CHAPTER 23

“Damn, Ethan, you look like ten miles of bad road. Didn’t you have a good time at the wedding?”

Max’s question took Radcliffe somewhat by surprise as he had been focused on the plate of breakfast in front of him. “Just the opposite I’m afraid, Max. I had a wonderful time. In fact, I think I’m suffering from ‘Janeway withdrawal’. I was just thinking that this coffee isn’t as good as Phoebe’s special brew and this french toast can’t compare with what Seven served a week and a half ago. I’m not even going to mention Mrs. Janeway’s cooking…I might cry. She and Phoebe had us over to the farm for brunch yesterday before everybody left for home. I miss them already.”

“Well, it’s good you’re back. I need an eyewitness report. Rumors are flying around the base. Is it really true that Admiral Nechayev got wasted and made a pass at Admiral Pulaski?”

Laughing, Radcliffe set the record straight. “No, but she did catch one of the garters with Pulaski’s help. Mrs. Janeway told me the story. Mrs. Paris – Mrs. Admiral Paris – bet Pulaski that she didn’t have the guts to try to catch a garter. Pulaski took the bet and on her way into the crowd she grabbed Admiral Nechayev and dragged her along. Captain Janeway fired the second garter right at Pulaski, but she dodged and it came right at Nechayev’s face. She stuck a hand up and caught it right before it hit her. It was like she didn’t realize what she’d done for a minute – she looked like a deer caught in a spotlight. Then the whole place went up for grabs. She looked stunned. When she got back to her table all Nechayev could do was stare at this frilly blue garter in her hand. It was hysterical.”

“Nuts! So no come-ons to Pulaski at the reception? Nechayev didn’t get wasted? Too bad, I kind of liked that rumor.”

“Nope. Admiral Nechayev wasn’t wasted. And Admiral Pulaski didn’t get propositioned. But I did catch her doing shots of Romulan ale with a couple of Marine NCOs in the coatroom. Does that count?”

“Nah. Pulaski doing shots with some Marines is tame compared to some of the stories I’ve heard about her. Can’t score any gossip points with that one.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. But it was a great wedding. The Captain and Seven left around 2200 hours for their honeymoon but the party went on for quite a while after they left. I turned in just before 0230 hours and it was still going strong.”

“That sounds like quite a blowout. I guess the Voyager crew saw their captain off in grand style. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Now I’ve got to get back to work. Try to imagine the coffee and french toast come from Indiana why don’t you?” Laughing, Max rose from the table and limped back to his office. Radcliffe just grimaced and took another bite.

Not too much later he entered the access codes to Captain Janeway’s office suite and ordered the lights to full. He immediately put on a pot of coffee for the staffers he was sure would drop by for a wedding postmortem. As 0730 hours came and went he was mildly surprised that Lieutenant Torres had not reported in, but there was always the chance that there had been some kind of problem on Voyager and she’d beamed directly up to the refit bay. He settled in to begin answering all the communications that had arrived since he’d secured the offices the previous Thursday evening. To his amazement, Lieutenant Torres dragged in around 0830 hours looking much the worse for wear from the weekend’s festivities.

Ethan leaped to his feet and assumed the position of attention. It was a struggle not to laugh out loud. “Good morning, ma’am!” B’Elanna only glared at him.

“Not a word, Radcliffe. Not. One. Single. Word. I need coffee and lots of it and I need it now,” she growled menacingly as she stumbled toward her office. “And knock off that ridiculous military courtesy. I know you only do it to annoy me.”

With an effort Radcliffe kept from replying. As the hung over engineer disappeared into her office her relaxed and let out a hoot of laughter.

“I heard that!” came faintly from down the hall. “COFFEE! NOW!” Still chuckling, he went into the workroom behind his office and filled a thermos with fresh coffee. He placed it and two thermal mugs on a tray along with a hypospray Voyager’s EMH had entrusted to him. Before he’d left for Mars yesterday the EMH had pulled him aside and given him several hyposprays containing hangover medications. He informed Radcliffe that a group of Voyager’s crew was getting together that night for one last bash before everyone dispersed and that some of the people in his office might require them the following morning. Radcliffe was happy for the EMH’s foresight. Hung over Klingons were dangerous to be around. Even hung over half-Klingons.

