What the Heart Knows

By BeachBum

The Astrometrics Lab was darkened as usual during the Gamma shift. The only illumination was over the main console where Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix 01 still worked intently. She had begun life as Annika Hansen, child of Federation scientists researching the Borg. Unfortunately, their combined scientific curiosity and arrogance resulted in their assimilation by the Borg Collective….six-year-old Annika included. She had been raised by the Borg for eighteen years until Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager had attempted an alliance with the Collective to defeat Species 8472. Janeway had flatly refused a neural transceiver implant from the Collective and demanded a single drone liaison; Seven of Nine had been activated for that purpose.

In the ensuing battles, Janeway’s First Officer had severed the alliance and Janeway, her Engineering Chief and EMH had severed Seven of Nine’s connection to the Collective. She had floundered, terrified and alone for the first time in her memory. The medical and engineering staff of Voyager had worked tirelessly to remove her Borg technology safely and Captain Janeway had worked just as tirelessly to attempt to restore her humanity. While the removal of the technology was a success, many on Voyager still had doubts about the humanity part. Most of the time, only Janeway and the EMH doctor of Voyager saw the goodness and kindness in the former drone.

Seven stood six feet tall without her boots. Scandinavian genes were readily apparent in high cheekbones, fair skin and luxuriously thick blond hair. Her physical beauty was breathtaking, including blue eyes which ran the spectrum from icy to cerulean depending on her mood. Her skeletal frame was duranium-reinforced, and Borg implants afforded her almost super-human strength. A Borg cortical node controlled nanoprobes which enhanced her healing and immune response. She possessed an eidetic memory containing the collected knowledge, mores and memories of the thousands of species the Collective had assimilated.

She still retained several visible implants: an ocular implant comprised her left eye with an external piece surrounding the eye socket. There was a small starburst implant just in front of her right ear and another larger one on her right bicep. Her left hand was Borg; biometric mesh and metal comprised the appendage. This implant wound itself up her forearm halfway to the elbow. There were others, most of which weren’t usually visible, across her abdomen and down her left leg. When the medical staff had first removed the bulk of the external Borg armoring, the EMH had serious concerns about Seven’s biological functions. To minimize any negative impact, he had designed a form-fitting biometric suit which she was required to wear. While the suit served its purpose admirably, it was skin-tight and left very little of her physical form to the imagination. Since her physical form was usually likened to that of a Greek Goddess, the affect on Voyager’s crew was predictable. The EMH had lost count of the number of crew (men and women alike) who had walked into bulkheads and fallen down Jeffries tubes because they couldn’t take their eyes off the former drone as she walked past. Stunning beauty, frightening intelligence and immense physical strength.  To call her intimidating was understatement. Most of the Voyager crew usually used the term “terrifying”.

Her journey back to humanity was a rocky one. With superior intelligence and non-existent social skills, she was often unintentionally brusque and arrogant in her dealings with other crew members. She was incapable of lying and tact was a concept with which she was unfamiliar. She had no patience with the command structure of a starship and obeyed orders only when they made logical sense to her. This had resulted in frequent disputes with not only Captain Janeway but most of the crew on Voyager as well. What rankled most was the fact that Seven of Nine usually turned out to be right. They bitched and moaned about her, but were slowly learning that her recommendations wound up helping them and had, on several occasions, saved the ship from destruction.

What the crew didn’t realize was that Seven of Nine now regarded Voyager and all who served on her as her new Collective…and she gave to that new Collective her complete and utter loyalty. Seven of Nine would die without hesitation to save Voyager and her crew. She was incapable of less. From late-night philosophical discussions with Captain Janeway, she had absorbed the concepts of honor, integrity and the sanctity of life. She understood them to be the cornerstones of Starfleet principles and attempted to integrate them into her burgeoning humanity.

Human emotions proved more problematic. Her observations of the crew frequently frustrated her. She discerned no logic and little intelligence in many of their actions. Her frustrations were not reduced after questioning the EMH. Since he was a hologram, albeit a sentient one, his concept of appropriate emotional response was suspect at best. So she projected an aura of icy coolness and arrogance simply because she could not determine a more efficient manner of interaction. An innate shyness kept her from approaching her crewmates. Janeway, the EMH and little Naomi Wildman (the sole child on board) were her only friends on Voyager. It was a lonely life for the former drone.

But this lonely night was different for Seven. Earlier in the day, the EMH had run her weekly diagnostics routine and declared that she was to begin eating for the first time since her assimilation. She had been on Voyager since being severed from the Collective and had never before required food or drink. She had taken all her energy and nutritional requirements from her regeneration alcove in Cargo Bay two. She could perform at peak efficiency for over 72 hours on a single six-hour regeneration cycle. Now, according to the doctor, she was to begin taking nourishment in solid and liquid form in the mess hall along with the rest of the crew.

