Captain's Log, Stardate 50811.2:

We have returned from an away mission on Prexnia 3, an M planet in the Nerlian system. This system has not been defined on any of the starmaps we had last received from the Habolians, and stellar cartography was hard pressed to indicate when the twin star system had appeared in their searches.

However, we found the planet to be a most hospitable one. Although its inhabitants were not as advanced technologically as we are, they had many useful natural resources which they were willing to trade for information regarding the presence of other cultures we had met bordering and within their stars' system. We were able to bring aboard much in the way of fresh food supplies, ionized phospholaurentium to replenish our warp coils, and, most importantly, provide shore leave for the crew. Now after six days of refreshing ourselves and our ship, we are ready to resume our journey.

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Supplemental, Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 50811.2

During the six days at Prexnia 3, Chakotay and I managed to have 48 hours of shore leave. Even though our personal relationship is well accepted by the crew, life on Voyager provides very little privacy, for we must constantly be at the ready for the needs of the ship and crew. With the crew having had four days time for relaxation and refreshment, Tuvok suggested that Chakotay and I allow ourselves 48 hours together, promising to contact us only in the case of dire emergency.

Tom and B'Elanna had found a rustic inn nestled in the mountains in the southern hemisphere of the planet and recommended it to us. Their advice was well founded. Not only were we provided with a spacious suite overlooking a mountain valley, but it also had a *huge* bathtub! It was meant to be...I cannot remember a time when I was more relaxed, unless I go back to the time when Mark and I went to Lake Tahoe.................

Janeway's recording was interrupted by a rapidly enveloping fog. In seconds, her ready room was entirely obscured by its presence. "What is..." she barely got out before she became quite light headed. It was becoming difficult for her to breathe; the temperature and humidity in the room were becoming uncomfortable.

Just as quickly as the fog appeared, it evaporated, revealing a golden clad Q, lying across the surface of her desk.

"Kathy, Kathy...I let you turn me down for that Cheshire cat of a first officer you have, and now you're reminiscing of past loves. What *are* we going to do with you? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Being unfaithful to good ole Chuckles..."

"Q, this is *none* of your business! And you now have a wife and child with whom *you* should be! Why must you continue to pester me?"

"Pestering? Bosh! My dear Kathy, I'm just here to help you out in your predicament. I think it's time for moldy Mark and cutesy Chuck to meet, don't you? Let them settle this *mano a mano*... to the victor belongs the spoils...and you *are* such a prize... maybe I should allow myself in on this little game..."

"Q, doesn't the Continuum need you? What about Ms. Suzie and your adorable son?"

"Oh, she's taken him off to Grand Q's for a millennium or so, and I *had* to find something to occupy my time. And you humans are so entertaining. Let's see..."

There was a blinding flash. Janeway felt herself being drawn through a howling wind tunnel. Suddenly, she was deposited quite unceremoniously on a deep, soft surface. As she regained her senses, she realized that she was lying on a plushly cushioned divan. There were servants all around her. As she tried to make sense out of her surroundings, she felt the cooling zephyrs of two large ostrich fans being waved at either end of her lounge. Her eyes focused more, she saw that her body was draped in a white, diaphanous material that fell into pleats below her breasts. A narrow piece of transparent fabric tightly spanned the breasts themselves and barely covered her upper arms. Her exposed feet were clad in sandals composed of only thin soles and straps. Around her neck was a necklace made of flattened rectangles of gold, embedded with gems that looked to be rubies and sapphires. Gold circlets were twisted around her upper arms. But the strangest sensation was the feel of hair on her forehead; she suddenly realized that she had short hair creating a border along her forehead...what was that called...oh, yes! bangs...what a strange name! Feeling down the sides of her hair, she noticed that it was of a much thicker texture than usual. Pulling some of the longer-than-shoulder length hair into her peripheral vision, she noticed how much darker it was; why, it was black!

The room surrounding her was sparsely furnished, but the sofa upon which she was lying, two chairs and a small table were of heavy carved ebony. The table was heavily laden with plates or fruit, nuts and other confections. Its surface was made from a variety of colors and textures of mosaic tiles. The walls were covered by what appeared to be gold damask. An opening to the outside allowed the bright sunlight, as golden as the wall hangings, to enter.

