Part 2.

Kathryn Janeway didn't sleep much.  Hadn't for years.  You lost 
control asleep and Kate didn't like to be out of control.

Seska was an irritating bitch; but, Tom Paris, he was a whole other 
kettle of fish.

Must be a tough job, being the Starfleet first officer on a Maquis-
run Starfleet Starship in the Delta Quadrant.  Fucking irony.  
Federation gets her out of jail to be stranded at the ends of the 
galaxy on the Voyage of the Damned.

Then that bastard, Captain Cosovo, gets himself killed, along with 
Tuvok, the Vulcan, and Chakotay gets stuck with the ship.  The Maquis leader didn't like it much, but he was the only one capable of 
unifying the two groups to a common purpose.

Her brittle laugh bounced around her empty room.  More fucking 
irony.  Captain Chakotay of the Starship Voyager.  He was trying to 
run it by the book since there were more Starfleet in the crew than 
Maquis.  And since **he** was more Starfleet than Maquis.  But they 
were rebels, farmers, kids and were not content to goose step to 
Starfleet's rules.  Seska, Suder, Jonas--those creeps weren't 
satisfied with the way things were going.  They couldn't care less 
about order, all they wanted was acquisition.

Simple, naïve Chakotay no longer had a real cause to fight for. 
Oh, he had a mission:  get them back to the Alpha Quadrant.  The 
obstacles were immense, not the least of which were right here within 
the hull of this forsaken ship.

Janeway threw off the thin Fleet issue blanket and climbed back into 
her baggy fatigues.  She didn't bother with shoes or to pull anything 
over her undershirt as she sat at her computer outlet to hack into 
the mainframe.  It took her an hour and a half, but she downloaded 
90% of the crew's rations into Tom Paris's account.  He just might 
think it was funny.

If he didn't, well, she doubted he could devise a punishment that she 
couldn't take.  Starfleet were amateurs in behavior adjustment.  She 
could take anything humanitarians like Chakotay or Paris could dish 

Paris.  Christ, he was young enough to be her--little brother.  He 
was a natural leader, fair, honest.  He had a decisiveness she 
recognized from her service with his father.  Except Tom had a better 
sense of humor.  And was much better looking.

Which would never matter.  Janeway ran her fingers through the hair 
that sprang at her forehead.  She propped her head on those fingers.  He was a thorn in her side.  Always on her to be better, gentler, a 
team player.  Then he would look at her with compassion.  Pity.  She 
swore softly.  She hated pity.  She wasn't pitiful.  She was strong 
and she had adapted.  

These ruminations were stupid, and she was hungry.  With rations on 
lock-out, she'd have to go to the mess.  Pulling on a sweater worthy 
of a Pakled freight hauler, she grabbed a padd of computer schematics and headed toward food, hoping that little toad, Neelix, wouldn't be there.

"Cheerful bastard," she muttered as she entered the deserted hall.  A 
light glowed at the service window.  Golden fruit sat in a bowl, a 
spice cake she knew to be ghastly sat under a glass dome.

She chose the cold equivalent of soy milk and two of the conical 
golden fruits, sitting  at a table near the door.  Padd in one hand, 
glass of milk in the other, she was surprised to hear the door hiss 
aside; surprise she kept from her face.  Her stomach knotted and 
hackles rose, but she relaxed instantly when her nemesis, Tom Paris, 
walked through the door.

Seeing the ire and the flush that was plain even in this dim room, 
she turned her lips up, sure her eyes had sparked.

"What brings you here, Mr. Paris?"  As if she didn't know.  She 
averted her face as she always did, but not so much that he still 
couldn't see her smile.  If that's what you would call it.

He sat down across from her, aware that she would have to turn her 
head away.  He knew he shouldn't be so perverse, but sometimes his 
good nature disappeared when he was angry.

He gave a huff of frustration.  Nothing he could say or do would 
change Kate--he couldn't take anything more away from her:  she had no rations, and nobody really had any privileges.

"I'm going to need your help to get the rations back into everybody's 

"Why would I help you?"  Her eyes stayed on the viewport.  She added gall to his list of good qualities.

"Because I'm asking you to," he said softly.  That soft voice put her 
stomach into another knot.  She had to protect this sweet little boy 
from Seska--she had to protect them all, but she couldn't subvert 
Seska, Suder, Jonas and the sundry others by herself.  She'd be 
killed before she'd get far enough to do any good.  There was 
**much** more to do than sort through ration accounts.

Tom said nothing, but quietly examined the hard profile in the dim 
light.  He didn't know why he was being treated to the cascade of 
emotions barreling across her face. The iron matron showed nobody anything, except her contempt.  Tom, though, saw them all.  Irritation, anger; sure they were there.  But uncertainty and fear showed plainly on the side of her face he could see.  She raised her chin again, and he saw the resolve etch itself firmly on her jaw.

