Alternate Choices
By H.W.

Chapter 5

"I'm sorry, Captain," Harry said turning away from the replicator he had been studying. "There is just no way to get anything except food, drinks, and those... uniforms out of here," Harry pointed to the gray jumpsuit style uniforms that had been the only type of clothing pattern in the replicator file. There hadn't even been underwear programmed into the replicator's memory, "These replicators are, as far as I can see, not linked to anything. They're stand alone units with, as it seems, a relatively limited choice."

"But they must be able to program them," Janeway disagreed.

"Sure, by manually uploading the data into each replicator." Harry pried away a little metal plate and tapped his finger against a socket behind it, "The uplink point is right here. But we don't have the programming device to do so, and even if we did, we still wouldn't have the replicator patterns that are needed."

"Can't we manually input those patterns?" Janeway asked, not about to admit defeat that easily, "Replicator patterns aren't that big."

"They aren't that big volume-wise considering storage space, but Captain, even a simple thing like a knife exists out of thousands of strings of coding. A phaser, like you asked? That's millions of strings of code. And if only one letter or one number is out of place in one of those strings of code, it might very well happen that the phaser explodes in our face. It's just not do-able, Captain."

Chakotay, who had been standing a little but further away to give Harry room to work, came closer and voiced what he had been thinking from the moment that Janeway had suggested reprogramming the replicator. He hadn't said anything before because he knew that Janeway would not be happy until she had tried anyway, "It was a good try, but I don't think that they would put replicators in here if they weren't sure there was no way they could be misused. If they know how to make replicators, they also know how to prevent prisoners from reprogramming them to produce weapons."

"Well, I'm not about to give up until we have another plan. Harry, you check every replicator you can check without the guards seeing you. Maybe we'll be lucky and some careless engineer left some programming in one of them that we can use."

"Yes, Captain," Harry said in a halfway defeated voice. He knew that the chances of that were absolutely zero, but at least it would keep him busy.

Neelix came strolling into the room, but once he was in, he hurried towards them, "They are bringing the Doctor back, and I think B'Elanna. They have a bed with them."

"Why not just beam them in here?" Janeway wondered out loud as she left the room.

"Maybe this part of the ship is shielded off." Chakotay ventured to guess, "They keep prisoners in here. Maybe they wanted to make sure that no one else could just simply beam the prisoners off the ship, making escape that way impossible." He moved closer to Janeway and gave his view on things, "The Intendant called this cellblock A. This isn't just a convenient spot they put us in to hold for the moment. This part of the ship is a prison, especially designed as such. There is no doubt that it is secure against all known ways of escape. Maybe we should concentrate more on making a plan as to what to do once we are out of this part of the ship. At one point, they will have to move us and then..."

"I know that," Janeway snapped, surprised that Chakotay saw the need to point out something that clear, "But since we are in here twiddling our thumbs, we might just as well try some of those ways. At the very least, it will give us a better impression of their security."

By the time they arrived at the passageway, the force-field further down the corridor had been activated, and a moment later the first force-field deactivated, letting the Doctor enter, pulling the hoverbed behind him, "Sickbay," He said shortly before moving that way himself.

He put B'Elanna in the same room where the other Voyager crew members were that still needed to be in bed and then went to the little office in front of it, seeing it packed with people wanting to find out what happened, "This won't do," He stated firmly, and moved out of the little sickbay before the questions could start.

Once he was in the main gathering room, he addressed the crowd that had pressed itself into the room, "First off, B'Elanna is going to be fine, she just needs a lot of rest now. So unfortunately from now on I have to limit the number of visitors to Sickbay to two at a time."

"Seven succeeded in persuading the Intendant to help?" Janeway asked relieved, surprised that Seven had succeeded in doing so in such a short time.

"She has," The Doctor confirmed, before adding sadly, "But she had to pay a high price for it."

"What price?" Chakotay asked.

"She..." The Doctor wondered if he should say it, or if that meant that he was breaching Seven's confidentiality. Finally he decided that the others would find out eventually anyway, and that Seven had not asked him to not tell the others, "She is now the Intendant's body slave."

"Body slave?" Someone asked, not familiar with the term.

"The slave most favored by the master to conduct sexual acts," Chakotay explained, trying to at least keep the explanation clean.

Hearing only half of what was said, one of the slaves that had been put with the Voyager crew pressed himself into the room, "Wait, what are you talking about? Whose is who's body slave?"

Chakotay moved a little closer to the man and started to explain, "Seven of Nine, one of our crewmembers. The Intendant has taken her as her body slave."

"You're kidding? The Intendants don't take body slaves."

The Doctor was mildly annoyed that his speech had been interrupted, "Well this Intendant apparently did."

Surprisingly, the man started to smile, "That's great!"

"I don't see how," Chakotay said, wondering what Seven had to suffer through.

Seeing the angry faces around him, the man started to explain quickly, "Well, you see, I told you about the master slaves, and their standing, how they are the highest a slave can be. Well, there is one kind of slave that can, under the right circumstances, give orders to a master slave. And that is a body slave. IF the master of that body slave has enough power. If your crewmember truly is the Intendant's body slave, the master slave that we will get will have to take orders from your crewmember."

"That is indeed good news," Janeway spoke up.

"Not so good for Seven," Chakotay countered, he could see that Janeway was in one of those mindsets again. She was going to save the Voyager crew, no matter what the sacrifices.

"Of course not," Janeway greed, "But if someone of the crew has to suffer through that... at least it will not harm Seven emotionally. Sometimes it's a good thing that she doesn't have the emotions that we have."

Only a few saw the enraged Tom leave the room before he would do something he would regret. But Chakotay had seen him go, and he could understand the pilot. The person that Janeway had been for more than the last year was nowhere near the glorious Captain he had admired so much in the beginning.

"Alright Doctor," Janeway prompted, "Tell us all you can from your little excursion. I want to know all you can tell me about this ship and the people onboard it."

Delik Jetir looked at the time indicator on the screen in front of him. Three more minutes and it was time, then the other two would contact him, if they were going along. Delik hated that he had needed to ask these two for help but things had changed drastically since Jetur Adami had allied herself with Ro Laren. It had all looked so promising. Kira dead, and the perfect person to blame it on, who cared if she actually did it or not? The Intendant title had been as good as his, but than that damned Jetur had switched sides.

For years, they all had shoved the boring races in her direction. Giving them to her boss to deal with and he, in turn, gave them to her to deal with. And she had. But now that they needed the support of those races, they suddenly found out that these boring races were also the races that had the tendency to only deal with one person. They often didn't even respond if the message didn't come from Jetur. And if they did respond, they only told him to have Jetur contact them.

