What the Heart Knows

By BeachBum

Chakotay’s anger as he sat in the command chair on Voyager’s bridge was palpable. The entire bridge staff had heard Seven of Nine’s communication with him and his ensuing expletives. He began calling up Seven’s data files as he hailed the EMH.

“Bridge to Sickbay.”

“Sickbay here, Commander. Please state the nature of…”

“Doctor, you examined Seven of Nine last night. Is she showing signs of a Borg psychotic episode? I just had a communication from here that was WAY over the top.”

“What do you mean?” asked the Doctor with a slight hesitation.

“She ORDERED me to recall all the crew on the surface and ready Voyager to leave orbit immediately with absolutely no reason. She said something about downloading data and then beamed down to the trade talks. Tell me, is she having some kind of breakdown?”

Chakotay began reading the file Seven had sent to the command station. The Doctor, meanwhile, was sticking to the story he’d given Janeway the night before.

“I detected some power fluctuations in her cortical node, but no, they weren’t significant and certainly nothing like the overloads I’ve seen previously. I know she was deep in research about a threat she perceived from…”

“SHIT!!”  Chakotay cut him off.

“Commander? What’s going on?” cried the EMH.

“Ready Sickbay for possible casualties, Doctor. Bridge out!” the First Officer leapt to his feet and started barking orders at the bridge staff.

“Yellow alert!  Ops, I want constant scans of the Premier’s residence. Helm, plot a course out of Ma’altarean space by the fastest means possible.” He slapped his comm badge. “Chakotay to Engineering. Bring the impulse engines and warp core online. I want us to be ready to leave orbit within half an hour. Save your questions for later and get this done NOW. Understood?”

“Yes sir. Half an hour. Engineering out.”

“Tactical, ready all weapons systems and deflector arrays. We might not be leaving on good terms and I want this ship secure when we leave orbit. And engage an emergency beam-out for all crew members on the surface. I want everybody accounted for by the time we need to get out of here. Clear?”

“Yes sir!”

“Harry, contact Neelix and get a status on his re-supply. Notify him we’re bugging out and get him back here right now.” Chakotay’s eyes grew wider as he continued to read what Janeway could be facing. This kind of savagery just wasn’t possible any longer, was it? Not in any civilized society. But the file indicated that while the Rite of Mal’Torpaq had fallen into disuse, it was perfectly legal. Seven’s conclusions on the Ma’altarean fascination with Kathryn’s hair color and how it would serve as an impetus for the ritual dovetailed with his recollections from the dinner on Voyager and last night’s state banquet. It seemed that everyone there could barely keep from reaching out and touching the captain’s hair. She had responded graciously, but he remembered her unspoken annoyance at the unwanted attention. Yet no one but Seven of Nine had attached any sinister motives to it. His stomach churned at the thought of what Janeway might be subjected to. Not even the Cardassians were that brutal.

“Harry! Any word from the away team? Try the High Council Chambers; maybe they can get a message through to them!”

Oh god…please let Seven be wrong…

Captain Janeway was still speechless from the audacity of Seven of Nine’s entrance. She turned as she felt the Premier lightly touch her arm.

“Captain, you must accompany me to the Council area of the table immediately. Your very life may be at stake.”

“My Lord Premier, I admit I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m not going anywhere until I have a few pointed words with my officer over there.” She indicated Seven of Nine with a nod of her head.

“Captain, please, I cannot stress this enough, you MUST come with me. Without my protection and that of my guards, you will not survive this day.” He pulled Janeway away from the table as she attempted to free herself from his grasp.

Tuvok realized the danger the captain was in from the expression on the Premier’s face. This was deadly serious, however much the captain chose to downplay it.

“Captain, perhaps it would be wise to accompany the Premier. Lt. Torres and I will confer with Seven of Nine and join you in a moment.” He gently pressed Janeway in the direction the Premier was indicating. She frowned at him but moved along with the Premier and his guards.

Tuvok turned to B’Elanna. “We need to find out what’s going on right now,” he said as they went to where Seven of Nine stood glaring at the Ma’altarean military men. “Seven, what is this Rite of Mal’Torpaq?” he asked of the menacing Borg. So fiercely was she focused on Pal’quaar and his men that he had to clasp her arm to get her attention. She started at his touch. With an effort she dragged her eyes away from the Warrior Prime and looked at Tuvok and Torres.

“He is claiming the captain as his mate. I have claimed the right to defend her. If he defeats me, he will be allowed to violate her in every way possible. Very likely right here; in front of witnesses. It will cement his claim to her.”

B’Elanna couldn’t believe her ears. “VIOLATE her? What the hell do you mean by that?”

Seven of Nine looked straight into her eyes and replied with chilling calm. “He will rape her B’Elanna. Vaginally, orally and anally. It is his right if he is the ‘victor’. Then he will slice off her labia and clitoris. She will not survive.” Her eyes were as cold as ice.

Torres blanched and looked as if her breakfast was about to make a re-appearance. Tuvok remained impassive.

“Seven, you must allow me as Chief of Security to fight the Warrior Prime.”

