into the bedding.  Her eyes locked with his in the seductive battle of wills that had been going on since the day they met.  His strength was overpowering; making any escape impossible and sending a highly charged, erotic thrill coursing over her.  Every breath she took forced her breasts up against the wall of his chest; her hardened nipples grazing solid muscle and sending streaks of desire through her.

 "Such insubordination," he teased wolfishly in a deep, resonating whisper.  "Eventually, madame, I will teach you to give me the respect due a ship's captain."

 "You can try," she retorted lasciviously.  Jean-Luc�s mouth descended onto hers, crushing her lips beneath his in a forcefully possessive kiss.  His tongue plunged past her parted lips to claim everything in its path and her tongue responded, challenging and stroking his within the moist warmth of her mouth.  No sooner did he release her hands than Vash encircled his neck with her arms.  Jean-Luc dropped one hand down, gathering up the skirt of her nightgown to slip his hand beneath the hem. Throbbing with need, her entire body felt as if it were made of liquid flames when his hand slid up her thigh, caressing the soft, bare skin of her inner thigh.

 Picard fought to keep a tight rein on his own desires.  The way in which her supple curves moved beneath him as she returned his passion was almost maddening.  Blood roared in his ears, his body painfully hard.  When his hand reached its destination, Picard discovered an unexpected satin obstacle.  He broke the kiss and raised himself up on his forearms gazing down at her expectantly.  Raising an eyebrow in amusement, he prompted in an unsteady voice, "panties?"

 "You've been preoccupied and I didn't want to seem presumptuous" she managed breathless and flushed with arousal.

 "Nothing will ever have me that preoccupied," he rasped, swiftly slipping her panties down the length of her legs and dropping them to the floor.  His fingers combed through her silky, brown tresses and tightened to pull her head back, baring her throat to a fiery trail of kisses.  Using his mouth, he slid the spaghetti straps of her nightgown from her shoulders one at a time.  Giving into an erotic urge, he traced the swell of her breasts with his tongue just before placing an open mouth kiss at the center of her cleavage.  He felt her body twist in his grasp as he nudged the delicate material out of the way to take one rigid peak into his mouth.  His fingers skimmed the feminine curves to invade and stroke the very center of her desire, searching for her body's rhythm until her hips started to move against his hand.  As he nuzzled the skin under her earlobe, he rumbled with satisfaction, "Right there, chere?  Oui, right there."

 "Captain Picard to the bridge," Riker's voice boomed through the room.

 "No, not now," Vash gasped.  "Sonofabitch."

 Taking a deep breath, Picard leaned across Vash to key the comm panel on the nightstand, his tone business-like, "Acknowledged."

 As soon as the channel closed, she sighed, "That is the third case of Riker-interruptus this month.  You would think a man who's engaged to be married to an empath would have a better sense of when he's interrupting something."

 Still leaning across her soft curves, he chuckled softly at the venting comment.  He reached into the top drawer of the nightstand before sitting up.  Laying one of her favorite toys on the pillow beside her, he raised a graceful hand to his mouth for a gallant kiss to the back of her hand.  "You'll just have to finish without me, chere."

..........................................

 The briefing was short since time was of the essence.  Due to a break in the investigation, they would be leaving orbit much sooner than expected--within the hour, in fact.  After all of the pertinent information had been relayed, everyone quickly filed out to attend to their duty stations.  Janeway and Chakotay were the last to leave.

 "Commander, a moment, please," she stopped him short of the door.  She wasn't sure how to phrase her request and when he simply turned around and looked at her expectantly, she had second thoughts about even asking.

 After a moment of silence, Chakotay prompted, "Yes, Captain?"

 "I've been given command of the Voluspa, it's a prototype, deep-space, exploration vessel that Harry's team designed.  Her maiden voyager will be this search-and-rescue operation in conjunction with the Enterprise."

 "Congratulations," he replied.

 Janeway gave a slight nod.  "Thank you."  Not sure why she felt so anxious, she plowed ahead.  "The reason I asked you to wait is that I need a crew; specifically, I could use a good First Officer.  It would be kind of like old times.  Harry and Tom are already on board and so is the Doctor."

 "I'm honored that you would want me as your second-in-command again," Chakotay acknowledged.

 "But..."

 "I'll have to decline," he said.  "I just transferred to the Enterprise as their anthropologist and I'm engaged to be married."

 "Oh."  Unexpectedly, his last words struck her with the virtual force of a physical blow.  Chakotay wasn't hers--she had rejected his advances often enough back on Voyager.  She had never even considered him as anything more than a trusted officer and later a good friend.  When she'd found out about his relationship with Seven, her first reaction had been stunned confusion.  Her Admiral-self had shown her an acceptance, even support for that relationship which indicated that ultimately she'd been happy for them.  Seven had casually mentioned that Chakotay and she had ended their relationship shortly after their return to the Alpha Quadrant during lunch several months ago.  Seven's kidnapping was a serious matter, but part of her felt that it was also an opportunity to recreate a closed chapter of her life.  It shouldn't bother her that 'her' crew had moved on with their lives.

 "You've met her, sort of," Chakotay continued.  "Beverly Crusher, the Chief Medical Officer here on the Enterprise."

 Janeway thought back to some of the briefings that they'd had.  "The red head?"

 He nodded yes.  "We dated briefly back when I was at the Academy and she was a med student.  We reconnected recently."

 "I see," she said, not sure what to say or how she felt about it.  Deciding that she should be happy for him, she gave him a big smile.  "Well, congratulations; when's the big day?"

 "After we've found Seven," he replied noncommittally.  "I had just proposed when I got the call about Seven so we really haven't talked about the details much."

 She started to say 'I see' only to realize that she'd just said that a second ago.  Mentally giving herself a shake, she got back to business.  "I guess I should go find myself a First Officer."

 "What about Harry?" Chakotay suggested.  "Granted, he's only a Lieutenant Commander right now; but he was interested in command back on Voyager and an interim posting would give him some experience.  He did design the ship."

 Janeway thought it over for a few seconds.  "Good thinking, I'll go talk to him now."

 "Goodbye, Kathryn," he said softly.

 The sound of a door slamming shut rang in her ears.  "Goodbye, Chakotay."

...........................................

 "Enterprise to Voluspa," Picard sat in his command chair, tugging at his uniform jacket.

 On the viewscreen, an image of the Voluspa's bridge appeared.  Janeway was standing just behind the helm position and, behind her, Harry was sitting ramrod straight at the First Officer's post.

 "Jean-Luc," Janeway greeted him.  "We're ready to go."

 "Acknowledged," he replied.  "We'll approach Babel from the pre-arranged vectors.  Maintain communications silence until after the target is secure.  Your raiding party knows its objective?"

 "Yes," she said.  "Mr. Kim, my acting First Officer, will be leading the team from the Voluspa."

 "Well, then," Picard's mouth twitched in a very slight grin.  "It seems that we're ready to go.  Just one more thing, Kathryn."

 "Yes?"

 "Try not to get lost in this ship."

............................................

 "Approaching Babel," Data announced from Ops.

 Picard stood and tugged his uniform jacket.  "Enter orbit.  Number One, Commander Lar, prepare your away teams."

 Riker hit his communicator, "Commander Chakotay, Commander LaForge, report to Transporter Room 1," he closed the channel and nodded to Data.  "You're with me."

 "Security team Epsilon, report to Transporter Room 2," Lar announced over the ship's intercom.

 Minutes later, twelve people materialized simultaneously at strategic locations around the Eh-Cu'oral stronghold.  The cell here on Babel had set up an elaborate defensive perimeter.  Multiple layers of defense coupled with sensors and automated energy weaponry made the perimeter almost unassailable.  In addition, there was some sort of scattering field that had the effect of a dampening field.  Sensors couldn't isolate life signs and without a commbadge to lock onto, the ships couldn't transport anyone out.

 "Voluspa 1 to Enterprise 1 and 2," Harry whispered into his commbadge.

 "Go ahead," Riker's voice, also soft, came back through.

 "Acknowledged," Lar replied an instant later.

 "Our scans show that their perimeter is powered by four generators; our beam-in coordinates put us fairly close to three of them.  Phasers on the tightest dispersal setting should be able to penetrate the force field and overload the generators.  The entire defensive net should collapse if all four generators are taken out simultaneously.  Otherwise, some of those automated energy weapons could activate."

 On the other side of the camp, Riker looked at Geordi.  "Where's the fourth generator?"

 Scanning quickly, Geordi pointed.  "Two kilometers that way."

 Riker gestured to Data.  "Go."  Activating his communicator, he contacted the other two teams.  "Give Data three minutes to get into position, then fire."

 Harry checked his readings on the location of the generators.  Damn, Data must be able to move pretty fast to cover that distance in just three minutes.  There was no reason to acknowledge Commander Riker, the less communication the better.  He signaled to his team to move into position near the generator closest to their position where they waited.

............................................

 "Regeneration cycle complete," the computer announced, powering down the alcove.

 Seven opened her eyes, momentarily disoriented in the unfamiliar surroundings.  Standing in front of her was a very agitated Win.  "Professor Win," she stated, stepping out of the alcove.

 "About time," he fumed.  "You've been regenerating--"

 "As long as necessary," she finished succinctly.

 Win examined the alcove components.  "Why is this still on?  What is this reading?"

 Routing her thought processes into her Borg systems, she arched an eyebrow.  "That is a standard oscillation of the power supply emission.  It will not require significant energy from your system and it is necessary for the alcove to remain powered even when I am not regenerating.  It is inefficient to recalibrate the alcove every time I require regeneration."

 "Fine," he dismissed the random emissions.  "Now you've regenerated; get to work on that interplexing beacon.  We've got it started, now we need your expertise."

 She started to refuse, but his reference to having even a partially assembled interplexing transmitter piqued her curiosity.  "Very well, I will examine your work."

..............................................

 Harry's team fanned out as they sprinted across the now-defenseless compound.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement to his right.  "Enterprise 2, there's movement near the transports."

 "Acknowledged," came Lar's reply.  "We're on the edge of the landing area preparing to secure escape route Alpha now."

 An unofficial member of Harry's team, Tom nevertheless was the first one into the primary structure.  A couple of poorly-aimed shots bounced off the wall more than a meter away from where he crouched.  He laid down covering fire with his phaser so that Lieutenant Lang, the Voluspa's Chief of Security, could leapfrog past him further up the corridor.  Looking back, he saw Harry motion at the other security officer and himself then toward a side corridor.  Tom nodded his understanding and relayed the plan to Lang before sprinting toward the next, somewhat sheltered, niche.

 Carefully moving building to building, Riker's team secured the perimeter around the center building.  Most of the action consisted of stunning the fleeing Eh-Cu'oral members who ran from the building firing assorted weapons.  Others simply stopped and surrendered.  Chakotay guarded the captives while Data chased down those who tried to evade them.  Geordi used his special vision to locate sect members inside the building who were heading toward the various exits and relayed warnings when armed individuals were identified.

