Part 4
Seven fell asleep, sitting on the chair next to the biobed, her head resting next to Kathryn’s on the pillow. The blonde’s sweet breath tickled Janeway’s left earlobe. The captain sighed happily. Once or twice an hour Seven would stir then snuggle closer, her head dipping against Kathryn’s shoulder, soft flaxen hair brushing against the captain’s nostrils. The scent reminded Janeway of haystacks she’d played in as a child in Indiana. Seven looked so adorable, and Kathryn hoped she wouldn’t wake up with a kink in her neck the next morning.
“Please state the nature of the Medical Emergency.”
Damn. It couldn’t be 0600 hours already.
The EMH materialized and went to the readouts. Pleased to see the improvement there, he went around the blue shield. Would he find the blackjack game still underway?
Not today…The Doctor halted, staring at the tableau that greeted him. Seven’s blonde hair was sprawled across the captain’s cheek, her long arm draped protectively over the captain whose hand rested on Seven’s shoulder. The young woman must have placed it there.
“Seven, wake up.” He strode over to the Borg and tapped her on the shoulder. Seven lifted her head sleepily. Kathryn’s hand that had been on Seven’s shoulder fell back onto the biobed.
“Doctor?” Seven asked drowsily.
She looks like a little girl, all sleepy eyed, blonde hair undone and pajama top, Kathryn thought.
“I thought you didn’t sleep.”
“I don’t.” Seven sat up, massaging the back of her neck. “I just closed my eyes for a few minutes.”
Try five hours.
“Hmm. You’d better change back into your biosuit and take your things back to the cargo bay.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Seven turned her back to the EMH and began to slide her pajama bottoms down her hips.
“I’ll just wait in my office,” the Doctor said, gulping and making a rapid retreat.
Chicken!
Seven slipped off her pajama top and gazed around the biobed, searching for her crumpled biosuit.
Oh, sweet heaven. Kathryn had known Seven would be beautiful and now she had proof. The firm breasts topped by pink nipples were right in front of her. Even the remnants of Seven’s Borg heritage, the silver abdominal implant for example, did not detract from her attractiveness. Those long legs seemed to go on forever, meeting at the apex of her thighs in a triangle of soft yellow curls.
The console readings were showing an escalation of adrenaline and estrogen in the captain. Much higher than any previous ones the EMH had recorded. He eyed the blue shield.
“Seven,” he called out. “What is happening to the captain?”
“Nothing, Doctor. The captain is lying on the bed.”
Oh? “What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed.”
That explained the elevated readings.
***
The usual problems on board the starship seemed magnified with Janeway in sickbay. The trouble with the balky EPS manifold grew more complicated and the repair that B’Elanna and Seven devised was a temporary patch at best. Closer inspection of the ship’s biogel packs showed they were deteriorating, not surprising since the scout ship had not been intended for a deep space mission.
“We need to stop and make repairs,” Torres said to Chakotay when he came by Engineering one morning. “The port nacelle damaged in the last round with the Hirogen is leaking plasma.”
“I’m open to suggestions.” The tattoo on Chakotay’s forehead wrinkled slightly.
“Seven spotted an M Class planet on long range sensors in astrometrics. They might be friendly.”
“Famous last words. But we’ll give it a try.” He tapped his comm badge. “Chakotay to Seven of Nine.”
“Seven here, Commander,” the Borg replied promptly.
“How far is that M Class planet you spotted on long range sensors?”
“Approximately sixteen hours at maximum warp.”
“Send the coordinates to the helm.”
“Understood.”
“If we try maximum warp, this ship might break apart,” Torres warned after Chakotay had concluded his conversation with Seven.
Chakotay nodded. “We’ll take it at warp six. And make it there in two days.”
Torres walked toward the lift that would take her to the upper level of Engineering. “I hope this planet has more than just spare parts.”
Chakotay knew Torres from their days in the Maquis and she obviously had something on her mind. “Lieutenant?”
The chief engineer rubbed her ridged forehead. “The Doctor could use a consult on the captain’s coma.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Chakotay said gently. “Our EMH has two medical databases in his programming.”
