[pwaxen@yahoo.com]

This story is the first in what I hope will be a series.

Disclaimer: The characters of Star Trek: Voyager are the property of Paramount Pictures. This story is written in the spirit of Voyager fandom. No infringement is intended.

Warning: This story depicted two women in love. If this offends you or you are too young or it's just plain illegal on your part of the planet, do not proceed.

Please do not archive, link to or reproduce this story without author's consent.

Element of Truth

by Vaxen (pwaxen@yahoo.com)

"Captain's log. We've encountered a derelict spacecraft. No life signs detected. The technology is inferior to ours, but I'm sending an away team to check for salvage. This far from home, we can't afford to pass up any opportunity. Lieutenant Torres will secure any equipment that might prove useful and Seven of Nine will attempt to access their computer and identify the species. It might be helpful to know why this ship was left floating, empty in space."

Seven glanced up at the doors of the transporter room while the padd performed a complex calculation. Logically, she knew that looking at the doors would not make them open, but since the padd did not require her attention, she glanced then scowled. The whole process of glancing and scowling gave her a curious sense of satisfaction.

When the doors did part, Seven was appeared to be deep in concentration. "You are late, Lieutenant Torres," she remarked, without looking up.

"Thank you for pointing that out," B'Elanna replied acidly.

"We have been allocated six hours in which to complete our tasks."

"Then by all means…" B'Elanna made a sweeping gesture in the direction of the transporter, then followed Seven as she stepped onto the platform.

They disappeared, then re-materialized on the bridge of the other ship. There were dim lights and a low hum of power. The air was thin, but breathable. Both Seven and B'Elanna opened tricorders and began to take readings.

"Bridge to away team." Seven and B'Elanna looked at each other a moment before the latter tapped her com badge and responded, "Yes, Captain."

"Did you activate shields?"

"No, Captain. We just started our inspection."

"Well, shields just went up. I suggest you make disabling them your number one priority. We're going to yellow alert and will do anything we can to assist you from this side. However, our sensors can't penetrate the shields."

"Great," B'Elanna mumbled.

"What was that Lieutenant?"

"Understood, Captain. Torres out." She folded her arms across her chest and turned to face Seven, who stood at parade rest with her hands clasped behind her back. "Looks like we're stuck with each other for awhile."

"It appears so. You will investigate engineering while I access the computer system."

B'Elanna rankled at the implied command. She fixed Seven with a deadly glare. "Let's get something straight. I'm in command of this away mission. I give the orders."

Seven halted her progress to the command console, resumed her previous pose and cocked her implant-shrouded eyebrow at the Lieutenant. Feeling more than a little foolish, B'Elanna snorted in disgust and left the bridge.

The room reminded Janeway of one in an old house. She was surrounded by three flat, featureless walls. In the fourth wall was a door. She didn't feel threatened, but there was something unsettling. Her eyes came to rest on the door. While the hinges were not visible, she could see the hinge plates on the edge of the door and frame. On the edge opposite the hinge plates a rectangular plate was affixed to the inside surface of the door. A brass knob protruded from the plate. Under the knob, was a hole -- an elongated triangle with a circle on top. Janeway passed her hand across the hole and felt a light draft. She squatted on her haunches and peered through the hole. Someone was looking back.

Janeway jerked upright. "Lights," she ordered. For a moment she was caught between the dream and the reality of her familiar lodgings aboard Voyager. She rolled slowly back until her head rested on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Her mind drifted away from the dream to the plight of her two crew members, stranded less than a kilometer away, yet as inaccessible as the Alpha quadrant. For seventy-two hours she and the remaining crew had poured through every sensor log and database available, but nothing would reveal how or why the shields had raised or give a clue to disabling or circumventing them. Exhaustion and an irritatingly logical Vulcan security officer had finally driven her from the science station and now her subconscious mind was refusing to allow her any peace. She checked the time. There were still four hours left before the away team was scheduled for a progress report. "The away team," Janeway thought to herself. An unexpected longing settle over her and she hoped B'Elanna and Seven where having better luck than she had.

