Seven of Nine spent the bulk of her off-duty hours the next evening researching human sexuality, dating, courtship rituals and love. She had closely examined her reactions to Captain Janeway’s proximity and her feelings toward the Captain. She knew that she respected Janeway immensely and that she was also very grateful for all the time Janeway had spent helping her to regain the humanity that had been lost as a drone in the Collective. She admired the Captain’s command abilities, and knew the Captain to be kind and genuinely concerned for the well-being of everyone on Voyager. But lately, terms like “respect” and “admire” did not begin to describe how she felt. “Respect” and “admire” could not account for the way her breath caught in her throat when Janeway smiled her slightly crooked grin at her. Neither could they account for the tingling feelings that occurred whenever Janeway touched her, however casually.

Seven of Nine had no experience in dating or courtship. She had done extensive database searching of the crew manifest to locate a partner with similar interests that might lead to a permanent pairing. But recently, it had come to her attention that her search parameters might be skewed. She had utilized the male crew member manifest in her search for a suitable partner. But Jennifer Delaney had unknowingly made her aware that she could also date female members of the crew. When she reworked her search algorithm to include female crew, one name kept coming to the top of the list in every category. It was no surprise to Seven of Nine that Captain Janeway was consistently listed as the most ideal mate for her. After all, they shared interests in Velocity, astrophysics, music and had spent many companionable hours painting and sketching in Janeway’s holo-simulation of Maestro DaVinci’s workshop. Obviously, their interests meshed, and Seven already had strong positive feelings toward the Captain. It was just those irritating physical feelings that she couldn’t define.

Every time she attempted to get a solid definition of love she was only more confused. She had determined that the physical tingles and flutterings she felt when close to the Captain could be identified as a physical attraction. She knew that physical attraction was a big part of love. She also determined that a lover would put the well-being of their beloved ahead of their personal well-being. She was certainly willing to do that for Janeway. But on Voyager, most of the crew was willing to put the well-being of their crewmates ahead of their own, at least in a crisis situation.  She wasn’t sure if that was an indication of love or duty. The physical symptoms she entered into the computer also came up as several rather exotic alien diseases. Since she hadn’t been exposed to any of those diseases, she was inclined to discount those results. She was required to have a weekly checkup with the EMH to maintain her Borg implants; surely he would have detected a deadly strain of Keldrinian flu. She read about the importance of trust in love and that part she felt she had a good grip on. She DID trust Janeway, had trusted her with her life on several occasions. Furthermore, Janeway had trusted Seven with not only her life, but the lives of all of Voyager’s crew on several occasions.

Her confusion continued with reams of conflicting information available. It wasn’t until she read part of an Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem from Songs from the Portuguese that all the pieces seemed to fall into place.

  How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
    I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
    My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
    For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
    I love thee to the level of everyday's
    Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
    I love thee freely, as men might strive for Right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
    I love thee with the passion put to use
    In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
    I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
    With my lost saints,–I love thee with the breath,
    Smiles, tears, of all my life!–and, if God choose,
    I shall but love thee better after death.

…with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life – and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. Seven of Nine wasn’t too sure about God (religion had not been a part of her scientist parents’ beliefs and it certainly wasn’t part of the Borg Collective), but the power of the words moved her. Somehow they served to clarify her thinking…she DID love Captain Janeway. The physical feelings were desire. For the first time, she began to realize that there was a distinct difference between love and copulation….well, sex. The Doctor had been slightly irritated with her continuing use of the word “copulate” to describe the sex act. Her research had told her that sex was the natural expression of love and that romantic partners engaged in it for non-reproductive purposes. That had come as a surprise to her. Even though she retained the knowledge of the mating and sexual practices of all the species the Borg had assimilated, she had never made the intellectual connections to relate to them on a personal level. Even her “field research” on B’Elanna and Tom Paris had not made the connection. For the first time in her 25 years, she began to imagine a life with another being and what that might entail. More particularly, she imagined a life with Captain Janeway on Voyager. The thought made her chest feel like it was swelling. She felt…joy…at the idea. She was in love with Captain Janeway. “I love Kathryn Janeway…” The words swirled in her head and fueled the elation in her heart.

Now, what do I do about it?

A brooding Borg is not a pleasant sight, and most of Voyager’s crew studiously avoided her the next morning in the mess hall. 0610 hours was just too early to risk assimilation. B’Elanna Torres was no coward however, and plopped into a seat at Seven’s table with no hesitation.

