Part Three: Away Mission

Tom settled into his chair in the conference room, scanning the table for those present. It was still half-empty. The ship's officers were chatting quietly as they filtered in. He was pleased to note that nobody seemed particularly upset about anything, which could only bode well for a nice, pleasantly uneventful day, shorn of life-threatening crises. He'd been up late the night before reading Sally's notes on what it was like actually to live in the twentieth century, and was in no mood for adventure.

Just then the anthropologist herself came in with Seven of Nine. He was startled at their appearance; Seven was less rigid than usual, seeming almost to relax in her seat, and Sally wore a faint smile that was relevant to nothing he could see. They took the two empty seats next to him. "Morning, flyboy," Sally greeted him. She had yet to tell him what the cultural reference was in the nickname, but he didn't object to it. "I got through that scenario you gave me yesterday afternoon."

"Really? How did you find it?"

"Easier than I thought I would. I think I'm getting the hang of riding gravitational fields instead of just fighting them." Sally smiled lazily. "It's fun."

He grinned back. "You should've been a pilot, not an anthropologist. Keep practicing and maybe the captain will let you come out on the next shuttle mission."

"Ooh, now that's incentive." Sally settled back in her seat. She looked positively sleepy. Tom glanced at Seven, and saw an almost identical sleepy smile on the ex-Borg's lips, the expression unfamiliar and surprisingly beautiful. Looking between the two women, he started to wonder...

Just then, the captain entered. Straightening in his seat and turning his attention to her, Tom was surprised to see her glance around the table freeze and a look of... shock? flicker over her features before her customary composure returned. She'd been looking at Seven of Nine and Sally - perhaps she was wondering the same thing he was, or maybe it was just the startling effect of seeing Seven of Nine looking relaxed.

Maybe.

"We've finished our survey of the fourth planet of the system," Chakotay reported. Sally listened interestedly. She'd known they had been in a star system, but nothing else about it. "All reports suggest it's going to be perfect for some shore leave. Neelix?"

"Thank you, Commander." The Talaxian Morale Officer beamed. "With the help of some suggestions from Doctor Kingston, I've been researching some of our options for some crew entertainment. I wanted to arrange something special."

"This sounds good," Janeway said, her enthusiasm sounding slightly forced.

"As you know," Sally said, "Neelix and I have been preparing a concert. We've had quite a few members of the crew sign up to perform, and it looks like it's going to be a pretty good night. Neelix tells me he's found something else he'd like to try."

"A carnival," Neelix said, beaming.

"We thought we could set one up on the planet. Some rides, a few games and competition booths. It should be easy enough to find people to take turns manning the booths, and we can use the concert as the closing event for the carnival."

Janeway glanced at the other command staff. "Comments?"

"Sounds good to me," Chakotay said. There was no dissent.

"Do it," Janeway decided. "Anything else?"

Chakotay glanced at his padd. "There are some unusual electromagnetic readings coming from the system's cometary belt. Astrophysics have requested some closer scans."

"Can't they use the Astrometrics array?" Janeway asked. Chakotay shook his head.

"They've requested particle samples."

"How about the Delta Flyer?" Tom suggested. "It would be a pretty easy run out to the cometary belt, and it would give me a chance to take Dr Kingston for some non-simulated flight experience."

Janeway considered this briefly. "All right. Tell Astrophysics they'll get their samples. Tom, Kingston, you can leave in two hours. That'll get Dr Kingston back in time to set up the carnival with Neelix." The meeting finished, she nodded abruptly. "Dismissed."

Sally grabbed her padd, caught Neelix's eye, and stopped with him in the corridor just outside the room. "I can give you a brief for where you can look at standard carnival events. I'll go over it with you when I get back with Tom."

The helmsman came out of the conference room then and grinned at her. "If you survive," he teased.

From the doors, open behind him, they heard Seven's voice. "Captain..." she said.

"I have to be on the bridge," Janeway cut her off. Then, more gently: "We can talk later."

Sally took a breath. "Neelix, I'll meet up with you in about ten minutes, okay?"

Neelix nodded, shooting another glance in the direction of the conference room. "Yes. I'll, ah, be in the mess hall."

Tom squeezed her shoulder. "Meet you in the shuttle bay."

"If I survive," Sally muttered, and took the plunge back into the conference room.

Fortunately for her, Janeway had, by then, returned to the bridge by the other door. Seven stood alone and forlorn-looking by her chair. Sally stepped up behind her and touched her shoulder. "She doesn't mean to be cold, Seven. She's having a hard time adjusting to this."

Seven turned to look at her. Sally was startled to see a tear glistening in Seven's eye. "I am having a 'hard time' adjusting to her behaviour. By turns she behaves as if she cares for me, and as if she does not. It is unacceptable."

Sally sighed and wrapped her arms around her friend. "I know, honey, but it seems to be the way she is. She'll probably settle down once she does adjust, you know." She rubbed Seven's back.

"You do not behave so erratically," Seven observed. "She should not. It hurts me."

"I know, but... the captain and I are different people, with different responsibilities and life experiences. Janeway feels responsible to her ship above responsibilities to her feelings, or to you. And I doubt she's been involved with a woman before, which might make her feel a bit awkward." She pressed a kiss to Seven's cheek. "Be strong. Don't let little things like this control your choices. But don't let her get away with this kind of crap either, or she'll just keep doing it. Most important, let her know how you feel." A brief squeeze around Seven's waist, and then Sally stepped back. "I've got to go talk to Neelix. Tom and I should be back in a day or so, I guess, but we have communications on board. Call me if you need to talk."