She rose from the table and sat on his lap before he could comprehend her actions.  Reflexively, his arms moved around her.  But he wrested them back to the table, hand clenched into fists.  "What do you think you're doing?" he muttered as she dipped her head to his neck.

"Have I ever lied to you?" she breathed against him, her fingers 
rifled the hair at the back of his head.

"Continuously."  He felt her sigh more than heard it.

"With malicious intent,"  she clarified.

True, her lies had been more irritating than hurtful.  Sometimes the 
lies had led to small improvements in ship's systems.  "Never," he 
admitted, gritting his teeth when she licked his neck with the flat 
of her tongue.  She **had** to feel his erection on her butt.

"What are you doing?" he repeated.

"We're in trouble."  Her whisper sounded like a claxon to his ear.


"There's a mutiny in the works and I can't stop it if you won't leave 
me alone."

Tom snorted at the preposterous thought, which turned into a pained 
gasp when Kate ground her bottom into the erection she **was** aware of.  "This is serious, Mr. Paris."  She wanted to bite his ear in 

"You just want to fuck me."  His hard words stopped her cold.

"There is that," she purred, exploring the fabric that covered his 
back.  "There's also the fact that Seska's not Bajoran."  She rested 
her chin on his shoulder.

Tom was readjusting Kate's backside so she couldn't render any 
permanent damage.  She was very aware that his hands remained on the curve of her butt.  "Not Bajoran?"

"She's Cardassian."


Kate held his head so he couldn't rear back.  "Be quiet," she 
groaned.  "You have to play along better than this."  She fastened 
her lips to his and didn't let him go.  "Kiss me, damn you," she said 
against his teeth.  "Please."  But it sounded like an order.

Well, this is different.  He kissed her with a shrug.  She kissed him 
with all the desperation that was welling up inside her.  "I learned 
a lot when you sentenced me to sick bay."

She punctuated each word with a kiss.  Now Tom rested his head on 
Kate's shoulder, breathing heavily, trying to maintain some 
control.  "You did?"

"Touch me," she ordered.  His hands moved from her buttocks under the clunky, ugly shirt she wore.  "Her medical records were odd.  Her 
blood shows no Bajoran factors, only Cardassian."  She was stretching 
the collar of his shirt in order to graze his collar bone with her teeth.  "Did a little research.  Pissed Doc Hologram off.  That's when I deactivated him."

Her hands were under his shirt now, fingernails scored his 
back.  "And you left your mark," Tom said as he arched under the 
stinging pressure.

"I also left the evidence within his subroutines."

"We gotta get out of here," Tom pushed Kate to her feet, grabbing her hand to pull her from the mess hall into the lift.  She barely had 
enough time to grab her padd and stay fused to him.

He bent his head to her ear, "The lift's bugged?"

"Of course."  Her tone told him it was a stupid question.  On Deck 4, 
they tumbled out of the lift and to the First Officer's quarters.  
She didn't bother to look around; cabins meant nothing more to her 
than a bed and a wash room.

They began divesting each other of clothes, murmuring, groaning, 
disguising their conversation.

"Retrieve the information from the doctor by saying 'the moons of 
Carstairs 4 are colliding'."  She unhooked Tom's trousers, pushing 
them over his hips.

"Who's with Seska?"  He slid the ugly pullover over her head.

"Suder and Jonas."  His briefs went next.  She hit her knees to help 
him out of his socks; she was not going to have sex with a man 
wearing socks.  She had some standards.  Her forehead brushed the tip of his erection and he gasped.  It bobbed from under the tail of his tee-shirt.

She stood, fingers brushing the sensitive shaft in a provocative 
way.  "My pants," she prompted as she raised her lips to his.  His 
hands obeyed.

"Jonas is compromising the dilithium matrix.  Slowly, so no one 
catches it.  I've been monitoring the progress."  

The fatigues hit the floor.  Tom's thumbs were hooked into her 
underpants when he hesitated.  Kate looked up into his eyes, and saw 
the doubt he felt at this pretense.  He didn't know if he wanted to 
go through with this.  She grabbed his arousal before it could shrink 
and began to firmly skim her thumb over the glans.  His jaw set and 
he began to push the serviceable underwear down.

Kate had no illusions.  The kid was just doing this to get 
information--the physical part was a necessary evil.

"Suder is rallying the Maquis."

"That shouldn't be too hard."

"It isn't."  She pushed at Tom's shirt, indicating he should remove 
it.  He peeled it off.  Then hers.  They were naked.

She was beautiful.  Her white skin glistened with sweat in the glow 
of a table lamp.  He could see scars, small and large, on her flesh 
and wanted to touch each of them, kiss them, but he shook himself.  
This was business.

Business.  Christ, that was a laugh.  He pushed her onto his unmade 
bed.  "When?"  He moved to cover her body with his, his lips at her 

"3 rotations, maximum," she grated as her fingers scraped their way 
down the skin of his back, adding red marks to the scoring she had 
already inflicted, but this time her finger nails brushed across the 
softer flesh of his buttocks.  "It will take Jonas that long to mask 
the necessary configurations to sabotage the warp core." 