“Kahless, Seven, you look like somebody shot your puppy. What’s going on?” she asked as she set down her tray.

Seven of Nine, true to form, didn’t pull any punches with her answer.

“I am in love with the Captain and I do not know what to do about it,” she replied. A moment later, she was vigorously pounding Torres on the back after the Engineering Chief had spewed the coffee she had just drunk all over the table and was showing every sign of a severe choking fit. After a couple of seconds the wheezing engineer waved her off. When Torres managed to get air back into her lungs, she looked at the ex-drone in amazement.

“OK, start at the beginning and go very slowly…”

Seven then recounted not only recent events but her research and conclusions.

“…So, while I have never been in love before, everything I read shows me that I am in love now with Captain Janeway. I admit that I have no experience in matters of the heart, but when I am with her I feel happy. When I am not, I find myself thinking about her. When she is close to me, I do not function at peak efficiency. Many times I cannot think clearly. My breathing becomes faster, my pulse races and I feel warm. When we are together I feel…complete; in a way I do not when we are apart. She is everything I admire and respect and when I look at her I feel weak in the knees. More than anything, I do not wish to disappoint her in any way. I dream of her when I regenerate. And when I think of the people she has loved I feel like doing them bodily harm even though I have never met them. When she does something reckless in a crisis or on an away mission, I fear for her safety with all my heart. I want nothing more than to protect her and keep her safe. Am I wrong, B’Elanna? Have I reached faulty conclusions?” she asked in honest confusion.

B’Elanna was touched at the vulnerability in Seven’s words. She reached across the table and softly squeezed her hand.

“Seven, anybody would be honored for someone to feel that way about them just once in their life. Most people are never that lucky.”

Knowing how the Klingon hybrid felt about honor, Seven realized that she had been paid high praise indeed.

“But, B’Elanna, what do I DO about it?”

Torres considered her reply carefully. Seven of Nine was a physically formidable person, but emotionally vulnerable and naïve. She had no desire to hurt her, but sometimes hard facts had to be faced.

“Seven, has the Captain done anything to indicate to you that she returns your feelings?” she inquired gently.

“She spends more of her free time with me than with any other person on Voyager,” Seven replied. “And I have noted on many occasions, her breathing rate increases and her pupils have dilated when she has been in close proximity to me. And when I kissed her goodnight the other evening she smiled.”

B’Elanna’s jaw dropped. “YOU KISSED CAPTAIN JANEWAY GOODNIGHT??? Kahless, you’ve got more guts than I do!! Tell me all about it…details, Seven, I want details!”

“The other night when she broke her leg playing Velocity the Doctor gave her strict orders that she was not to put weight on her injured leg. After I carried her back to her quarters and we had dinner, we worked for a while in her living room. When it was time for her to go to sleep she got ready for bed, I carried her to bed, tucked her in and kissed her goodnight.”

“Why in the name of Sto-Vo-Kor would you tuck her in and kiss her goodnight???” B’Elanna demanded.

“The Captain grumbled that I was babysitting her. When I babysit for Naomi Wildman I tuck her in bed, read her a story and kiss her goodnight. The Captain did not wish me to read her a story before bed, so I just tucked her in and kissed her goodnight,” came the factual reply.

Torres howled in mirth. “Kahless, Seven! Listen, I don’t know how much more humanity you plan on discovering, but please don’t ever change too much. You are too amazing just the way you are.” The Klingon’s eyes were watering with her laughter, but she realized that Seven still needed advice. With difficulty, she brought herself back under control.

“And the Captain didn’t threaten to toss you out an airlock when you kissed her?”

“No, she did not say anything at all…she just smiled. I wished her goodnight and left.”

“Well, shock factor notwithstanding, I’d say that was a fairly good sign. I can’t imagine the Captain letting anyone she didn’t care for kiss her goodnight and if they tried it, she’d probably put them in Sickbay. When you’re not playing Velocity, does she, um, ever…flirt with you or anything?”

“I am not sure I know what flirting is,” said Seven.

How the hell do I define flirting for her?? thought B’Elanna. “Well, flirting is when someone sort of tries to show you that they’re interested in you. They may smile a lot, lean in toward you when they talk to you, maybe reach out and touch you when they normally wouldn’t. They might tease you or in more obvious flirting, make suggestive remarks. Sometimes people use it to try and gauge if you’re interested in them. If you respond to their flirting it would show them that you’re interested in pursuing a more romantic relationship with them. Has the Captain done any of those things when she’s with you?”