"I shall." Seven smiled. "Thank you, Sally."

"It's a pleasure." Sally began a motion to turn to leave, but Seven caught her hand and, having stopped her, brushed a quick kiss across her lips.

"For 'luck'," she offered. "On your first flight."

Sally grinned. "Later."

Sally leaned back from the table, rotating her shoulders to loosen the muscles. "That should be a start, Neelix. We can go over it when I get back." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I gotta get to the shuttle bay - Tom and I are heading out in half an hour."

"I'll see you when you get back, then," the gnome-like Talaxian said brightly.

"Yep. Till then." Sally headed out of the mess hall, and towards the turbolift. The doors had just closed behind her when her communicator beeped.

"Paris to Kingston," Tom's voice said. Sally jumped. She still wasn't used to this.

"Hey, flyboy."

"C'mon down, already. I want to take you through the pre-flight check sequence."

"I'm almost there." She almost broke into a jog as the turbolift reached its destination and she went from there to the shuttle bay, eager for her first shuttle flight.

Tom grinned at her excitement as they completed their check sequence, then sat at the controls to launch. "I'll pilot us out of the bay," he said, "then you can set our course to the cometary belt."

"Okay," Sally said, eyes alight with interest. She watched him guide the Delta Flyer expertly out of the bay.

"All yours," he said, leaning back and grinning.

"Right." Sally called up a map of the system, worked out a course, and showed it to Tom. He looked it over carefully.

"Not bad," he decided. "We'll have to dodge a few asteroids, but that won't be hard in a system like this one. It's a pretty sparse belt. Engage course."

Cheeks tinged pink with excitement, Sally set them moving along the course she'd plotted. "Course engaged," she announced proudly.

Two hours later, however, the novelty had worn off, and she and Tom were chatting idly about twentieth-century music when a yawn caught Sally by surprise.

"Rough night?" Tom asked, then flushed.

"Didn't get much sleep. If it's okay with you, I think I might sack out for a bit in the back."

"Go ahead." Tom glanced at the controls. "We're several hours from the asteroids, yet. It's a long way to the cometary belt at impulse."

"See you in a bit, flyboy."

Sally went into the aft compartment of the Flyer and settled down on a narrow bunk. Shortly afterwards, she drifted off, but was awakened an unknown period of time later by an almighty crash. It threw her from the bunk and hard onto the floor, which didn't stop shaking. Crawling through to the forward compartment, she called out. "Tom? What's happening?"

There was no answer, and she soon saw why; his body sprawled limp across his chair, clearly unconscious. Through the forward screen she could see another ship.

It was firing on them.

Sally's eyes widened, and she scrambled to pull Tom from his seat and take the chair herself, unconsciously wiping his blood from her hands on the fronts of her jeans. She hoped he was alive. She hoped he'd wake up.

The other ship had broken off, but, she could see, was just pulling back to re-establish formation with another small vessel. "What the fuck do I do?" she muttered aloud. "Okay. Welcome to Shuttle Kombat III for Playstation 2, 3-D simulator version. You can do this."

The ships were coming in.

"Evasive manoeuvres!" she shouted, stabbing at the controls. She managed to turn the Flyer to shoot out at maximum thrust 'upwards', at right-angles to the attacking craft. Their weapons' beams passed clear of the Flyer's stern. "Thank god, thank god, Tom wake up. Computer, go to warp."

"Warp engines are offline."

"Fuck. Uh, open a channel to Voyager." Sally dragged the Flyer in another direction, hearing metal creak faintly in protest as she overloaded several systems. Sparks showered over her.

"Delta Flyer, come in," said Chakotay's voice.

"Chakotay! We're under attack and Tom's out cold and I'm trying not to get shot but I don't know how to fly this fucking thing. Help!" Sally shouted.

Chakotay only hesitated for an instant. "Send us your co-ordinates. Helm, prepare for warp."

"I don't know how," Sally answered, an edge of hysteria in her voice. "Oh, shit. There's another one coming in. There's three of them."

He heard an explosion through the comm link. "Sally?"

"Still here. Just. I'm going to try and -"

Static.

"I've lost the link, Commander," Harry Kim said.

"Find them. Bridge to Janeway," Chakotay snapped.

"Janeway here."

"The Delta Flyer's been attacked. Tom is injured. Sally sent a distress call before they lost communications."

The captain emerged from her ready room as if shot from a catapult. "Report."

"Dr Kingston reports three attacking vessels," Tuvok said, from his station. "Ensign Paris is apparently unconscious. Sensors show no trace of the Delta Flyer, or of their attackers."

"Sensors last picked them up entering the fringes of the asteroid belt," Ensign Kim spoke up. "There's some kind of strange electromagnetic interference blocking sensors inside it, I think. We didn't pick anything up on initial scans of the system."

Janeway didn't hesitate. "Keep looking. I'm going to Astrometrics. Perhaps Seven can find a way to track them. Chakotay, you have the bridge. Set a course for the asteroid belt."

Chakotay nodded. "Red alert."

