Adaptations: A Sequel to Sustenance

Act I

Harry Kim surreptitiously eyed the captain and Seven as they sat at the other end of the messhall, quietly consuming their breakfast. "I don't know," he complained to his companions. "They just don't seem all that happy to be back home."

"Well, I guess as long as their food was holding out," B'Elanna offered sarcastically, "they were having a nice little honeymoon together.....that is, until we came along and spoiled it."

Harry flinched at the sexual innuendo in the comment.

"That's overstating things, B'Elanna," Tom objected. "After all, Janeway looked pretty darn frail when we rescued them, and even Seven had a little less swell to her curves."

B'Elanna smirked at the choice of words, but she understood that Tom was using them for Harry's benefit. The slight quirk in Harry's lips, moreover, indicated that Tom's humor had hit its mark.

"I'm not thrilled that they were starving, Tom. I mean, I'm not that heartless, especially when it comes to the captain. But Harry's right. They just don't seem as appreciative as they could have been. After all, most of us were pulling triple shifts so we could rescue them before the food ran out."

"Well good thing we did, if they were able to salvage only about a third of the food we sent down."

B'Elanna conceded the point with a nod, having read the captain's report, too. "That's just it, though. Since they were on their last legs, they should have been a lot happier to see us. And I would've expected Janeway to miss us a lot more than she did. But when they got back, she just hid in her quarters for the first week, all the while Seven was regenerating. And since then, she's been spending all her spare time with Seven."

"Obviously they have a new 'understanding'," Tom euphemized.

"It's not right, Tom," B'Elanna shot back in a low voice. "It goes against every Starfleet protocol for the captain to get involved with a member of her crew."

"Since when are you such a stickler for protocol?" Tom challenged.

"This one matters. It's about the captain keeping her objectivity in decisions involving Seven, like sending her on an Away mission or deciding between what Seven wants and what the rest of us want."

"You mean you're worried that when it comes down to picking sides, the captain will always pick Seven's side.....over yours," Tom translated bluntly.

B'Elanna bristled but didn't bother correcting him. "Look," she continued, "I'm actually more worried about Seven's attitude since she already thought too much of herself, even before becoming involved with the captain, but the truth is that Janeway isn't exactly acting like her old self either. I just don't get what she sees in Seven."

"Well, she's always been a little protective of her," Harry offered, "but that always seemed more maternal. And I think Seven sort of looked up to the captain as a mentor. To me, it just doesn't seem right for the captain to take advantage of that trust."

"Hey, she's human. Maybe you just have trouble seeing Janeway as a sexual being," Tom suggested.

Harry coughed. "Well, it isn't something I like to think about."

"And how do you know it wasn't Seven who pursued the captain?"

"I'm having trouble seeing that one, Tom," B'Elanna rejoined. "Seven is such a cold fish. How could anybody fall for her?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm not. Seven may be easy on the eyes, but she grates on the nerves. And she's as heartless and unloving as they come. Definitely not the passionate type."

"Maybe there's a side to her that we aren't aware of, a side she only shows Janeway."

"Do you honestly believe that?" B'Elanna challenged.

"I honestly don't care," Tom shot back mockingly. "I'm honestly tired of having the same discussion every day because you're incapable of getting over your obsession about this. Look, why don't you just let me know when you're ready to start talking about something else? In the meantime, I'll be on the Bridge."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, feeling like a third wheel while his two friends had their lover's spat.