“No, Tuvok. Voyager cannot make it back to the Alpha quadrant without you and B’Elanna. You must continue to protect the captain and Voyager. B’Elanna, you know as well as I do that only you can keep Voyager flying long enough to return home.  Lt. Kim and Ensign Tal Celes can run Astrometrics. I am the expendable one.  It must be me.”

“Seven, how will we know who the ‘victor’ is in this fight?” asked Torres.

“Whichever of us is still alive.”

“You can’t be serious! Tuvok, tell her she’s nuts!”

Tuvok regarded the ex-drone calmly as she stripped down to her tank top and handed her cargo jacket to B’Elanna. “I believe that Seven has already analyzed all pertinent arguments, Lt. Torres. She is making the logical choice.”

B’Elanna stared at him in astonishment.

“Have you had an opportunity to study Pal’quaar, Seven?”

“Not enough, Tuvok. Do you have you some advice?” she asked as the three of them watched the enormous Ma’altarean brandish a wicked-looking weapon called a Tarva’al Paq. It was a giant scimitar with a ten-inch honed spike coming down from the razor sharp curved blade.

“I believe at some point he has sustained a serious injury to his leg. He will not be able to move to his left as quickly as to his right.”

“I understand. Tuvok, do you have a tactical baton with you?”

He removed a slender nine-inch duranium cylinder from a hidden flap on his thigh and handed it to her. She flicked her wrist; it extended and locked in place at 24 inches. There was an elongated knob at the tip.

“Kahless,” breathed B’Elanna. “You ARE crazy. You’re going up against that monster with only a tactical baton??”

Seven gave a miniscule smile. “Not only a tactical baton. I have a Borg enhancement that will also prove useful.” She gave a barely noticeable flick of her left wrist and immediately the mesh of her left fingers solidified and extended beyond her fingertips into five inch serrated cutting blades. Another almost imperceptible flick and it was merely her mesh hand again. B’Elanna’s eyes bugged out.

“That’s interesting. How come none of us have ever seen that little trick before?”

“It was designed as a cutting tool for conduit and cable. It works equally well as a weapon,” said Seven with that same small smile. She turned to face Tuvok.

“You have been an excellent teacher and mentor, Tuvok. I thank you for all you have given me and for your friendship. Live long and prosper.” She held up her hand with the third and fourth fingers spread in the familiar Vulcan gesture.

Tuvok returned it. “You have been a most logical pupil and good friend, Seven of Nine. You will be remembered as a daughter of my house so long as my line survives. Live long and prosper.”

Tears formed in B’Elanna’s eyes as she realized that Seven was saying goodbye. She and Seven clasped forearms firmly and Seven said “DaHjaj Suvwl’e jiH.” Today I am a Warrior

“vaD quv vo’’oH,” For the Honor of it, replied B’Elanna.

“DaHjaj’oH QaQ jajDaq Hegn,” Today is a good day to die. This time Seven smiled fully. “Thank you for being my friend B’Elanna Torres.” Her gaze turned almost wistful for a moment. “B’Elanna…if sometime you think it right…please tell the Cap-…please tell Kathryn…that I loved her.”

“Kill this p’taq quick and tell her yourself, you damned Borg. She’d rather hear it from you,” grinned B’Elanna through the tears.

Seven faced them both. “As soon as you reach the Premier, have him lower the security shields around the residence. If I fall, beam the captain back to the ship immediately. Do not hesitate or try to help me. The Captain’s life depends on this. Voyager is preparing to leave orbit now. Get out of Ma’altarean space as quickly as possible.” She nodded to them, turned and strode to face Pal’quaar in the center of the room.

Janeway stared in disbelief at the Premier as he attempted to give her a sanitized version of the ritual Pal’quaar had invoked. She glanced toward her officers and frowned as she saw Seven and Tuvok give each other the traditional Vulcan sign of farewell, saw her clasp B’Elanna’s forearm in the Klingon fashion and then march to the center of the room. As Tuvok and Torres turned and walked toward her she shifted her gaze back to the Premier.

“This is ridiculous. Isn’t there anybody on this planet who can stop this madness?”

“Captain, my guards and I will give you all the protection we can. But if your officer is killed…”

“KILLED??  If you think I’m going to just stand by and do nothing while one of my officers is murdered in some insane ancient rite you are sadly mistaken!”

“Captain Janeway…it is our LAW. No one can interfere. Once the Rite has been invoked any interference is punishable by death.”

Janeway gaped at him aghast. This was pure savagery…the death penalty?? It was inconceivable to her. She had yet to realize the implications for her personally.

As Tuvok and B’Elanna rejoined them the Vulcan leaned close to the Premier and murmured “You must order the security shields lowered, My Lord. If Seven of Nine falls we will have little time to get Captain Janeway out of here.”

The Premier nodded and beckoned to a nearby aide. “If we move quickly enough you may be able to beam your Borg out before she is killed. My staff and I will face the consequences.” He quietly ordered the aide to go to the Security offices of the Residence and initiate a shutdown of the security grid. “It will take several minutes to disengage security protocols and re-initialize the system. I hope it isn’t too late.”

The Prelate of the Temple of Justice rose and intoned “Is the claimant prepared?”

“I am,” answered Pal’quaar.

“Is the defender prepared?”