The red alert klaxon startled Seven from her work, and she wondered if she should report to the bridge. A quick scan of their immediate area showed no discernable threats, however, and the doors to her lab slid open before she could decide.

"Captain." Seven was puzzled. "What is happening?"

Janeway seemed to freeze. "Seven... The Delta Flyer was attacked. Tom and Sally are missing."

Seven felt suddenly lightheaded. "We will find them," she said flatly, turning back to her console. She called up a map of the system and superimposed the Flyer's recorded course over it. She was distantly relieved to note that Voyager was already moving to follow. Fingertips flickering across her panel, she set in motion a range of scans of the area where the Flyer had disappeared, and glared at the screen as she waited for results to return as if it were at fault for the speed-of-light delay.

"Seven..." Janeway said, behind her. Seven turned to look at her.

"Captain?"

Janeway felt an odd tightness across her chest, seeing at the tightly-controlled terror evident in Seven's expression. She felt a strong need to comfort her, but couldn't think of anything to say that might help. "Keep an eye out for anything that might be concealing enemy ships," was what she finally said. A moment's hesitation. "We'll find them, Seven."

Seven nodded. "Yes, captain."

She'd finally been persuaded to go off shift. The captain and Doctor both had been quite vehement about it. Seven didn't want to. She wanted to keep looking. She wanted to know Sally was all right. She wanted to be sitting with her on Sally's couch, discussing human interaction, or Sally's anecdotes of her former life, or talking about the captain, listening to Sally explain to her why Janeway behaved the way she did.

She was aware that Sally and Tom could very well be dead. But she refused to let herself see that as probable, illogical as that was. She couldn't yet face the idea of life with her friend gone, and the emptiness it would leave behind.

Cargo Bay Two seemed more empty, more cavernous, and more painfully desolate than she remembered it being. It compared rather unfavourably with the warm, comforting surroundings she'd had the night before when she slept in Sally's quarters. Seven shuddered delicately as she looked around.

She didn't think she wanted to regenerate here tonight. Stepping down from her dais, Seven considered her options. Going to talk to the captain was the first that leapt to mind, but, as much as she wanted comfort, she was too tired to discuss the mechanics of emotion. She just wanted to rest.

Before she could really consider it further, she was walking out the door towards Sally's quarters.

Sally's door opened obediently when she asked it to; Sally clearly felt no inclination to lock her quarters while she was away from them. Entering, Seven was struck by how empty and small the suite of rooms was without its usual occupant. Everything was just as it had been when they'd left that morning, except... colder.

Stepping forward, Seven retrieved Sally's shirt from behind the couch, staring at it for a long moment, remembering the night before. It seemed unreal, with Sally gone, missing. Out of communication. With Ensign Paris apparently injured, leaving Sally to cope with technology she'd only just begun to learn to use, in order to survive...

A drop of water speckled Sally's shirt. A tear. Seven hugged the fabric to her and went through to Sally's bed, curling up atop the still-rumpled covers in the dark, empty bedroom.

"I think we have something here, captain," Harry Kim reported. He had been assisting Seven in Astrometrics for most of the morning.

Seven touched a control. A medium-large asteroid filled the screen. "The Flyer was last detected in proximity to this asteroid. Repeated scans of the area revealed that returned results showed no anomaly, but were inconsistent. The scans themselves were anomalous."

"So we looked more closely at the asteroids themselves. And we found this one. Approximately five hundred and twenty kilometres in diamater, nine hundred and forty in length. Consists almost entirely of planetary core metals. Low radiation count, but it interferes pretty badly with our sensors." Harry highlighted several areas; collision craters. "Small ships could hide in these impact craters, and sensors wouldn't pick them up in the noise from the core metals. The Flyer could be close to it, or behind it." He swallowed visibly. "Or they may have... landed... on it."

Crashed into it, you mean, Janeway thought grimly. "Send the co-ordinates to the bridge," she ordered. "Let's go take a look."

Sally was dimly aware that she was conscious. She was vividly aware that she was in pain. Sharp agony hit with every breath. Her head hurt. And -

"I can't feel my legs," she muttered out loud.

"I know. Try to relax, and don't move," said Tom's voice, close to her ear. "You're badly injured. I'm doing what I can, but you have a spinal injury I don't think I can treat. Voyager will come and get us soon. The Doctor will be able to fix you. Here."

Pressure against her neck, a soft hiss, and soothing numbness spread throughout her body. "That should help the pain," Tom said. "It was also a muscle relaxant. I've fixed your broken wrist. You've got broken ribs. I'm going to use the bone knitter, but you're going to need surgery later." Sally was dimly aware of him cutting away her shirt, baring her side. She was vaguely amused by the way he carefully arranged its remnants so as to leave her modesty intact. A strange, itchy tingling sensation started in her ribs, gradually erasing the sharp pain and leaving behind a dull ache.

"What... what happened?" she managed to say. Her tongue felt like it was made of rubber.

"We got thrown about pretty badly. I think I landed on top of you somewhere in there. The ships that were attacking us must have broken off once we stopped resisting. We're in some kind of cave - they must have brought us here. They don't respond to hails, and I can't get in touch with Voyager."

Sally heard the bone knitter shut off, and Tom set it aside. Most of the pain was gone, but she felt dopey from whatever drug he had given her. "I think that's got you stable, for now. I'm going to see if I can find a way to contact Voyager. Get some sleep, if you can."