Strong fingers kneaded the flesh of his ass.  She spread her legs to 
accommodate his girth, most of his weight still supported by his 
elbows.  As his mouth moved to tongue the nipple of one well turned 
breast, she clamped her legs around his and pushed him up toward her waiting sex.  

His breathing changed.  "We have to stop talking.  I can't 
concentrate on a word you're saying."

She smiled up at him though he could barely make it out.  "Whatever 
you say, Commander."  She pulled his head down to hers until her lips engulfed his.  The arches of her feet moved along his calves--slowly 
easing up and down as she adjusted her body to receive his--now she 
would give over some control.

His hands spanned her ribcage, resting a finger between each rib.  
One hand moved across the cage and down to her stomach until his 
fingers combed through her curls.  The gentle pressure of his thumb 
on the swollen center of nerve endings, Kate leapt beneath him, her 
breath ragged in his ears, growing more ragged with the gentle 
rotation he applied there.

She moved beneath him, totally immersed in the sensation.  His lips 
moved on her neck and along her jaw as he continued the divine 
pressure of his thumb.  His free hand skimmed her ribs to tilt her 
hips into a more receptive position.  Slowly, slowly he began to move 
into the moist heat, so wild, and smooth and welcoming that he sank 
easily into the depth

"Good," he groaned and began to thrust in an ever building tempo.  He wanted to stay wrapped in the tight channel that welcomed him so 
warmly forever.  Her scent mingled with their sweat invaded every 
sense, her soft grunts and hicoughing breaths were music.  A song he 
never wanted to end.

But it had to end.  Her legs wrapped around the small of his back 
urging him forward, even as her hips pushed for more.  Her hands were never still, grazing his skin, leaving a path of heat on his chest, 
arms and shoulders.

She arched up into him, clutching him close, strong muscles wanting 
to pull him inside her to be protected and safe.

Again his skilled fingers found the sentinel that guarded her sanity; 
his gentle assault was one she couldn't withstand.  "Christ, yes," 
she cried, gripping his length with all her strength.

It was more than the sensitive flesh could take, Tom's shout echoed 
Kate's as the sharp edge of the sword pushed him up and over, to his 
release.  He surged forward again and again as the muscles in his 
back, buttocks and legs clenched in reaction.

Their breathing echoed through the now quiet room.  The great gasps 
of air both drew into their lungs brought mind boggling clarity.  Tom 
rolled onto his back and flung an arm over his eyes.  Kate missed the 
comforting weight and emanating warmth the instant it left her.

She wished for one brief moment that she was someone else and that 
her life was different.  For all the latinum in the universe, she 
wished he would take her in his arms and pet her. That would never 
happen, but right now she'd settle for a little friendship.

This vulnerability was for the birds.  "Your reputation is well 
founded."  She felt him stiffen.  That was better.  Irritation was an 
emotion she could handle.

"I'm glad you appreciate it."  His voice was carved in stone, 
awareness of their hidden audience seeping into his psyche.  He 
rolled away and out of the bed, into the bathroom.  He tossed a warm, wet cloth at Kathryn and headed back to his side of the bed.  
Watching her ablutions closely, he saw nothing; his mind was spinning 
with what to do next.

When she had herself mopped up and had seen to the wet spot, she 
looked into his clouded eyes.  "Should I leave?"

He blinked, shaking his head when the words registered.  Moving to 
the middle of the bed, he tossed the cloth away and pulled her close, 
ordering the lights off.  When they were sniggled under the covers, 
he called for an alarm.  "You'll be safer here."

Well, this was unexpected she thought as she lay stiff in his 
embrace, her backside resting in his lap.  She didn't like staying 
with anyone afterwards.  In fact, she never stayed, even when she was 
asked.  She didn't want to examine the inertia.  Just shut up and go 
to sleep, she told herself.  It was a while before she did.


What was that noise?  Tom rose onto his elbows and peered toward the soft light spilling from the bathroom.  Splashing.  Kate was in the 
bathtub.  He pulled his shorts off the floor and headed toward the 

Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful--and the parts of her body he 
could see were beautiful.  He stood watching her, silent in his 
appreciation until one blue-gray eye opened and fixed on him.  "The 
water's pretty cool by now, but you're welcome to heat it up a bit."

"Uh, no thanks," he said as he rubbed his bed hair back and 
forth.  "You gonna be much longer?"

Janeway smiled.  Why was it that men could ejaculate into you, but 
couldn't piss in front of you?  "No," she said and sat up.  Seska was 
right, she thought as she watched him avert his eyes, a rosy blush 
suffusing the parts of his body she could see.  What a Star Scout.  
Grabbing a towel, she pushed past him to get dressed.

End of Part 2.