The EMH also decreed that her biometric suits were no longer necessary unless she would be unable to regenerate on a regular basis. Now Seven of Nine had to decide for herself what to wear. She was intently studying the monitor on the Astrometrics workstation, but not to plot star charts: she was examining the clothing available from the replicators on board. She had enhanced auditory functions and had, on more occasions than she was comfortable with, overheard comments from the crew on her appearance. They tended to be variations on a general anatomical theme. These remarks made her uneasy and she was determined to find clothing which would eliminate the more prurient comments about her physical attributes.

Since she was not a member of Starfleet, she would not wear their uniform. She was outside the command structure so she sought clothing which would fit in easily with the omnipresent uniforms and not draw undue attention as the biometric suits had. She finally settled on black cargo pants and a matching long-sleeved jacket with four cargo pockets. She chose black, standard-issue Starfleet boots and grey turtleneck shirts to wear under the cargo jacket. That would make her clothing as close as possible to Starfleet uniforms without actually BEING a Starfleet uniform. She would blend in with the rest of the crew. Since she rarely utilized the replicators and had amassed a large number of replicator rations, she requested three sets of clothing as well as calf-high combat boots for away missions, and several gray tank tops as an alternative to the turtlenecks. A new thought struck her as she keyed in the requisition: she now possessed a “wardrobe”.  But as she thought about the cavernous Cargo Bay she called home, she realized that she had no private place to dress.  This clothing thing was beginning to present more problems than it was perhaps worth. With a slight frown and a brief thought that being human was getting to be inefficient, she gathered up her new apparel and headed for Cargo Bay two.

“Computer, lights out.”

Kathryn Janeway rolled over and plumped her pillow for the twentieth or so time since retiring for the night. Once again, sleep eluded her. The ongoing stress of being responsible for 141 crew and Voyager alone in the Delta Quadrant was wearing on her yet again. The almost constant knot in her shoulders and frequent headaches were only some of the manifestations of the burden she carried. It had been her decision to destroy the Caretaker’s array and save the Ocampa home world that had stranded her starship and the Maquis ship they had been pursuing in the Delta Quadrant; 80,000 light years from Earth. She and Chakotay, the Maquis commander, had combined their crews and forged a family on board Voyager in the years they had been making their solitary journey toward home. It was a constant struggle fighting unfriendly alien armadas and constantly searching for the materials necessary to keep the ship flying. But they had succeeded in reducing a projected 75 year journey down to perhaps twenty with a bit of luck. The ship still held together, and Seven of Nine had added Borg technology to their propulsion, shielding and armament capabilities. They were in better shape now than they had been at the outset of their journey, but the senior staff and especially the captain were all too aware of how tenuous their position was in this hostile quadrant. They had fought Vidiians, Hirogen, the Borg, Species 8472 and countless other adversaries. Somehow Janeway always managed to come up with a solution that kept Voyager and her crew alive and headed determinedly in the direction of the Alpha quadrant. But the captain paid a price in isolation and loneliness for that continuing journey. Sometimes, the burden seemed too much to carry. Tonight was one of those times.

With a muffled curse, she threw back the covers, arose and walked into the adjoining bathroom. She quickly donned the neatly pressed uniform on the counter and then began the daily search for her pips and communicator badge. For some reason, she could never seem to keep track of her uniform hardware. It always irritated her when she was forced to replicate a pip or two when she lost some. She could keep a mental picture of a three-dimensional space battle of multiple ships in her head while shouting commands to her bridge staff during the worst of a firefight. You’d think she could keep track of four tiny gold rank insignias and her comm badge. She finally found the last of her errant pips on the floor next to her nightstand and completed her toilet by running a brush through her shoulder-length auburn hair a few times. There; Captain Janeway was presentable and ready for duty.

She strode out of her cabin and down the corridor to the turbolift. She entered the lift and gave the command for the mess hall. When she reached Voyager’s dining room, she noted that several of the Gamma shift were finishing up their meal break. She nodded and greeted the crew members and headed to the replicators for black coffee, her drug of choice. Mug in hand, she left the mess hall and began what was becoming an almost nightly stroll around her ship. It was quiet during the Gamma shift – the Earth-side equivalent of the graveyard shift. Alpha shift would not begin until 0700 hours when the bulk of the crew reported to their duty stations. She enjoyed the solitude of her nightly sojourns, but regretted the loss of sleep that usually caused them. At some point in time it was going to catch up with her and affect her ability to command, but she (like most starship captains of her acquaintance) held a healthy dislike of Sickbay and the ship’s medical officer. Not that she disliked him personally, but the implied weakness of reporting to Sickbay did not and never would mesh with her command persona.

She was fairly diminutive in stature; not even five and a half feet tall with a slender but wiry build. It was that command persona which made her seem larger than she was. She had built the persona from her experience on the vessels on which she served prior to Voyager as well as from lessons learned early in life as the daughter of Admiral Edward Janeway. Her command mask was flawless, and the “Janeway Glare” of various intensities could reduce even the most space-hardened officer to a quivering mass of plasma in short order. She was possessed of a quick Irish temper but usually managed to balance it with the lessons of command learned at Starfleet Academy and during her career. It was going to take every ounce of that command persona to get her ship and crew home in one piece.