"I'm back," B'Elanna announced as she entered the bridge of the alien vessel.

"Yes, I could hear you cursing as you the lift approached. Have you anything significant to report."

"Nothing. There's nothing to explain why shields went online. There's no reason why we can't get them offline. They won't respond to manually override. I can't even cut power. There is some kind of self-sustaining supply source that will probably last forever. Whoever decided this heap was low-level technology must have missed a reading or two. That generator is beyond anything I've ever seen."

Seven's hands ceased to dance across the control panel. "The logs indicate that this vessel was decommissioned by species 555 over thirty years ago and stripped of anything valuable. Apparently, it was sold or stolen from the salvage yard, but there is no data."

"What do you mean there is no data?"

"There is no data indicating the disposing of the vessel after it was consigned to the salvage yard."

"That's impossible. There had to be course setting, sensor data even if it was only passive. A log indicating that shields were raised. There has to be some current information," B'Elanna growled.

"Nevertheless, there is none." Seven stepped back wearily from the console. "I believe our priorities have changed. I do not believe the situation will be resolved in the near future. Our immediate concern is survival."

"We have the replicator in the mess hall. It isn't pretty, but it isn't poison. I don't know what you will do."

"I will eat and drink when I am hungry and thirsty, just as I have been."

"What about regenerating?" B'Elanna asked, the slightest tone of concern creeping into her voice.

"I will adapt," Seven responded curtly and left the bridge.

"Adapt this," B'Elanna muttered at her retreating back, with a crude gesture that could only be defined in terms of Klingon physiology. Hours later, as she ate, B'Elanna was still inventing Borg epithets. A little fine-tuning of the alien replicator had resulted in a fairly palatable selection. Her back stiffened when she heard the mess hall door open and saw Seven walk briskly toward her.

"I apologize," she said. B'Elanna sat in dumbfounded silence. When she failed to respond, Seven continued, "I am grateful for your concern. On Voyager, I ate very little and regeneration served as a functional substitute for sleep. I find the need to sleep and consume greater quantities of food unsatisfactory. I think you should know that due to this, I may not be functioning as efficiently as I normally do. Forgive me for interrupting your meal." Seven turned to leave.

"No, wait. You know we may be stuck here together for a long time." Suddenly, B'Elanna lost her appetite. "If I had to pick someone to be shipwrecked on a deserted planet with…"

"…it would not be me," Seven finished.

"It's just an expression," B'Elanna snarled.

"I am familiar with the expression, but I fail to see why a person would choose someone they liked to be shipwrecked with. I would have thought people would not want to inflict such a condition on someone they liked."

"It not a matter of wanting something bad to happen to someone you like. It's about wanting to spend time with someone." For the first time, B'Elanna realized that despite her incredible intelligence, the product of millions of collective minds, Seven was very naïve about many things. "Isn't there someone you would like to spend more time with?" She pushed the plate toward Seven, offering to share her food. Seven waited until she was seated to respond.

"I've had many engaging discussion with Commander Tuvok and the Doctor."

"No, I mean REALLY want to be with?"

Seven took a long minute to chew her food. "Are you familiar with dreams?"

"Do I dream? …Yes," she responded, puzzled by the change of subject.

"The Borg do not dream. While regeneration simulates sleep, there is no rapid eye movement, no random images or free association of these images. Since being trapped on this vessel, I have been forced to sleep and for the first time -- I dreamed. I dreamed of Captain Janeway."

"What was she doing?"

"Looking at me," Seven replied. "She was looking into my eyes. She had a most unusual expression on her face. It gave me a strange yet not unpleasant sensation."

B'Elanna's curiosity overcame her long-standing dislike. "Are you attracted to Janeway?"

"Define 'attracted.'"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes and had to remind herself that Seven was not trying to be difficult. She honestly had no frame of reference.

"Please," Seven added.