Overcoming the extreme heaviness they seemed to possess, Sally forced her eyelids open. The cockpit was dimly-lit and smoky. Tom was at the shuttle's controls, fiddling with things, trying she knew not what. The viewscreen showed only darkness. Sally could see Tom's face reflected in it. He looked worried. There were smears of dried blood on his fair skin, though he'd clearly wiped most of it off. She remembered he'd been injured. Can't have been as serious as she'd thought.

Still. Better he was the active one than she was. She wouldn't have had a prayer of even fixing him up as much as he had her.

He looked worried.

The ships appeared as they approached the asteroid. Five of them, this time, boiling out of one of the craters on the asteroid's surface.

"Hail them," Janeway ordered.

"No response," Harry answered tensely.

"They are charging weapons," Tuvok warned. "Shields are at maximum."

The first ship dove towards them, strafing along the length of Voyager's hull and firing rapidly. "Shields holding," Tuvok reported, as Seven worked feverishly from the data they'd picked up from the first attack to strengthen the shields against another.

"Return fire."

The ship's phasers lanced out, striking the ship that had attacked them with delicate precision. It bucked and tumbled, spinning away from Voyager damaged but not destroyed, and clearly out of the fight. "Nice shooting," Janeway said approvingly. "Harry, hail them again."

"Still no response, captain."

"The vessels are attacking."

Janeway realised just in time what the four remaining ships, plunging towards Voyager in tight formation, were intending. "More power to forward shields," she snapped.

"Already complete," Tuvok answered calmly, and she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the stars around them that he was as good as he was as all four ships fired in perfect unison. Voyager shuddered, and hit back, this time taking out two of their attackers. "Shields at ninety-two percent."

"They're hailing us, captain," Harry announced.

"On screen."

A small, rotund alien with purplish features and a bright green - uniform? - filled the screen. He seemed positively apoplectic. "To leave at once!" he shouted. "This asteroid claimed by the Huba Mining Protectorate! To return to your node!"

Janeway was slightly taken aback. "We don't have a... node. We're looking for two of our people. Their shuttle went missing here."

"Invaders! Spies!" the alien replied, going a slightly deeper shade of purple. "Industrial sabotage! This asteroid claimed by the Huba Mining Protectorate!"

"We don't want your asteroid!" Janeway found herself shouting back. "We want our crew members back!"

The alien looked at her suspiciously. "Not to claim this asteroid! Not to steal resources! This asteroid claimed -"

"... by the Huba Mining Protectorate. You told us. We accept the claim of the Huba Mining Protectorate. We just want our people back."

"To return them with alacrity! To leave upon the instant!" The alien had turned so deep a shade of purple Janeway wondered if it was about to rupture something. It turned away to address someone off-screen. "To fetch the prisoners!"

"Thank you," Janeway said uncertainly.

Sally was prodded from an uncomfortable doze by a slight shudder in the deckplates beneath her. "Someone's using a tractor beam," Tom muttered, hurrying to her side to hold her steady against the movements. "Inertial dampeners are damaged. This could get rough."

"Voyager to Delta Flyer." It was Janeway's voice. Like Tom's, it seemed to Sally that it came from a great distance away.

"Delta Flyer here, captain," Tom answered. He sounded happy. "Glad to hear your voice."

"We should have you home in a few minutes. What's your status?"

"The Flyer's damaged, but repairable. Dr Kingston is badly injured. There's a tractor beam on us at the moment. It's shaking us more than I like."

"We'll be able to beam you to sickbay as soon as the interference from the asteroid is out of the way. Just hold on."

"Will do, captain." Tom was smiling. "Hold on, Sally. We're going to be fine."

Janeway felt almost dizzy with relief at the sound of her helmsman's voice. Looking around the bridge, she saw most of the crew were smiling. Seven, however, still looked slightly tense. "Seven," Janeway said awkwardly. "If you'd like to wait in Sickbay..."

Seven appeared to interpret this as an order, and gave Janeway a slightly quizzical look. "Yes, captain." She input a few more commands into her console and left the bridge. Janeway took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Harry, as soon as you can get a lock on Tom and Kingston, beam them directly to Sickbay." She settled into her command chair and rubbed her face tiredly, suddenly depressed as her adrenaline levels tapered off.

Seven, she presumed, would be spending this evening with Kingston. The dinner Janeway had planned with Seven for the night before had, unsurprisingly, been forgotten in the search for the missing crew members. She wondered if she'd get the chance again - and if she did, did it matter? She was increasingly convinced it was already too late. She finally knew - or had finally admitted - what it was she really wanted - or who - if only to herself. Too late.

This time, the first thing Sally became aware of was a tickling sensation on the sole of her foot. "Hey, stop that," she muttered, pulling it away.

"Well, it works," said a familiar voice. Opening her eyes, Sally saw a very welcome sight - the ceiling of Voyager's sickbay. Seven of Nine was standing by the bed, looking half-amused and half-disapproving as Tom Paris tickled Sally's feet. He was grinning. He'd showered since last she'd seen him, and was wearing a clean uniform. "How are you feeling?"

"I -" Sally blinked. "Uh. Pretty good. Ache a little, but that's it. How is that possible?" Wincing only slightly, she hitched herself up on her elbows. "I think I like 24th-century medical technology."