She stopped and chatted briefly with the duty crew in the Shuttle Bay and the main transporter compartment before heading in the direction of the Cargo Bays. It was her private secret that she frequently came to Cargo Bay two during her sleepless nights and silently watched Seven of Nine regenerate in her alcove. She could not explain why she was drawn to watch the beautiful ex-drone during such a private activity as "sleep". If she was being totally honest with herself, she didn’t WANT to face why she secretly watched her newest crew member at rest. It was too threatening to the iron control she deemed necessary to maintain her command. So she pushed it to the back of her mind and steadfastly refused to examine her motivations.

As she entered the cavernous cargo area, she was surprised to hear sound and muffled mutterings from the area around the Borg Alcove. She walked around a large cargo container and was surprised to find Seven of Nine wrestling with a modular wall component. The fact that the wall component was usually handled by two to three crew members was not lost on the captain.

“Er…Seven? What exactly are you trying to do?” she asked.

With what sounded like a growl, the ex-Borg locked the final panel in place and turned to face her captain.

“Good evening Captain. I am attempting to fabricate a ‘room’ for my quarters,” replied her Astrometrics Officer. “I have decided that I require a measure of privacy.”

“I see,” said Janeway, mentally chastising herself for not considering that Seven needed her own space. “But why didn’t you ask me to assign you regular quarters? Surely that would have been easier than building a room by yourself.”

“I did not wish to trouble you because I do not require regular crew quarters. Furthermore, it would be inefficient for me to have regular quarters to myself and I do not feel that attempting to room with another crew member would be successful. This enclosure around my regeneration alcove will suffice.”

“Well, OK if that’s what you want. Do you need help with anything?” inquired Janeway.

The two women finished making the power couplings to the modular room and activated the door and locks. Seven of Nine programmed the entry codes using Borg encryptions and then stepped back to admire her handiwork. She keyed the entry code and she and the captain entered her new room.

Aside from the regeneration alcove, it was totally empty.

“Ah, Seven? Are you planning on putting any furniture in here? Or are you staying with this minimalist look?” teased Janeway. “And don’t you need a bathroom?”

Seven arched her optical implant almost to her hairline in response. A small upward quirk on one side of her mouth indicated amusement at the captain’s teasing.

“I do not require the conventional bathroom as do the other crew members. My biological functions are regulated by my abdominal implants. The only ‘bathroom’ fixture I might eventually require is a sonic shower. As to furniture, I have no experience furnishing a room and have not had time to adequately research the requirements necessary to do so. I was planning on conducting that research after my duty shift tomorrow.”

“I see. Well, let me know if you need anything else. You’ve done a lot of work tonight. When was the last time you regenerated?” the captain asked solicitously. “The Doctor will be seriously displeased with both of us if he finds out I helped you do something that kept you from getting the rest you require.”

“I had planned on regenerating when I completed the construction of the room.”

“Well then, don’t let me keep you,” said Janeway. “Go get some rest and I’ll see you at the senior staff meeting tomorrow morning. Have a good night, Seven.”

“Thank you for the help, Captain. And..." she considered the Doctor's lessons. "You have a good night as well.”

Janeway left Cargo Bay two and headed for her ready room off the bridge on deck one. As she exited the turbolift onto the bridge, Lt. Nicoletti who was manning the Ops station for Gamma shift called quietly, “Captain on the bridge” to the rest of the crew.

“As you were,” Janeway quickly replied. “I’m just headed for my ready room to work on some reports.”

She walked across the deck to her ready room and once inside headed to the replicator for a second cup of coffee. Fresh mug in hand, she moved to her desk and settled into her chair, deep in thought.

Why the hell didn’t I ever think that Seven of Nine would need personal space? God, am I that insensitive? I’ve tried so hard to help her realize her potential since she came on board, I can’t believe that I didn’t understand she was living….SLEEPING….in a Cargo Bay to which the entire crew has access 24-7! Fine friend you turned out to be Janeway. You just blithely forget that she might need the same considerations you and the rest of the crew take for granted. Does she complain? No, she just quietly goes ahead and does it for herself so she won’t cause YOU undue stress.  Dammit, she has a right to expect better than that from me. How the hell can I make this right for her?

A sudden idea came to her and with a deep chuckle she pivoted in the chair to face her workstation. She fired off a note to senior staff postponing their meeting until 1400 hours and then opened the requisition logs. What good was it to be Captain of a starship if you didn’t throw your weight around occasionally? She got to work with a wicked grin on her face. It wasn’t until she’d finished her task that she realized sadly she had secretly watched over Seven as she regenerated for the last time.

Seven of Nine completed her regeneration cycle and stepped down from the alcove. She gathered up one of her new outfits and paused briefly over the requisite undergarments. Underwear was not required with her biometric suits but lack thereof could be a problem with her new clothing choices. What was it the crew called it? "Going Commando", that was it. She wondered if anyone other than the EMH would notice. The thought amused her. She quickly dressed (underwear and all) and headed for the mess hall for her first attempt at breakfast.

Ten minutes later, she stared aghast at the tray Neelix had set before her with great ceremony. Nothing on it looked appetizing in the least and the sheer amounts were daunting as well.