A servant, naked from the waist up, clad only in an intricately folded skirt of white linen, was bringing in a gold tray which held a gem-encrusted silver carafe of wine and three large carved silver goblets. The servant put the tray on the table. "My lady, the two gentlemen from Rome are here. Would you like to have both of them welcomed into your chamber now?"

Kathryn Janeway's mind was trying to quickly the assimilate the scenario unfolding around her...what had happened in the blink of an eye, a blip in the continuum... oh, yes! Q! He had been there, talking about her relationships with Mark and Chakotay... how dare he! And now, here she was in this ridiculous, obscene outfit and even more ridiculous hair... wait a minute! Her mind swiftly put together her surroundings... her dress... the "two gentlemen from Rome..." *My God! -- I'm Cleopatra,* she thought.

She abruptly sat upright, pulling her legs around to allow her to rise to a standing position. As soon as she did so, the servants bowed in acknowledgment of their queen. The two gentlemen from Rome... they had to be Julius Caesar and Marc Antony... but, who... why... *I guess the only way to get to the bottom of this is to...*

"Yes, let them both come in," she responded to the inquiring servant. (Did he look a little like Tuvok, she thought, looking at him as he turned to receive her guests. Come to think of it, the two young women bearing the fans looked like... Jenny and Megan Delaney... no, oh, no...)

The tall dark servant reappeared with the two guests. They were almost the same height, one appearing older than the other, with dark hair streaked with gray, softened further by hazel eyes. His forehead bore the creases brought about by a life full of care of others' burdens and heavy responsibility. A tenuous smile enlivened his serious face. His eyes caressed her image, but the caress was one of spent energies. The younger man had jet black hair and eyes of the same color. His face was darker than his compatriot's, and seemed unmarked by lines. Shadows along the upper part of his left forehead gave him a sultry appearance. He, too, smiled, but his smile seemed directly connected to his eyes. His eyes did not so much caress her as engulf her; his gaze weakened her knees...her guests looked like... Mark and Chakotay!

*No, no,* her mind tried to yell for Q, only to find that the sole words she could utter were those to issue a greeting to her guests. " My home is honored by the presence of the great men from Rome." Two more servants entered -- were they Tom and Harry? -- who brought the chairs forward for their mistress' guests. "Please, my lords, be seated," she said as she waved them to the seats. She herself resumed her prone position. She felt the eyes of both men trace every curve of her body as she stretched herself across the cushions and positioned the pleats of her gown.

"How do the affairs of the great state of Rome allow both of you to be here at the same time?" she asked of her prominent guests.

With out a word, the older of the two (Julius Caesar/Mark?) arose and walked over to her. Taking her by the hand, he gently urged her to stand. Still holding her hand, he led her to the opening which led to a balcony. Leaving a seemingly calm (Marc Antony/ Chakotay?) behind them, he led her onto the balcony to overlook the city below. A deep blue sea embraced the flowing lines of the building-lined landscape.

Speaking in a deep voice that presumed both authority and question, he addressed her. "My goddess, you and I together could rule all of this and Rome and more, even lands which have yet to been seen. Come with me to Rome, and I will endow you with all that is mine. My conquests are nothing unless I have you beside me. You, glorious woman, are the one thing I lack. Come with me, and the world is ours together." He gently but firmly pulled her towards him and kissed her. The kiss was one of conquest and possession, but it was not one of passion. She already had possessions, power, and the adoration of thousands; what she wanted - no, *needed* - was the obsessive, consuming passion of one man. And she knew that the man now holding her could not make her the object of such a love.

"As kind as you have been to me, and with all the glories you promise me, I cannot leave my people. Just as you must be with yours, I must remain with mine. I must be where they need me. Your love, admiration and respect are precious gifts, but my life demands that I consider my people and their needs. Remember me, as I shall always remember you; but Rome is your home, just as this vast land is mine." She returned his kiss, but it carried with it the flavor of finality. He slowly pulled away, looking at her with a longing stare. Then, he turned, and left through the chamber where the other man was still seated.

As the caesar named Julius walked past the younger man, he said with sorrow in his voice, "The prize is yours; may you enjoy your reward."

Marc Antony walked out into the balcony, where the other man had left the queen of Egypt. A gentle breeze lifted the folds of her gown, to reveal the exquisite body underneath. He walked behind her, and, placing his hands on her shoulders, turned her around to face him. Without a word, he pulled her to him and gave her the kiss that she craved. Her arms entwined his neck as his hands traced the warm curves of her body. The combined senses of his touch, his taste, his smell... yes, *this* was what she had been waiting a lifetime for, as her body became more his than hers...

