Seven of Nine strode towards the turbolift, hurrying to Engineering. B’Elanna Torres, the fiery Human-Klingon head of engineering had just requested her prompt presence. Seven was glad for the request, desperately needing distractions to fill her time. It had been three days since she had seen Janeway, and three long days since she and the captain had kissed for the first time. Three days since the one person had rejected her that she cared for most.
A very long, lonely three days. Seven had spent much of it regenerating, trying to hide from the reality of rejection by seeking the oblivion of her alcove. Yet, there was only so much regeneration her body could handle. Some time was spent playing Kadis-kot with the young Naomi Wildman. Other times were spent working long past her duty shifts in astrometrics, running system diagnostics, improving system efficiency, even finishing other projects long left lingering. She had been extraordinarily productive, yet felt no pleasure in her accomplishments.
Dejectedly, Seven had come to realize that the captain was avoiding her. Avoiding them and the whole situation over emotions, feelings and intimacy. Seven’s requests for an audience were summarily turned down. Other things always came up, it seemed. Her last request had merely resulted in a curt memo from Janeway, stating that the captain would contact her when time permitted. Seven had refrained from discussing the matter with anyone else, knowing that the captain cherished her privacy. She had observed the captain for too long to miss the fact that her personal history was not easily shared with others, even friends. To broach this sensitive topic with other crewmates would be a step in the wrong direction, she instinctively knew.
Perhaps it had been too soon, too abrupt, to bring up the topic and move immediately into physical demonstrations, Seven reflected. But she knew her assessment was not wrong. Janeway had responded with such intensity of feeling — how could she have misinterpreted that? Janeway’s body did not lie, did it? Seven closed her eyes; using her eidetic memory to feel once again the press of the captain’s warm body against her own, those warm lips, the moan of desire.
Her
eyes snapped open. The turbolift had arrived. Seven stepped into it and waited patiently
as it stopped at another deck. The door
opened to reveal two lower-deck crewmembers laughing and talking with one
another. She recognized them as Ensign
James Otterly and Ensign Jandra Singhit.
Their laughter ended abruptly as they saw the Borg. They looked away from Seven, entered the
lift gingerly and stood as far away from her as possible.
With
a nod, Seven greeted them. “Ensign Otterly, Ensign Singhit.”
They
merely nodded stiffly, averting their eyes.
Seven
suppressed a sigh, having realized recently that her sighs could be
misconstrued as offensive to those who did not know her – a category that
included nearly everyone on the ship save a handful. Most of the crew avoided her.
She had long ago recognized that fear, suspicion and hatred for the Borg
Collective dictated the actions of most crewmembers towards her. They did not like her because of her
Borgness. They would not accept, would
not allow, her entry into their social circles, casual conversations, even
sporting events. Only some crew –
Chakotay, Tuvok, Harry Kim, Tom Paris, and the captain – had been kind to
her. Of course, the Doctor and Naomi
were her friends, but they were hardly standard crew complement. And B’Elanna had warmed up slightly in the
past year, although that was mostly under the influence of Tom and Harry.
Seven
exited the lift, moving quickly ahead of the other two crewmembers. She swiftly entered Engineering and looked
for the lieutenant. Apparently, some excitement
was occurring here. The various
engineering officers were moving quickly around the consoles, engaging controls
and running quick diagnostics. Seven
noted agitation in their movements.
“Ensign
Johnson, where may I find Lt. Torres?” she asked, directing her question to a
brunette woman who was staring at a console in quizzical disbelief.
The
woman looked up, a faraway expression in her eyes. “What…oh, hi, Seven. Lt.
Torres is on the upper deck.” She
pointed and Seven’s eyes followed her motion.
B’Elanna could be seen standing on the upper walkway, holding a padd and
staring into the warp core with a worried expression.
Seven
moved quickly to the upper deck.
B’Elanna turned her head sharply upon Seven’s approach. Her features visibly relaxed upon seeing the
Borg. This was unusual, Seven
realized. Usually B’Elanna was not so
easily pleased to see her.
“Seven! Thanks for coming so quickly,” B’Elanna
said. Her tone was clipped, edgy.
“Lt.
Torres.” Seven’s greeting was perfunctory
and professional. “What is the reason
for your request?”
B’Elanna
quickly handed her the padd. “I can’t
believe these readings. But we
triple-checked everything and, damn it, those damn readings are right. I don’t know how, but that last batch of
dilithium we picked up from the Kantari system was rotten. It’s mutated, Seven!”