The Doctor emerged from his office. "Ah. You're awake." He took the probe from his tricorder and began examining her. "You were in surgery for two hours. The punctured lung was one thing, but the spinal injury was another. You're lucky you hadn't suffered cord damage."

Sally wiggled her toes. "You do good work, Doctor. I feel better than I would have thought possible."

"Naturally." He gave her a tight smile. "I'm ordering you off all duty for at least the next several days. The miracles of modern medicine aside, you still need rest to recover from the sheer physical trauma."

"If you say so, Doctor. When will I be allowed to return to my quarters?"

The Doctor stared at her for a moment. "I think you're my first patient who actually accepted doctor's orders. Perhaps twentieth-century medical techniques left patients a little less spoilt by quick recovery." He shook his head slightly, shooting Tom Paris a dark look. "You can return to your quarters as soon as you like, so long as you take it easy and make sure you get plenty of nutritious food and rest."

"Thank you, Doctor." Sally sat up and stretched, only realising when Tom cleared his throat and looked away that she was naked beneath the light sheet that had covered her. "Whoops," she said with a grin, tucking it around her chest. "Guess I'm still a little out of it. Where are my clothes?"

"Your clothes were destroyed," Seven told her. "They were cut free to prepare you for surgery." She touched Sally's hand reassuringly. "I will replicate you some more."

"Thanks." Sally smiled at her. "And Tom... Thanks for patching me up, earlier."

Tom waved dismissively. "Hey, you saved both our lives. Just don't get an idea that every away mission is like that."

"I promise," Sally replied mock-seriously. "Actually, I'm hoping that the next time I leave Voyager I don't come back in about six pieces."

Seven returned then with a neatly-folded stack of clothing, Sally's Starfleet-issue half-boots perched on top. "I'll, ah, go give our report to the captain," Tom said, and hurried out.

"Thanks," Sally said to Seven, taking the clothes and getting down from the biobed to dress. Without needing to be asked, Seven assisted her. Sally found that, despite being far healthier than she'd expected she would be for weeks, if not months, she was left uncomfortably stiff. The Doctor reappeared as Seven was helping Sally get her shirt on.

"Remember, I want you to rest. If you have anything strenuous to do, don't," he admonished.

Sally grinned at him, buttoning her shirt as Seven knelt to put her boots on. "I promise, Doctor. Thank you for your help. How long until the stiffness goes?"

"The muscular stiffness should ease quite rapidly - it should be gone in an hour or so. You'll have some aches for the next couple of days from skeletal trauma."

"Wow." Sally shook her head. "Where I come from this kind of thing would lay you up for months."

"Well, we aren't living in the Dark Ages any more, Doctor Kingston."

"That we aren't." Sally indulged in a whole-body stretch. It felt good, despite the protests from her muscles. "See you, Doctor." She and Seven left Sickbay.

"You're pretty quiet," Sally observed. "Want to talk about it?"

Seven nodded. "In your quarters."

"As you wish."

They reached them, and entered. Sally was surprised by her own sense of relief - it was strange how quickly she'd come to think of Voyager, and these rooms, as "home". She made a beeline for the replicator. "Water. Four degrees Celsius. Seven, you want anything?"

"Not at this time."

Sally dropped onto the couch and motioned for Seven to join her. "So talk."

Seven didn't meet her eyes, choosing instead to watch the condensation forming on the sides of Sally's glass. "I was afraid for you," she said quietly.

Sally watched her carefully. "I was afraid for me too. But I'm all right now - I'm here and I'm safe. What's bothering you now?"

"I don't know." Seven sounded frustrated. "I was relieved, but somehow it has not dissipated my anxiety." She finally met Sally's eyes. "Captain Janeway sent me to Sickbay to wait for you. I saw you transported in. I saw you. You looked... you looked as if you were dead." She shuddered slightly.

"Oh." Sally's voice was quiet. "I see." She placed her glass on the table and stood. "C'mere." She took Seven's hand and pulled her gently to her feet. "This might help." She wrapped her arms around Seven and held her in a tight hug. Seven was shaking. "It's okay, Seven," Sally murmured. "I'm alive, and I'm even healthy. I'm right here."

They stayed like that for a long time, until Seven took a deep breath and pulled back a little. "Thank you," she said. "I am not sure why I needed that."

Sally smiled. "It's a human thing, Seven. A couple of years ago Natalie was in a car accident. I reacted the same way. Took a while to adjust to the idea that she was still alive." She kissed Seven's cheek. "Feel better?"

"Much." Seven finally smiled a little in reply, then glanced around. "I spent the night here last night."

"Really? How come?" They sat down again, but Sally kept a light clasp on Seven's hand, stroking across the backs of her fingers with her thumb.

"I was uncomfortable in Cargo Bay Two. The setting seemed unpleasantly oppressive."

"Tch. I'm not surprised. That setting is unpleasantly oppressive. You really should ask for quarters of your own, you know." She cocked her head. "And in the meantime, you know you're welcome to stay here whenever you like."

"Thank you." Seven hesitated. "I am tired."

"Then let's put you to bed." Sally rose and led Seven by the hand through to the bedroom. "Jammies first." She opened the door to her wardrobe and scanned the contents. "I don't have a wide variety of clothes just yet, but... this'll do." She handed Seven an oversized t-shirt. "Put that on." Seven obeyed, while Sally changed the bedsheets and replicated extra pillows. When she turned around, Seven was standing looking bemusedly at herself in the mirror on the wardrobe door.