“Well, dig in, Seven,” enthused Neelix, “It’s a Talaxian hot cereal made from leola root and Jerzel milk with assorted Caladean fruits I picked up last week.”

“Neelix, I am not accustomed to ingesting solid nourishment. Perhaps I should begin on a less grandiose scale until I become better acclimated to eating. Maybe a ration bar and a cup of liquid nutritional supplement #18?” Seven of Nine said hesitantly. She rather liked the ebullient Talaxian cook/morale officer and did not wish to offend him. However, she was well aware of how the rest of the crew regarded the bulk of his cooking and only the restrictions on replicator rations kept most of them eating in the mess hall regularly. Talaxian taste buds were decidedly different from most humanoid ones and the crew suffered because of it.  Neelix’s intentions were all good, but the entire crew had wound up in Sickbay at some point in time because of one of his recipes. The EMH was extremely adept at dealing with the resultant heartburn, nausea and digestive distress one of Neelix’s experiments might cause.

“Oh Seven, forgive me! I was so excited when the Doctor dropped off the list of your nutritional requirements yesterday and I wanted your first official meal to be a nice one. I just never thought of the fact that you hadn’t ever actually EATEN before this.”

“The presentation is aesthetically pleasing even if the quantities are more than I can presently ingest,” Seven said soothingly. “But the ration bar and liquid supplement would probably be more acceptable for me to start.”

“I’ll get right on it and be back in just a minute,” the cook promised as he bustled away.

Janeway entered the mess hall just then and quickly scanned the room for Seven of Nine. She looked the room over and only on her second pass realized that she had completely overlooked the ex-drone on her first glance. She made her way over to Seven's table after re-charging her caffeine supply.

“Good morning, Seven. I almost didn’t recognize you! I remember the Doctor sent me a message that you were going to start eating, but for some reason I missed the part about your biometric suits. I must say, you look very nice.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Seven replied shyly. “I tried to select clothing that would blend in with the rest of the crew.”

“Well, I think your new ‘look’ fits in extremely well,” she said with a smile. “They’re going to miss those biosuits though,” she muttered under her breath.

Borg-enhanced hearing caught every syllable. Seven of Nine was surprised when the question of whether or not Janeway would miss those biometric suits popped into her mind. She blushed a little at the thought and was saved by the return of Neelix with her ration bar and liquid supplement.

“Good morning, Captain! Here you go, Seven…breakfast as requested. Captain, can I get you something to eat?”

“Er, no, actually, I just came in for coffee,” Janeway said quickly.

“But, Captain, breakfast is the most important meal of the day! Let me get you…”

“Neelix? The Captain can have the breakfast you prepared for me,” said Seven sweetly. She slid the tray over in front of Janeway and gave the older woman a small smile. Janeway thought it entirely too devious.

“Well, that works out just wonderfully, doesn’t it?” enthused the cook. “Oh, there’s Ensign Patterson. I promised to get him some geerac juice this morning. Please excuse me ladies.” With that he headed in the direction of the tired looking engineer.

“Gee thanks, Seven,” said Janeway dourly, regarding the tray in front of her. “Dare I ask what Neelix had prepared for your first official breakfast?”

“Some kind of Talaxian cereal made of leola root and a fruit that I have never heard of,” replied the Astrometrics Officer. She nibbled on the ration bar daintily. It didn’t have much of a taste and the texture left a lot to be desired, but if she washed a small bit down with the liquid supplement it wasn’t too bad.

Janeway picked up a spoon and moved the food on her tray around a bit. Maybe if she rearranged it enough it would look like she actually ATE some of the slop. As well-intentioned as Neelix was, Janeway had a great deal of difficulty eating his food. Her mother was a Traditionalist and had prepared their meals from scratch for her entire life at home. Her mother’s meals showed every bit of the love and care she put into them. Janeway was hard-pressed to settle for what the Talaxian thought passed as good food. With a small sigh she gave up and pushed the tray away from her. We have GOT to get the replicators fixed before the crew dies of food poisoning she thought to herself. She wondered idly if the Borg had any replicator enhancements she could persuade Seven to install. Of course, since the Borg didn’t EAT it was probably a long shot at best. But, what the hell, it never hurt to try.

“Seven, do you think you might be able to check out our replicator systems and see if there isn’t something you could come up with to make them work more efficiently? I hate it that the crew is always being strictly rationed. If we could figure out some way to get a working power enhancement to them without needing more dilithium stores it would make life a lot easier on the crew.”

“I will look into the problem,” agreed Seven easily.

“Thanks Seven, I really appreciate it,” Janeway said, reaching over to cover the younger woman’s Borg-enhanced hand with her own and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll see you at the senior staff meeting later on. But right now I need to make my escape before Neelix comes back to get my opinion on his breakfast.”

She rose from her chair and with a final compliment on the way Seven of Nine looked headed back to the bridge and the Alpha shift.

After she left, Seven gazed briefly at her mesh and metal hand and wondered if it was damaged in some way. Why would the simple act of Janeway gently squeezing it cause that jolt of electricity that shot up her arm and into her midsection?