Seven flicked her left wrist again, extending the blades. She settled into a relaxed ready stance. “I am.”

“Let the challenge begin.”

Seven began cautiously circling to her left, forcing Pal’quaar to do the same. As she glared at him she realized Tuvok had been correct – there was a definite hesitation when he stepped to the left. She also noted that he was already sweating profusely. Make him swing and miss…he will tire. I am BORG, I will not tire. Fatigue is irrelevant.

Like a snake striking, Pal’quaar suddenly swept the Tarva’al up and across her torso. She leapt back, avoiding the blow and caught it on the baton. She flung the blade away from her, pivoted and brought the tip of the baton down sharply on his wrist. He bellowed in pain as she danced away, still circling to her left. Again he struck, slashing at her legs. She slipped to the side, spun and smashed the baton down on his shoulder. Work on his sword arm. Sooner or later the baton will numb it. Then it will be your strength against his. This time, he spun quickly and slashed at her waist. She was off balance from her blow and felt the blade slice into her side as she lunged away. Pal’quaar’s men roared their approval.

“First blood to me, Borg!” he crowed.

“Last blood will be mine. Or perhaps I will not kill you. Perhaps I will merely assimilate you. Voyager can always use another drone to clean plasma conduits,” she taunted him.

He bellowed and charged at her, the Tarva’al whirling like a scythe. She blocked the blows with her forearms and the baton and slashed back with her Borg hand. Blood trickled down her arms. While her skeleton was duranium reinforced, the wicked scimitar and its lethal spike were wreaking havoc on the organic muscles and sinews that knit her skeleton together. Nanoprobes will take care of the damage. Focus. Exploit his weakness. Still she circled. Still he came on.

He swung again at her head. She ducked, spun and launched a snap kick into his left kneecap. He staggered and she slashed across his chest, gratified when bright blood spurted from four parallel gashes. He feinted right, jumped left and hammered her in the side with the flat of the blade. She felt something inside of her tear. He charged into her using his superior size to drive her backwards into a pillar, crushing the breath from her lungs. Three times he drove his huge fist into her gut before she managed to push him off. The warriors cheered their leader.  Fear is irrelevant. Focus. Exploit. I am BORG. The threat must be terminated. Pain is irrelevant. She drove her knee into his scrotum and wrenched herself to the side. He smashed his fist into the side of her head, stunning her. Her optical implant failed and she felt the skin around it split open. Blood poured down her face. She staggered out of his reach and pivoted to face him…a split second too late. The Tarva’al flashed downward and the spike drove straight down into the point of her right shoulder, severing the brachial clamps that held the bones together and shattering the joint. She fell to her knees as her right arm went limp and the baton dropped from nerveless fingers. PAIN…IS…IRRELEVANT…. She staggered up as Pal’quaar wrenched the Tarva’al, pulling her toward him. She dimly heard Janeway’s scream as she saw her chance. She tucked and rolled; there was searing pain in her shoulder and chest as the Tarva’al tore loose. She came up on one knee behind him and in one fluid movement slashed her Borg hand across the back of his knee, severing his hamstrings. He fell heavily. She lurched to her feet and connected a hard round kick to his head. A snap kick sent the lethal scimitar spinning across the floor. He tried to rise off his knees and Seven knew she must end this now, before he managed to regain any kind of footing. She spun behind him and drove the stiffened fingers of her left hand, blades and all, into the base of his skull severing his brainstem. His lifeless body collapsed. She staggered back and flicked gore from her hand. She whipped around as she heard a shouted warning and sensed movement behind her.

Rage rose in her as she whirled to face the remaining military men. “Is there another who wishes death??” she screamed. Her voice was inhuman, her eyes wild.

No one moved. Then slowly, one by one, they brought their fisted right hands to their hearts saluting her.

“You are Victor,” declared the Prelate.

Seven of Nine paced toward Janeway as she collapsed the blades of her left hand. “I claim my mate!”

Captain Janeway’s eyes were wide as she watched the blood-drenched apparition move toward her. Seven stopped in front of her and stared at her with those wild eyes. Her optical implant was a ruin; blood poured from it, the underlying fascia glistening a sickly white. Suddenly she grabbed the collar of Janeway’s dress tunic and ripped it, exposing Janeway’s neck and shoulder. Voyager’s Captain gasped as Seven of Nine spun her around and roughly pulled her back against Seven’s bloody chest. Seven dropped her mouth to the juncture of elegant neck and shoulder and bit down, sucking hard, her arm almost crushing Janeway’s chest.

Seven lifted her head after several moments leaving teeth marks and a rapidly darkening weal on the delicate skin. The Ma’altareans nodded in approval. The room was silent.

Seven scanned the crowd until she found the captain of the Mylapaq. She fixed him with a laser stare.

“Ta’arqual, you will return to your ship and make ready to escort Voyager from this system.”

He clapped fist to chest and said, “As you command, Victor.” He spun on his heel and left the room.

Seven turned her attention to the Premier, never easing her fierce grip on Janeway.

“We sought 50 kilotons of dilithium and 30 kilotons of deuterium. Can you provide this immediately?” she barked harshly.

An assistant Councilor answered. “We can, Victor.”

“What was the last price spoken of?” Seven demanded.