Needing to find another power base, he had tried to win the favors of the Special Forces, promising them all he could think of. They had just laughed at him and thrown him into the street, literally. Telling him that they would rather follow Captain Ro Laren than a worm like him. And to top it all off, those damn Klingons only communicated with Ro. Oh, it wasn't much, just when people would come and go. But everything the Klingons shared with the Bajorans, they shared only with Ro. And now Ro had kindly informed them all that the Klingon Intendant and the Commander of the Klingon Security Department would come to Bajor to investigate the death of Intendant Kira.

Delik had seen the comfortable lead he had in the beginning starting to disappear quickly until only a little margin was left. That margin was that the other advisors still thought that they should get rid of Ro. Some had even suggested killing Ro, but in the end nobody had dared to try and kill the former Captain of the Special Forces.

And so he found himself in a position where he had to deal with people that he rather not been seen dealing with, at that point.

At the precise agreed upon time, the two people he had been waiting on contacted him and soon the face of a Klingon and a Ferengi were sharing the space on his screen.

"Alright, I'm in," The Klingon said, being the first to speak.

"Me too," The Ferengi added, "But, only financially. I'll put up the credits needed so that nothing can be tracked to you both. But, if this is found out then I know nothing about it. I already have the proof ready that will show that someone broke into my account and stole the credits from me."

"Fine," Delik said with a certain delight. He knew that in order to rebuild his power base he needed time and credits. His substantial buffer of credits was quickly shrinking now that he had to use his own credits to bribe everybody into supporting him. Normally, he would have used the credits from the treasury, but now that it was known that Kira was dead, all government transactions had been frozen until a new Intendant was appointed. For a moment, he wished that he had saved more credits instead of living so lavishly, but he liked his life, and he would do everything necessary to keep it, or even improve it, "You will make sure that I get the time I need?" Delik addressed the Klingon.

"Oh, I make sure alright. I will kill Torres when she gets home. Then the appointment of the new Intendant of Bajor will not be that important of news anymore. By the time they have appointed a new Klingon Intendant, you will have had all the time you need to make sure that you are the only viable candidate for Bajoran Intendant."

"How will you want to get away with killing the Intendant?" The Ferengi asked thoughtfully.

"Simply by making this an issue concerning the House of Torres. I will kill her in a fight for leadership of the house, that way it has nothing to do with the title of Intendant; especially since I won't compete to be the new Klingon Intendant."

"Why wouldn't you want to be the new Intendant, K'Trelan?" The Ferengi asked thoughtfully.

"Moron," K'Trelan almost spat. "If I would compete to be the new Intendant then nobody would believe I killed Torres in a fight for leadership of the house, especially not the Chancellor. No, the house of Torres is the second most powerful house in Klingon society, right after that of the Chancellor. I'll be more than happy ruling it."

"Do you think you can beat her in a fight?" Delik asked, concerned it was a big risk to take.

"Of course I can... with a little help. I will have to pay my helpers some extra credits to help me kill Torres. Credits I don't have."

"How much do you need?" The Ferengi asked warily.

"Five million credits."

"Five million?!" The Ferengi asked, hoping that he had misheard.

"Yes, two hundred and fifty thousand for each of the twenty men helping me."

"But that is almost all of my savings," The Ferengi lied.

"And the Bajoran treasury will show itself very thankful to you once I'm Intendant," Delik interrupted, not wanting to mention that if he became Intendant, he would make half a million credits a day as payment for being the Intendant. Besides, why use his own credits when he could use those of the treasury?

"Alright, alright," The Ferengi agreed reluctantly, "Guess I have to suffer for a while if I want those women removed; women Intendants, how disgusting."

"Yes, well, I have to go now. Work the crowds, so to speak," Delik interrupted before the Ferengi could start another tirade about women in power, and how women were only good to bare sons and clean house.

"If the Ferengi puts the credits I need into my account, then you will not hear from me gain," K'Trelan said. "The next thing you will hear is that the House of Torres is renamed the House of Erzian and that a new Klingon Intendant will have to be appointed."

"I look forward to that news," Delik said before terminating the connection.

He set back and thought about his next action. He had to plan ahead, just to be sure. If K'Trelan failed, the Klingon Intendant would still come to Bajor. He had to be prepared for that. Maybe if he succeeded in making the Intendant his lover... then the Intendant would be sure to endorse him. And he would then also have her power to back him up, for as long as it would take him to take that power away from her. He realized that he had two problems now: Ro, and the Klingon Intendant. He didn't worry too much about the Intendant, there hadn't been a woman yet that had been able to resist his charms, if he tried to be charming. No, Ro was the bigger problem now. At this point he couldn't try to charm her anymore. Ro was too smart for that; she would know what he was doing right from the start. Maybe instead... a little something to take Ro's mind off things happening in the Palace. Maybe the kidnapping of some relatives... and then her friends in the Special Forces would investigate it. Damn, no, that wouldn't do. Maybe... maybe he would be able to convince Ro that he would be happy to be her first advisor when she became Intendant. That would drive a nice wedge between Ro and Jetur. Yes, that was a plan he could work with.

Several hours had gone by before Torres and Seven were back in the Intendant's quarters. Torres had listened very carefully to everything Seven had said while they were walking through Voyager, taking in even the smallest of detail. And when Seven was finished with her explanation of a room, Torres had always asked some very pointed questions. Where Seven had told her about the long range sensors, Torres had asked the exact range of those sensors. Where Seven had explained the output of the warp engine, Torres had asked for not the global, but precise number, including the fifteen numbers behind the comma.

Torres was about to tell her slave to get something to eat for them when she was contacted from the bridge.

{Intendant, the IKS B'Rel has just rendezvoused with us. Their Captain says he has some prisoners you would like to see.}

"Ah, yes. I'm surprised he found those smugglers so quickly."

The Klingon on the bridge laughed before saying, {I told him the same thing, and he was forced to admit that he did have a 'little' help from the Security Department.}

"Martok, of course. I should have known he would have found out where they were. Have them brought to the interrogation room. I will be there shortly. Torres out."

Torres stood up with a sigh and headed to the door, but she stopped when she saw that the blonde was following her.

"No, you stay here this time. Those smugglers stole something that is mine. This... will not be pretty," Torres pointed to the padd that held the history information, "Why don't you read some, I will ask you a question when I get back. You better know the answer to it," Torres started walking to the door again and while walking through it she said, "This will probably take a couple of hours."