 "Commander Riker," Geordi activated his commbadge.  "There's a human lifeform stationary in a room about five meters from your current location.  Whoever it is appears to be hurt--weakened life signs and no movement at all."

 "Riker to Kim, do you have anyone in the northeast corner of the building?"

 Harry ducked back behind a partition as a disruptor blast shot past him.  "Negative, southern sections have been cleared, but we're meeting resistance near the central part of the building."

 "Understood, LaForge and I will start in from the north.  We'll let you know when we near your position," Riker informed him.

 Staying low to avoid the assorted energy bursts flying wildly up the corridor, Geordi stopped in front of the door where the life sign still emanated.  He overrode the locking mechanism, rolling out of the way as Riker spun into the room.  Not wasting time, Riker slapped his communicator onto the battered body of the prisoner.  "Riker to Enterprise, we've located a prisoner, twenties, male, obviously been badly beaten and is in need of medical treatment.  Lock onto this signal and beam one directly to Sickbay."

 At Riker's nod, Geordi tapped his own communicator.  "Commander Kim, what's your status?"

 "Secure," Harry replied.  "We're moving them out with the others now.  Lang's searching for any stragglers, but I think we've got everyone.  Has Seven turned up?"

 "No, I'm sorry," Riker said.  "We found a prisoner of the sect, though; maybe he'll know something.  He's been beamed aboard the Enterprise for medical treatment.  Meanwhile, let's get some teams down here to take this place apart and see what falls out."

.............................................

 Picard stepped aside, allowing Janeway to precede him into the conference room.  With a curt nod, he dismissed the security officer in the room leaving them alone with Jake Sisko.  Dr. Crusher had treated the young man's injuries, but the trembling in his legs and the way he braced himself against the table to stand when they entered betrayed his weakened condition.  "Please, sit, Mr. Sisko."

 Janeway almost sat at the end of the table before correcting herself and taking the chair to Picard's left.  "Jake Sisko, you're Captain Benjamin Sisko's son, aren't you?"

 "Yes, ma'am," Jake acknowledged.  "And you are the intrepid Captain Kathryn Janeway, formerly of the historic Voyager trek through the Delta Quadrant.  That is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, formerly Locutus of Borg."

 Slamming down the PADD he held somewhat harder than he had intended, Picard straightened his uniform jacket.  "Since introductions are unnecessary,  let's get right to the point.  What were you doing there?"  He ignored the comment about Locutus, exercising the better part of valor.  Jake Sisko may be the son of a fellow Starfleet officer, but he was also a reporter with the Federation News Service whose record reflected a knack for finding trouble.  The young man had lost his mother at Wolf 359; while his father had made his peace with Picard years before, it was obvious that Jake did not share those sentiments.

 Jake directed his answer to Janeway.  "I was working on a story, actually a series, about underground culture:  Life Beyond the Boundaries of Federation Society.  It's about people and groups who choose to not conform to the rigid expectations of society and, therefore, are forced out of mainstream existence.  Ostracized, without access to even basic services, they're forced to survive as best they can or surrender to the dominant will of the Federation."

 Janeway sighed at the passion and fervor in his voice.  Had she ever been that naive and idealistic?  Probably.  "If individuals choose not to exist within the Federation, then they are not ostracized, they choose to isolate themselves from what they do not agree with."

 "Did it occur to you," Picard interjected, "that people who do not choose to live within the boundaries of society, probably do not live within the boundaries of acceptable behavior either?"

 "Just because they don't conform to the almighty Federation doesn't make them criminals," Jake argued.

 Picard raised an eyebrow pointedly.  "Present circumstances notwithstanding."

 "How did you come to be a prisoner of the Eh-Cu'oral, Jake?" Janeway asked.

 "I was working on a segment about the supply side of life outside of Federation existence--"

 "The black market?!" Picard exclaimed.

 Jake snorted in derision.  "Necessities for their existence labeled as such in an attempt to force people to bow to Federation rule," he countered.

 Picard resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose.  "Individual choice and individual rights are inherent to the founding principles of the Federation, in fact pre-dating the Federation on Earth all the way back to documents from the American continent from the eighteenth century.  Even as far back as that, they recognized that with freedom comes responsibility for the choices that one is free to make.  Claiming that you are 'forced' into the choices you make is just as much as capitulation of personal responsibility as crying censorship when people make the choice to disagree with what you say.  One person's rights can never be more important--and thus never infringe--on the rights of another."

 Holding out her hands to forestall any further political philosophical debate, Janeway returned to her line of questioning.  "How did your story on the black market tie into this Borg-worshipping sect?"

 "I didn't know anything about them," Jake rushed to assure her.  "I was working for a cargo captain; he stopped to do business and I was collecting miscellaneous background, just for color--"

 "Snooping," Janeway clarified.

 Jake shrugged noncommittally.  "I stumbled across their mission and stuck around to get access to their database."

 "Did the thought of reporting this to Starfleet and letting them launch an investigation cross your mind at any point in time?" Picard asked.  "Or was ending up their prisoner an integral part of your plan?"

 "I was going to leave and take the information I got directly to Starfleet Headquarters as soon as I had everything I needed for a story on them," Jake insisted.

 Janeway sat back in disgust.  "And that worked out real well for you, I see."

 "A Bajoran member from another cell showed up a week or so ago; Starfleet had raided their group and they'd scattered.  The Bajoran recognized me as the son of the Emissary."

 "Bajoran?" Janeway echoed, incredulous.  She sat back up in her seat.  "After their experience with Cardassian occupation, how could any Bajoran be part of something like this?"

 Picard shrugged.  "When the majority refuse to accept the whims of the minority, the minority inevitably get more and more dictatorial in their efforts to prevail."

 "These people are freaky," Jake said, warming up to the hottest story of his career.  "They refer to their cells as Unimatrices and they're planning to contact the Borg and help them assimilate the entire Federation."

 Janeway leaned forward.  "Jake, these people have kidnapped Seven of Nine.  We need to find her.  Is there anything you've seen or heard that might help?"

 Jake shook his head.  "No, I'm sorry.  This cell hasn't mentioned anything about her.  She must be with another cell."

 "We found this group through Intelligence reports," Picard said.  "We're still trying to extract information from their computer system on any other groups and their locations."

 "If it helps," Jake offered, "from what I heard, the designation for each Unimatrix is based on the sector of space that they're in."

 "Thank you, Mr. Sisko, that may be very useful.  If you would provide a detailed account of your time among this sect, everything you saw or heard, it would be extremely valuable," Picard replied.

 "Not until I've sent this story to my boss," Jake replied.  "This is my story, I paid for it in blood--mine--and I won't be scooped by some desk jockey back on Earth covering Starfleet HQ."

 Picard clenched his jaw.  "Mr. Sisko, this is an urgent investigation and you have important information--"

 "Let me cover the rest of this," Jake said.  "I share everything I know and you give me the exclusive inside scoop on your investigation."

 Janeway spoke up.  "Starfleet is not in the habit of allowing reporters onto its starships during missions."

 "Why not?" Jake countered.  "There is historical precedent for embedding reporters in combat troops during times of conflict.  Why not during investigations, especially investigations of groups that threaten Federation security?"

 Picard came to a rapid decision.  "Your record suggests that if I try to send you back to Earth, you'll just strike out on your own to find these people."

 "Probably," Jake acknowledged.

 Janeway rolled her eyes.

 "Therefore," Picard continued, "out of respect for your father and concern for your safety, you may remain onboard the Enterprise for the time being on the condition that you not transmit any information to the Federation News Service until we have recovered Seven of Nine.  You are restricted to authorized areas only, no bridge clearance nor are you permitted to carry a weapon.  Starfleet will have final approval of any and all Intelligence information that you include.  Do you understand?"

 "Yes, sir," Jake replied.  "I'll get right to work on that report of my time with them."

 "Watching the young man practically bounce from the room, Janeway and Picard exchanged glances.  "You were pretty lenient with the boy," Janeway remarked casually.

 "Tolerant, Kathryn, I've had plenty of practice being tolerant with mischievous imps who have a nose for getting into trouble.  In fact, I married such an individual.  Keeping them where you can watch their every move is a much less stressful way to deal with them."

 "I'll have to remember that," Janeway grinned.

..........................................................................

 The next morning, Picard handed Janeway a cup of coffee before sitting down with his tea.  While their crews worked on evaluating the information that Sisko had provided and any usable information from the cell members, he was taking the opportunity to talk at length with Kathryn for purely personal interest.  Chakotay had told him about some of Voyager's experiences in the Delta Quadrant and he was anxious to discuss them with Janeway herself.  "So, tell me about fluidic space; it must have been fascinating," he prompted.

 " 'Nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there' as the saying goes," she remarked wryly.  "Not that I remember all that much of it, I was in Sickbay when Voyager was taken into fluidic space.  My memories of the place are limited to the destruction of four 8472 ships."

 "Still, an entirely different type of space," Picard sighed.  "Have you ever been back there?"

 Janeway shook her head.  "No, once was enough and given our interactions I think it's best that we stay out of there without an engraved invitation.  Our first contact was more disastrous than any other in the history of the Federation.  We're just lucky that we got a chance to repair the damage before they attacked the Alpha Quadrant.  Nobody here would have known what hit them and it would have been all my fault."

 "Caught between a rock and a hard place there are rarely good options," he offered.  "You made the best decisions you could under the circumstances."  Their discussion was interrupted by the door chime.  "Come," he called.

 Lar, preceded by Data, entered the room and handed Picard a PADD.  "We have been unable to decipher the information from the database on the surface.  As with computer systems recovered from other Eh-Cu'oral sects, the data is retrieved as gibberish."

 "I have attempted to access the information through a direct link with my positronic matrix," Data informed him.  "I have also not been successful."

 Picard studied the PADD display.  There was something familiar about the squiggles and swirls, but he couldn't quite place it.  Maybe if they were displayed in a different form, something more crude than digital.  He strode to the replicator and requested a piece of paper and a pen.

 Janeway joined Picard and studied the PADD over his shoulder.  "Do you have an idea, Jean-Luc?"

 "I'm not sure," he muttered.  He transcribed some of the markings from the display to the paper.  "Would you excuse me, Kathryn?  I need to show this to someone who can confirm my suspicion."

.......................................................................

 "Why, Jean-Luc, what a pleasant surprise," Vash looked up from the article she was working on at her computer when her husband appeared in the doorway to her office.

 Skipping the small-talk, Picard handed her the paper.  "What do you make of this?"

 "Add a subject and a verb and I could make a sentence," she quipped.  "Have you started recording your logs in cuneiform?"

 "So it is hieroglyphics," he stated, somewhat pleased with himself.  He handed her the PADD with the rest of the data recovered from the Eh-Cu'oral computers.

 Vash eyed the display and pulled up several language files on her computer.  "Such imprecision, Jean-Luc.  I thought you knew more about archaeology than that.  They do appear to be a pictographic language, two examples of which are Hittite and Egyptian hieroglyphics.  This appears to be a mixed system, Sumerian base but with elements of ancient Vulcan, Aztec and several other forms of protowriting.  I'd say an invented system using pictorial representations in conjunction with ideographic, logographic, syllabic and phonetic icons."