The Klingon threw up her hands in agitation, wanting desperately to hit something. Actually, she wanted to throw some of those damnably smug Kantari into the warp core and let them deal with it. She looked at Seven again, noting the confusion in the pale eyes. “I know, I know…how in Kahless’ name does dilithium, of all things, mutate?! I don’t know! But it did! Maybe it wasn’t dilithium to start with! Maybe that whole Kantari system is out of whack with reality!!”
“Lt.
Torres, according to these readings, the warp core will breach in 7.5 hours if
we do not vacate the dilithium from its system.” Seven was attempting to remain calm.
B’Elanna
expelled a sharp breath. Turning again
to fix a glare on the warp core, she said harshly, “Yes. But then what? We have nothing to run in the warp core. We’ll have to shut down the whole thing for
days to run diagnostics and make sure that every millimeter of that foul
dilithium is out of there. And we still
have to figure out what the hell happened to make sure this doesn’t happen
again. I have the geometrics people on
it right now. We only figured this out
about 30 minutes ago, for Kahless sake!!!”
B’Elanna
shook her head. “We need you to find a
planetoid, asteroid, whatever, with dilithium. Even small amounts are
fine. We need it fast. Take this padd. While you’re waiting for sensor results, maybe you could look
over all the relevant data that we’ve collected about the warp core and the
dilithium mutation. Perhaps draw on
that cortical node of yours for some damn insight as to how this happened in
the first place.” She smiled to soften
her words.
“The
captain has been informed of this,” B’Elanna continued. “There’ll be some sort of officers meeting
once we can spare the time.”
Seven
answered with a soft nod. “I will be in
Astrometrics.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Seven
of Nine worked rapidly at her console in Astrometrics, periodically stopping to
evaluate the progress of her department members. The whole ship was now abuzz with the crisis. If a new source of dilithium were not found
soon, Voyager would have to rely on the fairly sluggish impulse drive to search
the galaxy for the precious crystals.
No one wanted to see that happen.
It was a dreary scenario at best.
Mercifully,
long-range sensors located an asteroid belt circling the large moon of an
M-class planet. Caught in the asteroid
belt were a few larger meteorites containing dilithium deposits. While not significant, the amount of
dilithium might be enough to power the warp drive for four, maybe six weeks,
allowing the ship to scout around more thoroughly for greater portions of the
precious material. Seven relayed the
information to a relieved B’Elanna.
Unsurprisingly, the senior officers soon received a hail from Chakotay
to convene in the conference room for a quick meeting.
Seven
was surprised to find herself strangely apprehensive as she walked down the
halls and corridors to the meeting. It
was futile to be nervous about seeing Janeway; she berated herself silently,
wondering at this human emotional weakness manifesting itself as queasiness in
her stomach and more rapid heart movement.
When they had more time, she assured herself, she and the captain would
simply have another discussion about the matter.
She
entered the conference room, quickly moving to her seat at the far end of the
table and directly opposite the captain’s seat. Tuvok, Chakotay and B’Elanna were already present. Polite greetings were shared around the
room, but everyone seemed distracted, engrossed in their pads, obviously
reviewing their own findings for the meeting.
Everyone else on the senior staff soon entered the room, and finally the
captain.
Seven
was astonished to experience a quick pain lancing through her chest at the
sight of the captain. Quickly checking
her internal systems, she diagnosed it as emotional pain. She looked down at the table, away from the
captain. She moved her hands under the
table, resting them on her lap, and clenched them tightly. Carefully, she looked around the room,
grateful to find that no one seemed to notice her discomfort.
“Okay,
people,” began Janeway in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “What do we have? Lt. Torres, please begin…”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The
meeting was short and sweet, decided Janeway with detached satisfaction. Already, the ship was hurtling at warp seven
towards the asteroid belt. Voyager
would use warp speed for only two more hours, then the core would be shut down,
and the impulse drive engaged. It would
take one week to reach the system, and another three days to begin mining the
asteroids. Ten days, she thought, if
nothing else went wrong. She fervently
hoped that the Delta gods would refrain from throwing yet another deadly
species encounter at her tired crew.
They all needed a rest. Maybe
the neighboring M-class planet would be friendly enough for some
relaxation. Lord knows that her crew
deserved it.
Her
mind worked steadily in this direction, cataloging the benefits of an extended
leisure period, until she finally tired of it, recognizing this thought pattern
as yet another distraction. Just
another way to pull her thoughts away from Seven of Nine and the kiss in the cargo
bay. She hated herself for her
treatment of the younger woman. There
was really no excuse for avoiding the blonde for the past three days. She knew it had hurt the ex-Borg. She had witnessed the pain in those pale
blue eyes when they saw the captain for the first time since … well, since
Janeway had rejected her and walked out of the cargo bay.