Once Torres was through the door, she wondered why she had left the slave behind. Why didn't she want the blonde to see her interrogate the smugglers? Maybe she didn't want the blonde to see how brutal she could be if provoked the right way?

Once the Intendant was gone, Seven started to read the information in the padd. A few minutes later she had read what a normal human might read in a day and she thought it safe to stop. If the Intendant would ask her a question, she was sure that she could answer it.

Her eyes went to the door to the Intendant's office and stayed there. The Intendant might be gone for a couple of hours, it would be risky to try something the first time she was alone, but Seven didn't know when the next time would be that she would get such a chance. Hesitantly, she went to the door, and finally made her decision; she had to try.

She walked into the office and went to the bureau. She had almost taken the first padd in the rack before her eyes fell on the computer unit and she stopped herself. The Intendant had told her that she would get killed if she read the padds holding information. But the Intendant had never spoken about the computer unit. Maybe... If she used it instead and she was found out, then she could point to the fact that the Intendant had never told her not to touch it. But even when Seven set down behind the unit, she knew that she would never get away with it.

The unit activated as soon as it was opened. The Intendant had told Seven that there were no passwords or anything like that, but Seven was still slightly surprised to see a screen full of squares that she could touch to activate them. Things like troop positioning and the Klingon treasury were only one touch away.

Suddenly, Seven thought that even though there were no passwords, it still was too easy, and she started searching for programs that were not clearly active. How she wished that she could simply plunge in her assimilation tubes and make the searching a thousand times quicker. But apparently the Intendant had never heard about the Borg and thought that Seven's Borg implants were just a replacement or decoration instead of substantial enchantments. It would be foolish to show the true potential of those implants if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

Had the Intendant, for instance, known about Seven's enhanced hearing, then she would never have had that conversation with Martok so relatively close that Seven could, and had, heard every word. She still had to digest the things she had heard, but now was not the time for it; she just had found the first tracking program. A little program that did nothing more than passively track the 'movements' on the computer. Seven knew, where there was one, there was bound to be a second. She soon found the second, and third program and was finally able to access the information securely. Seven had always found it slightly strange the way people were fascinated by the number three. People often got three chances. The third match was often the decisive match in many sports. And, like now, if people installed more than one security program, it were almost always three programs.

Seven spend about fifteen minutes accumulating as much information as possible to her photographic memory before she came across the information about master slaves and where they were stationed at the moment. It spoke volumes to Seven about the difference in slave types when she saw that the master slaves were the only ones listed with names. For the rest there were only numbers. So many slaves were working on this project, so many on that.

Seven came across a project listed as 'Intendant ship renovation' and knew that this had to be Voyager, especially since 139 slaves had been 'appointed' to it. This had to be the Voyager crew, Seven was sure of it. For a moment Seven wondered when the Intendant had the time to put in the order without her knowing it, then she realized that the Intendant had probably done this in the eight hours Seven had regenerated. After all, the Intendant had been needed really only long enough to extract certain cells from her body.

So that meant that the Intendant had already made the decision to have the Voyager crew make the repairs. Which didn't really surprise Seven. After all, having the only people who knew the technology, working to repair that technology was the only logical step available. But Seven had already started to try and persuade the Intendant to have the Voyager crew make the repairs. Seven knew that she had to continue this or else the Intendant would start to wonder why she had stopped doing so.

It didn't escape Seven's notice that the repair of Voyager had been listed as 'Intendant ship renovation.' That meant that the Intendant was keeping Voyager out of the official mentioning. Everybody reading that entry would think that the Intendant was renovating her ship and of course was using some slaves to do so. Seven wondered why the Intendant was doing this. It wasn't like the Intendant had to hide things from others. Or maybe the Intendant did want to keep Voyager secret so that she could pass the ship off as a private luxury ship.

Finally Seven decided that trying to guess the Intendant's reasons was only a waste of time at the moment. She could think about that when the Intendant was present. Seven took a look to see what master slave had been appointed to Voyager and saw that the entry for master slave simply read 'first available.' Remembering what the Doctor had told her about how some of the master slaves could be, Seven decided to pick one that was less likely to give the Voyager crew problems.

It was like Martok had said: nobody was going to question an order coming from the Intendant, certainly not an order about something as simple as the assignment of a master slave. Seven knew that an order coming from the computer she was accessing would be processed as an order from the Intendant. She just hoped that what she was doing was so common that the appointment would not get back to the Intendant in some way.

Seven went over the status reports of several hundred master salves before she came across a name that made her gasp. For several minutes, Seven sat looking blankly at the screen before appointing the master slave to the project of repairing Voyager. Seven figured that it was time to shut the computer unit down again, but something made her also look at the status reports of the other master slaves she had not yet seen. Finding no further surprises, Seven shut the unit down and left the office.

When Torres walked back into her quarters, she found the slave right where she left her, in the living area, reading the padd, which she put down the moment the Intendant entered. Everything seemed like it should be, but Torres could feel that something was off. She looked at the blonde for some time, but she just kept sitting on the couch, looking back.

"Mistress? Is..." Seven stopped speaking when Torres lifted her hand in a silencing manner.

Torres looked around the room and stopped when her eyes reached the door to her office. She looked back to the blonde, but saw no reaction, and that tipped Torres off. There should been confusion or nervousness something, anything, from the blonde, but she just kept sitting there looking back.

The Intendant walked into her office and looked around. Everything was where it should be. There was nothing to indicate that something was wrong. And yet...

She walked back out of her office and set down on the couch opposite the one her slave was sitting on. Once again, she took her time to look at the blonde. Finally she started talking, "Alright, first I'm going to try this the easy way. What did you do while I was gone?"

"Mistress? I do not..." But before Seven could say more, she was interrupted by the Intendant.

"Eh," Torres lifted her finger and pointed it at the blonde, "Think before you continue that sentence. I know that you are very precise with your words all the time. Well, so can I, if it serves me. You told me, no you promised, I repeat, promised me that you would never deceive me. Doing as if you don't know what I'm taking about, isn't necessarily lying, but it is deceiving. Now, I'm willing to forget the part of the sentence you started, and I'm asking you again. What did you do while I was gone? Think before answering me, slave."

Seven felt something she had not often felt before, a sense of panic. Should she lie and hope that the Intendant would not find out what she had done, or should she tell the Intendant what she had done? If she told the Intendant what she had done, she was pretty sure that she would not be killed, but what ever she had done would also certainly be changed back.


