DISCLAIMER: It's a Xena/Voyager crossover spoof so if that ain't your thing... ::shrug:: You sort of have to watch the episode (The Quill is Mightier than the Sword) to get a lot of it, I think. Unbeta'd and very, very unfinished... but I know I'll never finish it if I don't post some of it. ::grin::
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

The Feather is Mightier...
By Lishesque


Part 4

As Chakotay picked up the scroll, he could have sworn that it tried to jump out of his grasp. He paused for a moment to meditate upon this. Tom took the opportunity to replicate a quill.

"Hey, could you give the scroll to me for a minute? I wanna try something out."

There was no response from the hat stand. Oh wait, that's not a hat stand. My bad.

There was no response from Chakotay, so Tom slid the scroll out from his hand and unrolled it. From out of nowhere, somebody's runaway muse barreled into him, and Tom suddenly had a spark of inspiration. He began to write…

Some dancing women would be nice:

B'Elanna maybe – or the Queen of Ice.

I think that I should make it

So that they're both naked…

Some naked dancing bodies, thrice!

Suddenly, raunchy music filled the room and three naked Sevens skipped into the room, holding each others' hands. Hot on their very naked heels were three naked B'Elannas, who were also naked. Have I mentioned yet, that they were all naked?

Ahem, right.

Moving on.

So they were all naked. However, Chakotay couldn't see them because he'd fallen into a deep coma while meditating. Tom managed to catch a glimpse of one naked foot before passing out in a dead faint. Call it divine interference, if you will. The real reason behind it, however, is actually a very tragic tale.

Somewhere, a long time ago, someone had prophesied that if a man named Tom Paris ever saw three naked B'Elannas and three naked Sevens, together, at the same time, naked, the Universe (as we know it) would end. Now, this particular prophet was rated 99.79 on the IGSAP (InterGalactic Scale of Accurate Prophesying) so, understandably, his entire race was very alarmed and decided to dedicate their existence to saving the universe by preventing Tom Paris from ever seeing three naked B'Elannas and three naked Sevens, all of whom would be very naked, together.

They succeeded but at a heavy price. Alas, the noble race slowly fell into decline and was unable to bake the universe-renown cookies that they were once so famous for. Without cookies, their men were unable to keep the womenfolk at home and all the women left to became pirates who would sail and plunder the high seas of countless worlds. And so their population began to dwindle… and dwindle… and dwindle… and it kept on dwindling, until finally, only one man was left on the planet – the one who had first made the prophecy about Tom Paris. He fell to his knees in anguish, shook his fist at the sky and cursed "Damn you, Tom! Damn you!" before falling prostrate to the ground, dead as a doorknob.

A tragic tale, indeed.

Nobody on Voyager knew of this, however. Nor did they know just how close the Universe came to ending that day, and so they proceeded with their daily lives in blissful ignorance. Proceeded, that is, until three naked B'Elannas and three naked Sevens burst out of the conference room and began skipping down Voyager's surprised corridors.

Q found B'Elanna in Cargo Bay 2, after checking both Engineering and the mess hall first. B'Elanna was looking at Seven's alcove with a sad expression on her face, deep in thought. She turned upon hearing Q's approach.

"Hey," B'Elanna greeted the rather disheveled looking woman.

"Hi," Q smiled, "y'alriiigh?"

B'Elanna blinked, "what?"


B'Elanna stared at Q in incomprehension.

Q sighed. "Sorry, the author likes playing with accents a little too much, if you ask me. Immature, really. Anyway, I was saying 'are you all right?'… I thought I'd check up on you. You looked upset when you left."

"Oh, right," said B'Elanna, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that… I'm worried about Seven." She sighed. "What if we never find her?" Then a thought struck her. "Kahless! What if she dies from not being able to regenerate and we have to read through all of chapter 8, 9 and 10 of Lishesque's 'Fallen Star' again??"