“Three tons of beryllium,” replied the Premier.

“We offer two and a half. Do you accept?”

The Premier lowered his eyes, unable to face her. “We do, Victor.”

Seven swung to face Tuvok. “Give them the coordinates of Cargo Bay one. When Voyager confirms the ores are aboard, beam the beryllium to this room.” Tuvok was already speaking quietly into his comm badge, as was the assistant Councilor into his comm link. It took only three minutes for the transactions to be complete. Not a word was uttered during that time. Every eye in the room moved back and forth between the bodies on the floor and the Borg. Seven’s countenance was terrifying enough to silence even B’Elanna.

Janeway was fighting both dizziness and a rising fury. She listened with disbelief as Seven of Nine settled the trade talks in a manner that shattered the Prime Directive. She felt a throbbing pain in her neck, but each time she tried to free herself she was crushed more harshly against the ex-drone. She could feel blood soaking through her dress whites where Seven was pressing against her.

“Seven, let me…” she rasped.

“SILENCE! You will not speak!” was hissed into her ear by the drone holding her. Janeway could recognize nothing of the sweet and gentle young woman she loved in the apparently blood-crazed Borg who held her prisoner. While a part of her brain knew Seven of Nine would never hurt her, another part was in genuine fear of the bloody wraith holding her.

As the pallets of beryllium ingots appeared on the floor, Seven abruptly released her only to grab her roughly by the back of the neck.

“We are leaving the Ma’altarean Protectorate within a half hour. Do not dishonor these dead by attempting to follow. Mylapaq will escort us to the boundaries of your protectorate.”

With that, Seven of Nine strode to the center of the room as Janeway stumbled along beside her, neck locked in a Borg grip. Tuvok and Torres silently followed. As Seven halted, Tuvok tapped his comm badge.

“Voyager, four to beam up.” They vanished in a blaze of sparkling blue ions.

Captain Janeway was torn between rage and terror as she watched Seven of Nine face the towering Ma’altarean warrior. She was furious at her inability to stop the barbaric ritual and horrified at the thought that Seven would have to fight to the death with an alien two feet taller and over 200 pounds heavier. Surely not even her Borg-enhanced strength could stand up to the threat Pal’quaar posed.

“My Lord Premier, stop this!! NOW!!” she demanded as the combatants began to circle one another.

“It cannot be stopped Captain,” was the reply, “The ritual is inviolate. They must fight. If your Borg does not, Pal’quaar will claim you immediately and no one can stop him. Only she can keep you from harm now.”

“Then let him claim me, damn it. She’ll be killed!”

“Captain, you do not realize what you are saying. You cannot survive his claim. YOU will die in her place. Is that what you wish? Would you truly demean her sacrifice in that manner?”

“Sacrifice? What the hell are you talking about?”

Tuvok said quietly, “Seven does not expect to survive the encounter, Captain. She knows what she is doing. If she can hold him off long enough, we can get you to safety aboard Voyager.”

Janeway the captain glared at him in a fury. Kathryn the woman quaked at the thought of losing Seven. I have to do SOMETHING. Anything. I can’t let her be killed like this…not for me. I can’t live knowing she died to protect me…THINK! There has to be a way…

She watched in horror as Seven was slammed viciously against a pillar. There’s so much blood….Seven staggered free and took a thunderous blow to the head. Janeway could see she was stunned. Without thinking she started to go to Seven but was grabbed and pulled back by Tuvok.

“Do not distract her!” he whispered fiercely.

She turned to verbally flay him and spun back to watch Seven when she saw the look in his eyes. She refocused on the Borg just as the huge Tarva’al smashed down into her shoulder and drove the young woman to her knees.

“SEVEN!!” she screamed. She struggled against the Vulcan’s grip as she saw Seven pulled toward the monster, her right arm hanging useless at her side. The spiked blade tore free of the ex-drone and suddenly Seven, in a move so graceful it resembled ballet, was behind the huge alien slashing at the tendons behind his knees. He fell heavily and Seven of Nine disarmed him. Janeway’s gorge rose as she saw her Astrometrics officer icily drive her Borg hand into his skull, killing him instantly. From the corner of her eye she saw movement.

“Behind you!” she yelled. Seven whirled to face the new threat. This Ma’altarean, although as huge as the first, was not as skilled a fighter. It seemed only moments before Seven first eviscerated him and then nearly took his head off as she cut his throat.

Conflicting emotions swirled within her as Seven held her in that crushing embrace and summarily ended their budding relationship with Ma’altara Prime. Relief, fury, fear and frustration fought for primacy as she saw the Council room disappear in the blazing blue of Voyager’s transporter beam. The moment they re-materialized on Voyager, she felt the Borg grip on her neck ease. She flung the arm off her, whirled and slammed Seven in the chest viciously.

“Get that goddamn filthy Borg hand off me!!”

The stunned look on Seven of Nine’s face did not register through her fury. “Tuvok, I want her confined to the brig until I draw up formal charges!” Janeway raged as she stormed off the transporter dais. “This may not have been mutiny, but it’s the next thing to it. I ought to space her and be done with it!!”

“Captain, I don’t believe you know all facts of the situation,” said Tuvok mildly.