“Nothing about Delta Quadrant flora or fauna are in those databases. He may pick up useful information on the planet.”
He drew her over to a less crowded area of Engineering. “Just keep that possibility to yourself. I don’t want to raise any hopes. That specifically means not telling Seven of Nine. The Doctor seems to have appointed her the captain’s nurse.”
Torres nodded. “I’m surprised. I hadn’t realized she felt so close to the captain.”
“They have a special bond. From the day Seven came aboard, the captain’s always had her eye out for her. I don’t want a disappointed Borg stomping around the ship if there’s no medical help for the captain to be found on that planet.”
“Understood. I’m glad that you’re Janeway’s back up,” she told her former Maquis captain.
“Thanks.” Chakotay sometimes thought about where they’d be if he wasn’t just the backup, if he had taken command from the start, however that was one daydream he kept to himself. Disloyalty was something Janeway would never forgive.
***
The ship continued on toward the M Class planet. By this time the captain’s coma had lasted ten days, and although she showed some improvement most of the time she just lay like the proverbial bump on the log. To prevent her muscles from atrophying the EMH needed to stimulate her muscles at least once every 24 hours, a procedure that necessitated making sure the sickbay was cleared of any other visitors or patients.
“Now, Captain, it’s time for your exercises…” he said, ordering a blue shield around the biobed. He pulled the sheet down from the captain’s body, noting in an objective way that under the blue Starfleet shorts and tank top Janeway boasted a trim and youthful figure for a woman in her forties. He picked up two stimulators from a tray. In the beginning of her coma, the Doctor had tried stimulating both upper and lower body at the same time, but the result had made it look as though the captain were in the throes of a seizure. So he usually stimulated the upper body first and then the lower.
Oh, crap. She hated this part of the daily routine.
One at a time the EMH lifted her arm and attached the muscle stimulator.
At least she wasn’t naked. The exercise didn’t take long, just five minutes for the arms and five for the legs, however Kathryn just didn’t like feeling her body move without her control.
Like now. Her muscles began twitching and she hoped that her teeth weren’t being jarred against one another. Nothing like having them ground down to stubs by the time she was finished with the treatment.
After five minutes the Doctor moved the stimulators down to the captain’s legs to the abductor muscles. Humming to himself, he made a notation in her medical file.
“You’ll be pleased to know your muscles are really in excellent shape, Captain. I suppose that’s because you’re so athletic. All those Velocity matches with Seven, I guess.”
Kathryn groaned. Why did he mention Seven to her now with that stimulator moving her thigh muscles back and forth. She tried counting to a hundred, ignoring the way her nerve endings were tingling.
“Okay, that’s it for today,” the EMH said, taking the stimulators off and putting them back on a tray.
Finally. The stimulators always made her feel a little keyed up.
Horny, you mean, your inner voice snided.
Blast it. She really needed to get back in her body. Just having her mind around for company was driving her bonkers.
As the Doctor was moving away with the tray, the ship lurched suddenly. Programmed with an excellent sense of balance, the EMH was not thrown, however the biobed swayed back and forth and Kathryn nearly fell off.
What the hell was that?
On the bridge the crew was asking the same question as a heavily-armed ship dropped out of warp, almost on top of Voyager.
“Evasive maneuvers!” Chakotay ordered.
At the helm, Tom Paris obeyed, sending the starship hard starboard then up at a sixty degree angle.
“Where did that ship come from?” Chakotay demanded.
“It must’ve been cloaked. It just dropped out of warp.” Kim replied. “They’re hailing us, sir.”
“On screen.”
A bald blue-faced alien gazed back at them.
“Identify yourself!”
“I am Commander Chakotay of the Starship Voyager. And you are?”
“Captain Fraak of the patrol ship Mavar. You have entered Judwarrian space. What is your purpose here?”
“We are hoping to reach the M Class planet approximately a day away.”
“That is our home world. What do you intend to do at Judwar?”
“Explore it. We are a peaceful ship.” Chakotay didn’t mention the repairs they needed. The aliens might take advantage of a weaker vessel.