Even Q looked slightly alarmed at the thought of that, but before she could comment, they were interrupted by an out-of-breath ensign who looked very flushed.

"Lieutenant! There's um… there… uh… well…"


The ensign paused to catch her breath before bravely pulling herself together and blurting out, "Lieutenant, there are six naked women running around Voyager, ma'am, and they're completely naked… and dear God, they're naked..." The ensign swooned.

"Wait, you're not part of Voyager's crew," said B'Elanna suspiciously, "who are you?"

"I'm Ensign Rachel."

"Oh! I remember you," B'Elanna exclaimed, "I've seen you before, in a turbolift, right?"

Rachel blushed and mumbled something about Gizzmo, a VJB spoof and a turbolift. Before B'Elanna could ask her to explain, she hurried on with that was she was going to report, before she had been interrupted. "You were naked! There were three of you, and wow… you were um, yeah, naked, and yeah and Seven too. She was naked as well."


"Look for yourself," The ensign pointed in the direction she had come in. Her eyes widened upon seeing the expression forming on the Klingon's face and she wisely ducked out of sight and story.

Tom woke up in a cold sweat, feeling very, very afraid. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that he thought his rib cage would explode. But… what if it wasn't just his heart? He rolled over and his eyes fell on the crab-like carcass thingy of the alien that had just impregnated him.


Tom's bloodcurdling scream roused Chakotay from his coma. He looked at Tom in confusion.

Gibbering in terror, Tom pointed frantically at the alien.

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's just my new spirit guide," said Chakotay, calmly. "A native of the Delta Quadrant… perfectly harmless, I assure you."

"This is Star Trek Voyager. Not Alien Resurrection. This is Star Trek Voyager. Not Alien Resurrection. This is Star Trek Voyager…"

Tom's mantra seemed to calm him somewhat. Yet he couldn't shake away the feeling that he was in mortal danger. If a baby alien wasn't about to burst forth from his chest, then what could possibly be the matter?

The drums that had been beating softly in the background began to increase their tempo.

Badoom. Badoom. Badoom.

The pounding grew louder and louder, culminating in a loud crash as the door to the conference room was ripped open.

"Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"

Tom (who had been expecting B'Elanna, or at least Seven) blinked. "Uh… what?"

"You heard me," the strange man growled, and drew his sword. Then he paused. "Why, may I ask, is your face green and spotty?"

Before Tom had time to answer, the man was shoved out of the doorway by a blonde in a yellow tracksuit who was wielding a very deadly-looking katana.

"Bill," was all she said, and advanced upon a poor, confused-looking Tom.

Luckily for Tom, before the blonde could take his head off, B'Elanna burst into the room and shoved both newcomers out of the way.

"Get rid of those naked women," B'Elanna growled. "Now!"

Tom, who hadn't actually seen the naked posse, was about to ask "what naked women?" when a very naked foot caught his eye. The conference room was immediately and thoroughly plunged into chaos as the three naked B'Elannas and three naked Sevens pranced into the room, holding hands. The unfortunate helmsman promptly fainted again (phew, that was a close one). At the same time, both the strange man and the blonde in yellow dived for the scroll which was now lying on the floor besides Tom's head.

"Quick Inigo! Get the scroll so we can end this insanity!"

The man quickly threw the scroll to the blonde but missed and it hit her head instead. It knocked off her hair, exposing her to be the wig-wearing Puerto Rican imposter that she really was.

At this point, the author threw up her hands in exasperation. "Lyan!" she exclaimed at her girlfriend, with a force ten glare thrown in for good measure, "How am I supposed to write this story if you all just barge in and start creating havoc like doom-bunnies in heat?"

The pair of newcomers shrugged and grinned unapologetically.

"This is it," the author stated firmly, "I'm done with this story. Finished. Not writing a single word more."

And with that, the holy-looking light that had been shining down, along with the reverberating, echo-y voice both stomped away in a huff.

Everybody looked to each other. What would they do now?