 "Can you read it?"

 "Now?" she looked up at him incredulously.  "No," she gave the word a full four syllables to convey the true no-ness of her answer.  "Pictographs aren't an intuitive language, darling, they're conventionalized to the specific society in which they were used.  In an invented language, you first have to identify the glyph and its origin, then put it in context--"

 "Can you read it eventually?" he cut off her explanation.

 "Eventually I can do anything," she said.  "Can I ask what this is about?"

 Picard thought for a second.  Starfleet Intelligence hadn't been able to read the data; in fact, they'd dismissed it as gibberish.  She was the best chance they had of reading the content of the Eh-Cu'oral database in time to help Seven of Nine.  "It's data from the sect's computers on the surface.  We're questioning the sect members who were taken into custody, but they're not talking.  The information in those files may help us find Seven, not to mention being able to find out what they've been up to."

 "Can I borrow Commander Chakotay?" she asked, comparing the display on the PADD with the files she'd pulled up on her computer.  "It'll go faster with some anthropological insight on societal nuances attached to the glyphs."

 Tapping his communicator, he ordered.  "Commander Chakotay, report to the archaeology lab."  He closed the channel and nodded to her.  "He's yours as long as you need.  Anything--or anyone else?"

 Vash set the PADD down and sauntered over to him.  "How do you expect me to concentrate on work when you talk dirty to me like that?"  She toyed with his rank pips.  "Anyone I need for as long as I have needs?"  Her lips brushed his as she whispered, "You, Johnny, I need you for a very, very long time."

 Chakotay discreetly tapped on the office door.  "Captain Picard?"

 Belatedly, Picard realized that the anthropology office was on the same deck as archaeology so it wouldn't take long for the commander to report as ordered.  "Commander Chakotay, come in."

 "Yes," Vash drawled, a sideways grin on her face.  "Please come in to *my* office."

 "Professor Picard," Chakotay acknowledged her without betraying any reaction to her last comment.

 Handing the commander the PADD, she explained.  "Jean-Luc is giving you to me for a little while."

 "Assigning to assist in analysis," Picard asserted.

 Vash patted his arm.  "Nice alliteration."  She spun her computer monitor around to display the files she'd pulled up.  "I could use your help deciphering the pictographic code that the nutcases were using."

 "This is what Starfleet thought was contaminated gibberish?" Chakotay asked.  "It looks Sumerian but with some variation."

 "Great minds think alike."  She was impressed.  Jean-Luc had bemoaned the loss of a fine command officer in Chakotay's decision to transfer into anthropology when he was reinstated in Starfleet upon Voyager's return, but the boy obviously knew his stuff.  Command's loss was her gain.

 "Invented, mixed-system," he deduced.  "This isn't going to be easy to break.  Do we know anything about the inventor of the system?"

 Picard provided what information he had.  "One of the most prolific members of the sect is a professor of linguistics at Berkeley on Earth.  Most of what appears to be the inner circle of this group is comprised of university professors.  Academics," he sighed, rolling his eyes.  "Present company excluded, ma petite Professor Picard."

 Vash took exception to that comment.  "I am a field archaeologist.  I am not some liberal inteligentsia who doesn't even know that there is a world beyond the walls of the ivory tower, much less seen it."

 "I stand corrected," he mollified her.

 Chakotay called out from the main lab where he'd taken the PADD.  "I think I've got a list of names here."  He pointed to a section of the display when they joined him.  "I thought it might be easier to see patterns on a larger screen so I loaded the file into this workstation.  I was just scrolling through the files, looking to see if something jumped out at me when I noticed that this section of markings held a high percentage of letters--Greek alphabet and Norse runes especially.  The glyphs between them, when identified out loud--"

 "Eye, hay," Vash started pointing out different symbols.  "Sheep?"

 "Ewe," Chakotay suggested.  "Unfortunately, I think they use the same glyph, an eyeball, for both the letter 'I' and the letter 'C'."

 Scanning for the uses of the eye symbol, she made notes on the symbols around it in several locations.  "It's location-sensitive.  Elevated appears to mean 'C'."

 Picard watched the two of them pull apart the screen of lines and squiggles, turning what the best minds of Starfleet termed 'gibberish' into a list of names.  There it was, the brilliant mind that continually challenged and captivated him.  He might have been able to decipher the images on the Stone of Gol, but that paled in comparison to what he was watching her do in collaboration with Commander Chakotay.   Blood rushed through him, feeling her excitement as she attacked the challenge.  Animatedly, she pulled up files and compared various images, pointing out similarities to Chakotay.  She moved so effortlessly from coquettish to archaeologist, never really trying to be anything other than herself and succeeded at making him feel every inch a randy schoolboy.  He almost moaned aloud at the thought of her as a prim and proper college professor instructing him in the fine art of archaeological research; that childhood taunt about being teacher's pet suddenly held a great deal of erotic promise.

 "No," Chakotay was saying.  "They were a desert culture, nomadic in nature.  The image of water would have held a different meaning for them."

 Vash stared at the image.  "Maybe it's ideographic.  Earliest forms of the word oasis meant dwelling place, haven . . . " she broke off and ran a search of the computer bank.  "I thought so.  Professor Dwel, Andorian professor of astrophysics, is currently on a speaking tour of universities throughout the Beta Quadrant."

 "Nice catch," Chakotay commented.  He made a note of the name on the list they were compiling.

 Very nice, Picard agreed silently.  Shifting uncomfortably, he tried to convince himself to go back to the bridge and stop torturing himself by watching her work.  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with excitement; she looked like a kid in a candy store as she worked on piecing together this cryptographic puzzle.

 "Son of a bitch!" Vash abruptly yelled.

 Swiftly, Picard joined her at the workstation.  "Something wrong?" he asked.

 She pointed out several glyphs scattered around the display.  "These are Hur'q characters."

 "Hur'q?" Chakotay repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

 "That's what the Klingons called them--outsiders, a Gamma Quadrant race who existed about a millennia ago.  They used the wormhole near Bajor to launch attacks in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, sort of like Vikings with warp drive.  They fought the Klingons, attacked Qo'noS, stole the sword of Kahless and took it back to their homeworld in the Gamma Quadrant.  Freaky-looking guys, bigger than Klingons and uglier than Ferengi if you can picture that."

 "I thought you said they lived a millennia ago?" Chakotay asked.  Are there visual records or . . ."

 "Let's just say that my tour guide to the Gamma Quadrant preferred live action to long-dead history," she hedged.

  A thought struck Chakotay, a single letter slipping through his lips.  "Q?"

 Taken off guard for a second, Picard recalled Voyager's experiences with Q.  "That's right, you have met our omnipotent pain," he said.  "You had your share of dealings with him on Voyager."

 "More than our share," Chakotay noted dryly.

 Vash shrugged.  "Anyway, after witnessing the Great Knife Swipe, I cajoled Q into taking me back to the earliest days of humanoid development on several Gamma Quadrant homeworlds, including the Hur'q.  I learned some of their protowriting and did a paper on Gamma Quadrant pictographic languages shortly after my return to the Alpha Quadrant.  The pissant who made this code used Gamma Quadrant glyphs that he lifted from *my* work.  My work," she began ranting.  "How dare he blaspheme my work by using it --here's a Brax glyph--for his psychotic secret code.  Of all the unfuckingbelievable gall."

 Picard and Chakotay exchanged glances, neither of them daring to openly show amusement at her tirade.  Chakotay downloaded the names they'd gotten so far onto another PADD and handed it to Picard.

 "I wrote the damned paper," Vash muttered to herself as she jotted down the meanings of the Gamma Quadrant glyphs.  "Does he really think I wouldn't be able to figure them out?"

 "He was probably betting that you would never see it," Chakotay offered.

 Picard straightened his uniform jacket.  "Well, you two obviously have the situation here under control, I'll leave you to your work.  I'll pass this along to Commander Lar to get started on, get him anything else you come up with.  I'll send a message to Starfleet and let them know about the code."

 Vash gave him a half-hearted wave, engrossed in deciphering the symbols and running a search for other uses of Hur'q or Brax characters in the files.  Since she had written the paper that defined those glyphs, any other uses of them would provide a starting point in some of the other files.

 Accessing historical files from the Rigel system to double-check the meaning of some glyphs, Chakotay worked silently alongside Vash for several minutes.  "Have you spoken to Beverly recently?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

 "Not in the last day or so.  I had thought about stopping in to see her later this afternoon but that was before Jean-Luc dropped his little diabolical word puzzle in my lap."  Glancing over at Chakotay, it was obvious to Vash that the boy had some juicy tidbit he was dying to share with someone.  "Is there something I should know?  Or better yet, is there something I shouldn't know?"

 "Back when we were working on the final evaluation for the Eillen admission into the Federation, you so sweetly inquired about my intentions toward Beverly.  I wanted to be sure you knew that before Seven came up missing, I asked Fireball to marry me and she agreed.  Just so you don't go making plans to have me shot out of an airlock any time soon," he shot her a knowing grin.  "Considering the way you ladies tell each other almost everything, I'm surprised she hadn't told you and Deanna yet."

 "So am I,"  Vash replied raising an eyebrow.  She thought to herself, 'my, my, how selfish of you, Fireball.  Rescue mission or not, having your delectable Indian outlaw on bended knee certainly deserves a chocolate fest in order to properly divulge all of the details.'  Laying a hand on his arm, she told him earnestly, "Congratulations, Chakotay."

 "Thank you."  His dimples revealed the smile he was carefully hiding.  "Does this mean we have your blessing and that there will be no plans for Mr. Kennely to shove me out an airlock?"

 With a toss of her hair, she assured him, "there will be no plans to shove you out an airlock.  Since you're joining the family you might as well know that it's Data whom my cohorts and I . . ."

 "The notorious trio," Chakotay surmised.

 "The trio," she confirmed.  "It's Data we usually entice into doing our evil  bidding."

 "The corruption of a perfectly good Starfleet officer?" he shook his head in mock outrage.  "Is there no limit to the wickedness you three sirens will wreak?"

 "When the three of us are good; we are very good.  But when we're bad," she cooed sounding pleased with herself, "we're even better."

 With a sheepish grin, he observed conspiratorially, "I probably stole Fireball's thunder.  How much trouble do you think I'll be in for telling you?"

 "Not as much trouble as she is for not telling me," she bantered back with feigned haughtiness.  "As the captain's wife, I should be kept apprised of all important social matters onboard."

 Chakotay chuckled, "you really do revel in his position don't you."

 "Certain aspects of it," she admitted.

 "Only certain aspects?" he prompted, intrigued by the way her expression had become thoughtful.

 She turned to lean back against the workstation.  "Shortly before Jean-Luc and I were married, I read a biography on James T Kirk.  The author recounts a conversation between Kirk and an actress named Lenore Karidian during Kirk's initial five-year mission."