The Judwarrian laughed. “The starship Voyager is known in this sector. And you are not always on the side of peace.”
“We have defended ourselves when necessary, but we’ve never been the aggressor.”
“You come into our space uninvited,” Fraak scoffed. “Some would call that aggression. You are not welcome in Judwarrian space. Alter your course. Immediately!”
***
What the hell was going on with the ship? Kathryn’s intuition told her this wasn’t just a matter of space turbulence. She had identified the ship’s quick series of moves as evasive maneuvers. At least the red alert klaxon hadn’t sounded.
In sickbay the EMH tapped his comm badge.
“The doctor to the bridge.”
“Not now, Doctor,” Chakotay said and broke the connection.
“Hmmph. No one tells me anything.”
Janeway sympathized. If she got back to her old self again she promised to keep the doctor in the loop about ship’s business. Now she could only wait until someone came into sickbay. She hoped the information didn’t come in the way of casualties.
*******
Standing with his hands on his hips, Chakotay stared at the other captain in the viewscreen. He liked to think of himself as cooler headed than Janeway and knew the ship was not up for a fight at the moment. They would just have to make the repairs elsewhere.
“We’ll stay out of your space,” he said, if you’ll transfer the coordinates of your boundaries?”
“A reasonable request. Safe journey, Captain.”
The view screen went blank. Chakotay sat back down in the captain’s chair.
“Commander, I have the coordinates,” Kim reported a minute later.
“Lt. Paris, lay in a course away from Judwarrian space.”
“Aye, sir.”
Chakotay knew someone would not be happy with their detour. “Bridge to Engineering.”
“Torres here.”
“We’re going to have to find another planet to make our repairs, Lieutenant. Think you can keep the ship together for a few more days?”
“Understood.”
At least B’Elanna hadn’t argued about the repairs. Recalling the Doctor’s earlier attempt at communication, Chakotay frowned. Maybe the EMH had news to report on Kathryn’s condition.
“You have the bridge,” he told Tuvok.
At last!
Kathryn looked over eagerly as the doors to sickbay swooshed open. Chakotay entered, looking more bear-like than ever.
“Everything all right here, Doctor?” he asked.
“Aside from a few broken test tubes. Did Mr. Paris navigate his way into an asteroid belt again?” the EMH asked acidly.
“Hardly. We had the welcome mat pulled out from under us, so to speak. That M Class planet we were headed for won’t allow us to stop and make repairs.”
Repairs? What kind of repairs? Not that damn port nacelle again?
“Another xenophobic race, I suppose?”
Chakotay nodded.
“I’d hoped to confer with available medical personnel about the captain’s condition,” the EMH said. “They may be more knowledgeable about that Lubalian rose.”
“Are you still running analysis on the plant?”
“Yes. It’s in the lab…” The Doctor brought up the lighting so Chakotay could see the bushy-leaved plant.
Never mind that stupid plant!
“So far all the tests on it and its scent have been negative. I have noticed one peculiarity. The flowers were originally red. Now some of them are yellow.”
“There are many plants that turn color. One flower I know of turns different colors all in one day.”
“Half the flowers are red and half are now yellow. I don’t know what it means. I’d hoped someone would tell us.”
Frowning, Chakotay turned his attention from the plant to the biobed.
“How is she doing?” he asked.
Same as usual.
“Electrolyte levels and intracranial pressure are normal. Her respiratory function has improved. Pupils are reactive. In short, Captain Janeway continues to make progress, thanks largely to Seven.”
The Doctor was always an optimist.
“I’ve heard that Seven’s staying the night here with the captain,” Chakotay said.
“Per my request. The captain responds the most to her.”
She hoped he wasn’t going to tell Chakotay just how responsive she was to Seven.
“Does she have to be with the captain all night?”
What’s the matter, Chakotay? Jealous?
“Since she just needs to regenerate an hour a day, I don’t see the problem.”
Neither did Kathryn. What was going on?
Chakotay scratched his tattoo. “What if the captain never recovers? What would be the effect on Seven then?”
Thanks for the cheering up the sick, Chakotay.