“Yes, she usually touches me unconsciously when we have one of our philosophical discussions. And when we are talking about ship’s business she smiles at me quite a lot. She has never made a suggestive remark if I understand the meaning of the term. Does that mean she is flirting with me?”

“Damn, Seven, I don’t know. With the Captain, it’s hard to tell. She’s kind of touchy-feely with the people she considers friends, and it’s obvious to most of us that she does do it more with you than with any of us. But most of us just attribute it to the fact that she considers herself your mentor. I can’t honestly say that I’ve ever thought of it as anything but innocent. But there are ways for us to find out if she might be interested. Let me think about it for a day or two. First, there are a few things we need to talk about. Even if the Captain cared about you in that way, are you sure she would act on her feelings?”

“Why would she not act on her feelings if she loved me?” asked Seven in dismay.

“Seven, you have to remember that she is CAPTAIN Janeway first and foremost. She is a Starfleet Captain. There are regulations about fraternization between senior officers and crew. Especially Captains. It is generally thought of as an abuse of power for a Captain to have a romantic relationship with a crew member. Her father and grandfather were both ADMIRALS in Starfleet…she was raised with the Starfleet rules and regulations. Even if she was in love with you, she might not feel she could ever act on it. And I hate to bring this up, but the Captain is…well…older than you are and she might not think it was proper for her to care about you in a romantic way because of that. Another factor would be how the crew would perceive a relationship between the Captain and somebody on Voyager. Some of them would be jealous and accuse her of favoritism. She would be cautious about dating anyone in the crew because it might undermine her command authority. As Captain, she can never be perceived as showing favoritism or crew morale will suffer. That would definitely be a consideration for her. Plus, while I know she doesn’t have any gender-bias, I don’t think she’s ever been involved romantically with a woman. She’s been engaged twice to men. There’s never even been a rumor of her being interested in another woman.”

Seven of Nine scowled attractively. “Yes, I know about her last fiancé Mark Johnson. He wrote to her the first chance he got and told her that he was married to his assistant. He was completely unworthy of the Captain. No one who truly loved her could ever give up on her in only three years. The Captain would certainly never give up on someone SHE loved that easily!”

I wonder if the Captain appreciates what she’s got in Seven of Nine? Kahless, most people I know would kill for that kind of loyalty and affection. I know I would, thought B’Elanna.

“Well, I know it hurt her when she got that letter. But I think she’s over it now, so don’t worry about that. What we need to focus on now is finding out if she really might care for you in a romantic way. I still need to think on this one for a bit. We need to be subtle…you can’t just walk up to her on the bridge and blurt it out or she will hide behind her command authority. Not to mention having a heart attack because her personal life was out in the open in front of the entire senior staff. Now I know tact and subtlety are not exactly your strong suits, but do you think you can keep acting normally around the Captain until we figure this out?”

“I will try,” said Seven most solemnly and sincerely.

“OK, you just act normally and I’ll try to think on this. Do you mind if I bring Tom and Harry in on the plan?”

“I do not mind, but I do not wish for any hint of this to get out to the crew. I have only recently begun to be accepted by most of them and I do not wish for anything to stop that. Can Tom and Harry be…discreet?”

“Harry certainly can, and I’ll threaten Tom with castration if he even looks like he’s thinking about spilling the beans,” was the reply. “Meanwhile, we both need to get to our duty stations. Remember, we’ve got senior staff at 0900 hours and we need our departmental reports finished by then. Let’s get going.” And the two conspirators rose to leave the mess hall together.

They hadn’t gone five paces when the ship lurched as it dropped out of warp and the alert klaxons sounded. They looked at each other and sprinted for the bridge.

Janeway had been awakened at 0415 hours by a hail from the bridge.

“Bridge to Janeway.”

She dragged herself to wakefulness and fumbled for her comm badge. “Janeway here.”

“Captain, long range sensors had detected an unknown warp signature on intercept course with Voyager.”

“Time to intercept?”

“Four point six hours at present course and speed.”

“Very well, I’m on my way. Janeway out.”

Eight minutes later, a freshly showered and immaculately uniformed Janeway stepped out of turbolift and barked, “Report!” as she moved to her command chair.

“Captain, sensors have not yet identified the warp signature. There appear to be higher than normal theta and tachyon radiation levels in the scan. It might be a transwarp signature.”