Seven's eyes found those of the Intendant, it was only the third time that the Intendant had called her Seven. Normally it was either 'slave' or 'my pet'.

"Seven, don't make this hard on us both, talk to me. You know I will find out eventually."

The Intendant's voice had been soft and gentle. Seven was sure that the Intendant was only trying to persuade her to talk. But finally it wasn't how the Intendant tried to persuade Seven that made the blonde make her choice, but the fact that the Intendant tried at all.

"You told me that I would be killed if I activated the padds that held data."

"That's right, I did."

Seven closed her eyes before saying the rest, surprisingly enough she didn't want to see the disappointment in the Intendant's eyes, "Therefore I did not access any of the padds, but the computer unit in your office," Seven was surprised when she heard the Intendant starting to laugh and opened her eyes again.

"That's right, I forgot all about that stupid thing. Go get it, bring it to me."

Seven did as she was told and soon was standing in front of the Intendant with the unit in her hands.

Torres took the unit and patted the cushion beside her, "You sit right here and show me what you did."

Once Seven was sitting, she took the unit back and placed it on her lap before opening it, "The main thing I did was read information."

"How much?"

"The f... the first five levels of information on each of the subjects on this screen." Seven knew that it would sound impossible to the Intendant so she had been expecting the 'what'.

Torres took the unit away from Seven and looked at the first five levels of information on each subject. Of course she knew it all, and for her it was more a matter of seeing something and knowing what the rest of the text was about too. But for someone to actually read it all... and understand it, it would take days.

"Alright, this I want to see... Troop movements... Who is Gowron and where is he at the moment?"

Thanks to her instant recall, Seven knew the information as if reading it from the Intendant's screen, "Captain Gowron is Commander of the Klingon fleet delegated to the Bajoran sector. At the moment he is on Bajor, preparing your arrival. He is considered annoying and irritating, but also extremely loyal to the Chancellor and you. He is considered only an adequate commander, but a good advisor. He has..."

"Alright," Torres interrupted, "Next question, treasury. How much is my allowance for being Intendant, and what is the total value of everything connected to the House of Torres?"

"You earn one million credits a day for being Intendant, that is separate from bonuses and the credits you make out of the Torres holdings. The total reported value of everything owned by the House of Torres was 136.199.681.492 credits at the filing of the annual report."

"Damn, I'm worth one hundred thirty-six billion?" Torres asked impressed. Like most Klingons, she didn't care much for bookkeeping. As long as the weekly balance was in black numbers, her bookkeepers and financial advisors were doing a good job and she didn't care any further.

"No, The House of Torres, which you control, is worth one hundred thirty-six billion. You, B'Elanna Torres, are worth another forty-six billion credits."

Torres gave the computer unit back to Seven and on a hunch asked, "How many colonies were represented in the first federal Klingon government ever created?" It wasn't a question that had anything to do with the information in the unit, it was some of the history information Seven had to study.

"That is a trick question," Seven stated, wondering why the Intendant was suddenly asking this. "It is generally assumed that eighteen colonies were part of the first federal government. But the truth is that eighteen colonies combined themselves to form the federal government. So technically they were never part of it, they stopped to exist when the federal government was declared."

"How can you have read all of this in the one and a half hour I was gone? The history question alone is something you would normally only come across tomorrow."

Seven knew that now was the time to mention one of the things that set her apart from most humans, "I have, what is known in our universe as, a photographic memory. And I also have instant recall. It is a... convenient mix at times."

"I just knew I picked a smart one," Torres said with clear approval before continuing in a serious tone, "You said that reading was the main thing you did. That means that you also did something else, what?"

Seven lowered her eyes and looked down at the unit in her hands. She couldn't understand it, but she felt like a schoolgirl having been caught doing something naughty, "I, I appointed a certain master slave to oversee the repairs on Voyager. The position was originally listed as 'first available.'"

"You realize that it will seem as if I made this appointment? Since it came from my computer?"

"Yes, Mistress, I know."

"Who did you appoint, and why?"

Seven opened the unit and went to the statues report of the master slave she had selected before handing the unit back to the Intendant.

Torres read the report and was surprised by how clean it was. All the jobs the master slave had overseen had been completed with success and the other slaves seemed to work well under the master slave, "Good choice," Torres finally said.

"The master slave was the best choice for this particular situation."

"I'm sure," Torres agreed, "But this is not the reason why you picked her, is it?"

"No, it is not," Seven hear herself say.

"Then who is this Annika Hansen?"

"She is this universe's version of me." While answering, Seven brought up an image of the woman in question.

Torres had to digest that for a moment, "I... see. No wonder she was able to work herself up to be a master slave," Torres tapped with a finger against the computer unit, "Did you do anything else in here?"

"Except for bypassing the tracking programs and altering them to the point that they would not track any new possible moves from me I did nothing else, mistress."

"You know I have to punish you for this, and severely."

"I know."

"I give you a choice."

"Mistress?" Seven asked, looking up at Torres.

"You can choose, my pet. Either you lose points for this, or tonight you give me a repeat performance from last night."

Seven did not understand what Torres was doing. Why did the Intendant offer to let her work off her punishment, when the Intendant could punish her and still order her to please her that night? But what ever the reason was, Seven choose the only smart answer there was, "I do not wish to loose any points."

"Good, I look forward to tonight."

"Mistress," Seven said, while folding the computer unit closed, "I am... sorry that I disappointed you."

Torres reached up and softly turned the blonde's head in her direction, "I never said that you disappointed me. You did exactly what I thought you would, what I hoped you would. Why do you think I'm taking this so well? You would have disappointed me if you truly had just sat here and read.

"If the B'Rel had not rendezvoused with us, than I would have found a reason tomorrow to leave you alone. Though I must admit that I was fully expecting to catch you in the act, or not having read the history you should have. But then I didn't know about the capabilities of that brain of yours."

"You were hoping for my disobedience?" Seven asked surprised.

"No, not at all." Torres disagreed, "I was hoping for you to obey me, and find a way to get past my commands. I wanted to see how resourceful you can be. But a little warning, now I know at least a little of how resourceful you can be, and now things change. From now on, if I tell you something, I expect you to understand not only the literal order, but also what it means. Anybody would have known that if I had forbidden them to read information from the padds, that they are then also not allowed to read that same information from a computer unit. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Alright then, act like that from now on, I wouldn't want to give you the punishment something like this would really demand," Torres had tapped against the computer unit to indicate what she meant with 'something like this,' "You understand me?"