At 0830 hours, Janeway left her ready room to check on the maintenance requisition she had ordered during the early morning hours. She had scheduled the requisition to begin at 0800 hours assuming the department head would get the crew moving on time. She headed to Cargo Bay two with a spring in her step. With any amount of luck, Seven of Nine would get the surprise of her young life when she returned to her “room”.

The crew was hard at work enlarging the room Seven had constructed during the night.  Of course, since none of them could penetrate the Borg encryption codes on the door lock, they’d had to remove a section of wall to gain entry, but the plans called for the walls to be extended so that didn’t present a major problem. They were busy installing a sonic shower module and hydro sink module along with replicator and recycler modules and a miniscule counter and hydro sink to serve as a galley. The autoclean module was already installed. The workstation and desk was in place, needing only the data link to make it fully functional and furniture was stacked outside awaiting placement. The plans called for a bedroom that included the regeneration alcove and standard bed and closet with adjoining modified bathroom. The enlarged space then allowed for an additional living area, which contained standard-issue furniture, the tiny galley, dining area and workstation.

Voyager’s crews were nothing if not efficient and in less than five hours the renovations were complete. Where last night was an empty room around a Borg alcove there was now a (more or less) complete set of quarters. The lighting and environmental controls were fully integrated into the central processor as were the replicator and recyclers. There was carpet on the deck and the modular walls had been painted a light grey color. The deep blue of the upholstery looked good with the color and the overall effect was cool and soothing…just what Janeway thought Seven of Nine would like.

Janeway set about finishing Seven’s new quarters herself. Replicating as she went, Janeway made up the bed with the standard dark blue Starfleet-issue sheets and blankets and hung the towels in the tiny bathroom. She found the small pile of Seven’s new clothing by the regeneration alcove and hung them in the closet, arranging the boots on the floor. In the living room, she folded a fleece throw over the back of the sofa and added a couple of comfortable throw pillows to it for good measure. Extra pillows, linens and blankets were stowed in the storage unit beneath the sofa. She put a stack of new padds on the workstation and checked that the data link was up and operational. As a final touch, she went to the replicator and requested a dozen roses and a vase. She arranged the flowers and placed the vase on the counter. Before she left, she set a note in front of the rose-filled vase with a smile.

It was almost 2000 hours before Seven of Nine reached Cargo Bay two that evening. It had been a strangely frustrating and exhilarating day for her. There were ups and downs with this being human business. Eating was still a problem, and her diet for the day had remained the same as breakfast. While her new look had caused many of the crew to bemoan the loss of her biometric suits, several of the crew had made a point of commenting on how nice she looked. She had tried very hard to thank them in an appropriate manner and thought for the most part she had succeeded. They had all smiled and chatted with her a bit, which seemed like a positive sign to the inexperienced young woman. The entire senior staff had been complimentary, and the EMH had beamed like a proud father as he listened to them. When she entered the Cargo Bay, she frowned as she caught sight of her room. It was considerably larger than when she had left it that morning. She keyed the entry code and walked in with an astonished look on her face. She identified the flower vase filled with rosa provincialis on the small counter and picked up the note in front of them. As she read it, a smile with all the brilliance of a supernova grew on her face.

Kathryn (if you don’t recognize the name, it goes between “Captain” and “Janeway”)

Seven wandered through the rooms with the glowing smile fixed in place. Captain Janeway had arranged for all this for her! Janeway had apologized for not realizing that Seven would want privacy and called her a valued member of the crew. The thought of those words caused her to shiver slightly and a strange feeling developed in her midsection as she neatly re-folded her tee-shirts and underwear into a drawer in the closet module.

The next morning, Seven of Nine entered the ship’s barbershop and discussed a new haircut with the barber. Her thick blond hair was slightly more than shoulder length, and she usually wore it in a neat french twist. But she decided that her new look required a new hairstyle. She decided on a much shorter cut that allowed her hair to flow back from her face to the nape of her neck. It was parted slightly to the left of center and a wave now came down over her right brow. The overall look was neat and easy to maintain. By the time she’d left the ship’s barber, many of the crew were once again walking into bulkheads as she passed. Seven of Nine was, without question, a knockout.

“Good afternoon Captain. How may I assist you?” Seven asked without looking up from her workstation in the Astrometrics Lab.

“You know Seven, one of these days you’re going to have to tell me how you do that. It’s positively unnerving,” said Janeway with a smile as she joined the tall woman at the console.

“I recognize your step, Captain,” replied Seven. She wasn’t about to tell the captain that what she really recognized was her perfume. Or the fact that she usually managed to know the captain’s whereabouts during the day via the ship’s computer.

Janeway chuckled. “Well, I guess we chalk up another one for Borg enhancements. I stopped by to see if you’d had time to check out the replicator systems yet.”

“I have. I downloaded the schematics last night and went over them. I need to check several power components in the Engineering section before I can make any decisions, but once I get those components checked I will be able to finish my report. I have not had time to get to Engineering yet,” Seven said with a hint of unease in her voice.