 "I remember the name from reading Kirk's logs years ago.  Lenore Karidian is a very tragic figure."

 "Agreed.  Nevertheless, I found the conversation fascinating and it has always stuck with me.  While referring to his Enterprise she inquires, 'all this power surging and throbbing, yet under control.
Are you like that, Captain?' "  Noticing Chakotay trying to swallow a laugh, Vash scolded "All right, Commander, get your mind out of orbit from around Wrigley's Pleasure Planet.  I'm actually getting to a point here."

 "Please," he held up a hand in capitulation.

 "As I was going to say, she finishes the conversation by making the remark 'the Caesar of the stars and the Cleopatra to worship him.'  I found that to be a very insightful description of the past as well as the current legendary captain of the Enterprise."  Vash picked up the PADD with the list of names they had been compiling.

 Chakotay pulled up another section of the glyphs and began pulling out the already-identified ones to start with.  "So, should I point out to Captain Picard's own Cleopatra that he's already agreed to perform the ceremony once this mission is over?"

 "Apparently the boy hasn't had a good beating lately," she remarked flippantly.

 "Well then, how about we hurry up and get this translated before you decide to beat me instead," he suggested, amused.

 Vash turned to him, stroking his cheek in a mock-patronizing manner.  "That's Bev's job now, Commander."

.................................................

 Vash entered their quarters, a headache threatening along with stiffness in her back and legs from hours spent working on that pictographic code from hell.

 "Ma chere," Picard was sitting at the computer looking over the Eh-Cu'oral database.  He'd recognized a handful of the glyphs, but he hadn't been able to construct more than a word here and there--not even a complete sentence.  The attempt had made him feel less like an enthusiastic amateur and more like a rank amateur.  Standing, he picked up the lone dinner plate from his desk and asked,"Have you eaten?"

 "Chakotay and I grabbed a quick bite while working in the lab.  I'm sorry I missed dinner."

 "The captain unexpectedly dropped an emergency project in your lap.  It couldn't be helped, just a part of life aboard a starship," he soothed lovingly.  However, the captain in him couldn't help inquiring, "How far did you get?"

 "Well, we got several of the files deciphered, including an index of sorts," she answered watching him dispose of his dinner plate.  "Unfortunately, the montage of symbols from so many different cultures used in both concrete and abstract ways, not to mention the glyphs used to represent words from several languages, means that the entire database will need to be deciphered by hand.  The computer simply can't account for textual nuance with enough accuracy to extrapolate meanings.  God save me from academics, he probably thought he was being clever," she muttered as she stretched and twisted to ease the pain in her back.

 Stopping by the replicator, he handed her a glass of Kahlua.  "Anything that mentions Seven or the Borg?"

 "Not yet," she took a long drink of the sweet liqueur.  "Chakotay and I put together a template from what we deciphered and my assistants are using that to go through other files now.  It's going to take a couple of days at least to get through the whole database."

 "Starfleet Command was impressed with your discovery," he told her.

 Vash gently cupped his cheek.  "Your suspicion, my confirmation," she reminded him.

 Picard kissed her palm.  "The decryption that Commander Chakotay and you are doing is invaluable to our efforts to find and stop these people.  Speaking of which, Starfleet is sending us what they retrieved from the raid on the moon in the Valo sector for deciphering as well."

 "Gee, thanks," she reached back to rub her neck, the thought of another massive database to pick through by hand exacerbating her fatigue.

 "Vash," Picard said softly moving to stand behind her.  Brushing her hair aside, he began to tenderly massage her neck.  Her head fell forward as he worked to assuage the tense muscles there.  "It would take too long to get any other archaeology experts up to speed on this and until we know how far widespread the Eh-Cu'oral are, any involvement of academics would jeopardize operational security--even the members of the Archaeology Council itself is suspect.  Nobody outside of Starfleet Command knows that you've cracked their code; right now you, Commander Chakotay and your staff are the only ones who can decipher the Eh-Cu'oral database safely."

 "I understand what's at stake, Jean-Luc," she cut him off.  His arms encircled her waist and she leaned back against him.   Luxuriating in the feel of his warm, strong arms wrapped around her, she covered his arms with her own and quipped, "No rest for the weary."

 "It seems we are experiencing a little role reversal.  I've often told you saving the Federation from destruction is not nearly as glamorous as people would lead you to believe," he teased.  "You were right, however, when you pointed out that exhaustion solves nothing.  We should get ready for bed.  You go first; take your drink and go relax in a nice bubble bath."

 "Aye, captain."  She turned and gave him a jaunty little salute before disappearing into the bedroom.

 A short time later, Picard stepped out of the bathroom in his short, grey pajamas, showered and shaved.  Wearing the same the amethyst-colored negligee she had on the other night, Vash was standing in front of her dresser studying a PADD.  The muscles of his body tightened in an ardent response to the way the satin molded itself to the flare of her hips, her slim waist, and the graceful arch of her spine.  'Shall we try this again, chere,' he thought walking up behind her.  He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her body back against his feeling nothing but her perfect feminine curves beneath the smooth material.  'No panties,' he noted to himself with satisfaction while nuzzling back of her neck.  He drew in a deep breath savoring the sweet scent that always lingered in her silky, brunette hair.

 "Someone's got a hell of a lot of nerve.  I still can't believe the number of Gamma Quadrant glyphs obviously stolen straight from my work that are being used in this code," Vash grumbled under her breath having spotted one more Gamma Quadrant glyph and keying in the notation on the PADD.  Jean-Luc's deep, masculine chuckle reverberated against the sensitive skin on the back of her neck causing a shiver down her spine.

 "Ma petite, by the time I'm through with the members of the Eh-Cu'oral your ire will be the least of their concerns."  He reached around and plucked the PADD from her hands tossing it to the dresser.  Paraphrasing a line from one of Vash's favorite musicals, he added, "and when I have finished up the operation, I'll serve them to your highness en brochette!"

 "You'll pierce right through them?" she cooed coquettishly, instantly recognizing the line.

 His hands tightening on her hips, he growled wolfishly, "I'll barbecue them!"

 "A wicked thrust?" she purred grinding her hips back against his suggestively.

 Her supple curves writhing back against him sent pulses of pure fire through his body.   He nibbled and toyed with her ear whispering,  "'twill be dust to dust!"

 "From fore to aft?" she prompted, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of his bedroom baritone whispering in her ear.

 He relished hearing her sharply inhale as his mouth found the pulse point just below her ear. Knowing it always drove her to distraction, he flicked this tongue quickly against the sensitive spot and rasped, "they'll feel a draft!"

 "Well then. . ." she turned to face him.  Her eyes drifted shut and lips opened pliantly under his as his mouth found hers for a long, passionate kiss.  When he slipped his tongue past her parted lips to gently stroke the warm, moist cavern of her mouth, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered.  Wanting more, she deepened the kiss, nudging her tongue past his in her own erotic search of his mouth.  Their tongues danced, swirling and stroking each other in a sensual tango.  The butterflies in her stomach turned to shivers of desire, the sensation spreading across her breasts causing the peaks to harden and push against her nightgown.  She brought her arms up to encircle his neck, her breasts pressed up against the expanse of his chest, sparks shooting through her each time the taut peaks grazed the solid muscles they were pressed against.  Her entire body flared into a highly charged state of anticipation as Jean-Luc's hands traveled possessively over her, demanding access to every curve.  She arched into the heaviness as his hands slid up to her breasts caressing them through her negligee.  Just when she thought she could stand no more, he broke the kiss and swept her up carrying her to the bed with the delicate material of her negligee spilling over his arms.  A small gasp escaped Vash's lips as she felt his powerful arms lifting her effortlessly.

 Whisking the covers back with one arm, Picard gently laid Vash on their bed.  The fiery sparkle from the diamonds in her wedding rings caught his attention and he brushed a courtly kiss across the back of her left hand.  He studied the way her hair, strewn over the pillow, framed the delicate features of her face.  His eyes traced the purple satin as it followed the curves of her body to drape across the bed in a shimmery fan.  Releasing her hand, he moved to stand at the end of the bed and took one dainty foot in his hand and brought it up to his face.  He placed a kiss on the arch of her foot and watched the jeweled-tone material slide down, unveiling her long, shapely leg.  Knowing she had probably spent the day standing at one of the workstations in her lab, he began to knead the calf and thigh muscles.

 Vash sighed indulgently at the warmth of his large hands slowly traveling the length of her leg from her ankle to her upper thigh, soothing the tired muscles.  She was becoming increasingly more aware of the epitome of masculine virility cosseting her.  Her appreciative gaze traveled over the strength of Jean-Luc's body.  His short, grey pajamas emphasized the tightly, corded muscles of his arms and legs.  The open V of the neckline allowed for a tempting view of the coarse hair on his muscular chest.  "What's all this for?"

 Placing her foot back on the bed, he picked up her other foot and kissed the arch.  "We wouldn't want you to develop a muscle cramp at an inopportune moment in one of these lovely limbs, now would we?"

 Seductively sprawled across the bed with the hem of her nightgown now around her upper thighs, the warm tickle from his lips and his breath caused her toes to curl.  There was an intensity in his steel grey eyes that sent her pulse racing.  She reveled in the open look of lust on his face while he repeated the procedure with her other leg.  She baited him in a low and lascivious voice, "speaking of inopportune moments, is the good captain planning on finishing what he starts this evening?"

 Raising an eyebrow, the captain released her leg and ventured playfully, "I always intend to finish what I start; however, for any kind of actual guarantee that I'll not be called to the bridge, you'd have to ask Commander Riker."

 "Easy enough."  She started to roll on her side and reach for the commlink on her nightstand.  With the agility of a jungle cat, Jean-Luc sprang toward her.  Experiencing a sense of déjà vu, she suddenly found herself on her back with his large hands pinning her small wrists on either side of her shoulders and the hard length of his body pressing her down into the bedding.

 "You wouldn't dare," he chuckled low in his throat enjoying the feel of her soft, supple curves pinned beneath him.

 "Wouldn't I?" she taunted brazenly.  She wiggled and squirmed trying in vain to escape his hold.  While they wrestled, the erotic pressure of his hard arousal pressing against her sent fiery surges coursing over her as her hips were thrust against his.  The tightly leashed strength of his lean, muscular build made any evasion impossible and she finally collapsed back against the bedding, breathless.  The knot of desire tightened deep in her stomach, her body instinctively responding to the raw virility of his masculine presence.  She had never been able to fight the physical needs this man could ignite in her.