“I don’t think Seven even contemplates that possibility.”
And that’s what I love about her.
Love? Did I say love?
Yep, you did.
I can’t love, Seven. She’s a member of my crew.
But technically not under your command.
That doesn’t matter. I can’t get involved with her.
Too late, Katie. You already are.
Part Five
In a Jeffries Tube, bent nearly in half as she replaced a biogel pack, Torres blew out a snort of disgust. How was she supposed to keep the ship together when everything kept falling apart? Crawling on her hands and knees she emerged from the tube to find Seven about to crawl in to find her.
“I found an error in the EPS manifold. It needs to be recalibrated,” the ex-Borg reported.
“Not again! That’s just perfect!” Torres slammed a spanner down in disgust.
Seven was quite familiar with the Klingon’s bursts of temper and did not allow it to distract her. “I do not believe the recalibration will be that difficult. I can do it today.”
“Thanks.” Torres noticed that the blonde had shadows around her eyes.
“You okay, Seven?”
Seven shifted her toolbox as she climbed down the ladder. Since she had started sleeping in sickbay she often awoke feeling groggy and out of sorts. She felt restless rather than rested. “I will be regenerating shortly.”
“Haven’t seen you around much.”
“I have been keeping the captain company at night.”
“I heard. You’re practically her roommate.”
“The doctor asks that I spend my nights in sickbay. It seems to have a beneficial effect on Kathryn’s neurological activity.”
“Good,” Torres said. So the captain was Kathryn now? She felt a momentary pang of guilt. “I’d visit the captain more, Seven, but to tell you the truth it makes me feel depressed to see her lying there. I hate it.”
They had reached Engineering. “The doctor has explained that many humans have the same reaction you do, Lieutenant. I do not share it. I enjoy being with the captain.”
“You really like her, don’t you?”
Blue eyes sparkled. “I—“ love her. That was what she was going to say. But such words were not to be uttered aloud to anyone, even Kathryn. “…I like her. She is my captain and my friend.”
“Tell her B’Elanna says hello when you see her tonight.”
“I will.”
Deciding that was enough sentimentality for one day, Torres turned her attention back to the EPS manifold.
“We have to keep the EPS manifold together. We won’t be stopping at that planet for repairs.”
This was the first Seven had heard of the change in course. “Why not? Our initial scans showed that it has warp capability and its inhabitants would probably be able to assist us.”
“We’ve been warned off. Chakotay just told me that we’ve got to make repairs elsewhere.”
“Unfortunate.” Seven frowned. “I observed a space station further away. The ship could put in for repairs there.”
“Did you tell Chakotay that?”
“I saw no reason to. He had already decided that the M Class planet was our destination.”
“Give him the information on the space station. The sooner we get this old ship repaired the better.”
Seven nodded and tapped her comm badge. “Seven to Commander Chakotay.”
In sickbay Chakotay stood, holding Kathryn’s hand. The sound of Seven’s hail caused him to squeeze the fingers. Kathryn let out an inner howl.
You don’t need to break my fingers, you big lug.
“Chakotay here.”
“I have information about a space station that might be a place to make repairs to Voyager.”
“Report to me in my ready room, Seven. Bring all available data with you.”
His ready room? Sounded as though he had settled in for the long haul home.
Chakotay gazed down at Kathryn. Awkwardly he patted her shoulder, pressing hard.
“Get better, Kathryn.”
Stop manhandling me and I will.
*********
Seven stopped in astrometrics briefly to download the information about the station to a padd. As she worked she couldn’t help recalling Chakotay’s words. He had referred to the captain’s ready room as his. Long fingers jabbed at the console. He was in error. The room was not his. It was Captain Janeway’s.
She recalled the commander taking over on another occasion when the captain was injured. This had occurred when Seven was still a Borg, working with the Voyager crew to find a way to neutralize Species 8472. After the captain’s injury, Chakotay had abandoned her plan to cooperate with the Borg and if Janeway had not recovered Seven of Nine would be now marooned on a moon. Or a deactivated Borg drone.
Her expression was stern as she approached the ready room door.
“Come in.”