"Yes, mistress," And Seven now indeed understood. The punishment that the Intendant had given her wasn't a real punishment at all, it was nothing more that a closure on the matter. She had done something wrong, and the Intendant had 'punished' her for it, "Mistress?"


"Will you appoint a new master slave to Voyager?"

"Why bother? To me, a master slave is a master slave. Tell me, you like working on this computer unit?" Torres suddenly asked and changing the subject completely.

"It was easily accessible and since the input field is six point five times greater than that of your padds, I could do several processes at once with more ease than it would have been on a padd. And also, a padd only holds information that is downloaded. The unit had direct access to the main database of this ship, and since this is the ship of the Klingon Intendant, it had a direct subspace link to the Klingon main information center on Kronos."

"A simple 'yes' would have been enough," Torres said amused, "I personally like working with the pads more. But that is mainly because most of my work consists of reading reports and then acting on that information; it's much easier done with a light and convenient handheld padd. So until now this thing rarely saw any use," Suddenly Torres addressed the main computer, "Computer, restrict the access to my personal computer unit to clearance free information only."

{More data is required: clearance free information on Intendant level, or on general level?} The computer asked, knowing that two people were in the room.

Torres thought about that for a moment, she knew that she should say general level. With all her slave had done, the blonde had still not reached the level that was considered Intendant's clearance. The blonde would be able to get all information that didn't need a level two or one clearance, and the same went for giving orders. But from the first time she had seen the slave, she had followed her gut feeling about the blonde. Torres decided with a sigh that now that she had gone this far, she might as well go all the way, "Computer, the clearance level is that of Intendant."

{Access restricted.}

Torres laid her hand on the computer unit before looking Seven in the eyes, "From now on this computer unit is yours to use. I think that you know only too well what would go too far, so don't do it. If you misuse this, the game is over right away and I swear by Kahless that I will personally kill all of them while you are watching. You understand me, my pet?"

"Yes, Mistress," Seven answered, wondering why the Intendant was giving her the computer unit.

Torres took Seven's chin in her hand and applied some pressure, but not enough to hurt, "You say that you understand me, but do you also believe me, Seven?"

Once again the Intendant had used Seven's name and the blonde started to suspect that the Intendant only used it in very serious situations, situations where she wanted to speak to Seven on a level different from that of master and slave, "Yes, I believe you."

"Good, I'm glad we got this settled."

Seven looked down at the computer unit and finally asked, "Mistress, why did you give me this?"

"Because you are smart," Torres answered amused, "You are able to not only read the information in there, but actually understand it. It took me more than a year to figure all of that out when I was appointed Intendant. And also, you are able to understand the treasury reports. Frankly I suck at that, I don't care much for that kind of stuff. Since you do understand all of that, I would be stupid not to use that fact. So from now on you are going to be trained in what I find important information, and the rest you can keep to yourself and only tell me about something that you think I really need to know."

"But why are you doing this? I am just a slave."

"That is the point," Torres stood up and walked to the table, "I want something to eat, get us program fifty-three," Suddenly Torres stopped where she stood, making Seven, who had started to follow the Intendant, almost walk into her. Torres turned around to Seven before starting to speak again, "I told you that you were only allowed to read the padd I gave you in the private part of my quarters. That goes double for the computer unit. You are only allowed to use it in this room and my office."

"Yes, mistress," Seven said, making a step back to give the Intendant some room.

Seeing the slave standing there with the computer unit in her hands, made Torres start to wonder if she was maybe losing her mind. 'But,' She thought, 'Somebody that is stupid enough to jump off a cliff, can't really complain about the wind in her face on the way down. Though she can make sure that there is something on the bottom to break her fall,' Torres pointed to one of the chairs at the table, "Sit. Here is your first legal use of that thing. Send a message to Martok that reads literally, 'the Intendant ordered me to send you this message from the computer unit that I'm now allowed to use. The Intendant has told me to inform you that the leverage is still there, but that you are to start keeping your eye on everything. Passive for now until further order', and then sign it with your name."

"It is sent, mistress," Seven said a moment later even though the Intendant had seen her send the message.

"Alright, then," Torres sat down opposite of the blonde, "Now close that thing and get the food I told you to get."

Seven did so and they started to eat. After a few minutes, Seven broke the silence, "Mistress?"


"What did the message mean that I sent to General Martok?"

"It meant that I showed him what I already allowed you to do, and it told him to keep an eye on the things that you do, orders that come from that unit and whatever he can think of. Passively only for now, so you won't notice it," Torres put her fork down and looked straight at the blonde, "I am not treating you like I should treat you, my pet, and I think that it is not a bad idea to have someone with an objective view look at what you are doing. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, mistress. I do," Seven agreed, knowing that it would make things more difficult for her, but from the Intendant's point of view it was indeed a wise precaution.

They ate in silence for a minute before Seven spoke up again, "Mistress?"


"Why are you giving me that power?"

Torres ate the last bit of her food before pushing her plate to Seven a bit. Seven got the hint and cleared off the table.

"When you're done, get us something to drink and join me on the couch," Torres said while moving to said couch. Once she was sitting comfortably, she waited for the slave to bring her the drink. Torres was slightly surprised, but didn't object when the blonde kneeled in front of her, instead of going to sit beside her on the couch. She took the drink the slave offered her and opened her legs to let the slave come a little closer.

"To answer your question, my pet, the reason I give you that power is because it is actually standard for people in higher places, and especially someone as high as an Intendant, to have someone to take care of the smaller unimportant, but time consuming things. I normally did those things myself because I never had someone I could trust with the information and power that comes from doing those things for me. Having to check the person would have been more work than just doing it myself. But now I can let you do those things."

"Mistress, I... I am glad that you think that you can trust me with that, but I do not understand HOW you can think that you can trust me, especially after what I just did."

Torres started to run her fingers through the blonde's hair again. She just loved doing that, and she suspected that the poor slave would have to wash her hair every day because of it. But since she herself tried to take a bath every night, which was not that common for Klingons who on average washed themselves about once a week, the slave would get to take a bath every night too.

"What would you do, my pet? What COULD you do?"


"Think about it. What could you do with all the information in that computer unit? Use the financial information to make some credits for yourself? Or transfer some of my credits? To where? You don't have an account and you don't even have an official name. The only thing you would do is make me some credits since you are using my computer unit.

"Or maybe you would want to offer some of the military information to... say the Cardassians. First of all, they would probably already know. One of the little known facts that make the stability of the Coalition is an agreement all members have signed that we would not search for, and flush out, spies. The Cardassians have spies amongst us, just like we have spies amongst them.