The wig-wearing Puerto Rican wandered over to Chakotay, who was once again in a deep trance, where she proceeded to poke him repeatedly, making him wobble like a weeble.

Inigo strutted towards Tuvok and promptly began to flirt with him.

Chaos reigned.

A few minutes later, the author, who was now pouting mightily and looking terribly petulant came stomping back into the room and announced, "I have written myself into a corner." She looked around hopefully. "Anybody wanna help get me out of this… er… rut?"

Tom would have offered but he was out cold on the floor. Chakotay would have offered but he was too busy teetering back and forth disturbingly. As for Tuvok and Inigo, they were nowhere to be seen, although months later, an ensign would claim that he saw Tuvok and Inigo shagging loudly and passionately in a turbolift. Nobody would ever believe him though, because everyone knows that Tuvok Never Gets Any.

After several months of procrastinating and a lusty catfight with her muse, still no offer had come so the sulking author finally agreed to finish the already much-too-long story.

Suddenly, the doors burst open and Inigo came running in at top speed for some unknown reason. He skidded to a stop before the Puerto Rican hottie.

"C'mon Lyan, we have to stop her from writing more of this story!"

In agreement, the Puerto Rican hottie grabbed the scroll and they both bolted for the exit. Seeing the danger in losing the scroll yet again, our feisty half-Klingon tried to tackle the intruders and would have succeeded were it not for the three prancing Sevens, who grabbed her all of a sudden, and began twirling her around the room. Despite her sturdy Klingon constitution, B'Elanna began to feel very woozy – it has yet to be determined whether the wooziness was from being spun around at high speed by three naked women, or whether it was the effect of the three naked women themselves.

Just as it seemed the two intruders would get away with the scroll and foil the author's grand T/7 plans, Q vroomed in, resplendent in shiny leather pants and riding her dented bike. She snatched the scroll from Lyan and tossed it to B'Elanna, who dizzily staggered away with it. Chasing after B'Elanna were three naked Sevens; skipping (yes, skipping) after the three naked Sevens were the three naked B'Elannas; and swiftly following the six naked women was Lyan with Inigo in tow. Q brought up the rear with the Doctor riding on her bike behind her.

B'Elanna glanced behind her, her eyes widening as she saw the long procession all pursuing her through Voyager's corridors. To top it all off, the five Borg drones had apparently woken up from their enchanted sleep and were now chasing after her as well. Hurriedly, she scribbled on the scroll while running at full speed: "The Puerto Rican hottie, Inigo, the three naked Sevens, the three naked B'Elannas and the five Borg drones all went to a cave and fell into a deep, deep sleep."

Quiet descended on Voyager, once again.

B'Elanna leaned against a wall, panting for breath. Besides her was Q, the Doctor and Tom, all of whom had caught up to her. Tom looked as confused as ever, having just missed the entire chase and of course, the six naked women. All he knew was that B'Elanna looked tired and very miserable.

"Hey c'mon Lanna, don't look so gloomy," he kind heartedly tried to cheer her up, "I'm sure we'll find a way out of this mess."

"I just wish it didn't have to be Seven that disappeared, you know?" B'Elanna sighed. "I bet she would have figured out how to end this craziness by now." She looked down at the floor. "Now I might never see her again, and I just keep thinking… we never really got to know each other."

The others were silent, all lost in their own guilt and wishing that they had not played their part in the making of this drama. All except Tom, that is. He was busy staring down at Q's leather clad cleavage, all the while pretending to check out her bike.

The somber silence was unexpectedly shattered by the wailing siren of a red alert.

Despite her distress, the Lieutenant was instantly ready for action. She slapped her comm badge. "Harry, what's going on?"

"You'd better come to the bridge, B'Elanna," was his reply. "I think we may have located Seven of Nine."


Part 5

B'Elanna stared at the main viewer, numb with shock. There were thousands, nay, hundreds of thousands of Borg cubes and spheres surrounding the average-sized, plain-looking M-class planet.