As he emerged from the workroom Lieutenant Karri Jameson entered the office anteroom. If it was possible, she looked even worse that Lieutenant Torres. He silently added another hypospray to the tray and handed it to the engineer.

“She’s in her office. There’s plenty of coffee and a hypospray for each of you. Courtesy of your EMH. He thought you might need them this morning.” The look of grateful thanks on Jameson’s face said all the needed to be said as she headed down the hall.

Still chuckling, Ethan sat back down at his desk and immersed himself in the COMM logs.

* * * * *

Eighty million kilometers away on St. Lucia, Seven of Nine awoke with tropical sunshine just beginning to flood in from the skylights above. Gently, she disengaged her arms from around her wife and slipped out of bed. Naked, she walked quietly into the kitchen and prepared a pot of coffee. She filled a mug with the fragrant brew and walked back into the bedroom where she placed it on the nightstand near her wife. That most important of morning tasks accomplished, she walked into the adjoining bathroom and activated the hydro shower.

Adjusting the temperature of the spray as she stepped under it, she marveled at the view. Unlike most shower facilities, this one was only a tiled area of the bathroom adjoining a private balcony. There were no windows or doors, only a pair of shutters that could be closed in the event of a storm. The vista out over the mountainside to the ocean was breathtaking. Even more amazing was the pitch of the slope on which the house was built. The top of a very tall palm tree was just outside the balcony wall. A gentle breeze blew in from off the ocean.

She was so enrapt in the view that she didn’t notice the approach of her partner. Janeway took a final sip of coffee and set the cup on the vanity before stepping under the spray with her wife.

“Good morning, darling,” she purred, slipping her arms around Seven from behind. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome, my Kathryn. I enjoy performing that task for you.” Seven turned in the circle of Janeway’s arms and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman as the water beat down on them. Their kiss, while extremely wet, was also extremely enjoyable and neither was anxious to end it. When they finally broke apart both were breathless. Janeway reached out and shut off the water.

“I think I’d like to explore this balcony. What do you say to that, love?”

“It appears almost too small to explore, Kathryn, but there is a chaise on it and I believe that is large enough for us to…explore…something else.” In a moment the women were lying on the chaise in a dripping tangle of arms and legs, their lips locked together.

Janeway could barely contain herself as her passion spiked. She slid her hand down Seven’s arms and onto her breast, rolling the rapidly hardening nipple under her palm as her tongue danced with Seven’s. She broke their kiss. slid down her lover’s body and engulfed the other nipple with her mouth. Sucking as hard as she dared, she began to gently pinch the other nipple, urged on by Seven’s moans and the fluttering of her hands on Janeway’s head. Her ministrations became more intense as Seven’s moans grew in volume.

Lifting her mouth from the sweetness of Seven’s nipple she rasped, “Spread your legs.” Seven obeyed immediately and Janeway suddenly sat up and pivoted her upper body around. Catching Seven’s thighs in her arms she looked down on the glistening sex below her and with her own moan buried her face in the wet heat she found there. Seven nearly flew off the chaise at the explosion of electricity Janeway’s mouth caused and her hips began to jerk at the intense contact. She felt Janeway work two fingers inside her and begin to slowly thrust them in and out as she sucked and licked the sensitive bud at the apex of Seven’s sex. Unable to articulate any words, Seven could only sob with pleasure as that magical tongue did its work and her cortical node threatened to decompile under the onslaught of arousal. In moments, she was at the brink and then crying out as a powerful orgasm crashed over her like the waves crashing on the beach so far below them. Janeway slowed her caresses as Seven’s hips bucked uncontrollably at each stroke of her tongue and eased her dripping fingers from their tight sheath. She placed a final kiss on Seven’s sex and then turned back to lie on her lover.

