CHAPTER FIVE

  

The three senior officers sat quietly in the captain’s ready room, each collecting their thoughts.  The Krigi representatives had just been sent back to their ship, assured that Janeway would consider their request to inspect Voyager’s Borg technology and meet with Seven of Nine.  As a gesture of generosity and goodwill, Commander Mercut had provided a solution to their odd dilithium problem, waves of amusement and dismay reeling from him as he informed the Voyager senior officers that the Kantari were well-known throughout the sector as sadistic practical jokers who tended to unleash their foulest tricks on unsuspecting strangers. 

 

 

The geometrics and engineering divisions were even now evaluating the new information.  Hopefully, thought Janeway, the solution was as simple as corrupted crystals, chemically bonded with a nearly undetectable time-release agent designed to transmute matter.  A clever joke, if slightly evil and definitely gratuitous, the captain decided crankily.

 

 

Her mind, however, was captured by the Krigi’s last request.  She turned to her first officer, who was silently peering into his half-empty coffee mug.  “Well, Chakotay, what are your thoughts?”

 

 

The ex-Maquis looked up, dark eyes thoughtful.  He sighed and grinned wanly.  “I’m exhausted.  Three hours of emotional resonance is about my limit, I don’t know about the two of you.”  He paused and smirked significantly at a silent Tuvok.  “As for Mercut’s request, well, I think we should consider it.  The specs on those shield and weapons modifications were no less than astounding.  I’d feel a lot safer in the Delta Quadrant with those types of improvements on Voyager.”

 

 

Tuvok nodded slowly.  “I would concur.  Their technological accomplishments are admirable, and no doubt a direct result of their determination to challenge the Borg Collective.  Such a goal, as well, certainly explains their interest in Voyager’s Borg technology and Seven of Nine.  I believe we should arrange another meeting with the Commander and his senior staff.”

 

 

The Vulcan paused to consider, then continued.  “Perhaps a small tour of Cargo Bay Two and a short presentation by Seven would be helpful in determining exactly what aspects of this technology they would like to acquire.  I suspect that Seven’s accumulation of Borg tactical data will prove appealing.  If that is all they require, then it would be an easy, and profitable, barter for Voyager.”

 

 

The captain reflected on his suggestion, her face assuming a calculating expression that the two other officers easily recognized.  They sat back; content to wait for her pronouncement. 

 

 

Janeway was remembering another incident, one in which a peculiar Think Tank had tried to trick Voyager into trading Seven of Nine for urgent tactical data.  The deception had been discovered, and the Think Tank had been defeated, perhaps permanently, but Janeway had become leery of any alien encounter that involved Seven.  Was this another such situation?  It was hard to tell, she thought wearily.  They’d just have to watch for signs that the aliens were becoming too interested, too fixated, on the ex-Borg.

 

 

She fixed a deadly serious stare on her two senior officers.  “The Krigi’s technological and tactical levels are far above our own.  What are the chances that they’ll simply take what they want?” 

 

 

Tuvok leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands in front of him.  “Captain, I believe the fact that they are bothering to bargain bodes well for us.  Of course, there is always the possibility that, should negotiations proceed poorly, they may be tempted to utilize force to fulfill their needs.  In this case, we should take extra care to study their sample modulation routines, and perhaps devise ways to counteract such technology.”

 

 

“I agree,” added Chakotay.  “My instinct, however, is that Mercut is sincere in his desire to negotiate with us.  Let’s allow them to survey the Borg technology, meet with Seven, and we’ll see where we go from there.  If they have been studying the Borg for a while, it may turn out that we simply don’t have anything they need.  In the meantime, as Tuvok suggests, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to take precautionary measures.”

 

 

The captain nodded slowly, wishing that she could be as sanguine as Chakotay.  Perhaps he was right, she thought, and her personal involvement with Seven was clouding her judgment.  That possibility disturbed her, but she forced it to the back of her mind.  She’d think about it later.

 

 

“Agreed,” said Janeway.  “Tuvok, after her regeneration is complete, please brief Seven about our meeting with Mercut and his request.  Get her impressions of the Krigi species.  Also, I’d like you to work with her on preparations for both the tour and her presentation.  After we all get some rest, I’m going to meet with B’Elanna about the dilithium situation and also get her input about these Krigian modifications.”

