Trial of the Century

Janeway wandered the halls of Voyager, stopping in to check in and say hello in every door that would open to her, making small talk with whomever was around. This steadied her; thanking the crew, saluting their accomplishments, marveling at their intimacy and command of her old ship. 

She knew she had better things to do: communiqués to read, diplomatic assessments to make, policy recommendations to write. But none of that would fill the deafening quiet in her head, a silence imposed by the one person who refused to talk to her at all. And so she continued to wander, as she’d done for the past 3 days. 

Eventually she went to the Mess Hall, troubled by a vague hunger. Seven walked in, saw her, and immediately left. Janeway sighed, her appetite lost. Getting Seven to talk to her was proving more difficult than staging a heist on a Borg cube.

Her comm badge beeped. “Admiral. We need you on the bridge, now.”

“I’m on my way,” Janeway said.

The ship quaked and she stumbled, barely catching herself before crashing into the bulkhead. Frantic alarms blared, red lights flashed in warning - they were under attack. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she sprinted for the bridge, gagging on the fumes permeating the corridors. The smell of charred debris clogged her senses, a desperate chorus of pain ringing through the air as missiles crashed into the hull. With icy composure, the Admiral navigated those turbulent hallways with unflinching precision, her muscle memory taking over and guiding her towards the bridge.

Just as she arrived, a sudden explosion of light filled the viewport - a warship in full attack mode. It took a minute for her vision to clear, and there, at the tactical console, stood Seven. 

She didn't look up, busy punching instructions, scanning the warship. Efficient as ever.

“Looks like our Psionic friends had a Klingon Bird-of-Prey parked in their garage," Seven muttered.

Janeway’s heart raced – a complication she could handle.   Finally. She looked at Naomi, silently asking for permission to take command. Off her nod,  “Open hailing frequencies. Now.”

“Do it,” Naomi said, suppressing a yawn. Fair enough, Janeway thought. In my day you’d at least have time for a cup of coffee before the next disaster. 

“Bird-of-prey, this is the Federation Starship Voyager. Tell us what you want. Now.” The firing ceased, leaving an oppressive silence. Voyager continued to groan and shake, barely holding up under the damage. 

“Want, Admiral?” 

Janeway rolled her eyes, immediately recognizing Takret’s smarmy voice, finally free of its deceptive lilt. “We wanted to win the election! Build up a strong Betazed that can hold its own in the galaxy. A Betazed that never need worry about another Dominion War, because no one would ever mess with us.”

“So this is what, a tantrum? You can’t handle losing so you toss the board?”

“You humans and your obsession with bad metaphors.” A dark chuckle filled the airwaves. “The game is simple, Admiral. We fire on you, you blow up, we get revenge. Or we fire on you, you blow us up, you leave a marvelously complex political disaster for the Betazed government, and we still win. Tata!”

“Damn,” Janeway muttered, waving the channel closed. 

A fresh explosion rocked the ship. 

“Captain, we’ve lost power on Decks 12-16!” shouted the helmsman.

“Voyager can’t fight a Bird-of-Prey alone,” Naomi said. 

Janeway swore softly, tightening her fists. “Seven, your ship. Does it have weapons?”

“Yes,” Seven said, her voice low and hesitant. Janeway sighed, seeing how much it cost Seven to utter even that word to her.

“Well, then this is easy.” Sort of. "Naomi, on my mark, bear upwards and fire phasers downward at the bridge. We’ll ride the belly and sneak a shot straight at their torpedo bay. They’ll be disarmed but still alive.” Before Seven could speak, Janeway continued. “Helmsman, turn the shields off for 5 seconds and transport me and Seven to the bridge of La Sirena. Now.”

Shaking herself off as her molecules reassembled, Janeway jumped into the Captain’s chair and entered her command codes. Nothing.

“Starfleet command codes don’t work here,” Seven snarled through her clenched teeth.

Janeway sprang out of the chair. “Then get on with it! We only have minutes before that thing rips Voyager apart!”

