The BLTS Archive- Impress
by Kelly (rather_be_reading@yahoo.com)

---

Disclaimer:
The Trek universe belongs to Paramount. Unfortunately. Summary: 

NOTE:Part of the Femme Fuh-Q Fest, Round VI

Historical Note: To gain information and to trick Kai Winn into
releasing the power of the Pagh'wraiths during the Dominion War, the
Cardassian Gul Dukat disguised himself as Anjohl Tennen, a Bajoran
farmer, and seduced the Kai with both his body and his political
plans.

---

He called her "Adami."

She had not been Adami -- even to herself -- for a long time.  For so
many years, she had had no name, only titles.  She was "Vedeck"; she
was "Kai" -- she was not herself, but a symbol, an icon of hope and
freedom to Bajorans everywhere.

She was their religious leader, and she accepted the role.  Welcomed
it, in fact, albeit with what she trusted was suitable humility.  Her
people needed her, and she was grateful for the chance to sacrifice
herself for them and for Bajor.

She was their Kai.

But to him, she was Adami.  And it pleased her.

His name was Anjohl.  He was a farmer, a simple man, a kind man, the
sort of Bajoran to whom she had pledged her life and soul.

So pledging her body to him had seemed a natural, even inevitable
step.

She watched him as he slept beside her, his form lean and sinewy, but
his face soft.  She knew that when he woke, he would turn his
understanding gaze upon her, and she would talk to him as she could
talk to no one else.

He was interested in all that she thought, all that she had done; he
shared her goals and dreams.  He wasn't like that angry child,
Kira-Nerys, who could not see beyond her rage at the Cardassians, or
like that austere, remote Captain Sisko, the one the Prophets so
inexplicably designated as the Emissary.  Neither of them could
understand the pressures under which a Kai operated, the
accommodations she had to make, the moral ambiguities she faced.

Nerys and Sisko -- they accused her of vanity, of interference, of
caring more for her position than for Bajor.  They even accused her of
going against the will of the Prophets.

How little they understood.  How they wounded her with their distrust,
their thoughtless criticisms.  How they hurt her.

Anjohl healed her.

---

He was awake now, watching her.  "Adami," he said softly. "You have
that faraway expression again. Tell me what you are thinking. 
Dreaming of other lovers, perhaps?"

She laughed, delighted anew that he was in her bed, touched that he
wondered about her other partners.  Not that there had been many -- a
woman in her position had to be careful.  Even in her younger days,
before her titles, she had been cautious, waiting to see what the
Prophets wanted of her.  She gave herself only to those lovers to whom
the Prophets guided her.

"My heart, I fear you're blinded by your own affection for me," she
said teasingly, unable to keep herself from tracing the lines of his
muscles with her fingertip.  "I have had very few lovers.  And I dream
only of you."

He caught her hand, brought it to his lips.  "Forgive me. I don't mean
to sound possessive.  I just find it hard to believe that you have
chosen me, Adami.  You. . .who are so sought-after. You are famous;
people come to Deep Space Nine just to see you.  And you have met so
many important leaders."

"Yes." She shrugged, smiling, deprecating. "It means little, just
ceremony, respect for my position.  Or they want something.  Believe
me, I find pleasure in very few of those meetings."

His face showed fond incredulity.  "It is like you, to be so modest. 
I find that I can't imagine what it would be like, meeting such
people.  You live in a different world than I."

His tone was so wistful that her heart pained her; she hated to think
that he might feel left out of her life.  "Would you like me to
introduce. . .?"

"Oh, no, no," he said hastily, sounding a trifle abashed.  She found
it charming, this slight shyness, and she said as much before leaning
forward to kiss him.  He drew her to him, his hand cupping her breast,
and for a long while thereafter she gave no further thought to the
public responsibilities of a Kai. . .

---

Later, she lay against him, drowsy and content.  Her Anjohl brought
her peace of spirit, a state that had eluded her since the coming of
the Emissary and perhaps even before.  How good he was for her.  And
for Bajor, of course.  What triumphs could they not accomplish, the
two of them? Together.

"Together," she whispered to him, and he smiled, understanding her at
once.

"Adami," he said, stroking her hair, drawing the length of it across
her shoulder.  "I have something to ask of you. . ."

"But of course."

He hesitated.  "It is such a silly thing. . .you'll think me foolish.
. ."

"I doubt that, my love."

"Well, then. . .Those important people you meet. . .I'd like to hear
about them.  About what they are really like. What do you talk about?
What do you think of them?  How do you feel?