 

 

The two men both nodded quietly, each glad for the opportunity to gain some rest.  After they left, Janeway finished her coffee and sought the comfort of her own chambers.  She was grateful that Seven was regenerating in her alcove, even the Borg’s immense reserves no doubt stretched after a full twenty hours of intensive space mining.  Otherwise, Janeway would have been tempted to seek out her company, and the likelihood of sleep would have been small, she thought, an erotic smile unconsciously gracing her face.

 

 

Besides, she really needed to reflect on the day’s events.

 

 

Mercut’s story had touched the captain deeply, and she had been greatly affected by his pain and loathing.  An entire civilization nearly destroyed by the Collective — one of many such unfortunate occurrences, she knew.  While she admired the strength and determination that had reunified his species, she couldn’t help feeling that it was a doomed effort, a fanatical dream of vengeance destined for failure.  But that wasn’t her problem, now, was it? 

 

 

No, she thought dispiritedly, it was yet another unfolding tragedy linked to the Borg Collective.  What if his people had clawed their way from near-extinction only to succumb to a senseless martyrdom in an obsessive push for retaliation?  The thought thoroughly depressed her.

 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

 

 

“I heard the Borg did them in.”

 

“Didn’t you say that they were asking about Seven?  Think we’ll get rid of her?”

 

“I’d love to get a look at their weapons array.  After all, anyone who thinks they can challenge the Borg Collective…”

 

 

Tuvok sat in a corner of the mess hall, his eyes on the report displayed on the padd before him, yet his attention was centered on wisps and remnants of conversation that his Vulcan hearing picked up from around the room.  He had tried to block them out initially, as he usually did with regular conversation and gossip, preferring not to clutter his mind with what he considered inane activities and information. Yet, the tenor of these conversations was beginning to concern him. 

 

 

He knew that, on a ship as small and isolated as Voyager, the power of the gossip mill was nothing short of miraculous.  Rumors often swept through the ship with unnerving speed and force, often escalating into amusing facsimiles of actual events.  But, thought Tuvok, there was little humorous about the general direction of these present conversations.

 

 

One logical outcome, he hypothesized, could be that the general sympathy of the Voyager crew towards the Krigi and their tragic history would be converted into a higher level of personal animosity towards the ship’s chief astrometrics officer. 

 

 

On the other hand, he pointed out to himself, another outcome could be far more amenable for the two ships – that sympathy towards the Krigi might facilitate a mutually advantageous, high-level exchange of technology and information, and that Seven’s assistance in this process might gain some favor for her among the crew. 

 

 

If he were prone to sardonic snorts, Tuvok would have done so.  He was not optimistic about the latter scenario.  Voyager’s crew had had a number of years to accept and befriend the young ex-drone, but, for the most part, had not — and emphatically so.   He had learned not to overestimate the power of rationality and compassion among the human crew complement. 

 

 

He turned his head slightly, catching Seven’s entrance into the mess hall.  She carried two padds in her cybernetic hand, the Borg metal glinting in the light of the room.  Seven immediately went over to a replicator and then made her way to a small table on the opposite corner from Tuvok. She apparently was content to sit alone, he noted.  She put down her glass, which the Vulcan knew contained a rather tasteless nutritional supplement, and proceeded to work on her padds.

 

 

“There she is.  Hey, what do you think she’s thinking about this whole thing?”

 

“I wonder what qualities the Borg stole from the Krigi.”

 

 “What?  You really think she even cares about them?”

 

 

Tuvok’s eyes narrowed slightly.  A feeling suspiciously akin to impatience and frustration resonated in his throat.  He knew that Seven’s Borg-enhanced hearing, superior to his own, easily discerned these careless, cutting words. 

 

 

He grabbed his padd, picked up a cup of hot Vulcan tea from a nearby replicator, and approached Seven’s table. 

 

 

“Seven of Nine.  May I join you?”

 

 

The Borg woman glanced up from her work, eyes widening slightly in surprise.  “Certainly, Tuvok.  How may I assist you?”

 

 

He settled into a seat opposite her, placing padd and cup before him.  “There is no need.  I am merely reviewing some reports.  You may continue with your own work.”

 

 

“I understand.”

 

 

She turned back to her padds, but not before Tuvok saw her face lose some of its tension and her eyes warm with relief and pleasure.

 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

 

 

Commander Mercut of the Krigi starship Sannah was hopeful.  The initial meeting with the alien ship had proceeded surprisingly well.  While Voyager’s technology level, with the exception of the Borg technology, was certainly inferior to their own, its commanding officers seemed quite civilized, non-belligerent and disarmingly honest.  He hoped his gift of the solution to that ridiculous Kantari trick had deepened the reservoir of trust and goodwill that he was carefully building up. 