"So…this is the planet that Seven is on?" she enquired, sounding somewhat dazed.

"We're not quite sure yet, Lieutenant," Harry replied shakily, "but this… amassing… of a Borg armada would indicate that Seven is on this particular planet."

It made sense. And B'Elanna didn't like it one bit. Now that she'd finally found where Seven was, she wasn't going to let anything stand in her way, not even if the entire Borg race turned up to block her way, which, in fact, they had. Growling fiercely, the frustrated Klingon paced around the bridge, trying to think of a way to get rid of the pesky Borg infestation.

Q and the Doctor were standing off to one side looking glum and rather disheveled. As non-corporeal beings, they'd never really had a need for personal hygiene, and did not understand it any better now. As a result, both smelled unerringly like one of Neelix's less successful dishes from last week and had garnered many a dirty look from the other crew members. Now they, like most of the bridge crew, were staring mutely at the viewer.

"I'm scanning the planet," Harry said, trying to block out thoughts of impending doom. "No sign of Seven."

"Any other life signs?"

"No, I mean, yes. Sort of."

B'Elanna stopped pacing. "What exactly do you mean, Harry?" she asked, exasperated.

"I can find no sign of intelligent life or even small land animals…" he said, puzzled. "But 99% of this planet is water and there is an unusually large percentage of various sized aquatic life found in both freshwater and saltwater…"

"You mean there's a lot of fish."

"Well, yes."

B'Elanna muttered something obscene about the grandmothers of Borg drones and fish, and what they probably did together in private. Then she snatched up her scroll.

Everyone turned their eyes on her, alarmed.

"What?!" she exclaimed.

"Lieutenant Torres, I would suggest that you 'leave off' of the scroll for the present, as it seems to cause more harm than good, at an exponential rate, in fact." Good old Tuvok had never quite mastered the art of subtlety.

"What other options are there?" muttered B'Elanna, disgruntled.

Silence. And nervous shufflings of feet.

"We must contact the Borg."

All eyes turned to Janeway, who had silently entered the bridge.

All eyes simultaneously blinked. One pair glazed over (Chakotay entered into yet another trance), while the rest remained locked on Janeway in what one could describe as mute horror.

"Contact… the Borg?" Tuvok asked. Even he sounded a little faint. Everyone was aware of the endless sea of Borg spheres and cubes that still dominated their main viewer.

"Why not?" Janeway's eyes were disturbingly bright. "I'm sure they'd be willing to negotiate something. We are, after all, an elite Federation starship at full strength, equipped to boldly go where no female starship Captain with big hair and a coffee fetish has gone before."

Several people blanched. Apparently, Janeway's brief period of coffee deprivation had pushed her over the edge. The glint in her eye, as she dared anyone to dispute her, looked positively dangerous.

B'Elanna was the only one with the courage to speak. "Captain, what would contacting the Borg achieve, in terms of getting Seven back?"

"We'd demand that they hand her over, of course."

"But we don't even know if they have her," B'Elanna protested, frustrated and more than a little afraid that she would never see her friend again.

It was then that Q spoke up. She suggested the daring idea that several away teams beam down to the planet to physically locate Seven, while Janeway conducted negotiations with the Borg. She reasoned that there were no Borg lifesigns on the planet, and that the small percentage of landmass meant a limited amount of places where Seven could be. It could work.

Janeway agreed on the plan after two cups of coffee and much growling and prodding from B'Elanna. The away teams were quickly assembled: B'Elanna, Q and Tom would form one team; The Doctor, Chakotay and Tuvok would form the other. Janeway would stay on the bridge, drink lots of coffee, negotiate with the Borg and keep poor Harry (who was quite terrified by this time) company.

B'Elanna, Q and Tom knew the exact moment in which they materialized on the alien planet, because something grabbed them by their heads and stuck them into a stinky fish broth. At least, that's what it seemed like. The planet smelled overwhelmingly of fish.