“What more do I need to know? She destroyed any chance we had to establish diplomatic relations with a new planetary system. That is in direct violation of the Prime Directive and I will not tolerate that Borg arrogance any more! This time she’s gone too far!!”

“Captain, perhaps you can review more extensive data on the situation while Seven is in Sickbay. She requires medical attention before I can arrest her,” Tuvok pressed.

“Fine! Torres, get the drone to Sickbay. Tuvok, dispatch a security team to meet them there and as soon as Seven of Nine is patched up throw her in the brig. I’m heading to the bridge to try and smooth things over with the Premier.” She headed toward the door only to be stopped by Chakotay bursting into the room.

“My god Kathryn, are you all right? Did Seven get there in time? How did she get you out of there?”

“She killed two men. Then damn near stole the ores from the Ma’altareans’ and destroyed any chance we had to form an alliance with them. That’s how she got me out!” she yelled.

“Kathryn, please calm down. I don’t think you understand…” He was interrupted by B’Elanna’s frantic cry behind them. They spun and saw the Chief of Engineering on her knees next to an unconscious Seven of Nine. B’Elanna screamed, “Emergency transport to Sickbay NOW!!” to the transporter officer. They vanished in the transport beam leaving only a large pool of blood behind.

Chakotay and Tuvok tried in vain to calm a raging Janeway on the way to the Bridge. But all she could focus on was the paralyzing impotence she had felt during the entire conflict in the Premier’s residence. Starfleet Captains do not, as a rule, deal well with paralyzing impotence; Captain Janeway was no exception. The loss of control she’d felt enraged and terrified her. She was the captain of Voyager; she was the one who commanded ship and crew. She was the one responsible for their victories, successes and failures. That Seven of Nine had usurped her command prerogative in the wake of the battle in the Residence infuriated her. Buried were all thoughts of her love for Seven. She shoved away the terror when she’d seen Seven wounded. She willfully ignored the overwhelming relief when she’d realized that Seven had won. Only white hot rage filled her now.

She stormed onto the bridge and snapped, “Report!” to Harry Kim.

“Captain, the Mylapaq has left her berth and taken up station keeping 3,000 meters off our port bow. Captain Ta’arqual reports they await our command to break orbit and are prepared to fly escort for us to the Protectorate boundary. Course is laid in and Engineering reports all impulse and warp engines available at your command. Deflector arrays and weapons systems are fully charged and ready. All personnel have been beamed back from the planet surface. The ship is at Yellow alert; all hands at their stations, all stations secure, ma’am.”

Janeway dropped gracefully into her command chair. “Hail the Premier.” Chakotay eased into his seat and Tuvok assumed the Tactical position behind them.

Premier Tor’vaq appeared on the bridge screen.

“Captain Janeway, I was about to contact you. Please accept my deepest apologies for the barbarity you were subjected to this morning. The actions of Pal’quaar shamed us all. The officers who supported him in his insanity have been stripped of their rank and imprisoned. I accept full blame for what you and Seven of Nine were forced to endure. We thank the gods that your Borg knew enough of that savage ritual to stop Pal’quaar. Please tell me, she is not seriously injured?”

Janeway was at a complete loss; stunned at the Premier’s words. She had been prepared to apologize for Seven of Nine’s actions and to do whatever was necessary to re-establish some sort of civil discourse with the Premier. And now he was acting like it was the Ma’altareans’ fault.

Chakotay intervened smoothly. “She is in Sickbay under the care of our medical officer now.”

“Please know that the prayers of the Ma’altarean people are with her. Captain Ta’arqual reports that Mylapaq is ready to escort you from our Protectorate if it is still your wish to depart. Is there any further assistance we can provide you? Or may I be presumptuous enough to beg you to stay? What you witnessed this morning was an aberration, and we have taken steps to insure it never happens again. Unfortunately, we had grown complacent because the ritual has not been invoked in so long. We assumed it never would be and never outlawed it. But the High Council has now officially banned the rite and I can assure you, no other female will EVER be subjected to it. Contrary to what you witnessed, we are not barbarians.”

“We never thought you were, my lord,” Janeway managed.

“Then please Captain Janeway, allow us to make amends to you and your crew. Your journey has been difficult; allow your crew to enjoy our world and relax for a while before you return to space. I assure you, your safety is the paramount concern for us all. After you have all rested and your ship is fully stocked and repaired you will have all the protection our space fleet can provide on you way. Until then, please allow us to show you the hospitality of our world.”

“That is beyond kind, my lord. I…WE…accept.”

A large smile creased the Premier’s face. “Excellent! Well, since Seven of Nine so expeditiously concluded the trade talks, all that remain are social festivities. We are organizing a celebration of her victory in our main plaza this evening. You and Seven of Nine will be the guests of honor. I am sure you will wish to have your entire crew present for the ceremony.”

“Thank you, my lord. We will be happy to attend.” Janeway was still completely stunned at this turn of events.

“Our High Council is honored, Captain. Sundown, in the main plaza. Until then.” With that, the Premier signed off.

Janeway turned a dumbfounded look on Chakotay. “Stand down Yellow alert. Return to orbital station-keeping. Announce the celebration to the crew and draw up shore leave rosters. Skeleton crew only.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Harry interrupted. “Captain, we’re being hailed by the Mylapaq. Captain Ta’arqual requests permission to beam aboard.

