Seven was disoriented and uncomfortable. The Doctor had treated her for a minor infection she contracted on an away mission to Yupeigh-En, and she couldn't quite focus on what was being said in the Ready Room. A communique Voyager received from the Federation had the entire crew concerned. That much she knew. And something about a report from a Neelsan someone threatening them. She shifted in her seat hoping to relieve the sense that her biosuit had shrunk two sizes since she returned.
"--have to face it. Earth just doesn't care. They aren't listening to us." The bitterness that had once colored Tom's bland voice returned.
"I do not understand, Captain. Is there a malfunction with our commlinks or viewscreens?" Seven swung her head toward Janeway, but her head kept swinging till she was nose to nose with B'Elanna, who seemed to take insult.
"No, no, they are perfectly operational. It's us," Janeway squinted an appraising eye in Seven's direction. Seven raised an eyebrow in defense. She wished she could remember what the captain had answered or what she had asked. And were her boobs larger than they used to be?
"We've got to turn this around," Chakotay dropped the padd. He felt all eyes fall on him expectantly and he rose to the moment. "Don't worry, Captain, I'll have our best people work on this. I'll find you a solution--I promise!" His chest puffed to twice its normal size, then three times, then four times and then it popped! Seven gasped and looked around the table to see if anyone else noticed. They had not.
"Never mind, Chakotay, I've got the answer: A generational ship!" The captain raised her constant companion to the crew, who voiced their approval. Seven stared at the upheld mug of coffee, splattered with bits of Chakotay, as the room took a sharp right turn and slammed its floor into Seven's head.
A generational ship a generational shipagenerationalship.... The phrase kept niggling at the edges of Seven's mind as she fought unconsciousness. Clearly the Doctor's effort at inhibiting the infection had failed, and her nanoprobes were nanouseless. Nano-nano, she giggled. Humor is inefficient at a moment like this. It offers no solution to Voyager's problems, she chastised herself. Eventually, she opened her eyes and found herself... at a table.
The mess hall was abuzz with the news of the captain's announcement. It seemed that everybody had something to say on this new and very exciting topic. Seven's Borg-enhanced hearing allowed her to eavesdrop on a nearby conversation.
"A generational ship!"
Some solution, Seven thought. Didn't we already have that show?
"Well, it makes perfect sense. At the rate we're traveling, it will take us another 60 years to get home. Hell, just think, Icheb will be a 76-year-old man by that time."
That is old. I will be even older in 60 years! I must find a more acceptable solution to this problem.
"Of course we need to start pairing up and having offspring."
Part of that sounded right to Seven, and she decided to sit down and think about it. Wait, what did he say? Something about paring? Pears? Paring pears? If Peter pared a pickled pear.... Seven swiveled her head in the direction of the Fruit Man, whose own head kept shifting between apple, pomegranate, and strawberry. I must wake myself up at once.
She did not wake up. She looked over at the group of young people talking. They were unusually good-looking, by human standards, and tan. Behind the casually brigh dialogue, there seemed to be an unusual amount of sexual tension.
"If the journey does take that long, someone will need to run this ship!"
Yes! That's it! That is the real problem. She was glad to have settled it. But no, that wasn't the problem at all. The problem was... was... Neelsan. Neelsan Raiting! All this talk about pairing and offspring was an attempt to bring sex aboard Voyager without triggering network censors.
The sudden epiphany brought her out of her state of unconsciousness and into a state of undress. She could feel sheets over her naked, nubile form. Her boobs were definitely bigger. And her hair was down. Experimentally, she moved her legs and then sat up in the dimly lit room. That is when her Borg-heightened senses detected the weight of another body next to hers in bed.
With a smirk, the Captain gave her a quick once-over. Twice. Seven clutched the sheets closer, embarrassed by her distracting lack of clothing and hairstyle.
"C-Captain," she sputtered. "I demand to know what is going on here."
"Exploration, Seven. Going where no man one has gone before."
Seven's mind raced over the landscape of the bedroom, finally arriving at a disheartening stop. There was no dinner, no courtship, no romance. She looked at her hands--no ring! In Seven's dedicated research on Earth and human customs of pair bonding, she'd read every J/7 fanfic and knew she was supposed to have romance. And a ring. Or a harness.
With a ring.
She glowered at Janeway, her outrage bubbling beneath the creamy surface of her flushed skin. Janeway looked... like her boobs were bigger. Intriguing. After a moment of pondering the cost of CGI for a television show on a minor network, Seven grew angry again.