The captain knew why Seven was reluctant to go to Engineering. Janeway was well aware of the adversarial relationship between the Astrometrics Officer and her volatile Chief of Engineering, B’Elanna Torres. The two women were brilliant in their own rights but mixed like oil and water. Heated disagreements had escalated to near fisticuffs on occasion, and Janeway had called both of them onto the carpet in her ready room (separately of course) several times.

The last explosion had occurred less than a week ago when Seven of Nine had made some minor flow adjustments to a particular biogenic gel conduit without telling B’Elanna directly. Torres went ballistic when she discovered the change, and conveniently forgot to notice the message waiting on her workstation notifying her of the reasons for it. She also managed to forget that she had put a privacy shield on her comm badge and quarters except for emergency and was unreachable at the time. What she didn’t forget was that she didn’t LIKE the Ice Queen, as she referred to Seven of Nine, and stomped off to the Astrometrics Lab to make her unhappiness known to everyone there. She’d already made her feelings clear to the entire Engineering crew. It hadn’t taken long for Janeway to hear about the ensuing altercation.

In fact, she’d even gotten wind of a betting pool in the Exobiology section on who’d win if the two women ever did actually come to blows. Smart money was currently running in favor of the Borg over the half-Klingon engineer in a fair fight. But if B’Elanna ever brought out her prized Bat’leth all bets were off. Janeway wondered if maybe she shouldn’t just get some credits down in the pool and let the women have at it. Hell, they could probably charge admission and make a tidy profit.

With a heavy sigh, Janeway told Seven, “Get to Engineering sometime this afternoon. I’ll let Lt. Torres know to expect you. Maybe that will keep things calm. I expect you to act in a professional manner down there and please, please try not to antagonize B’Elanna deliberately. The warp core is being cranky again and the last thing I need is a pissed-off Klingon on the rampage. Try to get along with her, OK?”

Janeway was developing a massive headache as she regarded the two women standing stiffly at attention in front of her desk. She dropped her eyes to scan Tuvok’s incident report again. She mentally kicked herself for forgetting to tell Torres of Seven of Nine’s pending arrival in Engineering, but in the excitement of the discovery of the promising star system it had slipped her mind completely. What the hell was she supposed to do with these two?

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” she continued. “For the next month, every day from 0900 hours to 1100 hours Lt. Torres will work in Astrometrics with you, Seven. And for that same month, from 1300 hours until 1500 hours Seven will work in Engineering with you, Lt. Torres. You will do so under the watchful eyes of a security team. All verbal exchanges will be civil, polite and respectful. You will learn to work together or so help me; Lt. Carey and Ensign Celes will be promoted to department heads. Is that understood?” Her famous Janeway Glare was force ten at this point, and the paint on the bulkheads seemed to be peeling away.

“Aye Captain,” the women replied in unison.

“Get out of my sight!” commanded Janeway as the women nearly ran from the room. She gingerly rubbed her temple as she glanced at the impassive Vulcan seated next to her desk.

“God, Tuvok…what are we going to do with the two of them?”

“One logical solution would be to lock them up together in a small room and wait to see who walks out,” he commented.

Janeway managed a chuckle. “After today’s brawl, my money’s on Seven.”

“Shall I call down to Exobiology and place a bet in your name?” he inquired with one eyebrow slightly raised…the only indication of his amusement with the situation.

That got a genuine belly laugh from the Captain. “Is chaperoning them for the next month going to seriously inconvenience your security staff?” she asked.

“No. It has been a relatively quiet month to date,” he replied.

“Thank you, Tuvok. I appreciate your team’s quick response. God only knows what would have happened if we’d been delayed getting there.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Captain. Seven DID seem to have the situation well... in hand.”

That was all it took. Janeway collapsed in her chair laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Lord, Tuvok, if I live to be two hundred I will never forget the sight of B’Elanna flopping like a hooked trout from Seven’s fist. I imagine the Engineering crew won’t have to buy any drinks in Sandrine’s for the next week or so. They’ll be the toasts of the holodeck with a tale this good.”

“I should tell you, Captain, that Seven of Nine approached me last week requesting formal martial arts instruction. She said that she required the training to better equip her to multi-task on away missions. I confess that I saw no reason to deny her request at the time. But given the events of this afternoon I wonder if continuing is a good idea.”

“Martial arts training? Why would she want to learn to fight?”

“She felt martial arts, tactical and security training would give her skills which would benefit Voyager in an additional capacity. Again, I saw no reason to deny her request. Should I re-evaluate it in light of today’s altercation? I should tell you that she is a most gifted pupil. Her skills development has been amazing.”

“Is there any evidence that she used those skills this afternoon?” inquired Janeway.

“None, Captain. All the eyewitness accounts indicate she merely side-stepped B’Elanna and lifted her off the ground. Hardly the stuff of taolu or katas.”

“Well, if she was disciplined enough not to throw Torres into the warp core this afternoon I guess it’s alright to continue. After what I saw today, maybe we can use her on your security staff.”

“Captain, after what I saw today, I’m wondering if we can’t clone her for my security staff.”