 Picard let his eyes trail down the beautiful woman beneath him and watched as the full curves of her breasts rose and fell, threatening to escape the low neckline of her negligee with every breath.  The playfulness slowly gave way to something much more primal.  His mouth descended on hers, crushing her lush, full lips in a fiercely impassioned kiss, plunging his tongue past her parted lips to plunder the depths of her mouth.  He slid his mouth from hers, moving to tenderly nibble on the soft skin of her neck, her pulse fluttering rapidly beneath his lips.  He flicked his tongue against her pulse point, coaxing her to roll her head back so that he could lay a heated trail of kisses down the exposed curve of her throat.  He used his mouth to slip the spaghetti straps of her nightgown from her shoulders one at a time before tracing the swell of her breasts with his tongue.  Her body twisted helplessly in his grasp as he nudged the delicate material out of the way to take one rigid peak into his mouth.  Gently imprisoning the taut nipple of one of her breasts, he leisurely swirled his tongue over the stiff peak before suckling strongly.  Her hips began to writhe against him as he ravenously tormented first one breast and then the other.  He kissed up her chest to claim her mouth in another deep kiss.  While his tongue ravaged the depths of her mouth, searching for and finding hers, she wrapped one leg around him rocking her hips against his.  Every contact of her hips with his drove his need up another notch and when the urgency of her movements increased to an almost frantic pace, he groaned into her mouth in desire.  She shuddered violently in his grasp, arching into him using her leg to pull his hips tight against hers.   He pulled back, breaking the kiss to gaze down at Vash.  Her breathing sounded very ragged as her eyes fluttered open.  He found his own breath caught in his throat at the sexual desire that emanated from the very depths of her vivid blue eyes.

 "Oh please, Jean-Luc," Vash panted imploringly, completely at the mercy of her husband with her tiny wrists imprisoned in his large hands and her arms bound by the straps of her negligee.  Far from satiating her, the release had left her pulsing uncontrollably and dripping wet with unsatisfied lust.  He let go of her hands and she quickly slipped the straps of her negligee off her arms the material sliding down around her waist.  She trailed her fingers down along the deep V-neckline of his nightshirt, her fingertips straying to his bare chest.  Undoing the fasteners of his nightclothes, she reached up to push the shirt off the masculine slope of his shoulders and strip it from him.  Her gaze followed her hands as they traveled upward along his bare arms, lingering on the solid, bulging biceps.  Her hands glided down his chest to explore the rippling pectorals and coarse chest hair.  Her voice was husky and passion-laced, "je te desire."

 "Je t' aime," Picard whispered in a low, bedroom baritone.  The ivory skin tipped with deep rosy peaks and the lush roundness of her breasts proved to be too much of a temptation for him.  Leaning down, he captured the stiff peak of one breast in his mouth.  His name was a caress in his ears as Vash moaned softly, holding his head with both hands, pulling him even closer as he stroked his tongue over the taut peak.  Savoring her impassioned reactions, he nipped at the hardened crest slightly before suckling strongly.  As he again feasted on one breast and then its twin, his hands drifted lower to adroitly slip her negligee past her hips and down the length of her legs, dropping it to the floor next to their bed.  One hand returned to slowly slide up the satiny skin of her quivering inner thigh until his fingers brushed the center of her desire.  His fingers moved against her, into her, her arousal bathing his fingertips.  The way her body tightly clenched against his fingers with each caress told him she was on the threshold.  With her hips moving restlessly against his hand, he rumbled with masculine satisfaction, "Mon Dieu, you're so wet.  You're close again."

 Vash was lost in the pleasure consuming her body as his knowing fingers were filling her, nimbly stroking and creating a throbbing need almost painful in its intensity.  The heat from his tongue along with the sharp pull of his mouth and the occasional scrape of his teeth sent streaks of fire racing through her body from the sensitive crests of her breasts.  The pleasure continued to build, his fingers sliding in and out of her as his thumb stroked her to feverish delight.  With the accomplished skill of a maestro, Jean-Luc was taking her closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy.  The pressure of his thumb increased and he sped up the tempo of the fingers inside her.  The knot of urgency shattered suddenly and she threw her head back, her orgasm rocking her whole body.  She collapsed back against the soft bedding, her body highly sensitized and pulsating erotically.  His strong hands gently grasped the flare of her hips anchoring her to the bed just before the heat of his mouth enveloped her.  Held firmly under his erotic torment she could only whimper softly as she felt him lick and kiss her very core, her desire once again rebuilding as strong as ever in spite of her exhaustion.  Her hands traveled across his scalp until her fingers tangled themselves in the fringe of grey hair at the nape of his neck while his tongue penetrated, stroked and filled her throbbing wetness.  His mouth was relentless, tasting her deeply and demanding total surrender.  Straining helplessly under his carnal onslaught, her mind reeled from the sensations of his mouth and tongue possessing her.  Again the urgency blossomed, her body quaking with overwhelming ecstasy.

 Intoxicated by her scent and taste, his body grew painfully hard.  As much as he wanted to continue his exploration of this lovely vision, his own desires had risen to an almost excruciating level and his body was craving release.  He quickly removed his shorts while kissing his way back up her taut, sweat-dampened body feeling her muscles contract under his questing mouth.  Bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders, he entered her with one powerful thrust, gliding easily into her slick, trembling depths.  Her small hands dug into his muscles as she clutched his biceps.  He set a cadence of furious intensity, his body demanding total possession of hers.  Her hips rocked under him, welcoming every forceful thrust.   Even when she cried out his name, her body shuddering violently around him, he didn't stop, driving into her even harder and faster.  He could feel her spasming ceaselessly, her body racked by the throes of continuous orgasms.  She was so hot and tight, gripping him with each thrust, frantically clutching at him in uncontrolled passion.  "Just let go, chere.  Surrender to me," Picard rasped hoarsely his eyes never leaving her, mesmerized by the look of total ecstasy she wore on the delicate features of her face.  He had never seen anything as erotically compelling.   He drove himself deep inside her with long, hard strokes, fiercely, pounding into her over and over.  A primal scream echoed through the room, Vash's fingernails gouging across the skin of his back, a cataclysmic orgasm ripping through her body.  With one, last, powerful thrust, Picard held himself buried inside her as his own, explosive release tore through him.  He collapsed onto her, his body damp and his breathing labored from the physical exertion.  After a long moment, he rolled off to lie on his back next to her.

 "Oh God, Oh my God, Oh God, yes, " she panted breathlessly, wondering if her quivering body and racing pulse would ever calm back down to normal.  "Damn, that was good."

 "Insatiable vixen," Picard teased with a rueful chuckle, "I trust five times was enough to scratch your highness's itch."

 "It may have been six with that delicious multi O toward the end.  Just one of the benefits of being a woman my age hitting her sexual stride," Vash cooed, thoroughly spent.

 "Mon Dieu, let's hope you've hit your peak," he retorted reaching up to wipe the perspiration from his brow.

 "Could be worse, Johnny.  I could be Betazoid."  She propped herself up on one elbow and reached out with her left hand to idly trace designs with a fingertip through the coarse hair on the muscular expanse of his chest.  "Think about it.  When Will gets to the point in his career where you are now, Deanna should be about ready to start the Phase."

 "She'll kill him," he quipped with a wicked smile thinking back on Lwaxana entering the phase.  "I can see it now.  Some poor, young first officer coming up to me saying, 'I'm sorry, Admiral.  We tried everything.  There was simply nothing that could remove that huge grin from the captain's face."

 Collapsing against his chest in a fit of giggles, Vash managed to gasp, "That was evil, Jean-Luc.  Funny, but truly evil."

...........................................

 Chakotay made a few revisions to his transcription.  He was in the Voluspa's astrometrics lab with Data and Harry trying to use the Eh-Cu'oral's cell designations to pinpoint their location.

 "Nothing," Harry sighed.  "None of the decryption algorithms worked.  We know how many cells operate within each sector, but the rest of the numbers might as well have been made up out of thin air."

 Chakotay sent copies of the chart they had developed to that point to both Captain Picard and Captain Janeway.  "Starfleet can at least begin a search for cells with what we've got so far."

 "I have attempted to utilize the identified cells as a basis for coordinate projection," Data informed them.  "However, the numerical designations do not appear to be indicative of their location beyond identifying the region in which they exist."

 Quickly reviewing their efforts, Chakotay made an observation.  "If their cell designation were coordinates, they'd have to change every time they relocated."

 "But not if the cell number was an identification of the cell leader," Harry suggested.  "Where's that list of names?"  He reached for the PADD and began setting up a cross-reference.

 "Borg cubes do not have a leader," Data objected.  "If they have indeed modeled their structure after the Collective, then there should not be any individual in charge beyond the Queen--or King depending on the relative gender of the primary individual."

 "Oh, but that's Borg," Chakotay interjected.  "These people aren't drones and every society has a hierarchy of some sort.  People don't like to feel lost; having a leader, whether formal or informal, gives a sense of cohesion and focus to the group.  True communism cannot and does not exist even in nature because in such a system there could be no one individual over another and such a system simply can't be sustained.  Inevitably they look to one individual for wisdom or guidance, which creates a hierarchy; or else one person chooses to take a position of leadership and even if their intentions are good, it still becomes a hierarchical system."

 Harry tapped a control and sat back.  "The computer is running an analysis of all personal data on the people identified as Eh-Cu'oral through investigations, raids and the pictographic database translation.  It'll take several hours before we know if it worked."

 "It has been my observation," Data said, "That humanoid cultures ultimately seek a society based on the premise of equality.  Is that not contradictory to a hierarchical system?"

 "People want to feel equal," Harry replied.

 "But," Chakotay qualified.  "They also want to feel that there is someone responsible for seeing that their society doesn't fall into anarchy."  He thought back to his experience in chaotic space.  "It may not be obvious to outsiders, but there is even order in chaos."

............................................

 "Doctor Beverly Crusher?" the male security officer inquired from the doorway of her office.

 Beverly nodded absently, still reviewing crew medical records.  She idly wondered how he'd gotten into her office without her hearing the door slide open.  "Can I help you?"

 The young man stepped toward her desk.  "I'm here to take you into custody."

 That got her full attention.  "What?  On what charge?"

 "Willful concealment of critical information," he informed her.

 "What information am I supposed to have withheld?"

 He shrugged.  "I am not at liberty to divulge details of the evidence against you.  Dr. Beverly Crusher, you are hereby ordered to present yourself at a time and place to be decided for a full, formal--" he paused, reaching for the neckline of his uniform and ripped it off in one swift motion.  "--bachelorette party."

 The door slid open to admit Vash and Deanna carrying large, covered trays.  "Gotcha," Vash chortled gleefully.  "You should have seen your face just then."

 "Spoken like a woman who apparently doesn't want pain meds during any future childbirth," Beverly retorted.

 Deanna eyed the now-frozen, g string-clad image of the holographic 'security officer.'  "Not bad, if I do say so myself," she commented.  Winking at Beverly she added, "these holo-emitters in Sickbay provide great potential--not that you've ever even considered their non-medical uses."

 "Of course not," Beverly tossed her hair back flippantly.  "Although, I must admit, I've never seen the Starfleet insignia worn *there* before."

 Vash took the lids off the trays to reveal a cornucopia of chocolate.  "I'll make sure Chakotay gets several pairs . . . complete with little, silver snaps on the sides."

 Deanna dug into the chocolate mousse.  "Just remember, you don't have to hit that one to activate it."

