No less human
Captain
Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager was disturbed. She paced
back and forth in her quarters, muttering to herself about stubborn Borgs and
infuriating blondes. Yet another row had occurred between her and the ship’s
resident Borg drone, Seven of Nine. But this wasn’t just any fight. Not at all.
In no way did this particular fight resemble previous ones, fiery matches that
were now the stuff of legend on the small scout ship, providing grist for the
starved gossip mill that fed the crew in times of leisure as they made their
way through an unfamiliar, uncharted Delta Quadrant.
No,
thought Janeway, her hands flexing in frustration and not a little despair.
This fight was special. It wasn’t about Seven violating yet another Starfleet
protocol, nor did it involve another merry exchange about the need for
hierarchy. This fight, admitted Janeway, was all about the heart. Their hearts.
Her heart in particular. That was the problem.
She
forced herself to stop pacing, instead walking over to her long couch and sat
down, dropping her face into her hands and groaning loudly. “How did this
happen?” she muttered. For the hundredth time in the past half hour, she
replayed the scene in her head.
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The door to Cargo Bay Two slid open, and Janeway strode confidently through, wearing a small smile. Her eyes brightened as they centered on Seven of Nine, former Borg drone and absolutely the most beautiful woman that Janeway had ever met. She allowed her eyes to wander quickly over the drone’s curvaceous body as she greeted the ex-drone.
“Seven!
How did the new protocols for the deflector array work out? Are efficiency
levels acceptable now?” An easy teasing tone edged Janeway’s words.
“Captain.”
The Astrometrics officer nodded her usual greeting, ignoring the teasing tone.
She quickly finished her calculations on the padd she held, then put it down
and straightened, linking her hands behind her in a familiar stance. “The
deflector array is now performing at acceptable levels. It would appear the
system virus introduced by the Kantari ship was exceptionally fragile. Our
measures overwhelmed it. I can no longer detect the virus. I believe the
problem has been solved.”
“Good,
good. Well…you’re off duty now. Would you like to join me in the mess hall for
some dinner? It’s been a long day.” Janeway looked expectantly at the blonde
Borg, her smile never fading.
Seven
hesitated. A shadow crossed her face and she looked away from Janeway.
The
older woman frowned. This was unusual. “What’s wrong, Seven?” she asked gently.
Seven
allowed a small sigh and turned to Janeway, light blue eyes intently studying
the captain’s face. A long minute passed as the captain waited patiently,
accustomed to Seven’s introspective silences.
Finally,
Seven spoke. “May we have a philosophical discussion?”
Surprised,
Janeway replied, “Of course. Would you like to go to my quarters?”
“No,
Captain. This place is sufficient.” Seven fell silent again, then took a
breath, her face turning to stare directly at Janeway. “Captain, I have been
experiencing certain emotions. Emotions which I believe you share.”
Janeway
suddenly felt a chill wending its way down her spine, and her breath caught. Oh
god. What was going on here? Emotions? Her mind raced frantically. Damn. Did
Seven mean…oh no…this was not going to be a good discussion. She cleared her
throat, worked her face into a neutral expression and said, “Emotions? What do
you mean, Seven?”
Seven’s
eyes had never left her face. The Borg stared at Janeway with an inscrutable
expression, studying the captain’s expressions. Janeway wondered what she saw.
“I
believe, Captain, that I am very sexually attracted to you. I also believe that
you reciprocate. When I am near you, or with you, I feel great joy and
contentment. I feel a need to be closer…more intimate. I do not feel this need
with anyone else on this vessel or, indeed, with any alien we have encountered.
You are the only one I feel for in this way.”
A
quick intake of breath and suddenly panicked eyes were the only reactions that
Janeway could offer. Seven stopped briefly, allowing the captain to collect
herself. Before Janeway could speak, however, Seven continued.
“I
have noticed that you seem to exhibit signs of sexual attraction to me as well.
Your heart rate noticeably rises when we are physically close, and a slight
flush tinges your skin. Also, I have noticed that you tend to look at me in a …
sexual…manner when you believe I do not perceive it.”
Seven
stopped again, looking expectantly at Janeway. The captain felt trapped.
Uncertainty, hope and fear were warring in her head. She wanted to walk away,
pretend this conversation never occurred. Conversation? Come on, Katie, she
mocked herself, this isn’t a conversation, it’s a Seven monologue. What the
hell are you doing? Stop this! You can’t do this! Not with her!
“Seven,”
she began slowly. “I appreciate what you are saying. I won’t deny that I am
physically attracted to you. I’m sure you know that a good number of the crew
also share this attraction to you.” Seven started to speak again, but the
captain held up her hand. “Wait. Just let me say this.”
She
took a breath and looked directly into the Borg’s intense blue eyes. “I believe
you are very special – to me and to the ship. But our friendship will go no
further. It cannot. I have a duty to my crew and to this ship. I have a duty to
you, as well. I cannot take advantage of our relationship, our friendship. You
are still learning about humanity. What you feel may be simply a reaction to
having a human friendship for the first time in your life.”
Janeway
stepped closer to Seven, wanting this woman to understand her sincerity, and
utterly ignoring the little voice in her heart that cried out for her to stop
this line of reasoning. That little voice, it would seem, was drowned out by
more insistent ones that spoke to Janeway of duty, of boundaries, of bright
lines. And one little voice, more insidious than the others, whispered about
Borgness.
Seven
seemed to rouse, shaking her head quickly, her blue eyes dancing with a slight
anger. “You believe I do not know what I feel. You believe I am merely
suffering from an adolescent crush.” Her voice was cold, a trace of outrage
lacing through it. “You are wrong. I know what I feel. I feel love. What is it
you feel, Captain?”