Chakotay was sitting at the captain’s desk, working at the console. She handed him the padd then stood with her hands clasped behind her back. He read the information quickly and nodded approvingly.
“Good work. This space station is our best hope since we can’t land on Judwar.”
“It is possible that the space station is controlled by the Judwarrians,” she pointed out.
“They would have warned us off the station if it belonged to them.”
“Control doesn’t necessarily mean ownership,” she said. “They could be the dominant species on the station, in positions of authority even if it is not theirs.”
“We’ll face that hurdle when we come to it. Dismissed.”
Seven flinched at the command tone in his voice. She also disliked it when Janeway spoke that way, as if she were merely a member of the crew and nothing more.
“Seven?” Chakotay seemed surprised to find her still standing there.
“Medical personnel on the station could assist the Doctor with the captain’s condition,” she said.
“Not every space station has a qualified medical staff,” he said gently as he put the padd down. “Some have none and others just have medics with qualifications worse than Tom Paris’s.”
“The station would get many travelers. Some might be familiar with the harmful properties of the Lubalian rose.”
“There’s no way of predicting that until we reach the station.”
“You doubt our chances of success.” Not a question, a statement.
“I just don’t want you getting your hopes up,” he said quietly.
To Seven there could be only one reason for his lack of enthusiasm.
“It is your hopes that are already up,” she said. “Your hopes for command. You don’t wish Captain Janeway to regain consciousness.”
Her accusation took Chakotay by surprise.
“No one wants Kathryn out of this coma more than me.” Except you, maybe.
“You find her chair comfortable. You speak of this ready room as yours.”
“Just a figure of speech, Seven. I’ll be happy to relinquish command to the captain.”
“The way you were happy to relinquish it to her on my first occasion on board Voyager?”
He grimaced. She wasn’t going to let him forget that.
“If you’re referring to the war between the Borg and Species 8472, that was back on Stardate 51003, more than two years ago.”
“You defied the captain’s order to cooperate with the Borg.”
“This is not the same thing,” Chakotay said. “Dismissed.”
She turned on her heel and left. Do not get too comfortable, Commander. The captain will be back.
*******
Kathryn watched, quite entertained as Naomi Wildman hopped onto the biobed next to hers.
“My mother says my sore throat may be the start of the Ankarian flu and wanted you to check me,” the girl explained to the EMH.
“Fortunately for you the Ankarian flu doesn’t start with a sore throat. Now, open your mouth and say Ah.”
“Ah…”
“It’s a little red. Have you been over-using your voice?”
“I visited the captain last night. Seven and I played kodiskot and I think I screeched a few times when I won.”
And how.
“Screeching hmmm.”
“And I was talking loudly to the captain, hoping that she would hear me,” Naomi said, demonstrating.
“You don’t need to shout at the captain,” the EMH said. “ If she can hear, she’ll hear you in your regular voice. You’ve just strained your vocal cords. I’ll give you something to take away the pain.” He pressed a spray into her mouth.
“That feels better already,” Naomi said.
“Good.”
The girl hopped off the biobed. “Can I say hi to the captain? I promise not to shout.”
“You may.”
“Hi, Captain. I made another drawing for you.” The child held it up. “Do you recognize anyone?”
Blonde hair. Silver jewelry. Naomi had drawn a picture of Seven.
“That’s Seven, isn’t it?” the EMH asked, identifying the woman in the drawing.
“Yes,” Naomi said, pleased that someone had recognized her model.
“It’s very good. You know I sketch a little. You should try my holoprogram sometime.”
The hell she would! Kathryn remembered that art program of the EMH’s with Seven as a nude model.
“Thanks, but Seven’s going to take me into the captain’s DaVinci program when she has time.”
Good idea. If the girl had talent, it should be encouraged.
“I hope you like the picture, Captain. It’s supposed to cheer you up.”
It does…thank you, Naomi.
“We can put it into this frame…” the EMH said, attaching the frame to the wall. Even Naomi knew that a picture of her astrometrics officer would cheer up Voyager’s captain. “That way the captain can have Seven for company, even when she’s not here in person.”