"Urgh," Tom made a face, "This place smells worse than an unwashed ex-omnipotent being!"

"Hey! Lay off of me, turkey!"

Tom leered unrepentantly at Q, and flashed his most charming smile (which might have been more effective on a less green and spotty face).

B'Elanna paid no attention to them and pulled out her tricorder. A quick scan revealed that Seven was not far off. So the impatient half-Klingon grabbed Tom and Q by the ears and, with them in tow, headed straight for Seven of Nine.

The Doctor, Chakotay and Tuvok were several thousand miles away on the opposite side of the planet. They were, at that moment, rooted to the spot, the expressions on their faces indescribable. As a matter of fact, the exact expression they were all wearing (yes, even Chakotay) had been made by only one other human, ever: Marco Polo had the same buggy-eyed, slack-jawed expression when he happened upon a hamster shagging Ghengis Khan's horse. He was later heard to have quoted "I didn't even know China had hamsters. And gosh, that hamster had a really huge…"


The sight that the intrepid away team now beheld was even more astounding than a Chinese hamster shagging Ghengis Khan's horse – for what was happening in front of them could only be described as a frenzied, passionate, pixilated Borg Orgy in full swing.

"Waitaminute!" someone prodded the author. "Isn't this a PG story?"

"Well, yeah, but I've got to have this scene. It's vital to the plot."

"A Borg Orgy is vital to the plot?"

"Um. Yes?"

"And there is no other way for you to end this story, other than a Borg Orgy?"

"Um. No. Not really."


Harry Kim was sure he was going crazy. Was the Borg queen on the main viewer actually flirting with Captain Janeway? And was Janeway, authoritative commanding officer, respected role-model and mother figure to the young ensign, actually responding?

"I've always thought you were remarkably willful and talented for one of your kind," gushed the Queen. "And you cut such a fine figure in your Starfleet uniform."

"Really?" Janeway enthused, "I never knew you felt that way…"

"Truly. Oh how I've dreamt of assimilating–"

"Now, now dear," Janeway cut in. "If we're going to have a relationship, we have to work out boundaries. No assimilating."

Harry could have sworn that the Borg Queen looked contrite.

"I'm sorry Janey. I wasn't thinking. But I've changed, I really have," she continued. Then assuming an air of profound serenity, she announced, "I have found Omega."

"You have?" Janeway was impressed.

"Yes," the Borg Queen replied solemnly, "Omega-3 fish oil, found in nearly all deep sea fish of numerous planets, but especially abundant on this one. I have named the planet 'Omega' in honour of it."

Janeway, even more impressed, leaned forward. "Tell me more about this Omega of yours."

Harry noticed with growing dismay that Janeway was so engrossed in the conversation, she'd forgotten to sip her coffee. The poor ensign decided that he must be dreaming.

B'Elanna let go of Q and Tom's ears as she neared Seven's fishing spot, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Would Seven be mad at her for causing this whole mess in the first place? However, when she laid eyes on Seven, B'Elanna became oblivious to everything else – Tom, Q, even the heavy smell of fish.

"Seven!" she called.

The ex-drone looked up, smiling. "B'Elanna," she greeted her.

The sight of her friend's welcoming smile almost made B'Elanna trip over a pile of unfortunately placed eels. The rush of emotions made her step falter and threatened to overwhelm her. Why does this damn borg make me feel lightheaded and weak so very often? B'Elanna absently thought to herself.

Seven, who had sorely missed B'Elanna the entire time she had been fishing, and, for some reason, was also extremely horny, pounced on the startled chief engineer and hugged her long and hard.

"Whoa. Um, Seven… hi…" B'Elanna stuttered, blushing.

Seven, surprised at her own actions, had begun to pull away when she unexpectedly inhaled a particularly potent whiff of fish scent. Her heart beat faster and her body tingled all over. B'Elanna, whom she'd secretly had a crush on for several months, suddenly looked even more irresistibly sexy. She couldn't help but draw nearer, gazing adoringly at the other woman's face.