"It's not just idle curiosity," he went on quickly, as if he feared
she would reproach him.  "It's just that there is a whole dimension of
your life that I know nothing about.  I think I might know my Adami"
-- at this he grinned playfully and smoothed his hand down her body --
"but I want to know my Kai as well.  If I understood more fully the
stresses you face, I could be of more help to you."  He paused and
stroked her again, this time gazing at her intently.  "And I confess.
. .I am greedy.  I want to know you -- all of you -- for myself, too."

She felt herself grow warm as his touch aroused her yet again.  She
had never known such a lover, one so attentive, so attuned to her. 
His need for her moved her deeply.  In their moments of spiritual and
physical communion, she felt something akin to the presence of the
Prophets.  So far, to her shame and despair, the Prophets had not
chosen to vouchsafe to her any actual visions.  But now, she began to
wonder if perhaps They were not coming to her through Anjohl.

It would be a joining far more meaningful and powerful than anything
Sisko had experienced.  The more she thought of it, the more likely
the idea seemed.  Meeting the Prophets through Anjohl, through a
reconnection to a Bajoran heart, the warmth of Bajoran blood.

Oh, yes. It made such sense.

Their union, blessed by the Prophets.  She felt a sudden yearning to
merge with Anjohl, to open herself to him, and not just in bed.

She placed her hands over his.  "I will share the world of the Kai
with you."

---

Far into the night, they talked -- of the Prophets, the Emissary, the
Cardassians, the Dominion War.  When sleep finally claimed them, she
felt surrounded by more than just his arms.  Anjohl soothed her,
protected her, enveloped her. Saved her.

The next day, as she went about her duties, the sense of safety
persisted.  She ran through their conversations in her mind, realizing
how freeing it had been to confide her fears and her theories, her
ideas and plans about the war to which the Emissary, and by extension,
the Prophets, had not deigned to listen.

She trusted Anjohl, and yet. . . and yet there was a corner of her
life into which she had not invited him.

She certainly had had the opportunity.  It had occurred while they
were discussing Star Fleet and the United Federation of Planets, both
of which seemed to impress Anjohl.

"Their people can be so ingenious and courageous," he had said. 
"Think of the amazing story of that lost starship, Voyager."

"Yes," she conceded. "They have courage.  But a Bajoran crew could
have done the same in Voyager's situation."

"Oh, no doubt.  Still, they are a gallant group, the Voyagers."

Surprised to feel a slight surge of irritation that he should sound so
admiring, she found herself answering him almost sharply.  "You might
not think them so gallant if you knew some of the rumors about them."

"Rumors?  What rumors?"

Already she regretted having spoken.  "They are nothing, just
foolishness."

But his curiosity had been piqued.  "Rumors about the crew?  Their
mission?"

She had to work to keep the annoyance out of her voice.  "I have said
it is nothing, Anjohl."

"If it is nothing, then what harm would come from indulging me by
telling me?" he asked, running his fingers gently along her spine.

Her annoyance softened into amused exasperation, mostly with herself. 
He knew so well how to reach her.

"There truly is nothing to tell, my love. The idle speculations of a
few people on the station who have too little to occupy their time,
that's all.  I heard talk that Voyager was not actually lost, but is
on a covert mission for the Federation.  Just vague whisperings,
nothing more.  I give them no credence."

His interest seemed to wane as suddenly as it had waxed.

"I'm sure you are right, Adami; such talk is nothing but gossip," he
had said.

Yet a moment later, he had come back to the topic.  "Voyager stopped
at Deep Space Nine before going to the Badlands, didn't it?  I seem to
remember hearing that you met the captain."

"Captain Janeway?  Yes, I met her."

"What was she like?"

The irritation returned, but again she was careful not to show it.  
After all, she had agreed to share her experiences with him.  "She was
polite, pleasant.  A bit distracted, perhaps.  I am sure her mind was
more on her upcoming mission than on diplomatic rituals, but I assume
she behaved unexceptionally, since I remember no more about her."

With deliberate playfulness, she continued, "I suppose I should have
paid greater attention, but the good captain was not considerate
enough to inform me that she would later become so celebrated."

Anjohl had laughed.  "Not nearly so celebrated as you are and will be,
my Adami."

And so the conversation had ended, but the memory of it disturbed her.  
The whole episode felt hard-edged, something that chipped away her
sense of security.

She thought about how much she had kept from Anjohl.  Not about
Voyager -- there, she had told all she knew.

But about Captain Kathryn Janeway.