"Heck, the last couple of years you can't really call them spies anymore since nobody takes the trouble anymore to alter their appearance surgically. This tactic was agreed upon to make sure that none of the Coalition partners could plan something against another Coalition member without them finding out."

Torres stopped for a moment to take a sip from her drink before going on. She was explaining this as much to herself as to her slave. Trying to convince herself that this was indeed why she was doing something that everyone would call foolish, "And second, you know damn well yourself that I'm your best choice. Even if you didn't have to fear for the lives of your friends, having the Klingon Intendant be friendly towards you is the only way of surviving in the long run. No, my pet, with all the information that computer unit gives you, and all the power that being able to use my name gives you, the only thing you can do with it is work for me."

Torres lifted the blonde's head and grinned at her, "I know what you are thinking now. You could still use that power to help your friends, to help them escape. But there is nowhere that they can escape to.

"Use the unit to do some research on it. There are no officially free humans. So no matter where they would go, everybody would know that they had escaped. And there is a standard reward of twenty-five thousand credits for every escaped slave, payable by law by the owner of the slave.

"One hundred and forty escaped slaves at twenty-five thousand credits apiece... How long do you think it would be before somebody wanting to make an easy three and a half million credits turned them in? That is more than most people make in a lifetime. Add to that the little fact that it also is a punishable offence to NOT report a possibly escaped slave, if they stayed together, they would be captured within a day."

"It is my understanding that in a situation where they can not rely on anybody but themselves, most species, including humans, team up with more people in the same situation as them. I am sure that such places also exist inside the coalition."

"You are arguing with me, my pet. I told you not to do that," It was clear that Torres was amused, despite her words.

"I am not arguing. I am having a discussion with you, mistress. Arguing would be for instance me pointing out that you did not tell me not to argue with you. Which you did not."

"Don't go there, my pet. Remember that I make the rules, and that means that I can also change them. I don't need your permission for that."

"Yes, mistress," Seven lowered her head again and closed her eyes, "But if I may point out, if I am to do things for you, I should also be able to discus them with you, mistress. Give my view on them."

"Hmm, I guess you have a point. All right then, what we are doing now is having a discussion, you can do that when we are alone. But what you did this morning when we were talking about what a master is allowed to do to his or her slave; that was arguing. Don't do that again. My counterpart might like it, but I don't."

"Yes, mistress, I will not do that again," Seven said, even though she already promised that to the Intendant before.

"And no, my pet, such places do not exist, inside the Coalition," Torres said, continuing her... discussion... with the slave, "But a very few of those places do exist on the border of Coalition space; five places in total, bordering the entire coalition. We leave those so that we can monitor them: the amount of escaped slaves that reach them tells us if we need to sharpen the rules, raise the reward for capturing a slave and such. And, leaving those places prevents other places from forming that we don't know of.

"But, the people that reach those places are only disillusioned. Two thirds of the slaves that reach those places eventually come back to their masters because the life as a slave was better than it was in those places. They are lawless territories where the strong take all from the weak. There is starvation and food is normally bought from those that control it in the only currency the weak have; sexual intercourse."

Torres could see that the slave was about to speak and she could pretty much guess what the words would be, "Shhh, You are a body slave, that means that you have to... please... more often than most slaves. Most slaves only have to do that a few times in their lives, a substantial part never has to do it. You, as body slave, have to do it more often, but you only have one person to please.

"Can you imagine having to please a different person every time you want to eat? Can you imagine that you had to please me simply for that drink that you are holding in your hand? Or maybe today it had been an ugly, big, smelly, guy who would have liked to slap you around a little while you had to service him."

"I do not like men, in that way."

"Ah, my pet, but if you are starving you have little choice. And that is if you are alone. What if you have a child to feed, if you need two meals a day? Believe me, the only thing that those humans have, is that they can tell themselves that they are free. But the reality is that the life of a slave is better and strangely enough freer than the life of one of those 'free' humans."

Seven had noticed that while the Intendant was talking, her voice had changed a little. It had become more serious, and more... poignant. Seven believed what the Intendant had just told her, and it made something clear that Seven had already suspected. If the Voyager crew were to escape, they would need Voyager. Not only to get away from anybody that was following them, but also as a place to live in decency.

"Now, my pet, I want to soak in my bath for some time, and during that time you can tell me all about you. Tell me your life history from being a child 'til now."

"Yes, mistress," Seven said while she got up in order to let the Intendant do the same, "Mistress?"

"Yes?" Torres asked while she was getting up.

"There is something that I have been wondering about since the moment we told you that we came from an alternative universe."

"You are wondering why I so easily believed such an outrageous story?"

"Yes, mistress."

The Intendant walked to the bathroom and started to undress while she started to explain, "The reason for that is because we have already known about that wormhole for the last... hundred years almost, I think. Why do you think there are those weapon platforms surrounding the exit point? Before we put those there, we researched the wormhole intensively. We came to the conclusion that basically plugging it up was the best solution. Which reminds me that apparently it is time for an upgrade on those platforms, you should never have been able to survive."

By now, they had both undressed and entered the bath that was apparently always kept full, clean, and heated. Remembering what the Intendant had told her the last time they were in the bath; Seven went to the Intendant's side and took the sponge on the side of the bath, "Mistress?" She asked to see if the Intendant wanted to be washed, or just wanted to sit in the water for now.

"Later," Torres said and saw that this time the slave continued to sit beside her instead of moving to the other side of the bath.

After having seen to the Intendant's needs, Seven set back and enjoyed the feeling of the water surrounding her. She had never taken a bath on Voyager, finding in an unnecessary waste of time and water. But she was surprised to find out that she liked the feeling of the bath, and could now understand why others on Voyager often longed for a bath.

"But if you know of the existence of the wormhole, why not use it?" Seven asked after some time.

"And have whoever is on the other side stranded in the Delta Quadrant if the wormhole collapses? Not just the Delta Quadrant, but also the Delta Quadrant from an alternative universe? You have passed through the wormhole in one of its stable periods, but every once in a while, the wormhole becomes extremely unstable without warning.

"Our scientists say that they simply can't tell us how long the wormhole will continue to exist. It could go on for another thousand years, or it could collapse the next time it becomes unstable. Keeping that in mind, and after losing several ships that were traveling through the wormhole one day, we decided to forget about it and make sure no uninvited guests would come through it. Besides, that wormhole is not the only way to get into your universe."

"It is not?" Seven asked surprised.