“Captain, Seven of Nine…,” the usually arrogant tone of the EMH’s voice changed to almost a whisper. “Captain, you need to get down here…immediately.”

His tone said it all. Janeway leaped to her feet and bolted for the turbolift.

The turbolift took an eternity to travel four decks. When the doors opened on Deck five Janeway sprinted to Sickbay closely followed by Chakotay, Tuvok and Ta’arqual. As she burst through the door she saw full life-support systems encasing a biobed. Torres sat by the still form murmuring quietly and stroking still-bloody blond hair.

Janeway just stared. The EMH left the biobed and moved to her, concern etched deeply on his face.

“What’s her condition?” she whispered, fear exploding in her gut.

“Captain …it’s critical. She sustained massive internal injuries: lacerated abdominal aorta, ruptured spleen, lacerated liver, ruptured renal artery. She’s still bleeding internally and we’re pumping blood back into her as fast as we can. Her right shoulder has been completely destroyed; even if I can replicate the brachial clamps, the microsurgery required to install them and reattach the musculature and ligaments is unbelievably complex. In her current condition she won’t survive it.”

“But…her nanoprobes…why aren’t they taking care of it?”

“Captain, her cortical node has…well not shut down exactly, more like gone into stasis. It’s not actively controlling her Borg implants any longer. Without her cortical node, her nanoprobes have gone inactive.”

“So heal her like you would any other crew member. Use your regenerators.”

“Captain, I can’t stay ahead of the bleeding and my regenerators will destroy her Borg implants. Without her nanoprobes, I can’t close things fast enough. Her cortical node won’t force her Borg systems to repair her organic ones. It’s almost like it’s waiting to see if her organic systems fail before it shuts down completely. Unless I can get her vital signs to stabilize, there’s no hope of getting her cortical node back up and operational. And I need her nanoprobes to get her vital signs stabilized. It’s a vicious cycle…without nanoprobes her organic systems will die, but without a cortical node, I can’t keep any nanoprobes active long enough to make much headway repairing her organic systems. And her cortical node won’t reactivate until her organic systems improve.”

Janeway shrank back from what she knew was coming next.

“Captain,” the EMH said gently, “I don’t think Seven is going to make it…”

“NO! I WILL NOT ACCEPT THAT!!” Janeway glared at him. “You WILL NOT give up on her!! That is a direct order!!”

“Captain, I assure you, I have no intention of giving up on her!” the EMH replied in dismay, “But you need to know the situation. There are limits to what I can do. You need to be prepared…in case…”

“Wait a minute!!” B’Elanna jumped to her feet. “You need nanoprobes? I’ll get you nanoprobes!! I’ve got her nanoprobe templates stored from when we modified them to kill Species 8472. I can replicate them!”

“Lt. Torres, you can’t replicate enough of them to do any good. They go inactive within a minute in her body,” said the EMH.

“So what? I’ll just keep replicating them. You can inject them directly where they need to go. We can flood her system with them until they repair enough damage for her to stabilize!”

“Our replicators won’t handle…”

“Oh yes they will! Yes they will!! Seven and I worked out how to increase our replicator output. I can install a higher capacity bio-neural conduit and power them right off our warp core. You keep her alive for one hour and I’ll get you enough nanoprobes to fill a cargo hold!!”

Hope blazed in Janeway’s eyes. “Are you absolutely sure, B’Elanna?”

“On my honor, Captain. I can DO this.” Torres eyes blazed back at her. Janeway looked at the Medical officer.

“It just might work,” he said.

Captain Kathryn Janeway had not kept her ship and crew together through five long years in a hostile quadrant through luck alone. She was a skilled and decisive commander. Every inch of her radiated that now.

“Ta’arqual, please return to your ship and notify the Premier of the situation. Extend my apologies to him and to your people. I will be occupied here until further notice. Chakotay, you have the ship. Tuvok, shut down all but the engineering and mess hall replicators.”

Ta’arqual was a commander too. He straightened to attention.

“Captain Janeway, Mylapaq will feed your crew. If there is anything else we can do to help you need only ask.”

“I…thank you, Ta’arqual. Chakotay, set up a transport schedule to the Mylapaq. Tuvok, you can take the mess hall replicators offline too. Torres, let’s go replace that conduit.” She nodded to the men and she and the Chief engineer raced for the turbolift.

B’Elanna and Janeway replaced the power conduit in 43 minutes. The Engineering crew had downloaded the nanoprobe parameters into the large engineering replicators. When the new conduit came online, Torres re-routed warp core power through it to the replicators. All readings were in the green.

“We’re up!” She shouted to her crew. “Get those replicators going!”

The replicators fired up and began producing thousands of the microscopic nanoprobes every minute. Janeway and Torres beamed the suspensions holding them to Sickbay. Tom Paris, the EMH’s field medic, was loading hyposprays and surgical syringes with the suspensions as fast as he could move. The Doctor began injecting Seven’s internal injury sites. Her vital signs held weakly as she clung to life.