 "But a few light taps might improve reception," Vash giggled, slathering a fudge brownie with dark chocolate syrup.

 Beverly picked up a can of whipped cream and applied a copious amount to a small plate of chocolate truffles.  "I've been meaning tell you both ever since he proposed--well, since he got dressed after he proposed, anyway--but things have been pretty chaotic with the search for Seven."

 "Has that caused any strain between the two of you," Deanna asked quietly while she searched her friend's emotions for the answer.

 Vash looked confused.  "Why would the mission be a problem?"

 Beverly explained.  "Seven is someone Chakotay had been briefly involved with back on Voyager."  To Deanna, she replied, "And no, aside from a brief meltdown after accessing her file, this has not been any problem."

 "Aren't fireballs supposed to explode," Vash grinned, using Chakotay's pet name for Beverly.  "What was in that file that caused our normally-so-very-calm-and-rational, red-haired Chief Medical Officer to experience a warp core breach?"

 In lieu of an answer, Beverly accessed the file and enlarged the photo.  She spun the monitor toward Vash.

 "Shit, Barbie Borg!" Vash exclaimed.  She handed Beverly the entire plate of whipped cream-covered truffles.  "You need these.  And it was only a brief meltdown?"

 Beverly popped a truffle in her mouth and licked the cream off her fingers.  "Chakotay ... kissed it and made it better."

 "Kissed it?" Deanna chuckled.  "Where exactly did it hurt?"

 "Everywhere," Beverly winked.

 Vash couldn't stop staring at the picture.  "For the fashion-conscious Borg everywhere, this season's must have are stiletto heels, guaranteed to break an ankle at paces faster than a tortoise, and a skin-tight catsuit to ensure that you don't use more than your share of the galaxy's oxygen supply.  Who designed that outfit, the Marquis de Sade?"

 "Voyager's EMH," Deanna supplied, amused but in complete agreement about the ridiculously impractical outfit.  She traded the chocolate mousse for a Terellian fudge cake.

 "Obviously a male-designed, male-programmed, male-dominated hologram," Vash commented.  She tilted her head back and shot a stream of whipped cream straight into her mouth and then topped it off with a shot of chocolate syrup.

 Deanna saluted her with a fudge-laden spoon.  "Smart and perceptive, what a woman!"  She looked back to Beverly.  "But, back to the important stuff.  How did he propose?  Spill everything."

 "Weren't you listening?" Vash broke in.  "She said he was naked so we know he wasn't on his  knee, he was probably on her at the time."

 Beverly tossed a truffle at Vash.  "Just because Jean-Luc was on you when he proposed--"

 "Correction," Vash interrupted.  "He was on one knee when he proposed; he was on me when I accepted."

 "Oh, well that's okay then," Beverly shrugged, chuckling.  "Chakotay was too exhausted to get anything up, much less his whole body up onto his knee.  He proposed from his back."

 Deanna saluted her.  "You go, girl.  Exhausted and flat on his back, a man will give you just about anything."

 "Horny and on you, you can get him to promise you just about anything," Vash offered.

 Beverly broke out laughing.  "That explains all the pretty, sparkly baubles from Cartier's in the captain's quarters."

 Vash gave a mock-innocent expression.  "I earned every carat in that jewelry box.  The man has the virility of a thirty year old."

 "Chakotay's got pretty impressive virility himself," Beverly offered.  She thought back to his proposal and the endless stream of orgasms that had completely exhausted them both.  He could bring her to orgasm with nothing more than that incredibly intense gaze and the tender caress of those long, talented fingers.  When she had gotten upset, he had soothed her with his sensuous voice and comforting presence, telling her and showing her how much he loved her.

 Waving her spoon in front of Beverly's dazed expression, Vash looked questioningly over at Deanna.  "Yoo hoo, Fireball, anybody home in there?"

 "She's in the bedroom right now if her emotions are any indication," Deanna said.  "And after all of this sex talk and chocolate, I think I need to go and conduct some extensive tests of my fiancé's virility."
 
 "Good, maybe that'll prevent an episode of Riker interruptus for us tonight," Vash announced.

............................................

 "Acting First Officer's personal log.  The Voluspa is en route to join the search effort.  Using the information decoded from the data files found on Babel, Starfleet has launched an extensive search effort to locate Eh-Cu'oral cells.  As much as I have enjoyed working in research and development on Utopia Planitia and being home for the past couple of years, this opportunity to serve as acting First Officer has motivated me to transfer to a ship posting.  I've realized that I still want my own command someday which means that I need to get back into a command track position and get more experience.  I'll put my request for transfer in as soon as we've recovered Seven.  I know I can't expect a posting as First Officer and that's okay, I'll start as a second officer, maybe a chief engineer or security chief and work my way up."

 Harry ended his log and picked up another PADD.  He was reviewing status reports from all of the departments since this was still a shakedown cruise and he was part of the design team; he wanted to make sure that all systems were operating as designed.  The Astrometrics report showed nothing of consequence so he wasn't sure why he accessed the sensor logs.  Seven had once told him that it was her observation that captains did not do everything themselves, rather they delegated assignments and trusted their crew to do their duty.  Remembering the complete travesty that his first 'command' had been, he nearly closed the sensor log file.  Something caught his eye and he isolated it for a closer review.  "Kim to Astrometrics," he tapped the communications panel on his desk.

 "Astrometrics, Lieutenant T'Kal here, sir," the response was prompt.

 "There's an erratic EM emission coming from Sector OO8," he began.  "I want you to isolate and monitor it.  Run some algorithms on it and send me the log of those emissions on an hourly basis along with any results you come up with."

 "Yes, sir."

 The office door chimed just as Harry closed the channel.  "Come."  He immediately stood, snapping to attention.  "Captain."

 "I thought I once told you to relax before you sprained something," Janeway commented with a grin.  She sat down and gestured for Harry to sit.

 "Yes, ma'am--I mean Captain," shaking his head, he winced in disgust.  "I feel like it's my first tour all over again."

 "First Officer is a big responsibility, nerves are perfectly normal," she assured him.  "I just thought I'd get a status report."

 Harry looked chagrined.  "I should have--"

 "No," she waved him off.  "I was taking a stroll around the ship and decided to stop by your office for the report.  You haven't neglected me."

 Relieved, he handed her the ship's status report that he had completed before recording the personal log entry.  "All systems normal," he said.  "We'll be entering our assigned search quadrant in Sector 006 within the hour.  There is an emission from Sector 008 that's bothering me, though."

 "How so?" Janeway motioned for the PADD to review it herself.

 "I'm not sure," he admitted.  "It's random EM bursts but something about it bugs me."

 Giving him back the PADD, she stood to leave.  "Keep an eye on it.  Trust your judgment."

 Harry's face contorted in a sheepish grin.  "I already ordered Lieutenant T'Kal in Astrometrics to monitor it and send me hourly reports."

 "Very good," she commended.  "Carry on."

............................................

 "Thumbscrews or Chinese water torture?"

 Chakotay looked up from his work to see Beverly standing in the doorway of his office.  Noting his place in the file that he was working on, he set everything aside.  "Hey, Fireball, I was just finishing up.  How was your day?"

 Stepping into his office, she pressed the control panel to activate the lock.  "So?  What method of torture did she use to interrogate you?"

 "Vash?" he asked.  When Beverly nodded yes, he studied her face for an indication of her mood.  "You're not mad are you?"

 She sauntered over to his desk and gave in to the temptation of those adorable dimples.  Her fingers caressed his cheeks tenderly.  "No.  I've been meaning to tell her and Deanna, I just haven't had the chance.  We had a delightful time discussing the whole thing this afternoon."

 "Hard day at the office I see," Chakotay captured her hands, pulling her down onto his lap.

 "Serious research project," she countered with a grin.  "The physiological effects of chocolate on humanoid females."  She cupped his face in her hands and drew his lips to hers.  Her tongue slipped into the moist warmth of his mouth, her arms sliding around his broad shoulders to hold him close.  His strong arms encircled her, providing a wonderful sense of being utterly cherished.  Breaking the kiss, she took a gasping breath.  "I had the most amazing breakthrough today."

 He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose.  "Can I ask or do I have to wait until the paper is published?"

 Beverly ran her hand along the muscled wall of his chest.  "Apparently, mixing copious amounts of chocolate, estrogen and thoughts of a certain man create a strong aphrodisiac effect."

 Chakotay shifted uncomfortably, his body reacting to her innuendo.  "Any man in particular?"

 She ripped open his uniform jacket in one swift motion.  "You," she whispered.

 He set her on her feet and stood, his body throbbing painfully with the softly-spoken word.  "Let's go back to our quarters and you can demonstrate this phenomenon in more detail."

 "No," she said.  She unfastened his uniform pants and then began pulling her own clothes off,  "Here, now."

 Chakotay shrugged off his jacket and stripped his uniform off.  "Fireball, do you have any idea how hard it's going to be for me to concentrate here after this?"

 She paused, clad only in her bra and panties, to press herself against the heat of his now-bared, bronze skin.  Nuzzling his throat, she found an earlobe and began sucking and nibbling on it.  "It's only fair," she mumbled.  "We had sex on my desk."

 "What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander," he agreed.  Making quick work of her remaining clothing, he swept everything off the desktop and sat her on the desk.  Twinges flowed through his body from her teeth on his earlobe creating a delicious electricity charging every inch of his skin.  His arms held her pressed tightly against him, their bodies pulsing in unison.  Her fingers were toying with the short hairs at the nape of his neck in a casual yet unbelievably stimulating manner as she held his head steady for her teeth to enjoy his earlobe.  Standing between the supple, creamy thighs, his hands caressed her back, tracing the length of her spine and smiling when her body arched into his caress for more.

 The rock hard length of his body was nestled so close to her own heat; she spread her legs wider, trying to urge him inside her.  Instead, he captured both of her wrists in one of his larger hands and eased her back to lay on the desktop.  His lips caught hers in a crushing, dizzying kiss before brushing across her skin in moist, feathery caresses, his body rubbing against her erotically with his every movement.  Working his way down, he nuzzled the valley between the mounds of her breasts, her nipples tingling in anticipation of his mouth on the hard tips.  A whimper sounded in her throat from the electric thrill of his tongue flicking at a stiffened crest.  When he continued lashing at the tip for what felt like an eternity without doing more, she squirmed against him.  "God, please, Chakotay," she pleaded.

 "Serious research project," he threw her own words back at her with a wink, dimples flashing.  His free hand trailed down the length of her torso to toy with the curly tendrils of hair.  "The physiological effects of prolonged erogenous stimulation on fireballs."

 Beverly moaned, a mixture of pleasure and frustration.  His words, spoken in that soft, sensuous tone, promised indescribable ecstasy; but his patient, measured actions promised sexual torture.  His tongue returned to the torment of her aching nipples, each flick sending a spark of desire straight to the throbbing juncture of her thighs.  She arched toward him, wanting him to take her breast in his mouth, needing to feel the strong, aching pressure as he suckled her.  Abruptly his mouth moved down her body, away from her breasts, the keen sensation of loss only intensifying her arousal.  She raised her head to see him sit back down and gently set her feet on the arms of his chair, getting them both comfortable.  Her heart skipped a beat, nervousness vying with excitement at the realization that he was just getting started.