"No," Torres moved her hand and absently started to move it along the length of Seven's upper leg, "Apparently your universe and mine exist very close to each other. We know of several ways to travel between the two universes, but that wormhole and a second way are the only safe ways of traveling back and forth, as far as you can call a wormhole safe, if you know that said wormhole can become unstable any minute. There is no rhythm what so ever to it.

"Anyway, as I said, there are several ways, but we found out that until now all of those ways let us to one and the same universe; yours. And truthfully, after seeing the Klingons from your universe, we didn't want to go there anyway. Why would we want to go into another universe, a universe where Klingons had to beg humans for help, while we rule everything here? We like our universe just fine."

Seven felt the hand of the Intendant on her leg and thought for a moment that the Intendant wanted to do something entirely different than talking. But the hand just kept wandering up and down her upper leg slowly.

"Alright, now you can start to wash me, and while you do, you can start telling me about you. If Annika Hansen is your counterpart here, than it is a pretty sure bet that 'Seven of Nine' is not your birth name."

"It is not," Seven agreed and took the sponge. While she started to wash the Intendant, she also started to tell her story.

It was more that two hours later when they dried off and went to the bedroom. Seven had told her story without too many details, more like an average person would have. She had done this for two reasons, because she didn't want to bore the Intendant, and also, this way Seven did not have to tell in detail what the enhancements were that the Borg had done to her.

Seven had been sure that the Intendant had wanted her to start her services in the bath, so she was slightly surprised when the Intendant told her to get some towels from the replicator, and to make sure that next time she replicated the towels BEFORE getting into the bath. And a few minutes later she had stood naked in the Intendant's bedroom, not really sure what to do.

"Make the bed," Torres simply ordered, adding in an afterthought, "Program fifty," Telling the slave which replicator program to use.

But the blonde didn't move.


"Mistress, I..." Seven started, sounding very unsure.

"What?" Torres asked. Spreading her arms slightly to emphasize her question, not caring in the least about the fact that she was naked as the day she was born.

"Mistress, I do not know how..."

"Wait," Torres interrupted while she stepped closer to the blonde, "Are you in all reality trying to tell me that you don't know how to make a fucking bed?"

"I have not slept like a human since I was six, and while I was a child, my parents made my bed for me, since I did not think that I would be sleeping in a bed anytime soon, I never learned it. Making a bed was irrelevant," Seven said in a slightly defensive tone.

"Who said that you are going to sleep in the bed?" Torres asked, staring to get slightly annoyed at the situation.

"Nobody. I only stated the reason why I never learned," Seven defended.

Torres took a step closer, her irritation now clear to see, "You are starting to sound a damn lot like you are arguing with me, slave."

Seven involuntarily backed up a step, "I am sorry, mistress. I am just slightly annoyed about the fact that I do not know how to perform a task others do not even have to think about."

Torres started to speak but then stopped when she realized the absurdity of the situation. There she was talking to a slave, a slave, about making the bed, and both of them were naked during all of it. She moved to the replicator and threw a short 'come' over her shoulder, "You watch, and you better watch damn good. I'm not going to explain a single damn word of what I'm doing. Next time you better know how to do this like you've done it all your life, or else I'm going to be fucking pissed... a lot more than I'm already now. You got me?"

"Yes, mistress," Seven said in an insecure voice. Once again she felt as if she had done something wrong and was caught doing it. It was absolutely illogical, but she still felt like that.

The first thing Torres did was replicate some simple but comfortable sleeping-shirts. "Here, put this on," She said while roughly handing a shirt to Seven. While Seven put her shirt on, Torres did the same and then replicated some new sheets for the bed.

Torres indeed didn't explain a single thing about what she did, but she was talking to herself the whole time, saying things like, 'reads a fucking treasury report sixty margins long in a minute flat, but doesn't even know how to pull some sheets over a damn bed.' Torres was finished in a few minutes and turned around to her slave, "Got that?"

"Yes, mistress."

Torres grabbed the sheets and pulled everything off the bed again, "Good, then now you do it."

Seven did a good and quick job of making the bed and stepped back.

"Good," Torres said in a voice a lot less annoyed, "Computer, lights on one-eighth intensity."

With a bleep, the computer acknowledged and the light dimmed until there was only enough light left to put everything in a dark gray.

Torres crawled between the sheets and stretched before noticing that she was still alone in the bed. She looked to where her slave was still standing and because it was so dark she wasn't sure, but she could have sworn that she actually saw the blonde fiddle with her fingers before putting her hands behind her back.

"Get in here already."

Seven went to the other side of the bed and moved until she was lying beside the Intendant, close but not touching. After a moment of heavy silence, Seven softly said, "I am sorry, mistress."

Torres sighed; she knew that she had acted ridiculous. Good thing the blonde was only a slave that way Torres didn't have to explain herself. Right? But after a moment, Torres heard herself speak to the slave, instead of just ignoring her, "It's alright, my pet," Torres turned around until she was facing the slave. She reached over and slowly caressed the blonde's cheek, "It really isn't your fault. Everything you did 'til now, you were excellent at. To then suddenly have you not know something as easy as making a bed... it just hit me from a blind corner.

"But you better get used to that. You really have only seen me in a good mood the last two days. If I get in a bad mood, I can be an absolute bitch. Much worse than what you just saw. Just know that the next time something like this happens you can best simply let me rant and don't take it too personally. If you had done something wrong I would not have acted like I just did, I would simply have punished you, alright?"

"Yes, mistress."

"You ok?" Torres asked, having heard the slight tremor in the slave's voice.

Seven had learned long ago on Voyager that if somebody asked a question like that, they expected an 'I am fine' back. Nobody expected you to actually tell what your problem was, at least that is what the Captain had told her. Though sometimes it seemed as if B'Elanna and Tom actually really had wanted to know what was bothering her. But remembering that she told the Intendant that she would not deceive her, Seven said honestly, "Being confronted with not knowing what to do unsettles me. Always knowing what I need to do, how to do it, it makes me feel secure."

"What? Don't tell me that you can't think for yourself, I'm not buying that after all that I have seen."

"I do know how to think for myself, as long as it is about things I know. For instance many of my fights with Voyager's B'Elanna Torres came forth because of me knowing what I was doing, and knowing what had to happen next. I would then become what she calls 'stubborn as hell' and only be persuaded to her way of thinking if she could make a valid case."

"Then what made you snoop around in the computer while I was gone? I don't think that you learned that on Voyager?"