The dizzying fog once more appeared, spinning her mind and senses, as again she was caught in the seemingly fathomless vortex. She tried to calm her thoughts. She faintly seemed to hear Q's maniacal laughter and voice. "Oh, Kathy, Kathy... why must you make it so easy? Perhaps another time and place...."

The whirling atmosphere and the vertigo it produced quickly receded. Kathryn sensed the rhythmical movement of the strong muscles of a large horse underneath her straddling body and legs. Dust filled her eyes and nostrils, as animal sounds and human voices surrounded her. Her eyes became adjusted to a very bright sunlight that was punctuated with by shadows from overhanging tree branches. She found herself astride a magnificent gray horse, whose mane was interlaced with ribbons and flowers. She was seated in a saddle which had her positioned with both of her legs to the left side of the mounted animal. The voluminous folds of her cloak and equally full gown underneath swirled to the back, as the horse cantered along. She felt the weight of a heavy braid bouncing on her back. She braved taking one hand away from the reins, and touched a metal circlet which surrounded her head, holding a short, fine textured veil in place.

"My Lady, are you weary? Do you wish to rest?" She turned her head to the rider at her right. There she saw a similarly attired and mounted young woman, who looked like...B'Elanna Torres? "We should be there before sundown. I know it has been a tiring three days on the road, but the king does await you."

*King?* Kathryn thought. Her eyes broke contact with her solicitous younger companion and quickly surveyed the rest of the group riding with her. There was another even younger appearing woman along side her. This woman had turned and was speaking to one of the dozen or so men in the group. All of the men were attired with outer coverings of chain mail armor. Swords swung from their sides or saddles, and most had long lances attached to their saddles also.

Several wisps of blond hair escaped from underneath the veil of the speaking woman. Based on her slight stature, Kathryn knew that when she saw her face, it would be that of Kes.

The blonde waif turned, and her velvet voice fulfilled the prediction. "Lady Guinevere, Sir Thomas has suggested that we do stop. He knows of a small lake up ahead. It would provide a perfect respite for the horses to drink and graze. Lady Edith and I can prepare refreshing drink for all. Pray, do let us stop."

*Guinevere* raised her hand. "Agreed," she said. "A rest would do us all well." *Besides*, she thought, *I've got to figure out where Q has transported us this time.*

Fifteen minutes later, a grassy glen with a crystal blue lake came into view. The riding party quickly dismounted. Several of the men cared for the horses, wiping them down while the animals greedily drank from the lake. Lady Edith and Lady Helena, which seemed to be the names of the two female attendants, unloaded goblets and flacons and fruit from the saddle bags. They spread a large piece of tapestry on the ground at the foot of an ancient oak tree for their mistress. Lady Edith, the taller and darker of the two women, bade her to sit. They served her first, before providing refreshment to the men in the party.

Kathryn noticed that, even at rest, the men remained in their protective mail garments, their weapons never out of ready reach. As her eyes scanned her guard unit, she suddenly saw a figure whom she had missed in her earlier survey. He had been following the entourage by a couple of hundred yards. As he dismounted, he looked over at her. The dark face, the smoky eyes, the piercing look -- it was Chakotay. She lowered her eyes to break the intimate contact, but not before her two ladies had noticed the shared moment.

Lady Helena leaned over to Lady Edith's awaiting ear, whispering. Even with softly spoken words, the comment resonated and floated on the breeze of late spring, falling onto their mistress' ears.

"My Lord Lancelot has a look to him that is more than protection for our lady. And she gazes at him more and more frequently. I have even seen her touch his arm or body. The King should not have sent one of his knights of the table round to escort her, for *all* know that his knights possess magical power and charms."

*Lancelot...Guinevere...and the king, who must be Arthur*, thought Kathryn. *Q, 'what' have you done now?*

The lovely Guinevere rose from her shaded resting area and straightened the full circle of her sky-blue gown. "My ladies," she said addressing Edith and Helena, "I wish to draw apart alone for a little while."

"Do you think that wise, my lady?" Lady Edith asked with an agitated voice. "We know not what the woods hold."

"I will be ever vigilant in observing my surroundings," said the lady Guinevere. "You and my able men are only a shout away." And she quickly disappeared into the cool shadows of the dense trees.