B'Elanna's expression softened, then her brow compressed as she tried to think of a way to explain attraction.

"You are attracted to Tom Paris?" Seven offered.

"Yes," she replied with a gleam in her eye.

"Do you wish he were here?"

"Let's just say that if her were here, we'd be making a lot better use of the time than you and I are."

"Explain."

"We would…" B'Elanna blushed, searching for the right words.

"…copulate."

"No." Her blush deepened. "Yes, I mean…" B'Elanna took a moment to gather her wits. "Animals copulate to procreate. Higher species, like Humans and Klingons, are intimate because, well, because it feels good. It's a way to express attraction."

Seven still looked bewildered.

"Stand up," B'Elanna ordered. Seven complied as B'Elanna walked around the table and stood inches from her. B'Elanna slowly stepped forward to close the gap between them while encircling Seven with her arms. Seven stood, arms ridged at her side, until she remembered the Doctor's advice, "When in doubt, imitation is the safest course of action." She wrapped her arms around the Klingon, tentatively at first, then relaxing as the warmth permeated her clothing. They held each other, until B'Elanna increased the pressure in a parting squeeze and Seven released her.

"Was that being intimate?"

"No, that was a hug." B'Elanna moved around the table to resume her seat. "There are many reasons to embrace. Now, close your eyes. Trust me, it'll help."

Seven gave her a dubious glance, but closed her eyes anyway.

"I want you to remember how it felt to hug me." B'Elanna gave her a moment and gradually Seven's face relaxed as the corners of her mouth curled ever so slightly. "Now, imagine that it isn't me you're hugging but the Captain."

Within seconds Seven's lips spread into a smirk and she said, "I think I understand."

"You can open your eyes now."

"In a minute."

"There was one unusual occurrence here," B'Elanna continued with her report. Janeway and her staff of senior officers were focused on her video image. "We found a power source that could be adapted to allow Seven to regenerate."

"That's good," Janeway responded, "but I thought it couldn't be done."

"It couldn't. After three weeks on this hulk, we know every dust mote on a first name basis. Seven mentioned yesterday that she was having metabolic problems without a regenerator and suddenly, out of nowhere, we've got Borg technology."

"Is Seven all right?" Janeway leaned into the display.

"She's fine. She's regenerating now."

"What do you mean, 'out of nowhere'?" Chakotay interjected.

"The power signature of the conduit changed. All we had to do was tap into it."

"We've missed something." Janeway was on her feet pacing the room with nervous excitement. "I want everything gone over again with a fine tooth comb and then some." The memory of the keyhole dream flashed in her mind. "Check the neural frequency spectrum and anything else that comes to mind. Be creative. And B'Elanna, if there are anymore medical problems, I want to be the first to hear about it."

"Yes, Captain,"

"Dismissed." B'Elanna's image winked out and the conference room cleared, except for the Captain and Tuvok, who lingered at a respectable distance.

Janeway stared out at the stationary star field. "We don't often stay in one place long enough to become familiar with the constellations. I'm beginning to hate this one." Despite her harsh words, there was no anger, only a touch of irony, in her voice. "I remember hearing about an experiment where animal mothers were separated from their offspring by a glass barrier. Even though the young were obviously safe and being cared for, the mothers refused to leave. They kept trying to get through the glass."

"An interesting analogy to our own predication, however, animals are driven by instinct. We have more practical, if not logical, concerns."

"You're trying to tell me something."

"Nothing you don't already know."

"I can't leave them," she moaned. "They're safe and cared for but I can't abandon them. They are my responsibility. They are like my children."

"They are both grown women. At some point it may become necessary to decide how long you are willing to suspend the lives of the remaining crew members."

"This is uncharacteristic of you, Tuvok," she said, turning to face him with her arms akimbo.

"Some things need to be said"

"Let's have it."

"May I be blunt?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I am concerned that your attraction for Seven of Nine will color your judgment."

A shock wave of truth ran through her and she turned back to the window.