B'Elanna simply steamed, casting daggers at Tom's retreating back and deciding that she had yet another reason for disliking the blond Borg.

~~~~~~~

Kathryn bit into her omelet with little enthusiasm as she watched Tom Paris leaving the messhall and idly wondered where he was off to so early.

"Is there anything wrong with your breakfast, Kathryn?" Seven asked from across the table.

Kathryn smiled back sadly. "No, Seven. It's fine."

"Is it the 'company' then?" Seven continued, intending her question as a gentle tease but also suspecting that she wasn't far off the mark.

Kathryn cocked her head curiously over her coffee cup. "How can you be so strong and supportive when you were so miserable last night?" she marveled.

She had intended the question rhetorically, but Seven considered it, searching for the right expression, and then responded quietly: "I 'got laid'."

The unexpected reply made the captain sputter into the coffee she was sipping.

Seven quirked her eyebrow and then offered politely: "If you wish, I will give you the less facetious response when you have recovered."

Kathryn swallowed and immediately put her cup down, her expression a mix of caution, humor, and fondness. "Proceed," she said.

"I believe we 'take turns' in our need for comfort. Yet another way we complement each other so well."

That elicited another smile from Kathryn. "I think you're right, darling. You seem lowest after a long day of trying to......" she struggled for the right word.

"Adapt," Seven offered.

Kathryn nodded. She had once considered the term an overly technical expression, but she now understood it as Seven's euphemism for the trials she experienced trying to fit into her human collective.

"And you, Kathryn," Seven continued, "seem lowest in the morning."

"Because I'm facing a whole day without you, my love," she explained sweetly.

Seven smiled although she wasn't fooled.

After a moment, the light mood slipped away, and Kathryn mourned its passing with a sigh. "We've been taking our breakfast in here almost every day trying to get the crew to relax around us, and all we've managed are a few polite nods and stiff 'good mornings'."

"It does appear we've been unsuccessful in our attempts, but," Seven lowered her voice, "you were visibly uncomfortable on the two occasions when one of the crew actually joined us for breakfast."

Janeway made sure no one else was listening before responding. "That's because the 'polite conversation' kept turning to questions about our experiences on the planet. I'd just rather not talk about it.....for obvious reasons." She took a deep breath. "Still," she considered after a moment, "maybe I need to make more of an effort.....for your sake."

"No, Kathryn," Seven objected a little too loudly.

They were instantly aware of a lull in nearby conversations as several crew momentarily shifted their attention to the two women and then just as quickly averted their eyes and feigned not to notice them.

Seven became immediately subdued. "I'm sorry, Kathryn," she whispered. "I simply do not want you to become involved."

Kathryn broke her own rule about public displays and reached across the table to clutch Seven's hand. "I am involved, Seven," she declared. "For you to feel as unhappy as you felt last night is.....unacceptable to me," she concluded, using another of Seven's favorite words.

Seven was spared the effort of replying as Commander Tuvok's call came over the ship's comm system.

"Senior staff to the Bridge."

The leisurely atmosphere was instantly overrun by the hustle and bustle of Starfleet discipline.

Rising automatically, Kathryn regarded Seven's expression and could tell by the quirk of her metallic brow that she, too, had heard the uncharacteristic urgency inflecting Tuvok's voice. She and Seven immediately moved toward the exit. They were silently joined by Harry and B'Elanna, who had been sitting at another table and now seemed uncomfortable in the company of the two women, even as they tried to mask their discomfort with a professional demeanor. Kathryn gave them a polite nod and wasn't the least bit gratified when they returned it stiffly.

As the captain and her officers made their way to the turbolift, Kathryn turned her attention from her personal trials to ship's business, quickly assessing their situation based on the evidence already before her. Since no red-alert klaxon had sounded, she knew that they were in no immediate threat from some approaching danger. That piqued her curiosity all the more, making her wonder what else could possibly excite her Vulcan second officer. She had no more time to speculate, however, as the turbolift opened onto the Bridge. She and her companions filed out, Harry taking his position at Ops, B'Elanna sitting at the starboard engineering station, Seven taking the aft auxiliary engineering station, and Kathryn coming to stand by Tuvok in the command area behind the helm, where Tom Paris was already busy at work.

"Report," she ordered.

Tuvok handed Janeway the PADD he had been reading. Just then, Commander Chakotay and Neelix stepped off the turbolift, and Tuvok reported aloud for their and the other officers' benefit as the captain scrolled through the PADD.