“I didn’t think there were transwarp-capable systems in this sector. In fact, if I recall correctly, the course Seven plotted for us avoided even the warp-capable one in this area.”

“Yes, Captain. Seven routed us through the outskirts of the Kendarii Prime system. They are not warp-capable. Although she DID say that the Borg had not been in this area for over 40 years. It‘s possible that transwarp technology has been developed here in that time period.” Lt. Nicoletti responded from the Ops station.

“Very true. And why was it we had to skirt the edges of a non-warp system again?” queried Janeway.

“She said it was to avoid contact with species 6281 on Ma’altara Prime. The Borg information on that species indicated warp capability but otherwise technologically unremarkable. For some reason, Seven of Nine felt they should be avoided. The computer doesn’t show a reason to do so though.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Helm, maintain course and speed. Nicoletti, I want constant scans on that warp signature until we identify it. I’ll be in my ready room.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Janeway moved off the bridge into her office. The first order of business was hot coffee. Once the caffeine had taken effect, she settled at her desk and brought up the most current Astrometric charts. She reviewed the scans and reports on their current sector. As she reviewed the data on the inhabitants of their locale, she was slightly troubled by the comment Nicoletti had made.

For some reason, Seven of Nine felt they should be avoided…

It wasn’t like Seven to make a decision or recommendation without complete documentation. This almost sounded like a…hunch. And the Borg do NOT act on hunches. She made a mental note to ask Seven about it once Alpha shift started. In the mean time, until they had more data from the sensors, there were monthly personnel reports to review.

An hour and a half later, Lt. Nicoletti’s hail sounded in her ready room.

“Captain, our scans have positively identified the warp signature as Ma’altarean. And scans also show a rudimentary transwarp signature too. They’re closing faster than we had anticipated.”

Damn! “Time to intercept?” the Captain asked.

“The Ma’altarean ship should be in visual and hailing range within thirty minutes.”

“Sound yellow alert. Get the senior staff to the bridge. And take us out of warp. Full impulse power on present course. We don’t want to appear threatening. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Janeway was back in her command chair when B’Elanna and Seven of Nine stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge. B’Elanna moved to the primary Engineering station and Seven took her position at the Science Station directly behind Janeway’s command chair.

“Seven, scans identify the ship as Ma’altarean with a rudimentary transwarp signature. You seemed to think they should be avoided and recommended a course that supposedly took us well around their system. Why?” asked Janeway.

“Captain, the data I presented was the most accurate available. As I stated, the Borg had not been in this sector for close to 50 years. Technology can develop quickly in that time frame.”

“Yes, Seven, but why were you so set on avoiding the Ma’altareans? All data indicates they are a civilization in which First Contact would be advisable.”

Seven of Nine hesitated while she formulated a reply. The brief pause was enough to cause Janeway to turn around and stare pointedly at her. Seven of Nine was not known to be indecisive in matters of analysis.

“Captain, if I might see you in private?” was the only response she could formulate.

While Seven of Nine was well known for her ability to cock her optical implant to her hairline when skeptical, Janeway was also more than capable of it. That look was on her face now.

“Very well. My ready room.” She rose from her chair.

Moments later, they faced each other in front of the Captain’s desk.

“Seven, what’s going on here?” snapped Janeway.

“Captain, since I presented the course and data on this sector three days ago, I have run over 7,000 search algorithms on the Borg data nodes. So far none have shown any results. But Captain, I have…a…bad feeling…about the Ma’altareans. I just cannot document it yet.” Seven of Nine looked dismal at this failure of her intellect.

“You have ‘a bad feeling’ about the Ma’altareans? That you can’t justify? And based on this ‘bad feeling’ you submitted a course around their system?” 7,000 search algorithms?? How did she manage that much research in only three days??? thought Janeway, amazed.

Seven of Nine straightened. “Yes, Captain.”

“And your 7,000 search algorithms haven’t turned up anything to justify your ‘bad feeling’?”

“No, Captain.”

“Alright Seven, I don’t know why you’d have a bad feeling about this, but keep up the research. Until you do have some justification, I’m treating this as a First Contact situation and proceeding in accordance with Starfleet regulations.”

“Captain, I recommend caution,” said Seven vehemently.

“Noted. But I will not deviate from Starfleet regs based on a hunch of yours. Get me hard data. Until you do, we follow standard First Contact procedures. If you need to head to Astrometrics to continue your research feel free to do so. Dismissed.”