The main concern of the EMH was that they would flood Seven of Nine with so many nanoprobes the inactive ones would clog her bloodstream. To counteract this, Paris and Neelix had jury-rigged a dialysis pump to filter out the inactive nanoprobes from her blood before pumping it back into her body. Neelix monitored the dialysis machine and disposed of the spent nanoprobes.

Hour by hour they watched as Seven’s microscopic guardians repaired her injuries. Millimeter by fractional millimeter lacerations of vital organs were closed. Her blood was continually cleansed of the spent nanoprobes and sent back into the battle being waged for her life.

Ten hours after they started, Janeway eased through the Sickbay doors. The Doctor, Tom and Neelix all worked quietly around the biobed inside a force field set to maintain a sterile environment. The Doctor noticed her and came over to her.

“Any change Doctor?” asked Janeway, tense and quiet.

“We’re making progress, Captain. It’s just very, very slow progress. But her vital signs haven’t slipped at all. She’s still critical, but she’s holding her own. We can’t ask for much more than that. I can say that we’ve got most of the bleeding under control. And that’s the most important thing right now. They’ve beamed some food over from the Mylapaq. Tom and Neelix are going to take a few minutes to eat. Would you like to sit with her for a bit while they do?”

There was nothing in the universe that Janeway wanted more at that moment, but she was so ashamed of how she’d treated Seven on their return to Voyager that she hesitated. Finally, she nodded.

“Gentlemen, why don’t we give the captain and Seven a little privacy?” the Doctor said to his assistants as he lowered the sterile force field. Tom and Neelix left the biobed and moved into the Doctor’s office to eat. The Doctor joined Janeway at Seven’s bedside.

“Why haven’t you repaired the wound to her shoulder?” asked the captain.

“Until her nanoprobes are fully functional again I can’t even begin to reconstruct her shoulder. I’m keeping the wound open to drain what looks like the beginnings of an infection in it.”

“Can’t you give her some antibiotics?”

“I’ve given her everything we have. Whatever it is that’s growing in there is something our drugs can’t fight. She’ll need her nanoprobes for this one. Here, sit down while we take a break.” The EMH pulled a stool next to the biobed and quietly left for his office.

Janeway wasn’t aware of sitting. She couldn’t take her eyes off the pale woman lying there. Gently, she wrapped her fingers around Seven’s Borg hand and stroked the mesh. She leaned close and whispered.

One single tear fell on the mesh and metal hand she held.

It took nearly 36 hours to completely close all the internal injuries, but finally Seven of Nine stabilized. The infection in her shoulder was spreading slowly and this concerned the Doctor. He took samples and sent them down to healers on the planet to see if they could stop it. She remained unconscious, however, and her cortical node did not re-initialize. She developed a fever and her vital signs began to waver. Eighteen hours after the samples were sent to the planet surface, a diagnosis came back to the Doctor along with a vial of a local plant distillate to treat the infection. The Doctor injected her with it every two hours and after ten hours the fever began to abate. Slowly her vital signs got stronger. Finally, three and a half days after she collapsed, Seven of Nine was stable.

Janeway never left her side from the moment the sterile force field came down.

B’Elanna began analyzing a salvaged brachial clamp and programming its parameters into the replicators for when Seven was strong enough to have her shoulder repaired. The doctor rebuilt her optical implant but refused to contemplate further surgery until her cortical node was fully active again. After yet another day, he called a conference. Janeway, B’Elanna Tuvok and the Doctor discussed possible solutions. It was finally agreed that the only way to jump start her cortical node would be a week-long regeneration cycle. The Doctor felt that if he re-positioned her new optical implant, her nanoprobes would complete the installation during regeneration. He was not as hopeful for her shoulder and he and Torres began to prepare to rebuild it themselves. They moved Seven to an anti-grav stretcher and took her to Cargo Bay two. It took B’Elanna almost half an hour to break the Borg encryption codes on the door to her quarters; she maintained that it was just one more thing she had to get even with Seven for. The smile on her face told the truth however. Tuvok and the Doctor carried Seven to her alcove and held her upright while Janeway programmed the regeneration cycle. Seven’s body stiffened as the alcove activated and the men stepped away.

Janeway had decided to remain with her during the regeneration cycle. The doctor gave her the specialized tricorder he used for Seven’s diagnostics and showed her what to scan for. Once everyone left, she took a sonic shower and got a mug of coffee. She sat down on the bed and watched the beautiful young woman in the Borg alcove for an hour, thinking of possibilities she had long refused to contemplate. Suddenly, the door chimed. Janeway walked into the living area and opened it. B’Elanna and a maintenance team stood outside.

“You can’t stay here without a waste disposal unit and a full shower. So we’re going to install them now,” Torres said matter-of-factly.

“And just how did you get the authorizations to do that Lt. Torres?” asked Janeway in exasperation.

“I told Chakotay that if he didn’t authorize the installation I’d blow him out an airlock,” replied B’Elanna without a trace of remorse. “It worked.”

Two hours later, Seven’s quarters boasted a fully human-friendly bathroom.

Janeway took tricorder readings every hour. She had been catching brief naps when she could since the ordeal began and her fatigue was evident. But she refused to give in to it until she was sure that Seven would recover. Finally, after eighteen hours of regeneration, she noticed fluctuations in her readings. She summoned the EMH.