“Oh God, Tuvok, don’t even THINK that. One Seven of Nine on this ship is enough!”

The next two and a half weeks passed without incident as both combatants maintained a strictly professional demeanor in each other’s company. Seven of Nine grudgingly realized that Torres possessed an innate feel for the starship’s engines and systems. The stocky Klingon was skilled in handling system failures. When something went wrong her responses were efficient and effective. Seven began to appreciate the knowledge, passion and skill that B’Elanna brought to her job. A small seedling of respect for the Klingon took root.

For her part, B’Elanna finally took an honest look at what Seven of Nine and Harry Kim had built in the Astrometrics Lab and realized what an impressive facility it was. The Astrometrics scanners were over four times as powerful as the Starfleet standard, all due to enhancements Seven of Nine had designed and implemented. She had known that Seven of Nine was possessed of the entire knowledge base of the Borg Collective. When Seven of Nine spoke, she wasn’t just blowing smoke; she had hard facts to back up her words. And she’d built a most impressive database to aid in her sector charting, utilizing that vast collective knowledge. Coupled with her own dazzling intelligence, the Astrometrics systems and the Astrometrics Officer gave Voyager and her crew a most decided advantage in the unknown Delta quadrant. B’Elanna also discovered (to her chagrin) that Seven of Nine knew her way around an Engineering section too. Between the two of them, they had devised a system of plasma feedback conduits and power amplifiers that improved replicator efficiency by 60%. That meant the difference between just getting by and actually having access to luxury items for the crew. Bottles of wine, familiar foods, new clothing (aside from their daily uniforms), and thousands of other previously unavailable items now made life for Voyager’s crew a bit easier. Surprisingly enough, attendance at Neelix’s mess hall did not drop significantly as a result of the new replicator protocols. B’Elanna and Seven of Nine agreed that there was just no accounting for taste.

Janeway kept abreast of the situation via daily reports from the security chaperones and decided that eighteen days was enough. She summoned both women to her ready room at the conclusion of their Alpha shifts.

“Well, it seems that the two of you can manage to get along if you really try,” she told them. “I’m suspending your ‘sentence’ effective immediately, but I warn you both right here and now. If there is even one teeny, tiny HINT of conflict you will both be thrown in the brig and I don’t give a damn what effect it has on the ship. Am I clearly understood?”

“Yes Captain!” came the reply in unison.

“Very well. Dismissed.”

Janeway leaned back in her chair and wondered idly if this might not be the beginning of a very strange and wonderful friendship.

Later that evening, B’Elanna, Harry Kim and Tom Paris sat at their usual table in the mess hall contemplating Neelix’s latest offering and discussing the events of that afternoon.

“So the Captain finally pardoned you, eh, B’Elanna? I’m surprised you made it almost three weeks working up close and personal with the Ice Queen,” said Paris. “Tell me, did you get frostbite in any important places?”

“Shut up, Tom. She’s not as bad as I thought. In fact, she actually made a joke yesterday. Not an especially good joke, but a joke nonetheless. I almost fell over in shock.”

“I think you’re both being unfair to her,” said Harry. “I worked with her a lot putting the Astrometrics Lab together and I think she’s just real shy. She doesn’t know how to relate to most of us and when she’s unsure of what to do or say she reverts to Borg-speak. I know you both think she’s got a stick up her…well, that she’s too stiff and formal. But I like her and I think she’s really trying to fit in. We ought to give her a break once in a while.”

“Jeez Harry, could you make it any more obvious you’ve got a major crush on her?” quipped Paris.

“So what if I do?” Harry shot back. “I mean, have you ever really LOOKED at her? She’s gorgeous…and really smart too. Hell, who on the crew DOESN’T have a crush on her?”

“Ummm, Tuvok and the Captain?” guessed Paris with a laugh.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about Tuvok,” B’Elanna replied.

“WHAT?” chorused Tom and Harry.

“Can you two keep a secret?”

“Of course we can B’Elanna!” Harry assured her. Torres was the unquestioned gossip queen of the crew. Somehow, she got the dirt first and had no qualms about disseminating the information to whoever was interested. Tuvok and Seven of Nine? It was too juicy to miss.

“About a week ago I was walking past Holodeck two one night when the doors opened and Tuvok and Seven of Nine came out. Together. Both of them looking distinctly rumpled and sweaty. I got curious and checked the holodeck logs and found that the two of them spend three or four evenings a week on the holodecks together. I tried to find out what program they were running, but it was a classified private holoprogram of Tuvok’s. Now you tell me…what would Tuvok and our resident Borg be doing for that long on the holodecks? When is Tuvok due for Pon Farr? I mean it happens every seven years and I’ve known him over five and he hasn’t had it yet. How much longer can it be? He needs a partner as physically strong as he is. She’s the only woman on the ship that could handle him in the Pon Farr state. I think he’s training her in Vulcan traditions and defense so she’ll be ready when his time comes.”

“B’Elanna, I think you’ve lost it this time. Tuvok and Seven of Nine? It’s unbelievable!” replied Harry.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Tom, “Let’s find out. She just came into the mess hall. Let’s ask her.” He stood up and waved to the Borg. “Hey! Seven! C’mon and join us why don’t you?”