Kissing Seven’s throat just below her jaw she murmured, “I love you so much. I love the way you taste and the way you cry out my name as you come. You are everything to me, my darling.”

Seven could not catch her breath enough to reply so she merely drew Kathryn up and kissed her deeply, tasting herself on those deep red lips. As her breathing slowed her hands began to drift down Kathryn’s back to clasp the firm roundness of her buttocks. She swallowed the moan her caresses caused and gently eased her Borg hand over the soft roundness and down into the damp heat below. She could feel Janeway trying not to writhe on top of her as her fingers found the source of her partner’s wetness and gently spread it all over the velvety folds.

Breaking their kiss as she brought her hands back to her partner’s backside she urged Janeway forward. “Sit over me, Kathryn,” she said softly, drawing her partner forward. Janeway could only moan in anticipation as she positioned herself over Seven. The tropical sun beat down hotly on her back as Seven’s molten mouth engulfed her sensitive nodule. Blood thundered in her ears as her hips began to rock in response to the stroking of Seven’s tongue. Suddenly the tongue stopped and Seven drew her mouth away. Panting, Janeway looked down at her in near panic.

“I want to watch you touch your breasts, Kathryn. I want to watch you stroke yourself with your hands as I stroke you with my tongue.” Janeway nearly passed out at the thought of that visual but lost it in the gasp that erupted as Seven’s mouth and tongue returned to their loving task. She felt Seven prop her legs up to support her and she leaned back against them, confident that Seven would hold her upright. Hesitantly, she drew her hands up her belly and began to slowly stroke her own nipples, keenly aware of the bright blue eyes that observed every touch. Closing her eyes and throwing her head back, she began to roll the hard nubbins between her fingers, pinching and pulling them as her passion grew. Suddenly she was there, her climax exploding within her. Sobbing, she withdrew her hands and tried to disengage from Seven’s voracious mouth. But her partner clasped her thighs firmly and continued to lave her most intimate folds with her tongue. Janeway’s belly clenched and with a gasp she felt the heat rising within her again. She began to moan in rhythm with her rocking hips and unaware, her hands returned to her breasts. She cried out in ecstasy again and again; Seven refusing to release her until with a scream, she came so hard she could only collapse atop her partner in tears, her cry lost in the wind and the jungle around them.

* * * * *

Radcliffe was just over halfway through the COMM log when he was hailed by Lieutenant McDeere.

“So how was the wedding, Radcliffe? You don’t look too badly hung over.”

Ethan laughed and replied, “I’m the only one in the office who isn’t. I was passing out hyposprays like candy this morning. I understand some of Voyager’s crew got together last night for one last party before they all get reassigned. But it was a wonderful wedding.”

“Glad you enjoyed yourself. Are you ready to get back to work? I’m reserving the holodeck for 1830 hours.”

“I’ll be there, Lieutenant. Do I need to bring anything special?”

“No, I think we’ll work on your hand to hand from now on. You know enough to practice your marksmanship on your own. And that’s all it’ll take. When you feel ready to try and qualify I’ll check you out right before you shoot for any last minute adjustments. But frankly, you know all you need to know. All you need is practice. And the hand to hand skills take more time to learn. So let’s focus on them.”

“Aye, aye, Lieutenant. I’ll see you at 1830 hours.”

“Okay, Radcliffe. See you tonight.”

The morning progressed quietly aside from one minor dustup with Lieutenant DiCampo of Logistics and Supply. Radcliffe dealt with it without mentioning his back channel requisitions to Lieutenant McDeere and the officious bureaucrat seemed to be placated. But surface appearances were deceiving; DiCampo was anything but placated. Later that day McDeere closed down her board and walked out of the office headed for dinner and her workout with a spring in her step. As she walked past DiCampo’s office she nodded and bid him goodnight, unaware that with Commander Nixon’s permission he had broken into her logs and was deep into her Voyager refit files.