In
the meeting, she had wanted to walk over to Seven and hold her, but could only
sit stock still at the opposite end of the table, pretending to be engrossed in
the short presentations. She had barely
looked at Seven while the astrometrics officer reviewed her findings. Instead, she had concentrated on her padd,
looking up only sporadically to ask the necessary questions.
Kathryn
Janeway was ashamed of herself, ashamed of her shoddy treatment of Seven – but
also ashamed of her attraction to the Borg.
It was a small comfort to know that many others of the crew also were
physically attracted to the beautiful blonde.
She also knew, she could sense and had witnessed, the revulsion that
many exhibited towards the ex-drone.
This revulsion, it would seem, was more powerful than the physical
attractions of this ex-Borg.
Janeway
paced her ready room, stopping at a window.
She rested her forehead on the window, closing her eyes, finding the
cool surface a welcome relief. Clearly,
she thought, something had to be done.
Her desire for Seven had not lessened.
A mere memory of the kiss would inflame her into a state of
arousal. Depriving herself of Seven’s
company was clearly not going to solve the matter. Besides, as a practical solution, it would not work. She knew she craved Seven’s company; indeed,
she had come to depend on it, greatly enjoying their times together, whether
playing Velocity or talking quietly or simply working together in Astrometrics.
The
captain straightened and went into the washroom attached to the ready
room. She splashed cool water on her
face, then stood to peer at her reflection in the mirror. Was this the face of someone scared to death
of public opinion? Someone so humbled
by what others felt that she would throw away a chance at … at what?
Janeway
stared at herself for long minutes.
Willing the answer. It was
love. She had fallen in love with Seven
of Nine. The thought hit her between the eyes, and the face in the mirror
crumpled.
She
recoiled, dropping her head as her vision blurred. Hands gripped the washbasin tightly as the captain struggled to
order her thoughts.
She
shook her head fiercely, mocking her own conclusions. This was crazy. She could
be feeling so many things — infatuation, lust, sexual frustration. Not love.
It wasn’t possible, was it? Her
relationship with Seven simply had not gone that far, had not progressed to a
level that such depth of emotion could have been reached. In previous love affairs, she recalled, it
had taken time for her to realize her emotions, and months, even years, had
passed before she could name and accept her feelings as love. That was why the engagement with Mark
Johnson had lingered so long.
Kathryn
Janeway simply did not fall easily in love.
And besides, she reasoned frantically, it had been so many long years
since she had felt another’s intimate touch, been held in the safety of
another’s arms, been loved long into the night. But that didn’t explain why she felt so much for Seven of
Nine. In fact, she knew, sexual
frustration was usually ignited by another, more primordial emotion. Want.
Desire. Yearning.
She
raised her eyes to the mirror, staring intently into reflected eyes. Moreover, she thought, how could she even be
certain that Seven understood her own feelings? The blonde woman had spoken of love, but how could an ex-drone still
grappling with human interactions and human social norms comprehend the vast
distinction between friendship and romantic love? Janeway’s mind grasped upon this line of logic gratefully,
wielding it fitfully for a few long seconds.
Then she gave it up, realizing it was simply hubris to dare believe that
she could better understand Seven’s emotions than the source herself.
She
was avoiding the real issue. Did she
love the beautiful ex-Borg?
No,
it wasn’t love, she explained to herself, although the possibility of love
could exist. No, she decided, it was
desire, albeit the most overpowering, intoxicating desire she had ever felt for
anyone in her life.
And,
truth be told, Kathryn Janeway was rapidly tiring of denying her own passions,
wants and desires. While she clung to
the hope that this ship would make its way back into the Alpha Quadrant, a
journey that could span decades, she also was vividly aware of the fact that
each day could bring death. The Delta
Quadrant was a vast unknown – practically a war zone for her frequently
embattled crew. They’d been fairly
lucky, yet were far from unscathed.
Agonizingly, she recalled the names and faces of crewmembers who had
died on this journey, people who surely had believed there would be plenty of
time for dreams and desires. Until time
had simply run out for them.
She
looked again at the face in the mirror, noting how it softened as her thoughts
shifted to Seven of Nine. She spoke out
loud to the reflection. “I want her.
God help me, I want her.” The words
echoed in her mind, gaining an urgency and force that surprised and shook her.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^