"Seven! You can't go after B'Elanna," screeched a small inner voice, "It's illogical! She'd never feel the same way! And you'd ruin your friendship."

But Seven refused to listen. She resolutely stomped on the small inner voice and kicked it aside, where it fell into a pile of fish and was smothered by slippery, slimy, scaly and extremely stinky fish carcasses.

This turned out to be the right choice because B'Elanna responded enthusiastically by pulling Seven's body closer and holding her gently. They continued just looking at each other and savoring the feel of their bodies pressed together. Seven's mesh covered hand unconsciously traced circles at the small of B'Elanna's back.

After a rather long time, Q, who by now was looking rather flushed, cleared her throat awkwardly. "Look, I really hate to be the one to break up, like, a major love-fest, but look at me! I'm not built to be a mortal! We have to – put things back the way they were."

Tom stopped gawking long enough to say, "Yeah, and stop the Borg from assimilating everyone."

"The Borg is here?" Seven looked concerned.

"Here, you'd better take a look at this." B'Elanna handed the scroll to Seven, who read it and quickly deduced what had happened.

"Kinda messed it up, didn't I?" B'Elanna smiled wryly.

"Well, this certainly is an inefficient way to write a story." Seven replied. Her eyes were warm, however, and her smile made B'Elanna feel better immediately. "Did you write the limerick?"

"I did." Tom announced proudly.


"We should get back to Voyager," the half-Klingon suggested. "Now that we've found you, maybe we can leave this god-awful fish planet behind."

B'Elanna, Seven, Tom and Q beamed up to find the bridge ominously empty.

"Computer, locate Captain Janeway."

"Captain Janeway is currently not on board this ship."

B'Elanna frowned. "Computer, locate Ensign Kim."

"Ensign Kim is on his hands and knees, cowering behind the operations console."

The three rushed to the console in concern. Kim, who had just peeked up from under his arms, saw three large forms rushing at him. "Aaaaaaaaaargggghhhhh!"

The three large forms froze and stood there eyeing him warily.


"B'Elanna?" Harry stood up slowly and finally saw the tall blonde standing very near – intriguingly near – the chief engineer. "Oh my god! Seven!"

"Harry," Seven greeted him with a hint of urgency. "Where is the Captain?"

"The Borg Queen took her." The young ensign blushed.


Harry closed his eyes and recited. "On the Bridge, in the Ready Room, the turbolift, both Holodecks, Engineering, Aeroponics, Astrometrics, the Mess Hall, Sickbay, Cargo Bay 2, on top of the conference room table, and in the Captain's Quarters."

Seven, B'Elanna and Q blinked at him in speechless incomprehension. Finally, the ex-borg managed to process the idea and blurted out a shocked, "What?! How??"

"Loudly, repeatedly, and with a great deal of passion--"

"Too much information, Harry!" B'Elanna yelled over him, before he could continue. "Kahless, who would write a thing like that onto the scroll?" She paused and thought for a second before lunging at Tom. "It was you, wasn't it!" The half-Klingon looked ready to murder him.

Luckily for Tom, a flustered looking Tuvok beamed back on board at that moment, followed shortly by Chakotay and the Doctor. Upon seeing the others, all three immediately began talking at once.

"It seems we have a problem--"

"The Borg on the planet are--"

"Janeway's screwing the queen--"

Everyone turned and stared at the Doctor.

"Well she is!" The Doctor said rather defensively. "I saw her."

Seeing that all the others were once again having trouble trying to process the idea of Janeway having sex with anyone let alone the Borg queen, Q stepped in. "I think we'd all better take a look at that scroll."

Seven unrolled it. "There doesn't seem to be anything about Janeway here. But Janeway or no Janeway, we need to deconstruct the events starting from the beginning." She pinned Q with a significant look. "What was the charm that you used for the scroll? Exact wording."