Seven grimly slouched into the chair and pulled up the holo controls. An error alert beeped, loud and insistent. Seven whacked the console. “The torpedoes are jammed. They aren’t exactly standard issue.”

“Neither am I,” Janeway muttered, sprinting to the torpedo bay. She surveyed its contents - black market Cardassian warheads, by the look of them. How on Earth did Seven get them? Anyway, no time to think about that now. She kept scanning until she found the issue - a t-shirt jammed between the torpedo harness and the release. She blinked, took a deep breath, and yanked it out. “You’re good to go. Fire!”

Seven punched the command in and the torpedoes rocketed out of the loading bay. Janeway dashed back to the bridge and covered her eyes as an explosion lit up the entire sky. As her vision cleared, she sighed in relief. The Bird-of-Prey hung limply in the sky, its torpedo bays dead. Voyager floated proudly on the sidelines, battered but not beaten. A wide grin crossed her face and she ran her fingers through her hair. "That was close. Too close,”

She turned to Seven who gritted her teeth, studiously looking anywhere but at her. Adrenaline pumping, Janeway felt her own rage intensify from a slow simmer to a boil.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?”

“Was I expected to respond to your statement of the obvious?”

Janeway looked to the ceiling and laughed mirthlessly. “So this is how it’s going to be between us, is it?”

Seven said nothing, pressing at the controls, seemingly at random.

“My question was not rhetorical.”

“You were always my model for how humans behave, Kathryn. I’m merely following your example.”

“Now that’s not fair Seven, you don’t know…”

Seven swung out of the chair and moved towards Janeway, her eyes bright in their ire. “Don’t know what? I needed you, but you abandoned me.”

Janeway stepped forward, right into Seven’s personal space. Her voice was low and threatening. “You were the one who abandoned me. With nothing more than a tawdry note.”

“You threatened to resign from Starfleet on my behalf. A futile gesture that would have led to both of us being kicked out of Starfleet.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, come off it Kathryn. You’re one of the finest strategists in the Universe. Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Whatever the outcome, it was my choice to make.”

“A foolish one. One you would have regretted,” Seven hissed.

“And a lot of good that’s done me! Look at me, free of regret! I’ve slept soundly for 18 years, thinking how wonderful it is that I had you to protect me from myself!”

“Your sarcasm is unimpressive.” Seven stepped even closer, hovering dangerously over Janeway. “Why didn’t you respond to any of my messages?”

“Because I didn’t even listen to them.” There, she said it. Whatever Seven was expecting, she wasn’t expecting that.

“I don’t understand.”

“No, of course you don’t. I barely understand it myself.” Janeway collapsed against the command unit. She turned away, unable to handle the tears glistening in Seven’s eyes. “I couldn’t handle it.”

“Explain.”

Janeway looked right into Seven’s eyes, silently begging for an out. “I can’t.”

“Then we are well and truly fucked.”

Janeway’s mouth fell open, agog at Seven’s language.

“I swear now, Kathryn. I swear, and I fuck, and I deceive, and I manipulate. I’m more human than you’d ever hoped. But you already knew that. You know every single detail about my life, my humiliations, my hopes, my dreams, my loves. I gave them all to you freely, but you gave me nothing.” Seven clenched her fists. “You’ve wanted to talk to me for days. What did you hope to get out of it? You thought I would thank you and we’d turn back the clock just like that?”

Janeway turned away. “I don’t know what I'd expected. Only what I'd hoped.”

“Hope,” Seven said, bitterly. “A human fantasy. A belief that things will get better in the future. I had hope, once. You gave me that.” She laughed, a harsh, barking laugh. “Thank God I don’t have that anymore. Hope is what keeps breaking me.”

Janeway’s comm badge beeped, startling them both. “Admiral, this is Captain Wildman. Starfleet and the Betazed are sending delegates to Voyager for a debriefing. We need you both back now.”

Seven ripped her gaze from Janeway and shook her head. “Beam us up,” she muttered.