---

They had indeed met just as she described, at a small diplomatic
reception hosted by Emissary Sisko.  Captain Janeway had brought only
her first officer; the DS9 contingent had been Sisko, Kira-Nerys, and
the ever-inscrutable Odo.

Adami had the distinct impression that she herself had been a
last-minute guest, invited to dispel any hint that the gathering might
be more than a simple formality.  She was certain, however, that they
had all been discussing significant Federation business before she
arrived.

Sisko had treated her with dignity -- welcoming her, seeing that she
had refreshment, introducing her to Janeway and her second-in-command,
a nondescript man whose name Adami no longer recalled.

Her first impression of Janeway had not been favorable.  The woman was
too neat, too self-contained, too confident.  There was nothing in her
behavior to suggest arrogance; it was just that she seemed not to feel
the slightest awe or gratitude at meeting one of Bajor's most
important religious leaders.  She had treated Adami with perfect
diplomatic propriety, even cordiality, but the older woman could tell
that the Starfleet captain did not see herself as she should -- as a
subordinate fortunate to be in the presence of a superior.

Still, Adami found herself intrigued by Kathryn Janeway, by that very
self-sufficiency that seemed to border on the disrespectful.

"I understand that your ship is soon leaving on its first mission,"
Adami had said, in her most imposing fashion. "You must be feeling
some trepidation."

Janeway had smiled, but her chin had lifted, and her eyes had
sharpened with determination.  "I'm definitely taking nothing for
granted.  But I'd have to say that I feel far more excitement than
trepidation."

Despite herself, Adami had noticed the quick lift of the other woman's
breasts as she spoke, the delicate pink flush that washed her elegant
cheekbones.  For a single instant, her mind held a picture of what
Kathryn Janeway might look like in bed, naked, her body pale against
dark sheets, her fine head thrown back, her neck taut with arousal.

The vision was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, replaced by the
sedate reality of the reception room with its subdued hum of
conversation.

All at once, the little party seemed unbearable to Adami.  As soon as
she decently could, she made her excuses, almost abandoning her
habitual stately gait in her haste to remove herself from the
disconcerting presence of Kathryn Janeway.

Later, in her quarters, she tried to compose herself to meditation,
but images of Voyager's captain kept intruding into her thoughts.  The
contours of Janeway's lips, the sweep of her hair, the whiteness of
her throat next to her gleaming rank pips.  She had had a scent about
her, too, reminiscent of an incense once used in Bajoran temples.

Adami finally abandoned her meditation and instead opened her mind to
the memories of her encounter with Janeway.  It puzzled her, that she
should be so affected by a woman of whom she had not heard before that
day, and whom she wasn't even sure she liked.

Then suddenly she understood.  With a muted exclamation of impatience
at her own stupidity, she faced the truth that she ought to have seen
much sooner:  the Prophets were directing her to pursue Janeway. 
There must be something she needed to learn from the human woman,
something the Prophets wanted her to know.  Perhaps they even intended
that she should make Kathryn Janeway her lover.

The idea appealed strongly to Adami.  She allowed herself to feel
fully the desire she had been attempting to deny.  She could admit now
that she wanted Janeway, wanted forcefully to take that small body,
and in the taking, to assert her own significance.  She wanted to
press her lips and hands against the milky skin, and in the doing,
impress upon Janeway the needs and the power of Bajor.

And best of all, the Prophets obviously wanted these things, too.

---

She forced herself to proceed slowly.  It would be ridiculously
precipitous simply to rush to Janeway's quarters without further
thought or preparation.  She could not hope to hold any advantage
without first knowing a great deal more about Kathryn Janeway than the
mere fact that she was sensually compelling.  Yet Voyager was due to
leave in fewer than thirty hours.

Ah, well.  Following the will of the Prophets was never without
challenge.

A quick scan of Janeway's Starfleet profile yielded some necessary
background, but the bland official jargon offered little sense of her
personality beyond confirming the determination and strength of
character that Adami had already glimpsed.

She needed more.

Rising, she made her way to the Station's temple, where she exercised
her prerogative to reserve the space as her own.  Besides being the
place where she thought the Prophets were most likely to appear to
her, the temple was the site of one of her most treasured secrets:  it
contained Cadassian surveillance apparatus of which even Odo was
unaware.  No matter that he had been a security officer during the
Occupation; the Cardassians knew better than to leave their watcher
unwatched.

She herself had spent many years of the Occupation in the prisons of
the enemy, spreading the word of the Prophets regardless of the
personal costs.  And they had been heavy, those costs -- she had lost
count of the beatings and humiliations she endured in the Prophets'
service.