"I know you prefer to see yourself in a maternal role were Seven is concerned or as a mentor, but I have noted indications that your interest in Seven is more – erotic – in nature. She is a stunning woman and most intriguing."

After a brief silence the Captain cleared her throat. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Commander," she said in a slow, controlled voice. "I will keep your admonition in mind. Dismissed."

"B'Elanna," Seven shouted.

"I'm here," she replied as she sauntered onto the bridge.

"I require your assistance in modifying this tricorder. It will not respond to frequencies in the neural range in it's present configuration." She ran her eyes up the length of B'Elanna's body.

"You've changed your clothes," she said, "again."

B'Elanna looked dashing in half-calf boots, leather breeches and a billowing white shirt. The only thing missing was a cutlass.

"I've been wearing that uniform for five years, I'd say it's time for a change. It never fit me right in the first place."

"You should have it altered."

"That's not what I mean."

"I see," she said, remembering B'Elanna's forestalled Starfleet career.

"I miss Tom and I'm not crazy about the accommodations and I can't help wondering how long they're going to sit out there and wait for us, but it's been nice to get away from the constraints of Voyager. Don't you get tired of someone always telling you what to do?"

Seven gave her an incredulous look.

"I guess being in the Collective makes Voyager look like a free-for-all."

"I can see, now, that the Collective was confining, but at the time I could not understand that."

An involuntary shiver ran down B'Elanna's spine. "Sometimes you have to get a different perspective to have a different perception. If we hadn't ended up here, I don't know if you and I would have gotten to know each other."

"Would you rather stay here?"

"Not without Tom. No offense. You're OK, but you're not my type."

"Agreed."

"Seven, do you see this?" B'Elanna said, pointing to her tricorder. A knowing look passed between the two women.

"I understand." They began to disassemble the tricorders.

"Seven to Voyager, bridge please respond."

"Janeway here."

"Captain, we have located an anomalous, narrow-band frequency wave form. I'm transmitting the data to you now."

"Harry, can you locate it?"

"Our sensors show nothing in that bandwidth."

"Seven, can you identify the source?"

"The source is infinity."

"Beyond instrument range. It can't be measured." The Captains posture collapsed as the magnitude of confronting anything that powerful hit her. In her peripheral vision, she detected Tuvok watching her and straightened immediately. "Any suggestions."

"Nothing that I can tell you," Seven replied. "Whatever is behind this can obviously hear our conversations."

"Can it read our minds?"

"I think not. I was ill for several days before I mentioned it to the Lieutenant. I do have one word for you - lobotomy. You have five minutes."

"Thank you, Seven. Janeway out."

"Captain, do you understand what she meant."

"I think so, but I can't tell you. Ensign Kim, route the data Seven transferred to my terminal. Computer, time index the last transmission from the away team and give me a five minute countdown in thirty second intervals."

"State nature of countdown."

"Retrieval."

"Four minutes and 30 seconds to retrieval."

"Transporter room. Be prepared to lock on and transport two from the alien craft on my mark." Janeway's fingers danced furiously across the keypad. At the two minute mark she was finished with nothing left to do but wait. At the one minute mark, she changed the countdown to five second intervals.

"Ten seconds to retrieval."

"Transporter ready." Janeway's hand posed tensely over the keypad.

"Five seconds to retrieval."

"Four, three, two, one," she counted under her breath.

"Retrieve."

"Now," she yelled as she punched the key. The bridge collectively held its breath.

"Transporter room to bridge, we have them."

Harry and Tom let out a war cry, raising their fists in victory. Chakotay went from one crew member to another shaking hands and patting backs. Even Tuvok smiled while the Captain released a slow, ragged sigh.

"Photon torpedoes, target vessel."

"I'm sorry, Captain. It's gone."

"Figures," she grumbled to herself.

"Captain's log. Lieutenant Torres and Seven are scheduled for debriefing in the morning. The force that kept two of our crew from returning to Voyager for almost four standard weeks remains a mystery. We may never know just who or what it was."