"I still knew what I needed to do. I needed to get information, and where else to be sure to find the information I needed then in the Intendant's computer? But making the bed was an action I had to perform at the moment without having the information on how to do so. If I would have had a few minutes to research the subject, I would have known what to do and handled accordingly."

"Knowledge is power."


"An old saying, my pet, meaning that having information, knowledge, makes you more powerful than the person that does not have that knowledge. Have knowledge and you will win the war, be ignorant and you will be the first to die in that war."

"I see."

"Anyway, as I said, I can be a bitch and you have frankly seen nothing yet. So the next time simply keep quiet and you will be fine. I can be, and often am, someone you don't want to mess with. But even in those situations I never punish someone for something they didn't do. Now, go to sleep, tomorrow will be a long day.

"First thing, you and I will go through some of that information in that computer unit and I will tell you what kind of thing I want you to keep an eye on, what you should tell me, and what you can do by yourself. Then in the afternoon we will go to your friends so that you can see how they are treated, and so that you can see my counterpart, I think she should be able to speak to you by then. And tomorrow evening we will arrive at my home. I will leave my new ship and your friends there while we go on to Bajor, you can use that computer unit to keep in contact with your doctor. At my home, we will probably also meet up with the master slave you so conveniently appointed. Do... do you want to talk to her?"

"No, mistress, I... no."

"Alright. Tell me, you told me that you need regeneration every seventy-two hours, but how long CAN you go without regenerating and maintenance? Could you go one week without? Two weeks?"

Seven wondered why the Intendant was asking her this and then realized that the Intendant wanted to take her to Bajor, a trip that was sure to last longer than three days, "I do not know, mistress. The Doctor is convinced that I could already live without regenerating now, but if the time between regenerating is more than seventy-two hours it starts to affect me and soon it becomes uncomfortable for me."

"I see, affect you... how?" Torres asked, moving a little closer to her slave until she was lying against her.

"I become weaker, less strong. My endurance becomes shorter. My muscles start hurting after straining them for some time. I form small aches all over my body. The places around my implants start to itch. I get..."

"You know, my pet, it sounds to me as if you lose some of the advances those implants give you and you start to feel more like a normal human... except the itching of your implants of course."

"If it is normal for humans to feel like that, then I do not want to become more human."

"Who would?" Torres asked amused.

"The biggest risk," Seven said, ignoring what the Intendant had said, "Is the absence of the periodic maintenance of my implants. Onboard Voyager, the Doctor had to remove eighty-one percent of all Borg technology because my body started to reject the implants once my immune system started to reassert itself. There is a chance that the remaining implants would also be rejected if I do not regenerate and get periodic maintenance done to the implants."

"How sincere is that risk? How certain is it that problems would arise from you not getting any regenerating or maintenance?"

"It is simply not possible to say, mistress. We have no reference what so ever. It is possible that my implants would totally shut down, which would mean my certain death, but it is also possible that my implants would adept to the situation and continue on without needing regeneration or maintenance. Since there is a substantial chance of me dying, both the Doctor and I did not see the need to risk my death by trying to find out."

"Smart choice," Torres agreed, "So, are you ever going to tell me what those implants enable you to do? I'm not stupid, I know you left out quite some details about those Borg. If those implants would not be better than what ever they replaced, they would never been put into you.

"Replacing something with something inferior to the original is plain out stupid. And if they put so much technology in you that there is still so much left after more that eighty percent is removed, than that can only mean that they used you, seeing you as human as an inferior being, as a being that needed to be enhanced substantially."

Seven thought about that but she knew that she still had to keep some things to herself, "I think I will tell you this, eventually. But not right now. Right now it is still convenient for me to have some surprises left."

Torres had to laugh softly at the honest reply, "Alright, I expected as much. That is why I asked if you were going to tell me, Instead of just saying that you should tell me. But tell me this, is there something that I have to worry about?"

"No," Seven was quick to say, before realizing that this was not entirely true, "Well, it depends on what you consider something you have to worry about. I could kill you right now, being that I am far stronger than a normal human. But yet I am lying here beside you without you fearing for your life. As long as you do not fear the fact that if I wanted I could overpower you and hurt or even kill you, than no, there is nothing you have to worry about."

Torres moved her hand under Seven's nightshirt and up until her hand found one of the blonde's ample breasts, "Alright than, for now I will let you get way with not telling me. But once the game is over, and you are still alive, you will tell me everything, holding nothing back what so ever."

"Yes, mistress," Feeling what the Intendant was doing made Seven understand that the time had come to please to Klingon. She moved her own hand up the Intendant's leg and was about to continue over the Intendant's side when the Klingon captured Seven's hand with her own free hand.

"Not tonight," Torres said while she moved the blonde's hand until it was resting on her hip, "There, you can leave your hand like that and keep my ass nice and warm tonight."

"But I thought that..." Seven started to say confused.

"Shhh, let's just say that I was too tired and forgot all about your punishment, alright? Now go to sleep."

"Yes, mistress," Seven left her hand where it was and closed her eyes, wondering if she could sleep since she couldn't remember how she did it the last time, more then twenty years before. Surprisingly, she was asleep before the Intendant was.

Torres quickly heard the breath of her slave even out, 'What are you doing to me, my pet?' She thought, 'Why are you still alive? I have destroyed entire colonies for less than what you did today. Speaking back to me? Not answering me?' Torres moved her hand from under Seven's shirt and up to the blonde's face; softly brushing away some of those silk like hairs, 'And even make me not want to use you for sex while I'm horny. For the first time ever I take a body slave, and then you turn out to be someone I don't want to use like that.'

Seven shifted a little closer in her sleep until she was lying fully against Torres. Her hand fell off the Intendant's hip and automatically she moved it, taking the Intendant in a light embrace without knowing it.

Torres was about to put the blonde's hand back, but stopped when she felt how the slave's arm took her in a soft embrace, 'Damn it all, I'm in soooo much trouble. I'm in way over my head with you, my little blonde... treasure. But tomorrow that is going to change, from tomorrow on you will be treated like the slave you are,' Torres took in the face of her slave. It looked so innocent and unguarded in sleep, 'Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that, B'Elanna. You know that this little vixen will never be 'just a slave' to you. Better just accept it and go from there.'

The blonde moved again in her sleep and Torres felt how the slave's legs came to lay against her feet. Torres remembered with a small smile that her 'little' blonde was half a head taller then she was, 'Time to get some sleep,' Torres put her arm around the slave in much the same way as the slave's arm was around herself and closed her eyes to get some much needed sleep.

Part 6

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