Seven and Janeway returned to the bridge. Half an hour later Voyager was hailed by the Ma’altarean scout ship Mylapaq and her commander, Captain Ta’arqual. Neither ship powered weapons and the initial exchange was courteous. Each ship beamed data chips on their respective worlds to the other and maintained station-keeping while the data was evaluated. After four hours, the Mylapaq again hailed Voyager.

“Ta’arqual to Captain Janeway.”

“Janeway here, Captain.”

“Your Federation and our Protectorate seem like very similar organizations. My crew and I would like to extend an invitation to you and your officers for dinner tonight on our ship.”

“That is extremely kind of you, Captain. But since we are the visitors in your sector, please allow us to host you and your officers here on Voyager. Shall we say 1800 hours?”

“Agreed, Captain. We look forward to it. Until then. Ta’arqual out.”

Neelix began preparations for a semi-formal diplomatic dinner and department heads had their crews ‘polishing the brass’ on Voyager until the ship gleamed. Always a good idea to put your best foot forward in a First Contact situation. Seven of Nine received her summons to the dinner while in the Astrometrics lab, engrossed in researching Ma’altara. She had quickly integrated the newly obtained Ma’altarean data into her database, but so far, nothing of note had emerged, and she was still without justification for the increasing feeling of dread within her.

Promptly at 1800 hours, the transporter beams began to rematerialize four figures. As the beams coalesced into the visiting Ma’altareans, B’Elanna Torres gasped.

“Kahless! They’re HUGE!”

The visitors were all around eight feet tall and looked to weigh 400 lbs. They were dressed alike in knee-high leather boots, leather breeches and long-sleeved heavy tunics. They were a Klingon-like race with pronounced lateral neck ridges, high bony brow ridges and heavy musculatures. Their faces were handsome and smiling in welcome. Ta’arqual stepped forward and offered Janeway a decorative bottle.

“Captain Janeway, it is a pleasure to meet you in person. May I offer you a bottle of our Ma’altarean wine to thank you for your kind invitation?”

“Welcome to Voyager Captain Ta’arqual. May I present some of my officers? This is Commander Chakotay, my First Officer; Lt. Torres, my Chief Engineer; and Lt. Cmdr. Tuvok, my Chief of Security.”

Ta’arqual greeted them courteously and turned. “My second in command, Tur’maq, my Maintenance Chief, Parquaal, and our healer, Tar’paal.”

As the officers greeted each other in the Transporter Room, Seven of Nine made her way from Astrometrics to the Mess Hall where the dinner would take place. She was wearing what used to be known as a tuxedo, a red silk blouse with long sleeves and a silver vest. The apparel was formal enough to be appropriate for the dress uniforms worn by the Starfleet officers. As usual, she looked breath-taking.

The rest of the Voyager officers gathered in the Mess Hall while the greeting committee escorted their guests on a tour of the ship. The exchanges were warm with both groups discovering interesting things about the other and offering compliments on what they saw. As far as Janeway was concerned, it was one of the best First Contacts in which she and her crew had participated. By the time they arrived in the Mess Hall, Ta’arqual and his officers were relaxed and enjoying themselves. The only somewhat curious occurrence was that none of the Ma’altareans could seem to keep their eyes off Janeway. Tuvok, Torres and Chakotay had each caught them staring at the Captain as they toured Voyager. Torres could take it no longer and approached her counterpart Parquaal as the group left Engineering.

“Excuse me, Chief, but I can’t help noticing, you all seem fascinated by our Captain. What’s with that?”

“I apologize, Chief Torres,” said the Ma’altarean engineer, “but your Captain has red in her hair. It is extremely rare on our world. In fact, red hair is mark of the gods’ favor in our culture. Your Captain Janeway is blessed.”

“I see,” said B’Elanna, “Well, that certainly explains why you’d keep looking at her. Does the gods’ favor mean that Voyager will get back to the Alpha quadrant any time soon?”

The huge Ma’altarean chuckled as he replied, “Probably not. Those concepts are a bit antiquated and probably not nearly as effective as a transwarp drive.” They both laughed as the group headed for the Mess Hall and dinner.