"This is a cheap exploitation of a completely valid and dignified expression of human love and sexuality for the purposes of titillating lesbians, teenaged boys, and a large portion of adult males not pining for a similar exploitation of C/P!"
The captain listened slack jawed until the last bit wrinkled her nose.
"Captain! This is unacceptable!" Seven huffed and glanced down at her naked finger and unharnessed hips, then up again at her glorious if lecherous love interest.
"Ah crap." Janeway tapped her combadge, "I guess it's a no-go, fellas. We'll have to stick with subtext."
"Aye, Captain. Out. Er." And then all went black again.
Seven found herself at a picnic, dressed casually. This setting is more agreeable, she thought as she looked around for her captain. The holosuite door pinged then swung open to reveal a swaggering Chakotay. Seven felt her full, sensual lips smile sweetly at him. What? No! She was helpless to control her movements or dialogue. Damn, those writers are good, she cursed inwardly. Outwardly she kissed Chakotay.
A commercial break later, the door's to Janeway's Ready Room flew open, and Seven stormed towards her, dragging Chakotay by the arm.
"Captain, I believe something or someone is controlling crewmembers on this ship. I believe rogue writers are attempting to pair me with Chakotay without preamble. You and I, we have history--years of quiet, smoldering stares, battles of will, and passionate though as yet platonic exchanges. What do I have with him? Splinters!"
Janeway lifted a consoling hand to her strictly platonic friend to soothe what she assumed would be a hurt ego. Completely unfazed, Chakotay stood with his chest puffed out, head high, and a smile carved so deeply into his face it looked wooden. Briefly, the captain wondered if there would be a special Chakotay-centric episode for Arbor Day.
"Captain! What are we going to do?"
"I beg your pardon, Seven, I'm confused. You didn't want me, and now you're rejecting Chakotay as well?" Janeway lifted her eyes to consider the options, "Well, I think B'Elanna is too pregnant to change her storyline, and Tom's really tied into that. After your one date, Harry added a no-Borg clause to his contract. The doctor?"
"Captain! No, that is completely unacceptable. What I want... is you."
Chakotay grinned, "You fucked that all up when you freaked out about waking up naked in Janeway's quarters. It's me and you, now, baby!"
Seven's eyes widened, her jaw gaped. She turned to Janeway and pleaded, "But, but, Captain, something must be done about this. It was not my intention to 'fuck that all up.'"
"Ah, yes. Well, fucked it is." Janeway tilted a sympathetic brow to the excruciatingly tightly wrapped woman, then held up her hands as if demonstrating the appropriate use of a human gesture, "Sorry, Seven, my hands are tied."
"But not in a good way," Chakotay interjected. Janeway shot the man her patented death glare, but that seemed to be on the fritz as he remained standing and smiling. She glared again and he blinked out.
"But what about us? Have you not read the fanfic? Ourloveissopure!" Seven beamed.
"I don't think our relationship was ever about purity. Do you?"
"Then, "Seven shot Janeway an accusatory glance, "perhaps I no longer interest you."
"Seven," she began and then paused. "Seven, I was dismayed at your reaction. I'd assumed that you reciprocated my feelings, but your reaction- well, I knew it was your first time, but I'd hoped for more enthusiasm and interest."
"I have interest! I had assumed the 'scene' would be preceded by a romantic gesture, then a dramatic declaration of your undying love for me. Then hot sex. And possibly a ring."
"A ring? Really?" She smiled at the younger woman.
"I apologize if my expectations are too provincial for you. I will have you know that I held no presumptions of impregnation or baby showers, but I had hoped for one of those harnesses."
Janeway stopped dead in her tracks. She stared at Seven for several moments, then waved her hand. "Doesn't matter. That scene with Chakotay has already aired. Can't take it back now."
"But what about our scene? In your quarters?"
"On the cutting room floor."
"But surely--"
"Nope, I'm sorry, Seven, but barring a Delta Quadrant-sized ass-pull, there's nothing we can do to change what has aired."
"We aired. This aired," Seven stepped within inches of Katherine, pulled the woman to her, and looked deeply into her eyes. "This unresolved sexual tension aired, damn it!" Katherine swayed toward the woman, lips almost brushing lips. Then she shook her head and resumed walking. Unsteadily. When she'd gotten a few paces' distance, she turned back to Seven.
"Let's face it: you kissed Chakotay. This 'ship has jumped the shark on its way back to Earth. C'est la vie, all good things, for every door closed and so on. Personally, I'm negotiating for a last-minute return of that Queen of yours." She winked at a still stunned Seven, "Maybe they can work in a threesome. Ciao, bella."
--oOo--
Ciao, readers! The End.