* * * * *

While McDeere and Radcliffe worked out on Mars, on Earth Voyager’s EMH was taking the gamma shift rotation at Starfleet Medical. While his seniority was such that he wasn’t required to do so he occasionally enjoyed the quiet of the graveyard shift which to plan out the course of treatment and the timetable for the removal of additional implants for the Free Borg. He and Kate Pulaski were heading up the team of surgeons removing the Borg hardware from the freed drones; the problems of not only weaning them off their implants but dealing with multiple species’ medical requirements made for a heavy workload. Only the holographic EMH could maintain the lengthy shifts without feeling the effects of extreme fatigue.

The Free Borg were housed in a separate wing of the medical complex away from the rest of the facility for security purposes. Starfleet was keeping their arrival a secret as much as possible: memories of what happened at Wolf 359 were still very fresh in the Federation’s collective memory. Access to the ward was limited; a damping field blocked transport in and Starfleet security officers guarded the entrance. It was quiet duty and Security was taking advantage of that fact to season its newest officers. The young officers were fully trained and guarding the Free Borg gave them experience they desperately needed before shipping out on a starship.

After the EMH completed the surgical schedule for the remainder of the week he left the small office behind the main workstation of the unit to check on a particular Balnean drone who had spiked a fever that so far had refused to come down. He pulled out his tricorder to initialize the special settings her species required and was surprised to watch it indicate physiological signs of extreme stress as he passed a member of the nursing staff. Looking back, it occurred to him that he had never seen that face before. He ran some scans of the Balnean and administered a hypospray of netinaline to boost her nanoprobe activity and hopefully eradicate the infection he suspected was forming beneath a remaining implant. As he walked back to the workstation he noticed two medics doing a scan of another drone. What caught his eye was that one medic was holding the tricorder upside down and the scanning module reversed. There was no way that tricorder could take readings being used like that and for some reason the other medic wasn’t saying anything.

Alarm bells went off in his mind and he quickly headed to the ward entrance and the security officers. Alerting them to the fact that there might be intruders on the ward, he ordered them to summon additional security personnel. Grabbing a phaser he headed back into the ward after ordering the young security officers not to let anyone get past them. Their grim expressions told him they would do their best.

When he got back to the nursing station in the middle of the corridor the two medics who didn’t know how to use a medical tricorder were just vanishing into a room half way down the hall. The EMH broke into a run to catch them, doing so just as they attacked the drone lying in the bed. The EMH took a wild shot to draw the attention of one of the medics while he dodged their return fire. He felt his matrix flicker as the energy beam passed through it and nailed the intruder with his second shot, unaware that his phaser was set to kill.

Unfortunately for the other attacker, the drone they had chosen murder was Hirogen and had been recuperating for several days. The huge hunter came off his bed with the throat of his assailant in his Borg hand and slammed him against the wall. His roar of fury drowned out the sound of crushing bones as his grip tightened fully. He tossed the limp carcass across the room and spun to face the Doctor.

“Are you all right?” demanded the EMH.

“I am functional; more than most. I have had the longest time to heal.”

“Then come with me; we need to safeguard the rest of your crew.” The EMH grabbed the weapons of the intruders and tossed them to the hunter. They spread out through the hallway and gathered as many of the drones as could walk. Together, they organized a rear guard protecting the drones still too weak to leave their beds.

“Don’t let anyone by you unless I’m with them. I’m still not sure who to trust. More Security forces are on their way but I don’t know if there are more of these attackers waiting to storm the ward.”

“Do not worry, Doctor. No one will pass while we can still fight.”

Nodding in understanding, the EMH headed back to the main entrance of the ward at a run. What he saw there chilled his holographic heart.

Two of the young Security officers were down with the other three frantically trying to hold off what appeared to be two dozen heavily armed attackers. The EMH ran through the phaser blasts to the Security room and grabbed a disruptor rifle. He joined the remaining security forces and began firing back at the grim-faced group determined to kill his patients.