 Chakotay slid his hands up her legs, urging her knees open wider.  His body was clamoring for him to bury himself in her softness, but he firmly leashed his own needs.  He had something else in mind first.  One finger lightly traced designs on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh while his other hand explored her more intimately.  Her need drenched his fingers as her hips writhed against his hand, the teasingly-light touch on her thigh an additional torment with each frantic movement.  When she tried to sit up, reaching for him, he abandoned the caresses of her thigh to trap her hands and coax her back down on the desk.  Gasping pleas and wordless moans told him how close she was, the grinding of her hips against the pressure of his thumbs and the stroking of his fingers becoming almost desperate.  He tightened his grip on her wrists, holding her firmly against the desk while he patiently manipulated her body's responses.  Lingeringly, his fingers thrust into her, his thumb lightly massaging the swollen, glistening center of her need.  She was breathtaking, every muscle in her lithe body taut with desire.  Her head arched back sending her fiery tresses cascading down the front of the desk.  Leaning forward, he trailed his tongue down the inside of one leg from her knee all the way to where it joined her hip.  Just as his mouth started back up the other leg, her hips bucked hard against his hand and his name echoed around the room.

 She hadn't even caught her breath from the slow-rolling eruption of pleasure when she felt his mouth come down intimately on the quivering juncture of her thighs.  The moist pressure of his tongue against her sensitized flesh re-ignited her passion, searing fire seemingly burning in every nerve ending.  Struggling to breathe, she surrendered to him, her body melting into the pleasure that he was creating.  His fingers left her to urge her legs open wider, the wetness they left behind was a startling chill against her skin.  She gasped when his tongue plunged into her and began stroking in and out of her body, alternately pulling out to flick at the swollen bud of her arousal.  At some point he released her hands to cup her bottom, holding her up to his mouth.  She grasped handfuls of his thick, black hair in an effort to pull him closer.  She was lost in the swirling pleasure coursing through her and somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if he would ever stop taking her to new heights of pleasure.  The spiral of desire began tightening almost painfully but still he kept his actions easy and gentle, exasperating and conversely exciting her.  His hands held her too firmly for her to even move against the pressure of his tongue, keeping her completely helpless to do anything but experience the sensations.  He slowed down just then, ripping mindless pleas from her throat.  Only when she thought she was going insane from the aching, unsatisfied need did he latch onto her and begin sucking strongly against the wet orifice.

 He rode out the powerful release that gripped her, his mouth never leaving her.  Savoring the sweet taste of her pleasure and the erotic scent of sexual desire, he moved up her body to kiss her deeply and share her essence with her.  In all of his life, with all of his experiences, the only place he had ever felt 'home' was in Beverly's arms.  They wrapped around his neck now, her legs following suit around his waist.  Her skin was damp, evidence of her exertion, but she whimpered to him for more.  His body needed no urging to bury itself completely into her softness while his tongue plunged into the depths of her mouth.  He held her tight and drove his body in and out of hers with long, hard strokes.  Her body was spasming around him, her arms and legs clutching at him each time his body pulled out for another thrust.  The feel of her breasts crushed against the hard wall of his chest inflamed his own desire, his body tightening in anticipation.  Clamping down, he increased his tempo even more in an effort to bring Fireball to one more orgasm before he finished.  He disengaged himself from her arms and stood upright to pound into her fiercely, demanding more from her body.  Her chest was heaving, lungs straining for oxygen and her head thrashing back and forth; she was beautiful in her total abandon.  Finally her hips arched off the desk, her back a taut bow, as her body exploded in fiery ecstasy.  Almost immediately his own orgasm sent his hips slamming against hers one final time.  Leaning down to relax against her, he licked at a solitary tear trailing down her cheek.

 "Oh God, that was unbelievable," Beverly gasped, not sure if she could even stand at that moment.  She had gone beyond a physical release; the last orgasm had been as much an emotional release as a sexual one.  "We should definitely collaborate on our research more often."

............................................

 Picard looked up from his computer console at the sound of the door chime.  "Come."

 Riker walked in with a PADD.  "I thought you'd want this," he said.  "The Gandhi, the Wellington and the Kearsarge have all located Eh-Cu'oral cells within their assigned search quadrants."

 "Empty," Picard noted.

 "Yes, sir.  They appear to have been abandoned recently."

 The suspicion was distasteful, but it couldn't be ignored.  "Is there any indication that they were warned?"

 Riker thought for a moment.  "I don't know how we'd know that unless we intercepted a transmission or something.  The places were cleaned out, no computers left behind, but it could be a reaction to the raid on Babel.  There were signs that they left in a hurry."

 "Have Commander Lar run a complete analysis of all outgoing transmissions from the Enterprise since the raid on the Babel facility," Picard ordered.

 "You think--"

 Picard cut him off.  "I think it would be prudent to investigate why these people appear to suddenly be relocating in a hurry and send a coded, eyes-only transmission to Admiral Paris suggesting a review of any personnel who have access to mission reports on this matter."

............................................

 "So, did you hear about Commander Chakotay?" Tom asked, leaning against the science station that Harry was working at.

 "What about him?" Harry mumbled.  Those emissions were continuing and there seemed to be a repeating pattern that the computer said didn't mean anything.

 "He's getting married," Tom blurted out.  "You remember that Dr. Crusher on the Enterprise, built, red hair . . . ?  Apparently Chakotay's living in her quarters and, according to the grapevine, he transferred to the Enterprise just to be with her."

 Trying a Borg decryption algorithm that he'd picked up from Seven yielded nothing, damn.  "Good for him.  Remind me to pick them up a wedding present."

 "What's with you?" Tom asked.  "I tell you that Mr. Confirmed Bachelor himself is tying the knot at his age and you barely blink."

 Harry sighed.  "These emissions are bugging the hell out of me."

 Tom studied the readings for a moment.  "You're right, there is something vaguely familiar."

 The answer struck them both at the same time.  "Morse code," they proclaimed in unison.

 Harry rapidly began tracing the source of the emissions.  "Translate the message, Tom."

 Watching his friend work with a mixture of amusement and pride, Tom decided that Harry was getting pretty good at issuing orders.  "Yes, sir."

 "Damn," Harry swore several minutes later.

 Finishing the transcription, Tom looked up.  "What?"

 "The emissions are coming from Triacus," Harry groaned.

 "So?"

 Harry shot him a disgusted glance.  "It's haunted."

 "Aw, come on, Harry; that was over a century ago," Tom pointed out.

 "And it was centuries old then," Harry countered.  "Besides, the legend says that their essence will return to spread evil throughout the galaxy."

 Tom handed him a PADD with the text of Seven's request for help.  She didn't know where she was, she was just broadcasting a request for assistance.  He knew he should have explained the SOS signal in addition to teaching her the Morse code alphabet.  Her message was surprisingly verbose--for her-- spelling out her full name and an explanation of what happened to her as well as the phrase 'requesting assistance' made the Morse code nature of her emissions difficult to discern.  "Well, if these Eh-Cu'oral don't qualify as evil spreading throughout the galaxy, I don't know what does."

 "What evil?" Janeway asked.  She'd just caught the last part of Tom's comment.

 Harry showed her what they'd discovered.  "Those emissions were Morse code, a signal from Seven.  The source of the emissions is the Epsilon Indi system--Triacus."

 "Ooh, Gorgon," she crooned in a spooky voice.  "You think the Eh-Cu'oral is Gorgon's revenge?"

 "No, ma'am," Tom and Harry replied together.

 Janeway glanced at the message.  "Good, because Triacus may be a good hiding place since almost nobody goes there but I doubt that they chose it for its history.  Nothing has happened on Triacus since Kirk's experience there."

 Something in her voice prompted Harry to ask a question.  "Have you ever been there?"

 "Once, on a dare," she shrugged.  "I was in the Academy and a classmate said I wouldn't go to Triacus and spend the night.  I couldn't very well let such a challenge go unanswered, could I?"

 "Nope," was all Tom could get out without laughing.

 "Well nothing happened," she sounded almost disappointed.  Regarding the amused expressions on their faces, she grinned and winked.  "You don't get to be a captain if you haven't done at least a few less-than-reasonable things in your day."  She started to walk away and turned back.  "By the way, good work on picking up the nature of those emissions, Mr. Kim."

................................................

 Riker walked up to the table in Ten Forward where Beverly and Chakotay were enjoying a quiet dinner.  He handed Chakotay a PADD.  "Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you'd want to know."

 "Please, Will, sit down," Beverly said.

 "Thank you, no," he declined.  "The Enterprise and the Voluspa are altering course.  The Voluspa picked up signals from Seven originating in the Epsilon Indi system and we're going to check it out.  I'd like to include you on the away team, Commander Chakotay."

 "Yes, sir," Chakotay acknowledged.  He handed the PADD to Beverly with a chuckle.  "Captain Proton strikes again."  At their confused expressions, he explained.  "Seven sent the signal in Morse code which she learned when Tom and Harry talked her into experiencing this odd science fiction holodeck program of Tom's.  Captain Proton is this character who saves the universe from the evil Dr. Chaotica in a completely black-and-white world.  This is the second time that Morse code from Tom's Captain Proton program has saved the day in this universe."

 Riker gestured casually.  "I can think of at least one time when it would have been helpful for me."

 "I guess this means no chocolate for dessert," Beverly sighed after Riker had departed.  At Chakotay's questioning glance, she explained with barely-concealed amusement.  "I'd hate to be all revved up and no way to c--"

 "Fireball!"

..........................................................

 The two ships rendezvoused to plan their strategy.  Janeway and Kim beamed over from the Voluspa to join Picard along with Riker, Chakotay, Lar and Data in the briefing room.  If they brought too many ships into the sector, the sect might get suspicious.  On the other hand, with only two vessels, there was a good chance that some might get away.

 "If the Voluspa sets course for Theta Sculptoris," Harry was suggesting, "and breaks off past Triacus coming in from that vector, then we'll at least have ships on opposite sides of the planet.  We can have the Flyer standing by to pursue any escaping ships from our vantage point."

 Picard gave a mock sigh.  "I knew there'd be a good reason for me to have one of those.  I should have had Geordi build me one."

 They were interrupted by a call from the bridge.  "The Voluspa is transferring a communications signal over here for Captain Janeway."

 A familiar face filled the viewscreen in the briefing room.  Janeway smiled as she greeted him.  "Tuvok, good to see you."

 "Captain," Tuvok inclined his head in acknowledgement.  "This is not a personal visit, however.  I am aboard a Vulcan science vessel following a trader who is suspected of smuggling warp plasma to a subversive organization.  It was felt that a Vulcan science vessel would not cause concern for the individual in question."

 Janeway stifled a laugh.  "Well, the word 'Vulcan' doesn't exactly strike fear in anyone's heart."