The only bump in the otherwise successful dinner was the appearance of Seven of Nine in the mess hall. The Ma’altareans bristled as they realized the Voyager officer was Borg. Only Janeway’s smooth intervention and explanation of Seven of Nine’s history and contributions to Voyager seemed to calm them down. It took a lengthy explanation from the Captain and the EMH describing how Seven had been severed from the Collective and the ensuing difficulties in her transition back to humanity to convince the visitors that she was not an ongoing threat to those around her.

For her part, Seven attempted to be as open and friendly as she was capable given her misgivings about the Ma’altareans. It seemed to do the trick, and the dinner proceeded back along its friendly lines. By the evening’s end, Voyager had been invited to visit Ma’altara Prime with Mylapaq and her crew escorting them and acting as official hosts for their visit. Janeway accepted gladly knowing that R & R was always a benefit for crew and vessel. Seven of Nine was disconcerted at this development and excused herself as quickly as was polite to resume her research. The bad feeling was growing.

Forty-six hours later, Voyager was in high orbit over Ma’altara Prime and the senior officers were again donning dress uniforms in preparation for a state dinner on the planet’s surface. Seven of Nine was feverishly writing search algorithms in her continuing effort to discover the cause of her fears concerning the Ma’altareans. So far, she had found nothing to justify her feelings, but still pursued her research. She was not used to trusting her feelings, they were still far too new to her and seemed illogical in many instances, and her nature and Borg upbringing demanded she continue until satisfactory results were achieved. Something had triggered her unease – she merely had to find it amongst the millions of exaquads of data in the Collective’s memories. That the effort should normally require weeks of steady searching did not deter her. If there was a threat to Voyager or her crew, she would find it. Soon.

Her comm badge chirped. “Janeway to Seven of Nine.”

“Seven of Nine here, Captain.”

“Seven, Chakotay tells me…you aren’t planning on going to the banquet tonight? I thought I had made it clear that all senior staff would be required to attend.”

“Yes, Captain. I understand your orders. I…I am…not…feeling…well.” Seven of Nine didn’t know what it was to lie and did not do it at all well.

“Why do I think that’s pure garbage? Get down to Sickbay. If the Doctor backs you up, fine. Otherwise, I expect to see you in the transporter room in half an hour with the rest of us. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes Captain. But, if I may remind you, the Ma’altareans did not react well to my presence when they dined on Voyager. I would assume my presence would present an obstacle to the diplomatic and trade agreements you wish to develop here.”

“Your Borgness is exactly why I want you to attend. So we can demonstrate that Voyager is a true multi-species and multi-cultural vessel capable of adapting even to the Borg. The fact that you have been accepted as one of the crew is why I want you along. Now get ready to go planet side. Janeway out.”

Seven of Nine had no intention of going planet side. Her research must not be interrupted. She hailed Sickbay and asked the EMH to come to her quarters. He materialized promptly in her living room.

“What’s the emergency, Seven?” the EMH asked with concern as her began to scan her with his medical tricorder.

“Doctor, there is nothing physically wrong with me. I am functioning within normal limits. However, I cannot interrupt the research I am currently engaged in to attend the state banquet and Captain Janeway will not excuse me without a medical reason. I need your help.” Her worry and fear was written on her face.

The EMH regarded her intently for a moment. “So basically, you’re asking me to deceive the Captain so that you can get out of this state dinner.”

“Doctor, there is danger here. I know it. I must continue my research to determine the exact nature of it. Without that knowledge, I cannot adequately protect either Captain Janeway or Voyager. Please.”

“Seven, you are not responsible for protecting Captain Janeway or Voyager. We have an entire Security and Tactical section for that. And they are very good at their jobs,” he replied tartly.

“But I am the only one who seems worried about these Ma’altareans. I know there is danger here. Please, I have never asked anything of you before. Help me.”

The EMH stared at the earnest young woman for a few moments longer. He might have been merely a sentient hologram, but he thought of Seven almost as a daughter. After all, he was responsible for removing the Borg implants that had kept her more machine than organic being.  He had done his best to help shepherd her back to full humanity and was genuinely fond of the young woman. And there had been some friction when Voyager had entertained the Mylapaq’s crew. He tapped his comm badge.

“EMH to Janeway.”

“Yes Doctor, what is it?” replied the Captain.

“Captain, I’m with Seven of Nine. When I ran a scan, I detected some abnormal energy fluctuations in her cortical node. I need to do further analysis and will probably have to adjust her optical and cortical implants. She’s exhibiting symptoms of a neurological impairment and I need to do this promptly.”