"I look different," Seven observed. Sally looked her up and down appraisingly.

"You look cute, actually. Better, maybe. Those suits you usually wear are too tight. And high heels are just barbaric. Why on earth do you wear those, anyway?" Sally finished making the bed and pulled the covers back on one side. "In."

Seven replied as she climbed obediently into bed. "The Doctor customarily designs my clothing."

"Well, for a computer program, he sure has an adolescent male taste in clothes." Sally tucked Seven in, and smilingly brushed a kiss across her forehead. "Sweet dreams. I'll be just out there if you need me."

"Goodnight, Sally."

"Computer, lights off." Sally scooped up Seven's discarded bodysuit on her way back out to the living room. She pulled the communicator off and set it on the coffee table, then went to clean the suit. A thought occurred to her then, and, smiling to herself, she stopped, and went to fetch a padd instead.

Seven slid gradually into wakefulness, feeling better-rested than she had for several days. She was aware of Sally, sprawled gracelessly alongside her, snoring very softly, and wondered when her friend had actually come to bed. The anthropologist was still fully dressed and had collapsed atop the bedclothes.

Seven's brow creased slightly as she looked at Sally's face, relaxed and composed in sleep. Bereft of her usual animation, Sally definitely seemed... plainer, and much, much younger. Seven was, at that moment, intensely aware that her friend was stranded in a way even Voyager's crew weren't, and with far less hope of going home. It bothered her more than she let on, Seven realised.

Slipping out of bed, Seven folded the covers over and tucked them around Sally's body, feeling vaguely indulgent as Sally, without waking, shifted in her sleep and snuggled into the warmth of the blankets, mumbling something into her pillow.

Stepping out into the main area of Sally's quarters, Seven noticed a large package, wrapped in shiny silver paper, perched on the back of the couch. There was a padd tucked into the bright blue ribbon that decorated it. Curious, Seven took the padd and looked at what it was displaying.

// A very merry unbirthday to you, to you. A very merry unbirthday to you. Please find enclosed an unbirthday present. I'd be delighted if you were to make use of it today. - Sal \\

Mystified, Seven untied the ribbon and unwrapped the paper, careful not to tear it. Inside she found a box. Inside that was a long-sleeved sky blue shirt, long pants of a rich, deeper blue, socks, underwear, and soft black half-boots. Glancing again at the padd, Seven donned the outfit, then slipped back into the bedroom to look at herself in the full-length mirror on Sally's wardrobe door.

The reflection she saw looked wildly different from what she was used to. Her hair was still loose around her face, softening its austere lines considerably, and the clothing had been tailored to the shape of her body, but was form-fitting rather than skin-tight. It felt odd, brushing against her skin when she moved rather than stretching against it, and the flat heels robbed her posture of some of its rigidity. She wasn't quite sure whether she liked it or not.

Still, it had been a particular request of her friend's, so she decided to keep the outfit on for the day. She brushed her hair out, but decided that the usual severe twist she used to keep it back wouldn't suit the different line of her clothing, and decided to leave it down, just for today. After a quick breakfast of liquid nutritional supplement, she headed for Astrometrics to begin her duty shift.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"On three."

Four crewmen beinghandled the bulky backdrop of the stage into place against the wall of Cargo Bay Two. It was early afternoon, and they'd finally finished clearing away the cargo and could start building their performance hall. The stage was opposite the bank of Borg alcoves, and Seven's little personal area, and Sally had spent part of her day directing the building screens of around this space, contriving with eight-foot panelling and theatrical flats to create a sense therein of privacy. The accessway to Seven's area blocked anyone from seeing within without actually entering now, by means of overlapping flats. Sally felt fairly sure this would keep people from wandering in without reason.

No matter what, it was an improvement.

"Okay," she said briskly, once the backdrop was secured. It was thick, allowing for a narrow passage behind the stage to allow people to get between the wings - which is what the crewmen were setting up now. "Neelix, bring that ladder over here." Sally climbed up onto the framework over the stage they had rigged for spotlights, and started attaching the lights as Neelix passed them up to her. The Doctor's orders had been for her to take it easy, but she rationalised that she wasn't doing anything very strenuous. Besides, the exercise was rapidly easing the aches in her body.

"Be careful, Sally," the Talaxian said nervously, as the wriggled along the top of a beam.

"Relax and pass me the next one. You worry too much." Neelix threw the heavy object up towards her. Sally caught the handle out of the air and began bolting it to the metal she sat astride. "I was doing this three hundred years before your father was even born," she added with a grin.

The left wing was rapidly taking shape under the labours of the hard-working crewmen. All of them had stripped off the outer layers of their uniforms and worked in their grey turtlenecks. Sally had dressed more sensibly for physical labour, limiting her outfit to shorts and a tanktop over a sports bra; she'd even replicated comfortable shoes with high-traction soles, knowing she intended to be climbing all over the girders. The slight breeze of the life-support system dried the sweat she had generated building Seven's 'room' as she got to her feet and moved along the beam at a crouch, wiring the lights into the power cables and taping the insulated cables to the metal beams.