 "Indeed," Tuvok pursed his lips.  "It appears that the suspect whom we were pursuing has landed on the planet Triacus.  We were informed by Starfleet Headquarters that you were en route there to carry out a rescue mission.  Of course, if Vulcans do not strike fear in any individual, than you will most likely not require our assistance in this matter."

 Riker couldn't recall hearing facetiousness from a Vulcan before.  "Well, you could get closer to the planet than any other ships without raising alarm," he pointed out.  He was momentarily confused when muffled chortles sounded around the table at his comment.

 "Captain Picard," Data spoke up.  "I believe I have a way to detect the presence of cloaked vessels and minimize escape possibilities.  It will require three vessels."

 Picard nodded.  "Go ahead, Mr. Data."

 Rapidly entering commands into the computer, Data pulled up a schematic.  "Cloaking devices work by the selective refraction of light waves.  If three vessels positioned themselves in a triangular formation around the planet, they could adjust sensors to monitor spectrographic frequencies around the planet.  Any alteration of the frequencies would indicate the presence of a cloaked vessel.  Additionally, any ships attempting to escape the planet could be disabled and retrieved by vessels outside of sensor range after we have successfully recovered Seven of Nine."

 "Intriguing," Tuvok commented.  He spoke briefly to a nearby Vulcan before readdressing them.  "We are altering our current course to take the designated position."

................................................

 "What are you doing?" Win demanded.

 Seven looked up from the assembly she held in her hands.  It had been nearly two weeks since her abduction.  Initially, she had tried to stall, hoping for a rescue; however, she had been unable to delay indefinitely.  Three days ago, she had determined that her only options were to be re-assimilated into the Collective or death.  She had begun gradually undoing the work that they had previously accomplished on the interplexing beacon.  A re-modulation there, an inverted coupling here and with a final re-wiring of the power assembly, their first attempt to contact the Borg would destroy the entire facility.  "I am disassembling this unit to modify it."

 "Why?"

 She was getting used to the headache from rerouting her thought processes through her Borg implants.  "I cannot achieve the necessary triaxillation; it requires modification," she explained succinctly.

 An explosion rocked the building.  Win pointed to a nearby guard.  "Stay with her; when I call you, bring her along."

 Seven thought to overtake the guard in the confusion, but his disruptor remained pointed directly at her.  She picked up a spanner and continued working.

.................................................

 Harry and his team materialized behind a large building, shielded from disruptor blasts and phaser fire already being exchanged.  This cell was putting up a much fiercer fight, which meant that that they had to find Seven quickly.  It looked like one of the Enterprise teams had been pinned down just after beaming in.  Harry saw Chakotay pop out to fire before retreating to cover.  Silently, he motioned for his team to flank the enemy position and he signaled their intention to Chakotay.

 The sect here was utilizing an entire settlement; it wasn't as technologically defended, but it was difficult to move around with weapons fire coming from so many buildings.  The only significant technology was the same scattering field that the Babel cell had been utilizing.  Once again, they couldn't use the sensors to locate Seven and transport her out.  The plan was for each of the four teams--two each from the Enterprise and the Voluspa--to concentrate on sweeping the buildings for signs of Seven or an interplexing beacon.  Seven was the primary objective; once she was safe, they would pull back and hold their positions until reinforcements could be brought in to assist with securing the site.

 "Voluspa 1 to Voluspa 2," Harry contacted the second Voluspa team led by Chief of Security, Lieutenant Lang.  "Status."

 "Two buildings clear," she reported.  "Having difficulty entering the next building.  Scans showed a great deal of equipment in the large building in the northwest corner.  The EM emissions stopped when we blew their power source, but that looks like a likely source."

 "Enterprise 2," Lar broke in.  "We've got access to that building, we'll skip the storage facility and enter it instead."

 Riker entered the discussion.  "Check, Enterprise 2, we're completing our sweep here.  We'll take the storage facility and cover your flank."

 It was with some relief that Harry and his team, including Tom--unofficially--swept the medical facility and found no evidence that Seven had been treated or subjected to experimentation there.

.................................................

 Startled by the nearby whine of a phaser blast, Seven spun around.

 "Hold it," Kennely ordered.  "Drop it."

 "Which do you desire?" she asked, confused.  "I am holding it and if I drop it, the unit will be damaged.  Since I am disassembling the unit anyway, it is of little consequence to me."

 Kennely hit his communicator.  "Kennely to Riker."

 "Go ahead," Riker replied.  He returned phaser fire with several people barricaded around the bend of a corridor.

 "I've found your missing Borg."

 Exchanging glances with Chakotay on the other side of the entryway to the corridor, Riker asked.  "Is she all right?"

 "Yeah," Kennely started to lower his phaser, but a disruptor bolt slamming into the wall near him drew his attention.  He tossed his communicator to Seven.  "I'm taking fire here, she's got my communicator."

 Riker opened a channel to the Enterprise.  "Riker to Enterprise, lock onto Kennely's communicator and transport one."

 On board the Enterprise, Picard was orchestrating chaos.  Using the three ships, they had detected two cloaked vessels in orbit around Triacus.  Tuvok had taken a team from the science ship and beamed aboard one of the vessels while a security team from both the Enterprise and Voluspa had commandeered the second vessel.  As fleeing sect members transported aboard the ships, they were taken into custody.  Meanwhile, he was monitoring communications on the surface and heard the message that Seven had been located.  He headed for the turbolift to meet her in the transporter room.  "Inform Captain Janeway," he instructed as he left, "and begin beaming additional security forces to the surface to begin containment operations."

 Seven felt only a moment of relief upon materializing on a starship.  The door slid open and a man strode into the room.  A wave of fear hit her, the power assembly falling from her fingers.  She took a step backward, her vision swimming.  "Locutus," she whispered in horror.

 Realizing immediately that his presence had startled her, Picard stopped.  Swearing under his breath for not considering a former Borg drone's reaction to him, he suppressed a surge of annoyance at hearing a name he'd been hearing far too often lately.

 Part of her knew that he, like her, was no longer Borg, but the strain of the past two weeks made it difficult to separate her mental image of him as Locutus from the man in front of her.  "I was not assisting them," she haltingly explained.  Her hands trembled slightly when they indicated the power assembly.  "I was attempting to --"

 "It's all right," Picard soothed.  "I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard and you're aboard my ship, the Federation Starship Enterprise.  We've been looking for you for a couple of weeks now."

 The door slid open again to admit Dr. Crusher and a medical team.  A twinge of jealousy pricked at Beverly with a first-hand look at the buxom blonde, stunning even after two weeks of captivity.  "I'm Dr. Crusher," she introduced herself to the frightened young woman.  "I'd like to examine you in Sickbay to make sure that you're all right."

 "I am unharmed," Seven replied.  Noticing that one of the medical personnel was holding the tricorder near her face, she recalled.  "I have several minor contusions; however, they are nearly dissipated."

 The transporter chief spoke up.  "Sir, the Voluspa is requesting permission for two to beam over."

 "Acknowledged," Picard said.

 Reluctantly, Seven allowed the doctor to lead her off the transporter pad.  She kept a cautious eye on Locu--no Picard, she reminded herself.  Her cognitive processes had been rerouted through the Borg implants for so long that it was difficult to separate Borg memories from her own awareness.

 Janeway and the EMH materialized in the Enterprise's transporter room.  "Seven," she said.  "Good to have you back."

 "You gave us quite a fright, young lady," the Doctor quipped, scanning her himself.

 Calmer, although her head was beginning to throb, Seven acknowledged Janeway before replying to the EMH.  "That was not my intention; I, myself, have experienced emotional distress over my predicament."

 "Why don't we move this to Sickbay?" Beverly suggested.

 On her way out, Seven paused in front of Picard.  "Thank you for your assistance.  I apologize for my previous response, it was--"

 "Understandable," Picard cut her off.  "The important thing is that you are all right.  As soon as the doctor releases you from Sickbay, I'd like a full report on your experience."

 The transporter chief got Picard's attention.  "Sir, the bridge is relaying a message from the surface.  With the objective successfully extracted, they're requesting additional teams to help with mop-up.  They're still meeting with stiff resistance."

 "Any injuries," Beverly paused on her way out.

 The transporter chief checked quickly.  "A few minor injuries so far, they were transported to the Sickbays here and on the Voluspa as soon as the additional personnel from both ships began arriving on the surface."

 Picard stepped over to the console and accessed the communications array.  "Picard to Bridge, hail the Starfleet vessels waiting beyond sensor range.  If they're not otherwise occupied with fleeing vessels, advise that we could use additional manpower."

.............................................................................

 As soon as possible, Harry and Tom beamed up to the Enterprise to see Seven.  They found her in Ten Forward with the EMH.  They joined the two at their table.

 "Welcome back," Harry said as he sat down.  "Long time no see."

 "Next time, how about leaving a note or something," Tom teased.  "We had a hell of a time finding you."

 Seven recognized the jovial nature of his comment.  "I will endeavor to be more thoughtful next time; however, I did provide you with the 'or something' you requested.  You apparently lacked the perceptual ability necessary to discern the nature of my message quickly.  Perhaps a flashing neon arrow in orbit around the planet like those in the animated projections you find so amusing."

 Harry burst out laughing.  "A cartoon arrow.  I do believe she managed two digs in one comment, Tom."

 "Well," Tom defended himself.  "I guess Captain Proton wasn't such a waste of photonic energy after all, was it, Seven?"

 Harry corrected him.  "Doc here called it that.  Seven referred to it as the pointless, human need to fantasize."

 "I will concede," she replied.  "Captain Proton was not an entirely frivolous endeavor."

 The EMH snorted.  "Leave it to Mr. Paris to take credit for the success of the entire operation."

................................................................................

 "Three personal vessels got through the barricade," Picard said.  He was in his ready room with Janeway reviewing the final reports.  "We captured 83 people, but we have no idea how many were on the ships that slipped past."

 Janeway set her coffee down.  "Not to mention the other cells that have vanished throughout the Federation.  Was there any evidence that they were warned about the raids?"

 "No, which reminds me," he handed her a PADD.  "Mr. Sisko's piece, an advance copy for approval before he submitted it.  I've read and approved it but I thought you'd like to see it for yourself."

 She scanned the display.  "Seven's quote must have truly annoyed him," she grinned.  Quoting from the piece, "When asked if she sympathized with her captors with reference to the Borg, the former Borg drone replied simply, 'no'.  Her only comment about the rescue operation that retrieved her was 'efficient.' "

 "He doesn't appear to like former Borg drones much anyway," Picard pointed out wryly.

 "Personally, I prefer the former ones over the current ones," Janeway remarked.  "I'm going to have my hands full preventing future Federation drones.  I received orders a little while ago.  Starfleet is forming a task force to deal with the Eh-Cu'oral and I've been assigned to head it up.  On the up side, I get to keep the Voluspa to use in carrying out my duties."

 "If you need anything," Picard offered.  "The Enterprise is only a subspace whistle away."

**FINIS**