***
Seven regenerated for two hours and emerged feeling rested and revitalized. This was much more efficient than sleeping, which left her feeling restless and unsettled. She liked sharing the captain’s pillow, but she found the position of bending over from her chair awkward. Her back ached when she woke. She did not speak of it to the Doctor, however, and would have borne with much more physical hardship if only the captain would regain consciousness.
Sometimes it seemed to Seven that she could almost hear Kathryn’s voice in her ear, talking to her. She would gaze down and feel an ache in her heart when Kathryn’s eyes remained closed.
In the mess hall she consumed a nutritional supplement again then accepted the special item she had requested Mr. Neelix bake for the captain.
“I hope this helps, Seven.” The Talaxian’s whiskers twitched as he spoke.
“We shall see.”
She slid the box into her backpack then continued walking down the corridor to the turbo lift and finally reached the sickbay, where she found the doctor catching up on his reading.
Seven’s here. You can go now, Doctor!
“Ah, Seven…your internal chronometer might need an adjustment. You’re a half hour early.”
“I am aware of the time, Doctor.”
Couldn’t wait to see me, hmmm? Me too.
“What’s that you have there?” the EMH asked, as Seven took the box out of her backpack.
“I brought a food item that the captain enjoys eating.”
Food? Real food instead of that IV the Doctor provided. It was too good to be true.
“She can’t consume solid nutrition,” the EMH said in alarm.
“No, but I can. Then I will describe it to the captain.”
So what’s in the box!
“That’s a very good idea,” the EMH said. “What do you have in there?”
“I believe it is called a caramel brownie.”
Oh good heavens! Her mother used to make caramel brownies. Did Neelix have a recipe? Would it be any good? Kathryn hoped it wasn’t one of his makeshift recipes.
“I am to replicate some vanilla ice cream to go with it.”
Ice cream. Kathryn could feel her mouth water.
The EMH trailed Seven to the replicator where she ordered the dish of ice cream. As a hologram he didn’t eat, however he had once experienced eating while temporarily housed in Seven’s cortical node during an away mission with her and Ensign Kim.
“May I stay while you eat and describe the food to the captain?”
Seven smiled, knowing how he loved to watch people eat. “Yes, Doctor. I will attempt to describe the brownie to your satisfaction as well."
“Thank you.” The EMH pulled a chair up next to Kathryn’s biobed.
Rats! It was her ice cream and brownie. Kathryn felt like she was a child back in Indiana, having to share the treat with her sister, Phoebe.
“I will start with the caramel brownie,” Seven said, breaking off a small corner of the square. She put it on her tongue and savored the sensation. “This has a crumb like texture but it is smooth and sticky.”
That’s the caramel! Kathryn could almost taste it herself.
“It is very sweet.” Seven chewed thoughtfully, while the Doctor stared at her mouth moving. Then she swallowed.
Ah!
“Was it good, Seven?” the Doctor asked eagerly.
“Very tasty.”
Dunk it in the ice cream!
“Now I will try it with the ice cream,” Seven said, picking up the spoon in the ice cream dish. This was the usual method of consuming ice cream, although Naomi prefered to eat hers in a cone. Seven let the spoon drop back down into the dish.
“You’re not changing your mind about the ice cream?” the EMH asked anxiously.
“No, I will just dip the brownie into the ice cream,” Seven said.
Yay!
Seven picked up the brownie and pushed it into the mound of vanilla ice cream. Then she opened her mouth and sampled the treat. The vanilla ice cream was soft and creamy and seemed to melt into the brownie as she chewed.
Ahhh…Kathryn and the EMH watched, transfixed.
“This combination is enjoyable. The vanilla ice cream has a soft consistency and blends well with the more dense brownie.”
But did you really taste it, Seven?
Seven’s tongue darted out and licked her lips slowly.
Oh yes. She tasted it.
The EMH watched that tongue for a moment before he remembered the intended purpose of the ice cream and brownie. He glanced over at the monitor. No surprise that the captain was showing more activity, particularly in her salivary glands.
“It seems that your experiment has worked,” he told Seven.