Seven of Nine looked unbelievingly at Tom and hesitated briefly before walking to their table. She fully intended to keep her promise not to argue with B’Elanna, and was apprehensive about sitting with the three close friends. She was reluctant to lose the tenuous bond that had formed between her and the Engineering Chief during their enforced ‘sentence’. As she sat down, she tried to control her breathing.

“Good evening, Ensign Paris. Ensign Kim. Lt. Torres,” she said, placing her tray on the table with theirs.

“Hi, Seven,” said Harry, “What did you get for dinner? Doesn’t look too appetizing.”

“Ugh, ration bars? I gotta agree with Harry on that one, Seven,” said B’Elanna. “Those things are disgusting. The only reason I’d ever eat one is if I really was starving.”

Seven flushed faintly. “I am still having some…difficulties…in adjusting to solid nutrition,” she said. “These ration bars and liquid nutritional supplements are all that I seem able to manage.”

Much to his surprise, Tom Paris felt a flutter of sympathy for the beauty. For some reason she didn’t seem at all icy and intimidating this evening.

“Maybe you just haven’t tried the right kind of food yet,” he told her. “I mean I know that some of Neelix’s concoctions would drop a charging targ in its tracks, but maybe there are some alternatives you just haven’t thought of.”

“I have no recollection of consuming food. I have virtually no memories of my life before my assimilation…and the Borg do not eat. Somehow, it just seems…simpler to utilize the ration bars.”

“What you need is some good, old-fashioned comfort food,” he replied with assurance.

“Comfort food? Is that a particular type of cuisine?”

The three friends laughed. “No, Seven,” Harry said kindly. “Comfort food means the kind of simple food that a mother would make for a sick child. We tend to associate certain favorite foods with the feelings of security and happiness of our childhoods. Hence the name…comfort food. C’mon you guys…what are some of your favorites? If any three people can come up with something that Seven would like it’s us. What about it?”

“Hmmm…macaroni and cheese!” offered Tom.

“Banana pancakes!” B’Elanna chimed in.

“No, wait, I’ve got it!” Tom said enthusiastically. “Tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches!! Seven, wait right here.” He jumped up and headed for the nearest replicator.

“These nutritional items are not highly spiced, are they?” Seven asked almost fearfully.

“Nope, not in the least,” replied Harry reassuringly. “In fact, they were my absolute favorite lunch on cold, rainy days when I was a kid. I really think you’re going to like it.”

“Really Seven, Harry’s right. I think you’ll enjoy it,” said B’Elanna.

Tom returned to the table with a new tray that he placed in front of Seven of Nine. It contained a cup of a hot, thick, reddish liquid and what appeared to be two pieces of grilled bread with a yellow, viscous material apparently melted between them.

Seven picked up her spoon, dipped it into the hot red liquid and tentatively took a small sip. Her eyes grew slightly wider and that amazing smile began to bloom on her face.

“This is…very…flavorful,” she said, trying to find the correct words. “I like it very much. Thank you Tom Paris for introducing me to…tomato soup!”

The three friends laughed and began to show her how to eat the gooey sandwich without wearing most of the cheese. She managed to eat half the cup of soup and more than a third of the sandwich before becoming full.

“I am sorry, but I still cannot process normal amounts of solid food,” she told them. “But I thank you again for telling me about this wonderful meal.”

“Hang on a sec, Seven,” Tom said, pulling a small padd out of his tunic. “Here, I’ve sent the replicator program  parameters for tomato soup and toasted cheese to your home workstation so you can get it whenever you want. You just need to stick closer to us for a while and we’ll figure out a lot of good stuff you’ll enjoy eating. Meals ought to be pleasant, not some chore.”

 B’Elanna said smoothly, “OK, Seven, we did you a favor in finding something you enjoy eating. Now do us a favor and tell us exactly what you and Tuvok are doing in the holodecks every night.”

“Commander Tuvok is teaching me martial arts. It is an excellent method of focusing the mind as well as good physical exercise and will prove useful in dangerous situations on away missions,” Seven told them without hesitation.

“Martial arts? What do you need martial arts for? For Kahless’ sake, you can tie duranium in a knot without breaking a sweat. What do you need karate and kung-fu for?” asked Torres honestly.

“Strength is greatly enhanced when coupled with defense and the ability to utilize leverage against an opponent.” Seven regarded B’Elanna with her optical implant raised. “And while my strength DOES have its uses, it is not always the correct response in every situation. But just in case it is, I have also begun a strenuous strength-training regimen in the gym.” she said dryly.

Tom and Harry howled with laughter while B’Elanna managed a slightly embarrassed grin.

“Yeah, I know all about your strength. I’m not too sure my Klingon honor can withstand another dose of it. You ever dump me on my ass again and I just may have to kill you,” she said, dampening the threat's heat with a chuckle.

An hour later when Janeway stopped by the mess hall, she walked into a bulkhead in amazement when she caught sight of the four of them talking and laughing at their table. Strange and wonderful, indeed.

Part 02