“Very well Doctor. Make sure she’s fully functional. I’ll expect a report on my desk before I leave for the trade talks in the morning. Tell Seven of Nine she wins this round. Janeway out.”

The relief was evident on Seven of Nine’s face. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome, Seven. I’ll fabricate something for the Captain. I still think you’re imagining things, but continue your research.”

“That is precisely the problem. I do not imagine things. No Borg does. Yet I cannot seem to rid myself of this feeling of impending danger. I MUST discover the cause of it.”

“Well, you’re off the hook for tonight. But be warned, the Captain didn’t sound pleased. I wouldn’t count on her being this accommodating in the future.”

With that, he dematerialized and Seven of Nine returned to her search.

By 0100 hours, Seven of Nine was aware that her cybernetic systems were in need of regeneration. The signals from her cortical node were unmistakable. But she had still not managed to find the elusive data she sought. For a moment, she considered pushing on but realized that if her fears were justified, she would need to be at full strength. She formulated yet another search algorithm and set it in motion in the data banks. She set her work station to alert her if the search was successful and went to her alcove to activate the regeneration cycle. She stepped up onto the dais, faced front and backed into the contacts. In a moment, her eyes snapped shut and the regeneration cycle began. She would see and hear no more until it completed in six hours.

The workstation beeped the programmed alert at 0637 hours precisely.

Rite of Mal’Torpaq…Ancient Claiming Ritual…not officially practiced for over 500 years…but never outlawed. Seven frowned over this information and quickly attempted to cross-reference it in the new data streams Voyager had downloaded from the Mylapaq. Nothing. She extended her search to include all the Borg data nodes. While her algorithm ran, she quickly took a sonic shower and changed into fresh clothes. She chose to wear the calf-high combat boots of her away mission uniform rather than her standard-issue boots. When she returned to her workstation her search had turned up no additional information. It would appear that the only way to get the data she needed was to hack into the central processors of the planet. She went quickly to the Astrometrics Lab and began to scan the capital city below.

There! The Museum of Cultural History. She scanned the museum and found the central processor.  Quickly she established a data link, hiding the signature and data streams with complex Borg encryption codes that would erase any indication of her presence when her search was complete. She keyed in search parameters and sent them to the Ma’altarean computer. For the first time since her long search had begun, her screens were filled with data.

The state dinner the night before had been a great success. Janeway, Tuvok and B’Elanna Torres were scheduled to begin trade talks at 0900 hours and had beamed down to the Ma’altarean Premier’s residence at 0730 hours for a formal breakfast prior to the beginning of the negotiations. Voyager, her officers and crew had been welcomed with open arms by the officials and populace of Ma’altara Prime and the banquet had sealed that welcome. Captain Janeway was delighted with the attention paid to her crew and the indications that trade for sizable quantities of dilithium and deuterium would be not only possible but welcomed. If Voyager could fill her cargo holds, the ship could be supplied with warp fuel and replicator ores for months. And Neelix had determined that his food stores could also be completely restocked. While Janeway and her negotiating team were eating breakfast, he and his official escort were in the main market of the capitol city making arrangements for food supplies to be beamed up to the ship.

When the remains of breakfast had been cleared away, the formal negotiations began. The Premier, his councilors and many senior military officers were present for the occasion. B’Elanna had been on her best behavior and was pleased with the respect that was being accorded Captain Janeway. The only thing that appeared at all out of order was the on-going attention the Captain’s auburn hair generated. She was aware that it was a huge rarity on Ma’altara Prime, but the inordinate amount of comment and attention it generated seemed somewhat over done. But B’Elanna had endured a stern lecture from the Captain on cultural differences and Starfleet’s Prime Directive when she had brought it up, so she kept her thoughts to herself. Tuvok was his usual competent self, quietly giving the Captain information as she required it and maintaining his awareness of everything that was going on around them as an experienced Security and Tactical officer should. He noted that there appeared to be some back-channel communication going on between the highest-ranking military officers present, but their friendly expressions didn’t change and he attributed it to aides passing them routine information. So when Warrior Prime Pal’quaar abruptly stood up he was not unduly alarmed.

“I claim the Rite of Mal’Torpaq! I claim the Janeway female! I invoke my sacred privilege as Warrior!” shouted the chief of Ma’altara military forces. The previously sedate and peaceful negotiations erupted into shouts and threats as the Premier and his councilors rose to protest the general’s outburst. Chaos reigned as Tuvok moved to protect the Captain and B’Elanna shifted to cover the Captain’s other side. Janeway laid a restraining hand on Tuvok’s arm to keep him from bodily shielding her from the confrontation.