“Indeed?”
“The captain is responding to your consumption of food. We should make a list of other foods she prefers.”
“There is always coffee.”
Yes!
The Doctor issued a swift veto. “She drinks far too much of it.”
“I tried drinking it once and I did not enjoy it,” Seven admitted. “So any description I would render would not help the captain.”
“True.”
“Perhaps we could bring a cup of coffee here and let her smell it.”
Oh yes, the smell of coffee!
“I may need to think about that,” the EMH said.
Why!
“You find that idea of no value?”
“It was an olfactory stimulus that triggered the captain’s coma. The scent of the Lubalian rose. I’m not sure how the captain would react to something else.”
It wasn’t the scent of the roses. It was that stupid thorn. Let me smell the coffee!
“Now that you’ve finished dessert, I’ll deactivate myself. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Seven.”
“Good night, Doctor.”
Alone again with the captain, Seven took her usual position in the chair by the biobed. She was growing accustomed to these quiet evenings with the captain. Would she be permitted to spend the night with the captain after she regained consciousness?
Probably not. To keep those lonely thoughts at bay, Seven pulled out her deck of cards.
More blackjack? Kathryn wondered. Usually Seven saved the card playing for later in their visit. Something was on her mind. Kathryn could tell by the way she laid out the cards in the familiar pattern of Solitaire. She sat stiffly, staring down at the cards. One card in particular. The queen of hearts.
Like Kathryn. Naomi had called the captain the queen of the ship and the red color of the card matched Kathryn’s hair. And the heart was symbolic of Kathryn’s passionate nature. Seven laid a jack of clubs on top of the queen and frowned. That card reminded her of Chakotay.
She recalled what Naomi had told her about Sleeping Beauty. If Chakotay’s kiss could rouse the captain from her coma, would he? Should he?
Bah. It was only a childish tale. No one believed in such things any more.
Generally Seven conversed with Kathryn while she played cards, even Solitaire, but not tonight. This bothered the captain. Put the damn cards down and look at me.
Seven lifted her head and turned toward the woman lying on the biobed.
That’s better. Talk to me.
Seven put the cards aside. She glanced back at Kathryn.
“How are you today, Captain?”
Fine, now that you’re with me. And you?
As usual, Seven began to talk about her duty shift in astrometrics, passing along B’Elanna Torres’s greeting to the captain.
“It is odd that Lt. Torres is a Klingon and not afraid of many things. And yet she is uneasy to be here with you.”
Only half Klingon. And seeing a superior officer flat on her back can’t be good for Torres’s morale. Or anyone else’s. Maybe only Seven with her Borg background could really take her comatose captain in stride.
“I find it easy to be with you.” Leaning over, Seven stroked Kathryn’s forehead with her fingertips.
Me too. Kathryn reveled in the light, soothing caress.
Continuing the feather light strokes, Seven went on. “Voyager is headed for a space station to make repairs and perhaps find medical help for you.”
That’s great! Why hadn’t Chakotay said anything to her earlier? Maybe her over cautious First Officer didn’t want to tell her.
Seven picked up Kathryn’s left hand and cupped it carefully in her human hand that looked large and ungainly next to Kathryn’s. Gingerly she transferred it into her Borg implant with its mesh and metallic fingers.
Kathryn had never felt Seven’s Borg hand before and she held her breath, but the implant was not as harsh or stiff as she expected. Pliable and warm.
For several minutes Seven stared down at the two hands, studying the intricate blue veins that ran under Kathryn’s pink epidermis. The fingers were long and slender. Elegant, even. She had seen them working a console, cupping a coffee mug, gesturing in the conference room. Once or twice she had seen them clenched in a fist. What would it feel like to be touched by this hand?
Shivering at the images that thought sparked, Seven turned the captain’s hand over then frowned. On the back was a purplish mark.
“You are damaged.”
What? Oh that’s nothing. Chakotay was a lummox. He squeezed too hard.
“Who hurt you?” The blue eyes were ice cold as Seven lifted the hand up closer to examine. To her relief the bruise could be easily repaired with a dermal regenerator. Or perhaps there was an alternative method.