He scanned Seven of Nine and a smile broke across his face.

“That’s what we’ve been looking for! Her cortical node is active and there is nanoprobe production again. Once the regeneration cycle completes she’ll be fine. Of course, we’ll still need to rebuild her shoulder, but she should come through the surgery well now. Captain, get some sleep. You look like you’ve run over by a herd of targs.”

Janeway smiled her first true smile in almost a week. “I will, Doctor. Just as soon as you leave.”

He promptly did. She crawled under the covers of Seven’s bed and slept for 22 hours, unaware of him checking on her several times. The next day, she asked Chakotay to bring the padd she’d left in her ready room when she dashed to Sickbay. He sat next to her as she read the complete data Seven of Nine had downloaded on the Rite of Mal’Torpaq. The more she read, the paler she became. Suddenly, she leapt up, ran to the bathroom and vomited into the bowl. Chakotay was right behind her. Bleakly, she looked up at him.

“I never realized…I didn’t understand…what was at stake…what could happen…”

“In a minute. Let me clean myself up a bit.”

Janeway splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth before she emerged from the bathroom and sank onto the sofa. She gratefully accepted the mug of fresh coffee from Chakotay and her thoughts spun. It was almost too much to comprehend. Shaking her head, she picked up the padd and finished reading the report. When she had, she looked at Chakotay with a wry look.

“So what do we do now?”

“I suppose everything hinges on how strictly we apply the Prime Directive. We have officially established relations with Ma’altara Prime. The Prime Directive and Federation law dictates legal reciprocity with allies. That means that we acknowledge and adhere to their laws. But the entire incident occurred under duress; I think that gives you an out if you want to take it. As far as I’ve been able to understand from Ta’arqual, nothing is official until you and Seven go through the ceremony. Until then, you’re only ‘betrothed’.”

Janeway massaged her temples with her fingertips. “I’m engaged to Seven of Nine. How the hell do we get into these messes?”

“Cultural differences and diplomacy can be tricky, Kathryn,” her first officer laughed.

She grinned at him. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s going to have to explain a Borg daughter-in-law to my mother.”

The shared laughter eased the tension for both of them. “Well, it’s obvious that Seven is in no shape to go through any ceremonies right now. If we can stall the Ma’altareans until we break orbit, we can ignore the whole incident once we get back in space. That should work.”

“Chakotay, don’t you think we should get Seven’s input in this before we decide anything?”

“Well surely she’s not going to pursue this. I mean, there’s nothing between you two. It would be a farce. And there’s no reason for it.”

“Maybe, Chakotay. But she’s still half the equation here, and she’s got a right to have a say in what we decide to do. Let’s hold off on a decision until she’s up and around again and then we’ll all sit down and work this out. In the meanwhile, we need to stay friendly with the Ma’altareans. What’s the latest word from the Premier?”

“He informs me that prayer vigils were held for Seven while she was critical. When word reached them that she would recover, they threw a major party in the capital. Apparently, it is extremely rare for a woman to claim the right of defense and even rarer for her to actually win the conflict. Believe it or not, our little Borg is almost a national hero on Ma’altara Prime. When she gets back on her feet, she’s going to be the toast of the town…you both are, for that matter.”

“My fiancée and I,” Janeway shook her head in disbelief.

B’Elanna arrived a few minutes later and relieved Janeway. The Captain and First Officer went to the mess hall for dinner; Neelix was being provided extravagant buffets from the planet below to feed their guests of Voyager. Nobody could recall eating as well during their stay in the Delta quadrant. Between the superb food and continuing shore leave, the crew was relaxed and happy. As Janeway and Chakotay sat down several crew members came up to them.

“Captain, how’s Seven doing?” asked Jenny Delaney. “Is she awake yet?”

“Not yet, Ensign. It will be a few more days before her regeneration cycle completes. But it looks like everything is going very well. She should be fine when she wakes up.”

“Will you tell her that we’re all thinking of her? Tell her to get well soon?”

Janeway smiled. “I certainly will.”

“Oh, and Captain, you ARE going to invite the crew to the wedding aren’t you? None of us want to miss that!”

“We…ah…haven’t finalized all the plans yet. But we’ll be sure to include the crew in whatever we decide.”

“Thanks, Captain. We’re all looking forward to it. Well, we’re headed for the surface. Have a nice dinner!”

With that, the group left for adventures on Ma’altara Prime.

Janeway glared at Chakotay. “The CREW wants to attend my wedding??”

“Of course, Kathryn. Would you expect less? I mean how many times does their Captain marry their Astrometrics officer? Naturally they want to be a part of that.”

“I thought we’d agreed to keep that part of what went on quiet…how come everybody knows?”

“They’re getting it from the locals not from senior staff. Apparently, the Ma’altareans want a wedding. That’s all you hear about down on the surface.”

“Great, just great! The entire planet, the entire crew…everybody knows I’m engaged except my fiancée!” she grumbled.

“Don’t be too sure about that Kathryn. Remember, it was Seven who put together the report on the ritual. I’m sure she knew what the results could be before she beamed to the planet surface.”

Now THAT was something to think about…

Part 02/02