Across the Starfleet complex, the mayday call for more security officers tripped an alarm not only in the Security control center but at the Presidio in the Marine barracks. When Martin and the 1st Rifle Company, FMSG had shipped out to Mars, Admiral Patterson had drafted another company of Fleet Marines to be seconded to Starfleet Security, HQ. As security officers ran to their weapons lockers, the Fleet Marines were out of their bunks and in full gear in less than three minutes. Their watch officer programmed the location of the alert into the squad bay transporter and beamed the squad directly into the ward behind the Security station.

The EMH watched helplessly as yet another security officer went down under the withering fire of their attackers. He quickly checked the power cell on his disruptor rifle knowing it couldn’t last much longer. He raised it to his shoulder and took aim at the wall of assailants in front of him when a deafening barrage of fire erupted from behind his position. He spun to find fifteen Fleet Marines fully engaged with the attacking forces. And those Marines knew their job very well.

As quickly as that the tide turned and it was now the attacking forces that endured a withering hail of fire. The EMH dropped his rifle and began pulling the downed Security officers out of the firefight as the Marines calmly cut down the terrorists arrayed against them. When the additional Starfleet Security forces arrived moments later the fight was all but over. The fusillade of fire dropped off to sporadic bursts and finally ended altogether.

Two of the Security officers were dead but the EMH was able to stabilize the others quickly and then led the Marines down the ward to where the Free Borg had barricaded themselves. Once assured that none had been injured further they were assisted back to their beds, this time with armed guards in the hallways. The EMH returned to the injured security officers.

Most of the attackers had been killed in the firefight, but the Marines and Starfleet Security forces has captured four of them. Identity scans showed all the dead and three of the unconscious captives to be members of an ultra-conservative “Earth First” terrorist cell. Hundreds of these fanatic groups had sprung up in the aftermath of the Dominion War, opposed to recognition of any race other than humans. The bulk of their membership was known to the Starfleet and Federation Intelligence divisions, but the remaining terrorist was a mystery. He had no identity chip, no DNA, retinal scan or even fingerprints on file. To all intents and purposes, the man did not exist.

An interrogation detachment had arrived from Starfleet Security when the EMH returned to the nurses’ workstation. At the request of the lead interrogator, he did a full-body scan of the unidentified terrorist and discovered a polyceramic sub-dermal implant. To his dismay, the scan also revealed a false tooth with a reservoir of extremely fast acting poison. He neutralized the compound and removed both the false tooth and the implant.

The lead interrogator was examining another device they had removed from the attacker. He had been reaching for it when he’d been stunned by phaser fire. It was only luck that he’d been hit before being able to activate the strange device. None of the security officers had ever seen anything like it. When Admiral Patterson arrived he examined the technology and then requested that the EMH revive the still unconscious man.

“Who are you working for?” demanded the lead interrogator when the hypospray the EMH administered had taken effect.

“Only Earth. Humans are the most advanced species in the galaxy. We should be protecting ourselves. Let the alien races kill each other off. When they do, humans will take over their rightful place as the leaders of the galaxy.”

“Is that why you decided to murder hospitalized guests of the Federation?”

“’Guests of the Federation’? They’re fucking BORG! We ought to kill each and every one of them! After what they did at Wolf 359 they don’t deserve to live!”

“And just how far are you prepared to go in support of your cause?”

“I would die to keep those filthy monsters off Earth!” Admiral Patterson wasn’t listening intently as the interrogator questioned the fanatic, but he observed the process closely. The man’s answers sounded like what the lunatic fringe would spout, but there was a look in the man’s eyes that didn’t jibe with the intense hatred spewing out of his mouth. His eyes were just a bit too cold; too calculating to be a true fanatic. And lunatics didn’t usually plan ahead far enough to have a false tooth and a reservoir of lethal poison drilled into their jaw.

With a growing feeling of unease, Patterson took the mysterious device and headed back to Headquarters. Back in his office he turned the device over and over examining it closely. His scans couldn’t penetrate the encryption coding and there was no outward indication of its function. He summoned his technical chief and turned the device over to him requesting hourly updates on the analysis. With that, he began to review the after-action reports of the officers involved in the firefight and prepared to contact the families of those who had fallen.