The
challenge was thrown down. Janeway blanched at the question, then her lips
thinned. She would not permit this. She could feel their relationship beginning
to bend in a way she did not understand. Would not understand. Because this
simply was not going to happen. Not with her and this Borg. ‘This Borg?’ Where
had that come from, she wondered. She pushed aside the thought. Not now. I have
to deal with this.
Janeway’s
voice was stern. “Seven. I am flattered by your feelings. But I do not return
them –“
“You
are wrong.” Seven’s voice was flat, cold and bleak in its anger and
frustration. The younger woman took two steps towards Janeway, easily closing
the distance between them. She spoke again, this time in a lower, gentler tone.
“I believe you are afraid.”
Seven
slowly moved her right hand to Janeway’s cheek. The captain held her breath,
captivated by the blonde’s movements, unable to move as a thousand thoughts
shouted in her head and slow thunder ran through her body. What was happening?
In the back of her mind, she knew that she was flushing, breathing harder. Her
mouth had gone dry and her fingers were starting to twitch. Seven’s hand slowly
caressed Janeway’s left cheek, Seven’s eyes held hers in a unbearably intense
lock, Seven’s face moved closer.
A
gentle voice spoke. “You need not be afraid, my captain.” Then Seven’s face
lowered and impossibly soft, warm lips caressed her own. Janeway ceased to
process rational thought, all her senses focused on the sweet lips, the warm
breath intermingling with her own, the soft hand slipping down her neck,
caressing the side of her breast, moving down to angle around her hip, drawing
the two women closer together. Her mouth was parting as the kiss deepened. A
low moan escaped Janeway, and her right hand moved to Seven’s face. It traveled
slowly over the cheek, thrilling Janeway with a new intimacy. This, she thought
weakly, was Seven’s flesh, so warm, so soft.
Then
her hand encountered cold metal. It was the implant crowning Seven’s left eye.
Janeway suddenly pulled away, stumbling backwards, breathing heavily. Seven
started, clearly surprised by her quick movement.
“Captain?
What is wrong? Have I hurt you?” Seven’s concern plainly showed in her face, a
small frown appearing as she intently studied Janeway. She took a step towards
the captain, then stopped abruptly as Janeway retreated further.
“No.
But this must not happen. This is wrong.” Janeway’s words were breathy, her
heart hammering in her chest so hard that she could barely think. She saw stark
hurt appear in Seven’s eyes, watched as those soft, soft lips trembled.
“How
is it wrong for two people to express these emotions?” Seven quietly asked. She
stood still, hands clenched at her sides. Her tone was ragged and bleak,
slicing through Janeway’s heart. A little voice in Janeway’s heart begged to
answer. But the captain ignored it. Janeway straightened, willing her face to
harden into her command mask. Seeing this, Seven’s eyes widened and her fists
seemed to clench more tightly.
“Seven.
I am the captain. I cannot become involved with a member of my crew.” Janeway
desperately tried to inject her words with a detached coolness, but failed utterly.
She only sounded defensive, she realized.
Seven’s
eyes narrowed. “I believe you already are involved, Captain. Can you so easily
ignore the emotions we share?”
Seven
wasn’t making this easy at all, Janeway thought crankily. She must end this right
now. “Seven, this matter is closed.”
She
turned on her heel and left the cargo bay, leaving a very unhappy Astrometrics
officer watching her departure.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Janeway
sank further into her couch. She felt…what the hell did she feel? Dejection.
Uncertainty. Pain. Desire. Shame at having hurt Seven like that. But there was
something else, something more. Sitting up, she put two fingers to the top of
her nose, pinching it in a concentrated effort to divine her own feelings on the
matter. She wanted Seven. There was no doubt about that. The younger woman was
absolutely right to point out the fact that Janeway looked upon her with desire
and lust. The captain simply didn’t know she had been so transparent.
She
barked out a quick, mirthless laugh. Those damn Borg senses! Not only was the
Borg devastatingly honest, but, damn it, she could even sense the honesty in
everyone else’s responses as well. There was no hiding, was there? And,
besides, was Janeway so sure that she wanted to hide? Did she really do the
right thing in rejecting Seven’s desire? Dear god, she thought with dismay, it
wasn’t only desire. The woman had mentioned love, a revelation offered without
guile.
You’re
going to be alone for a long, long time if you keep up with this Starfleet
protocol, Janeway thought. She knew that, technically, Seven wasn’t a member of
Starfleet, but it wouldn’t do to treat one part of the team one way, while
demanding something else entirely of a different part. The crew was a patchwork
of Starfleet, Maquis, Borg and Delta Quadrant natives. She had to treat them
according to one standard. This was the ‘bright line’ she had insisted upon.
Yet,
fraternization was another thing. From the very beginning, she had allowed
fraternization, conscious that a sex-starved crew on a voyage that could take
decades was not a good thing. And for the captain? Her mouth twisted bitterly.
She had denied herself, no question. Once, a spark had ignited between her and
Chakotay, but she had not acted, had squelched it instead and never revisited
the topic. Now, with Seven of Nine, she was in a whole new situation.
There
was no way to deny that the kiss was simply the hottest she had ever shared.
With anyone. Not Mark, not Justin, not Cheb, had even come close to igniting
the passion that Seven had stoked so easily, so effortlessly. Damn! Janeway
pounded the helpless couch.
This
Could Not Happen.
She
closed her eyes as another revelation worked its way into her consciousness.
She remembered the way her body and mind had reacted when her hand came into
contact with Seven’s eye implant. Revulsion. Rejection. Shame. Was it possible
that she, Captain Janeway and the staunchest defender of Seven’s rehabilitation
as a human being, was appalled by the thought of becoming romantically involved
with an ex-Borg drone? Could it be that she, of all people on the ship, was
repulsed by Seven’s Borgness?
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