Soft breath wafted across Kathryn’s skin, then all coherent thought evaporated as two warm lips were pressed against her bruise. Oh yes!
Seven pulled her mouth away, gazing down at the bruise. Samantha Wildman’s had once kissed Naomi’s scraped knee to make it better. Apparently such treatment applied only to mother and daughter because the captain was still damaged.
Kiss it again! Kathryn urged.
As she reached for a dermal regenerator, Seven hesitated. Was that the captain’s voice in her head?
“No one should ever hurt you, Kathryn,” Seven said, as she ran the regenerator over the skin.
It’s just a minor bump. It’ll heal.
“It is healed.” Seven put the instrument down. Then she picked up the hand and turned it palm up. In some human cultures palm readers were able to predict the future by the lines in a palm. It was a curious belief. One line signified health, another the duration of one’s life, and a third love. With a curious fingertip, she traced Kathryn’s love line
The captain groaned. Blonde hair softly tickled her forearm as she felt Seven’s lips graze her palm. Oh yes! Her whole body felt on fire as Seven’s hot, wet tongue burned a path across her love line.
Seven’s own temperature had soared by several degrees, and she detected a corresponding rise in Kathryn’s. So focused was she on this that her Borg-enhanced hearing failed to discern the whoosh of the sickbay doors.
Commander Tuvok usually walked the decks of the ship before he retired for the night. He was making his security rounds and passing sickbay when he impulsively decided to visit the captain. The Vulcan was not a creature of impulse, but he had missed his daily visit with the captain since they had been busy on the bridge. He wanted a moment with his old friend.
Now he surveyed the empty sickbay, noticing the blue shield that had been drawn up around the captain’s biobed. It was not in place during the day. Slowly he approached. The Doctor had told him that Seven was keeping the captain company at night.
That was not all she was doing.
Tuvok had worked with humans long enough to know they were all susceptible to emotional upheaval. Seven of Nine had impressed him with her logical mind and dispassionate approach to life on Voyager. The two of them had worked well on several away missions and she had even risked her life in a Tsukatse match in order to gain him medical help.
So he was quite surprised to see the multitude of emotions displayed now on Seven’s face. Her eyes were closed as she sat with the captain’s hand held to her lips.
As Voyager’s security chief, Tuvok was responsible for the captain’s well-being. He looked quickly over at Janeway’s biobed, noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest under the sheet. Her cheeks appeared flushed, no longer pallid and gray. This unorthodox method of Seven’s had succeeded in getting a reaction from the unconscious captain.
“Commander?” Seven saw Tuvok and shot up immediately from her chair, Kathryn’s hand still in hers.
Tuvok? Oh cripes!
“Good evening, Seven. I came to visit with the captain.”
“Of course.” She started to leave until Tuvok held up a hand.
“You may stay.” He took a position to the left of the bed and looked down at the captain. Janeway’s cheeks were distinctly rosy, almost a match to her hair spread out on the pillow.
“Her color is much better than in days past,” he observed now.
“Yes,” Seven agreed. “I was noticing that myself.”
“Previously she was much too pale. Your visits are obviously helping her.”
“I am glad.” Seven said shyly.
She had expected Tuvok to reprimand her for kissing the captain’s hand. Or perhaps he had not seen her. All she knew was that when she opened her eyes he had been standing in sickbay.
“The captain means a great deal to me and to the ship, of course.”
“And to me as well,” Tuvok said, bending over Kathryn. “You must get better for all our sakes, Captain.”
I’m trying, my friend.
He picked up her hand. “If you can hear me, Captain, squeeze my fingers.”
With every ounce of strength she possessed, Kathryn tried. Did he feel that?
“Did you feel anything?” Seven asked.
“No,” the Vulcan replied. “Since your Borg implant is more sensitive than my fingers, you should test the captain for yourself periodically during the night.”
Was Tuvok suggesting Seven hold her hand?
“I shall be certain to do so,” Seven said promptly.
Tuvok thought he discerned a small lift to the corner of the captain’s mouth at Seven’s reply.
**********