* * * * *

The sun had risen before Admiral Patterson surrendered. The updates he’d demanded were prompt, concise and identical. No scan, probe or analytical tool employed by Starfleet Security seemed capable of breaking the encryption of the device they had recovered from the mystery man apprehended in the attack on the Free Borg. Finally accepting the irrefutable data in front of him, Admiral Patterson picked up the device and left his office headed for the Starfleet Intelligence Directorate one floor up. His expression caused several officers approaching him to quicken their pace in a different direction.

Admiral Chapman’s adjunct ushered him into the inner office immediately and closed the door behind him. If Patterson was at all surprised when his peer held up a silencing hand and activated a tiny device on the desk before rising and greeting him he didn’t show it.

“Hello, Rob. What brings you up to the happy land of spooks this morning?” after shaking hands, Chapman indicated they sit in a conversation area by the windows of his office.

“Alan, I’m sorry to bother you so early without a call first, but we had a somewhat disturbing incident last night.”

Both men settled in the comfortable chairs ignoring the panoramic views over San Francisco Bay in front of them. “The assault on the Free Borg at Medical?”

Patterson nodded. “We captured four of them. Three are your garden-variety xenophobe nutcases. But one of them is something more. Something much more dangerous I think. He doesn’t exist. No DNA, fingerprints, retinal scans or identity chips on file for him.” Chapman’s surprised expression became more pronounced as Patterson continued. “We found a false tooth with a very nasty poison embedded in his jaw. And he was trying to use this when we took him down.” Patterson placed the device on the arm of Chapman’s chair. “None of our equipment seems able to penetrate the encryption on it. We’ve been working on it all night and nothing. I was hoping that maybe your tech wizards might have something else we could try.”

Chapman picked up the innocuous-looking object and examined it closely. “You’ve been at this all night you say? God, Rob, do you need some coffee?”

“I’m fine, Alan. I was going to head to the dining room when we finished here.”

“And there’s no record of any kind on this man? That’s impossible; even if he was raised in the wilderness somewhere we’d have some record of his existence. It takes some serious work to make all records of an individual disappear.”

“That’s what frightens me, Alan. Why I came up here. I need your help.”

“Well then, let’s get the ball rolling.” Chapman tapped his COMM badge and instructed his adjunct to send their tech director in. Ending the hail he turned back to Patterson. “Is there anything else you can tell me about this or the man who was trying to use it?”

“I wish I could, but he’s refused to talk except to spew the usual racial hatred you’d expect from these lunatics. But it was his eyes, Alan. He didn’t have the eyes of a fanatic. His eyes were too cold and calculating. That’s why I need to find out about this…thing.”

A sharp knock at the door announced the arrival of the Intelligence Tech chief. The tall, handsome Dokkarian male strode into the room and walked over to where the Admirals were seated.

“You asked for me, Admiral?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. Rob, this is my technical chief, Garan Rekar. Lieutenant, this is Admiral Patterson.” The men nodded briefly in greeting as Chapman continued. “Last night a group of fanatics attacked Starfleet Medical trying to kill the Free Borg recuperating there. Security took this off one of them. Any ideas what it might be?”

Rekar examined the small device closely, pulling a small scanning probe from his pocket and passing it over what appeared to be an activation ridge on it. He frowned at the result.

“I do not immediately recognize this, Admiral. May I return it to our labs and begin analysis on it there?”

“Of course, Rekar. Make it a priority and notify me immediately if you have any results.”

“Of course, Admiral.” The Dokkarian nodded his goodbyes and hurried off to his lair in the secured analysis laboratories.

“If anyone can discover what that thing is it’s Rekar. The man is a genius with anything technological. I’ve never seen anyone with a more intuitive grasp of how things work than him. I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

Patterson rose and extended his hand. “Thanks, Alan. The faster we get some answers the safer I think we’ll all be.”

“I agree, Rob. Now why don’t you go have that breakfast you were talking about and I’ll call you as soon as we have something? Or if we don’t.”

* * * * *