"Um…" Q thought for a moment, "Oh, here we go – 'Lies will make the galaxy go 'round, till truer words are written down.'"

"That's it then," B'Elanna grinned. "All we have to do is write the truth, and the scroll's power will be broken, and things will go back to normal."

"And what of Janeway, and the Borg queen, and the millions of drones out there?" Tuvok asked.

"We'll just have to go find them and see."

Seven, B'Elanna, Tom, Q and the Doctor materialized on the outskirts of the Borg orgy. They were rather dismayed to realize that to reach the centre, which was where they could see Janeway and the queen engaged in frenzied unreproductive copulation, they would have to fight their way through a tangle of (pixilated) writhing Borg drones. While B'Elanna and the others were away on the ship, the Borg had shifted to where Seven had been fishing, and all manner of fish and marine animals were scattered around the area. A strong smell of fish permeated everything.

"I will go and retrieve the Captain," announced Seven. "It would be inefficient, to say the least, for all of us to venture into this… gathering of the Borg."

The others quickly agreed, and Seven began wading through the copulating drones.

"Okay B'Elanna," The Doctor peered into the undulating mass, "Write 'The drone kinkily whacked his partner with a squid.'"

"What the hell?" B'Elanna glared at him. "Kinkily whacked?? Is whacked even a word?"

"That was an octopus." Tom broke in.

"Hey, which one of us is the Emergency Medical Hologram? I think I know a squid when I see one." The Doctor scowled at Tom.

"Okay, now write, 'Seven pushed aside a coupling Borg couple.'" directed Q. B'Elanna obediently scribbled it down.

The half Klingon was busily describing what one particular drone was doing with a sea cucumber when Q began to glow and sparkle. Her bike appeared out of nowhere beside her, looking shiny and undented.

"I'm back!" She beamed. "Later guys!" And with that, she snapped her omnipotent fingers and both Q and bike disappeared.

The Doctor poked himself and found that his finger could now go through himself if he wanted. This proceeded to amuse him for some time.

Happy that the scroll's power was broken, B'Elanna settled down and awaited Seven's return. Soon, however, she noticed a distinct difference in the atmosphere. The Borg Orgy seemed to be reaching a climax – a mind-blowing, earth-moving, collectively linked, simultaneous climax. Created by the fishy essence of Omega, and led by the all consuming passion of Janeway and the Borg queen, every single drone on the planet became linked in ecstasy for one glorious moment under Omega.

From that day onwards – the day which became known far and wide as The Big Borgy – every drone in the galaxy was taken to that planet and shown the light (that is to say, the fish). And so it came to be that the Borg became devout followers of Omega, and renounced their assimilating ways.

Janeway returned to Voyager but remained on good terms with the Borg Queen who often visited Voyager by way of transwarp conduits. The Doctor returned to his duties as the Emergency Medical Hologram but not before reprogramming himself more hair. Q was never heard from again by the Voyager crew but was fondly remembered as the sexy leather-wearing, motorbike-riding, cleavage-having, slightly stinky omnipotent individual with a British accent.

As for B'Elanna and Seven, the strange incident with the scroll served to bring them closer together. Much closer together. Upon their return to the intrepid Voyager, the two of them disappeared into the half Klingon's quarters and did not reemerge for two weeks.

One morning, after a night of hot, pixilated love-making, they found a rather crumpled looking piece of parchment amongst the sheets.

B'Elanna unrolled it. "Hey look – we've still got some extra space at the bottom of that scroll."

"Maybe that means there's something else to write," Seven joked. She teasingly pulled out a feather from inside her eiderdown pillow and tickled the half Klingon's forearm, making her squirm.

However, before either of them could even consider writing anything more, the words "THE END" hurriedly printed themselves upon the small space at the bottom of the scroll.

B'Elanna and Seven smiled at each other a little sheepishly, and, tossing the scroll aside, the two disappeared back under the covers.

The End

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