*I must think!* thought Kathryn. *How did this story go? Guinevere married Arthur as part of an alliance to unite the fiefdoms of Britain almost two millennia ago. Arthur had formed an elite group of knights to aid him in his benevolent causes and quests. And Lancelot...Lancelot...*

Just then, she heard a noise behind her. She turned, only to find herself immediately in the arms of the dark knight to whom her eyes had been magically drawn earlier. "My lady, we both know that this marriage to the king is wrong; you *cannot* go through with it. Let us escape now and return to my homeland of Normandy." His hands were tightly grasping her shoulders as he drew her to him and passionately kissed her. Before she realized it, her hands were responding, positioning themselves under his heavy mail coat, greedily feeling the taut muscles of his body under his tunic.

"My heart sings words of yes, but my head reminds me of duty, my love. I *must* marry Arthur, for this is the destiny and hope for our lands. He has loved me for so long. How were you and I to know that we would meet after I was pledged to him?"

"And how can I go on serving with him, knowing that my life and heart belong to you? For you are my soul, my life, my love..." the dark knight was whispering into her auburn tresses.

"Then my soul, my life and my love are yours," she murmured back. "Physically I will be his, but the physical state is transitory. My soul will be with yours for all of eternity. Now -- we must return to the others, else they will suspect. My life, my love, my existence..." One last time they shared a long, deep kiss; one last time they held each other, as if transferring their very spirits into one another.

The brief respite from the trip was over. The group reformed, refreshed and ready for the final leg of their journey to... Camelot.

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As Guinevere and her escort party approached the spectacular castle and its walls, the sun was lowering in the western sky. casting a golden hue on the panoramic scene. The very stones themselves seemed to be made of the precious metal. Lancelot rode ahead, to alert the king of the arrival of his bride and queen. By the time the travelers arrived at the bridge crossing the castle's wide moat, well wishers lined the sides of the road and the bridge itself. Flags and streamers were waving, and bluebells and apple blossoms were strewn in their path. The fragrance of the crushed flowers was heavy in the late afternoon air. Arthur himself awaited Guinevere, with all of his knights around him. Lancelot joined them, standing straight but expressionless.

Kathryn/Guinevere also remained in a stiff repose. As they drew closer...closer...closer, the features of her future husband came into focus. There, covered with the regal red and gold robes of the house of Uther, stood --- Mark.

Kathryn's face went ashen. Lady Helena turned to her, supporting her as she dismounted. "My lady, are you faint? Your face has lost its color."

"No, my friend. I am well. 'Tis the journey and the relief of a safe arrival at our new home." She quickly made her way to the king, lowering herself in a deep curtsey. "My lord and king."

Arthur/Mark took her hands between his. "My lady, no show of homage is necessary, other than telling me that I am to be your love and your husband." He raised her, and kissed her on either cheek. His hazel eyes met hers of blue, and searched their depths for her commitment to their troth.

"My liege, you have waited for me for many years. I have come to fulfill our pledge, and to become your wife and queen. All that I have and am are yours. I will be your queen, and together we will work to unify this land. This I pledge to you." She stood on her toes to return his kisses of betrothment. She blinked back the tears which suddenly filled her eyes, and smiled at him. He looked down at her, and read her tears as a sign of happiness for their union.

"My sweet Guinevere - my love, my wife. I give you Camelot and all herein. I and my knights are ever at your service, and with our lives we pledge our faithfulness to you. Come now, let us begin our celebration and our lives together." He lovingly enveloped her in his protective arm as he guided her through the massive gate. They turned to enter, and she stole one glance at Lancelot. His eyes bravely stared ahead, looking far into the world of what might have been, in another time, another place. Somewhere in the distance was the mournful cry of a lone loon. Camelot would never again be the same. Lady Helena looked up at the knight as she passed by. "Good sir, grieve not. A time will come for you and my lady to be as one. Love spans all time, and truly mated souls will always find one another."

The knight turned and looked at the golden haired lady-in-waiting. As the shadows fell upon his face, Lady Helena saw a dark pattern form along his left forehead. In her deepest heart, she felt that there was a significance to its appearance.

Kathryn/Guinevere also remained in a stiff repose. As they drew closer...closer...closer, the features of her future husband came into focus. There, covered with the regal red and gold robes of the house of Uther, stood --- Mark.