Yet her bravery sometimes resulted in rewards as well, one of them
being her knowledge of the equipment in the temple.  When Bajor
regained its independence, she was able, through a quiet arrangement
involving information and latinum, to retain control of the
technology.  Such compromises with the enemy were distasteful, but
necessary.

And the results had been useful to her more than once since Deep Space
Nine had been given over to Emissary Sisko and Starfleet.  They were
about to be useful again.

---

The rush of arousal she felt as she accessed a view of Janeway's
quarters on Voyager ebbed as she realized that the room was empty. 

But as she waited for the captain's return, her excitement built
again, until she felt almost breathless with anticipation.  She found
herself fascinated by the evidences of Janeway's personality:  the
antique printed book next to the bed, the holographic photo screens
and cylinders crowding the bureau, the pale silk robe draped over a
chair.  Her mind transformed the neatly-made bed into a tumbled mass
of sheets and pillows, with a naked, panting Kathryn in the middle,
her long hair spilling in glorious profusion across her breasts.

Adami rose abruptly, the urgency of her need driving her to movement. 
She felt almost desperate to fuck Kathryn, and more, to force that
strong woman into weakness, to bend her will to Adami's, as the Kai
had not been able to bend Sisko's or Kira's.  She wanted to hear that
husky, determined voice turned ragged with desire, to hear Kathryn
begging for just her touch.

So real did this vision become that Adami missed the actual Janeway's
entry into her quarters.  When she next looked at the observation
screen, the captain was already in her room, ordering the computer to
play its messages.

Adami watched, riveted, as Janeway began to take off her uniform. 
When the captain at last stood naked in the center of her quarters,
her body was as compact and compelling as Adami had imagined.  Her
breasts were small and marked with freckles; her legs and back were
nicely muscled.

But Janeway soon covered her nakedness with her robe, and Adami found
the thought of the silk lying against that pale skin to be equally
arousing.  She imagined stroking Kathryn's breasts through the soft
fabric and then biting hard, marking the material as she would mark
the captain.

Janeway was now responding to her computer messages, most of which
focused on Voyager's imminent departure.  Her answers were detailed
and decisive; she showed toward the fugitive Maquis a quiet resolve
that boded ill for their continued freedom.  Clearly, this was a
captain who already knew her ship intimately and who left no question
as to who was in charge.  Yet she also found time for personal
touches, at one point even sending a kind reassurance to the nervous
parents of a new ensign.

Her work finished, Janeway entered her bathroom, and to Adami's
gratification, began to unpin her primly-fashioned hair.  It fell
about her shoulders like a blanket, and Kathryn closed her eyes and
uttered a low "mmm" as she massaged her scalp.  Adami expected her to
comb her hair or otherwise attend further to her bedtime preparations,
but instead, Janeway turned to the replicator.

"Whiskey," she said.  "Neat.  No synthehol."

She took her glass to the sofa and leaned back, her robe parting to
reveal a tantalizing glimpse of thigh.  "Ensigns," she said, shaking
her head and laughing softly to herself.

Looking at her, Adami was suddenly assailed with an unshakable
conviction:  she would never take this woman, would never tame or bend
or break her.  Somehow, in her confidence, her intensity, her daring,
Kathryn Janeway had unsexed Adami.  With no effort or even awareness
on her part, Janeway had established her invincibility.

It was not that Adami felt herself to be irresolute or cowardly. 
Quite the contrary -- she had reveled in her defiance of the
Cardassians; had accepted the pain of their beatings with a sensation
almost akin to pleasure, as a welcome martyrdom endured for the glory
of the Prophets.  She felt herself to be a bulwark against the dangers
posed to Bajor by petty politicians and even by the Emissary himself. 
She had always stood firm in the face of the aggressive masculinity of
her opposition.

But against the smooth power of Kathryn Janeway's femaleness, she
could find no defense.

Adami was helpless before her.

---

As she left the temple and returned to her quarters, the Kai did not
let herself think about the will of the Prophets or consider the
Prophets' response if she ignored their directions about Captain
Janeway.  She did not let herself think about anything at all.

In fact, from that moment until the previous night's conversation with
Anjohl, she had put the episode of Janeway out of her mind completely,
as she did every failure.  It was a testament to her ability that
there were few memories she needed to suppress.

Indeed, with only minor, meaningless exceptions, such as this little
tale about a faraway starship captain, there was nothing she could not
tell Anjohl.  She could share herself fully, just as she had promised.

She smiled as she dressed to meet him.

---

The End