Janeway was unusually pensive as she sat in her chair on the bridge. Tom Paris' fair hair was in her line of sight, and she was pondering how easily she could have lost her helmsman - not to mention their civilian anthropologist, because she'd really rather not. Of course, risks were part of Starfleet life, and Paris was certainly adjusted to the idea. And they were both back safe and sound. So the captain's thoughts wandered, perhaps inevitably, to the aliens they had encountered.

Presently, Voyager was at station keeping in orbit of the planet they had thought was suitable for shore leave. That decision had been changed once they'd realised how potentially hostile the system was, and now they were only waiting for B'Elanna to finish tracing a slight, yet bothersome fluctuation in the power grid. Then they'd leave, travelling at an angle to the plane of the system to take their course around the asteroid belt rather than through it.

Harry Kim's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Captain, I'm picking up ships moving toward us from the asteroid belt."

She was instantly alert. "How many?"

"Eight," Tuvok replied. "Moving at high impulse on an intercept course."

"Red alert," Janeway growled. "I'm not taking any chances in this system. How long till they reach us?"

"Approximately four minutes."

"I have a visual, captain," Kim reported. "They're coming from a different area of the belt. About thirty-five degrees away relative to the ship."

"Hail them."

"No response." Harry was tense, but composed. "Scans show they're armed. They're not big, but they're almost entirely weapons systems."

"They are accelerating. Interception in less than two minutes."

"Hail them again, Mr Kim." Janeway gripped the arms of her command chair, feeling her adrenaline levels rise.

"Still nothing."

There was a brief, tense silence. "They have almost reached us. They are charging weapons." The ship rocked at the first impacts, hard. "Shields at eighty percent."

Janeway paled slightly. Six of the ships had yet to attack. "Return fire."

"One vessel has suffered damage. It is falling back."

"Keep firing." She rose from her feet, unable to stay seated.

Seven ships in quick succession, this time, criss-crossing Voyager's hull in vicious strafing runs. Phasers lanced out in response, disabling several. The attacking ships were precarious; two exploded as the weapons they bore were compromised, the flaming corpse of one slamming against Voyager's shields.

"Shields at twenty-six percent."

"Try hailing them again."

"No response."

"Captain! Another ship is decloaking to starboard!" There was an edge of panic in Kim's voice, and Janeway didn't blame him. The ship, appearing in the viewscreen now, was massive. A rectangle of light along its side appeared to be an open hangar bay, easily large enough to accommodate Voyager. As she watched, frantically considering her options, a swarm of gleaming silver motes poured from it.

"They are single-pilot fighter craft," Tuvok reported. "Approximately thirty of them." One eyebrow twitched. "They are engaging our attackers."

The ships who had attacked Voyager appeared to be familiar with the fighters. They turned tail immediately and bolted for the asteroids. The fighters followed in apparently enthusiastic pursuit, easily overtaking their prey. Their weapons were flickering, multicoloured lights in Voyager's viewscreen.

They were pretty. Pretty, luminous death, however, for the attackers; within what seemed like moments every ship had flared and died, and the fighters trailed back and took up positions surrounding Voyager.

Janeway took a deep, steadying breath. "Report."

"Their shields are still up. Weapons systems are active but not charged to fire." Harry paused. "They're hailing us, captain."

"Respond."

The viewscreen changed to an image of an alien humanoid, unfamiliar, apparently very female. She wore a deep blue jumpsuit outlining a lithe, sleek form, and contrasting with a shock of thick, dark... hair? It looked more like fur, and grew back directly from where a human's eyebrows would be.

She smiled. Janeway noticed that two of her teeth, the ones where a human's canines were, were elongated to the point of being fangs. "Greetings to you. What brings you to this system, and the attention of the Hubites?"

"I was looking for an opportunity for some shore leave for my crew," Janeway answered warily. "The... Hubites... took offence when one of our shuttles passed near an asteroid they claimed on its way towards the cometary belt."

"Hmm." The alien woman glanced briefly at something, or someone, out of Voyager's field of vision, then nodded, and smiled at Janeway again. "On behalf of the Amalgamated League of Worlds, it would be my privilege to invite you and your crew to enjoy our hospitality at our capitol, Ahmerast." She touched her fingertips together and gave a tiny bow. "In accordance with the custom of my people, I must request a boon in return, in order that no debts between friends are accrued."

Of course you must, Janeway thought. "And what would that be?" She was uncomfortably aware that should this woman not like her enough, Voyager could be destroyed, it seemed, quite easily.

"Information. Our scans show a range of species aboard your ship that the League has never encountered. We would ask that you tell us where you have come from, how you came to this place, and the story of your worlds."

The last phrase acquired an odd sort of cadence as she spoke them. "The story?"

"Indeed." Hesitation. "I am Lida Mas, eighteenth child of the dynasty of H'rath, Star-Marshal of the planet Ahmer. I offer you hospitality."

Janeway blinked, perceiving there was probably some kind of formal tradition she was expected to follow. Oh, well. "I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager," she replied.

"Welcome." Lida Mas smiled pleasantly. "We will transmit to you the co-ordinates of Ahmerast Orbital Station. It will be our honour if we may accompany you there." The transmission ended.

"Captain?" said a voice from near the turbolift doors. Janeway turned to see Sally Kingston, dressed in an unusually skimpy outfit. She looked as if she'd been working hard at something, and Janeway remembered the construction in Cargo Bay Two.