"Sensors have detected a wormhole. Large and seemingly stable, at least for the past hour." Janeway's head jerked up from the PADD, too impatient to read the data before her. He nearly sighed and then proceeded. "I decided to send a probe through before summoning you to the Bridge." He nodded towards the PADD trying to redirect Janeway's attention to it again. "As you can see, Captain, we have begun receiving telemetry from the probe."

Janeway reviewed the data. The configurations were only vaguely familiar, but she recognized them as a region of space on their projected course to the Alpha Quadrant. The question was how far into their projected course. She glanced at Seven, anticipating that the efficient ex-Borg had already routed the telemetry through the Astrometrics databanks and was now analyzing the readings.

Seven joined Ensign Kim at the Ops station so she could cross-check her data with his sensor readings before reporting her findings. An instant later, her head drifted up as her shoulders pulled back slightly.

"Captain, the wormhole leads to grid 3, sector 6-2-7-6-1 -- 22,377 light years ahead of our present location."

Tom tapped his console twice and quickly turned his chair towards the captain. "Confirmed! The wormhole could cut two decades off our travel!" he said excitedly. "We could be home in less than nine years!" His eyes flitted from one face to the other, finally returning to Janeway's.

Her own expression softened as she nodded to Tuvok with a deep sense of relief. As happened each time they had hopes of shaving sizeable chunks off their journey back home, she felt some of her heavy guilt receding.

Harry interrupted her hopes. "The probe is picking up high levels of Theta emissions."

"Probably from the meteor fields that skirt that section of the Delta Quadrant," Chakotay explained from the data he was reviewing on his terminal.

"Yes," Seven agreed. "However, the probe is focused on the wormhole. It would not be picking up the Theta emissions at this level unless....."

"It's drifting," Harry cut in, at once completing and confirming Seven's suspicion.

Janeway quickly moved towards the Ops station. Her hand rose to Seven's shoulder, and the young woman shifted over in response, making room for the captain. Needing the contact, Janeway allowed herself the luxury of letting her hand rest where it was as she leaned in towards the console. After a moment, she straightened. Her expression seemed to falter as she looked at Seven and gave her shoulder a slight squeeze.

Seven's pupils widened a bit at the gesture. She understood Kathryn's need to touch. Her gesture was intended to provide reassurance, not simply for the person she touched, but for herself as well. Seven felt a sudden wave of elation, as she did whenever she could be a source of comfort and support for her captain. That was the most significant change in how Kathryn treated her now, and Seven relished it.

Janeway broke the contact and looked at the other Bridge officers. They all stared back, wanting direction, conviction, and encouragement: the three things the crew demanded of her and in seemingly greater quantities the closer they were to their goal. It never ceased to amaze her. The first year of their journey, they seemed to expect so little from her. Just the last word, nothing more. As time went on, they expected a little bit more. Trust. Friendship. Hope. Always hope. That had been the hardest of all to give.

But not today.

Janeway's back stiffened as the command mask returned. With a quick nod, she turned towards her Ready Room and threw orders over her shoulder. "We have work to do people. Senior staff meeting at 1400 hours," she barked before entering the studious confines of her Ready Room.

Her officers needed no further direction. Seven would map everything that might be in their projected path, including those pesky meteors, and would then turn her expertise towards assisting Harry and B'Elanna in finding a way to stabilize the wormhole. Tuvok and Chakotay would have to shore up the ship's defenses in anticipation of what promised to be a rather bumpy ride. Tom had already begun feeding the telemetry into his navigational systems and would incorporate the information that would be coming in from Astrometrics to plot the safest course through the wormhole while leaving a sufficient margin of error to compensate for the drifts. The Doctor, who would have been monitoring the entire discussion from Sickbay, would now turn his attentions toward figuring out how to keep everyone alive if, their luck failing, they actually had to fly through all that Theta radiation. And Neelix -- poor Neelix -- had to prepare for the possibility of either repairing the crew's shattered morale if the mission resulted in yet another failure or else preparing for a huge celebration if it was, as they all hoped, a success.

Kathryn understood that they all faced rather daunting tasks. As she initiated her desktop display to start analyzing the wormhole, however, she allowed herself to be cheered by the little conceit that her fine crew could have all their chores done, dinner made, and the table set in the few hours she had allotted them for their respective assignments. She smiled before turning her attention to the data on her screen.