Premier Tor’vaq tried to shout down his military commander with no success. The other military staff in the room, with the exception of Captain Ta’arqual of the Mylapaq rallied around the Warrior Prime. The Prelate of the Temple of Justice was prevailed upon to judge the veracity of the claim. To the dismay of Premier Tor’vaq, he calmly ruled for Pal’quaar.

“The ritual has never been outlawed and the Warrior Prime is of sufficient rank and stature to invoke it. While custom has indicated that the Rite of Mal’Torpaq is antiquated and has fallen into disuse, the rule of law says that Pal’quaar is within his rights,” the Prelate concluded. “You may, of course, offer Captain Janeway the protection of your house if you so desire,” he told the white-faced Premier.

Janeway had heard enough. She leapt to her feet and interrupted the proceedings with a Force ten command glare.

“What in the hell is going on here? Nobody is claiming anyone! Now let’s just…”

“SILENCE WOMAN!!!” thundered Pal’quaar, “You have no voice here. This is the Rite of Mal’Torpaq…it is the right of WARRIORS!!”

As Janeway began to respond, the doors of the room burst open and Seven of Nine strode in furiously.

“THE WOMAN IS MINE!!” she roared. “I AM WARRIOR! I am her rightful mate. I accept the challenge and invoke my right of defense under Mal’Torpaq!!”

Tuvok’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Janeway and B’Elanna could only stare at her with their mouths open.

Seven of Nine had read through the reams of data as quickly as possible. The more she read, the greater her dismay and horror. The Rite of Mal’Torpaq or the Claiming Ritual was an ancient and barbaric method of obtaining a mate for the warrior classes of Ma’altara Prime. A warrior of sufficient rank and prestige was allowed to claim as mate any female of the aristocracy he chose. Should any member of the woman’s household object, combat to the death resulted. That in itself did not cause Seven of Nine concern, but as she read the rituals involved in the “claiming” by the victor she blanched. Ritual rape and violation. The females of Ma’altara Prime had been circumcised at puberty in a religious ceremony. But any off-world alien female was subjected to that horrific mutilation as part of the victor’s rights. That the ritual proved nearly always fatal to alien females solidified her fears for Captain Janeway. They had all been fascinated with the Captain’s hair. It was deemed a blessing; she would be a MOST prized possession. Seven hurriedly downloaded the pertinent data to the command workstation on the bridge and hailed Chakotay as she ran to the transporter room.

“Commander, has there been any word from Tuvok?”

“No Seven, there hasn’t. But there appears to be some interference from the security shields around the Premier’s residence. We can’t establish communications or transport into the residence. Why?”

“I do not have time to explain! Ready Voyager to leave orbit as quickly as possible and recall any crewmembers on the planet’s surface. I have downloaded the necessary information to your workstation on the bridge. Captain Janeway is in grave danger while she remains on the surface. I am headed planet side to bring her back to Voyager now!”

“Damn it, Seven! Wait just a minute. You have no authority to order any of those things! I won’t interrupt the talks on your word! What the hell are you trying to pull??”

“There is no time!! Just read what I have downloaded. I am in Transporter Room one now. Seven of Nine out!” She ordered the transport officer to beam her as close to the entry to the Premier’s residence as possible and barked, “Energize!”

She materialized in a shower of blue energy sparkles outside the entrance to the residence. The guards at the doors recognized her as a Voyager officer, nodded her in and she sprinted for the rooms at the end of the hallway. As she reached the doors, she heard the words of the challenge shouted from within. It was too late to remove Janeway peacefully from the residence. The challenge would have to be answered. Seven of Nine lowered her head.

I must put away all I have learned of the sanctity of life. I cannot be Human, I cannot be weak. Pain is irrelevant, fear is irrelevant. The Captain is threatened. I must terminate the threat. It does not matter that the Captain may hate me for this; I will protect the Captain, I will protect my Collective. I am Borg. I will terminate the threat. I will protect my Captain. I am Borg…I AM BORG!! Nanoprobes flooded her bloodstream as her cortical node fired signals to cybernetic implants preparing for battle. She raised her head, slammed the doors open and stormed into the room; Alpha-Borg in all her fury.

“THE WOMAN IS MINE!!” she roared…

Part 02/01