"Yes, doctor?" Janeway was irritated as she realised that Kingston must have come up to the bridge during the battle, a civilian no-no.

"Request permission to handle the cultural exchange with the Star-Marshal's people." Her eyes were alight. "Please?"

Janeway hesitated, then suppressed a sigh. She supposed it was what Kingston was trained for, and what harm could it do? "Permission granted. Tom, lay in a course for Ahmerast - let's not risk offending the League of Worlds just yet."

"Thank you, captain. If they ask, I'll be ready as soon as we get there." She practically ran into the turbolift and was gone.

"Stay on yellow alert," the captain ordered. "I'm not sure I trust what's going on around here."

Lida Mas' ship kept pace with them as they made their way to Ahmerast, the fourth planet of the next system. There, the Star-Marshal invited them to dock at the orbital station. Janeway hesitated. Lida Mas noticed. "Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to wait until our cultural exchange has begun," she added smoothly. "We will all, I'm sure, be of greater comfort when we have learned each other better."

Janeway smiled in relief at the easy out. "That sounds like an excellent idea. Our representative tells me she is ready to go."

"Wonderful. We will send a transport vessel to fetch her immediately."

The Star-Marshal was as good as her word - Janeway surmised they had had the shuttle prepared, waiting for the signal, because it was scant moments later that a small vessel trundled out from a hangar bay (a much smaller one than the one that housed the fighter fleet) and crossed the distance to Voyager. A couple of minutes passed, and it glided from Voyager's shuttle bay just as smoothly. Janeway took a deep breath, and tried not to worry; things could go wrong, but there was nothing she could do about it right now. Kingston would have to take care of herself, and of introducing humanity to these aliens.

In the meantime... what? The crew of Voyager herself would have little to do until Kingston called. Janeway, too, would have some free time... "You have the bridge," she said to Chakotay, and rose. As soon as the turbolift doors closed, she located Seven of Nine and headed for Astrometrics.

Sally looked around interestedly. The shuttle was the first non-Voyager space ship she'd seen barring pictures of NASA shuttles, long ago and far away. Its design was appealing. The exterior was all sleek lines and graceful curves, like a dolphin that had evolved for space. Inside, it contrived to seem airy, a shade cooler than she liked, but pleasantly decorated, not at all cramped. She hugged the light jacket she'd worn around her against the chill, and watched everything delightedly as the pilot guided them neatly into the spacious hangar bay.

"This way, if you will," he then said politely, taking her bag for her. The pilot was short, about three feet tall at most, with a pleasant smile and the darkest eyes Sally had ever seen. He also had bottle-green skin.

"Thanks," she answered him, and followed obediently as he led her out of the shuttle. The hangar bay was big, and echoed slightly the voices of the dozen-odd (some of them very odd) aliens scattered around the small craft that stood on the deck at regular intervals. Landed, and contained, the shuttles seemed wrong, like caged hummingbirds.

The pilot had a quick stride, despite his short legs, and she had to hurry to follow him. Four sets of large doors were set into one wall. The pilot paused as they approached that wall, and pointed, from right to left. "Ring corridor. Internal transport system. Cross corridor. Ring corridor, other side." Following her laconic guide to the door that led to the internal transport system, Sally surmised as to what that probably meant. Presumably each floor of the vast ship had circular corridors - concentric rings, perhaps? and straight ones, criss-crossing the ship for pedestrian access.

The internal transport system was, in fact, another large room that resembled nothing so much as a bank of elevators. Both walls were lined with doors, with a number of call buttons spaced along between the doors. Sally had to suppress a laugh at the sheer surreal familiarity of it as her pilot pressed a call button (which even lit up) and waited for the lift to arrive.

Unlike the lifts she was used to home on her comfortably primitive Earth, the ITS carriage had no buttons inside it, no rails, but the same smooth-looking, high-traction surfacing on the floor that the hangar had, the same slick interior designer's handiwork evident on the walls, and a landscape on the wall opposite the door. "Control deck," she heard the pilot say, as she examined the landscape. It was a painting, apparently painted directly onto the wall itself. And it was a masterpiece, by human standards, elegantly, beautifully depicting a waterfall running off agate cliffs, surrounded by bluish-green vegetation. In the sky, a sunset and two moons.

"Who did this?" Sally breathed, raising a hand. Fingertips not quite touching the surface, she traced the line of the water, marvelling at the rich colours.

"Probably one of the engineers. They do a lot of that." Sally was taken aback by the note of disapproval in the pilot's voice, and then again surprised when the doors slid open on an unfamiliar area; she hadn't felt the carriage move at all. The pilot gestured her out, and she stepped forward - and gasped.

The ceiling of the vast, circular area was a transparent hemisphere. Utterly transparent, giving Sally the impression that the bridge was open to the depths of space. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but she wasn't sure she liked it; she had the uncomfortable feeling that she might fall off. All around, the smooth flanks of the ship's hull stretched almost to form a horizon. Beyond it, she could see Voyager, small but perfect, and the curved edge of the planet they orbited.

"Welcome." The warm, rich voice jerked her from her reverie, and Sally focussed on Lida Mas, who now stood in front of her.

"Uh... Hello." She pulled herself together. "Thank you for inviting me to your ship. It's quite amazing." She met the Star-Marshal's eyes, and smiled.

End Part Three