 

 

With luck and charm, perhaps these negotiations would proceed peacefully, and the Krigi would have no need to resort to violence to attain the Borg technology.

 

 

He glanced at his monitor again, re-reading the confidential memo he had just received from the Science Department, which was a rather innocuous name for the highest stratum of Krigi political and military power.  The communiqué had come directly from Researcher Sylvan, the most powerful man in Krigi society. 

 

 

Mercut shifted excitedly in his chair, his eyes committing that precious communiqué to memory.

 

 

-------------------------------------------------------------

To:  Commander Mercut, Starship Sannah

 

From:  Researcher Sylvan, Science Department

 

I commend you for your capable handling of the situation thus far.  I look forward to speaking with you in person about the existence of this severed Borg drone and the Borg devices aboard the alien vessel, Voyager. 

 

My ship will rendezvous with yours in two days.  Please continue to collect information about Voyager’s encounters with the Borg, as well as other Borg-related data.

 

This matter is now of the highest importance for the empire.  Do not let Voyager leave the sector.  We must assess this drone and its technological assets.  This is an opportunity most fortunate.

 

Your service will be remembered.

----------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Mercut was deeply honored that Sylvan himself had written.  After all, Sylvan had achieved nearly mythic proportions in the Krigi consciousness — for, nearly single-handedly, he had generated remarkable scientific achievements for the past thirty years, returning pride and dignity to a people who sorely needed such reassurance.  The immediate aftermath of the Borg incursion, Mercut remembered grimly, was a time of desperate despair, when many Krigi had seemed to give up on life itself, sinking into dark depressions that frequently ended with tragic suicidal attacks on Borg cubes. 

 

 

Gradually, however, ragtag bands of Krigi survivors were united under the power of one man’s vision — Sylvan, with his scientific brilliance and charismatic charm, with his own tragic history of tremendous suffering at the hands of the Borg, with his unwavering belief in eventual triumph over the soulless, pitiless Collective.  His vision had forged faith out of sorrow, and the Krigi people had rewarded Sylvan by pulling together into a cohesive unit, dedicating their powerful intellects and war-borne determination to fulfilling the dream. 

 

 

Although they no longer controlled vast tracts of space and had scaled down their trading ambitions, the Krigi were quietly building a technological superiority that allowed them to proceed relatively unimpeded in the quadrant.  They had become a respected military force, yet one that neither oppressed nor impinged upon other societies.  Their neighbors left them alone, recognizing perhaps that their nearly fanatical devotion to Sylvan’s vision was a fortunate one.  Rather than using their technology to conquer other species, the Krigi instead were devoted to annihilating the one common enemy: the Borg Collective.

 

 

And now the Researcher himself was coming to meet with Mercut. 

 

 

The commander’s facial features barely shifted, yet to the trained Krigi eye he now glowed with determination and excitement.  He would not disappoint the Krigi leader. 

 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

 

 

Seven of Nine felt herself spiraling into defensive mode, retreating further into Borg-like coolness as she struggled to complete her presentation for the three Krigi representatives.  She wished for this ordeal to end, so she could leave the emotionally charged environment these aliens so easily generated. 

 

 

Even now, as she demonstrated the regenerative features of her alcove and detailed the demands on Voyager’s energy matrix, she could feel their eyes piercing into her, accusing and loathing and hating her.  She knew they saw only the Borg aspect of her existence.  And were utterly revolted.

 

 

She had felt it as soon as they appeared on the transporter pedestal, their luminous eyes fixing on her in sudden fury and repressed anger.  Their main representative, Commander Mercut, was the least difficult of the trio, his emotions apparently more mild, or at least better controlled, than those of his colleagues.  The other two – Enforcer Duttir and Officer Goeb – had greeted her politely, yet their words had assaulted her senses with layers of fear and antipathy.  They stared forcefully at her visible implants, their eyes seeming to cool with every passing minute.

 

 

Tuvok had warned her of the Krigi’s disastrous experience with the Borg Collective.  It was not an unfamiliar tale for Seven, since she carried the memories of that short-lived war and assimilation.  Species 6742 was a resourceful species, she had informed the Vulcan, one that the Collective had prized for their exceptionally quick intellect and biological distinctiveness.  The assimilation had not ended as smoothly as planned, since thousands of individuals had managed to elude the Collective.  Yes, a most resourceful species, indeed.  And ambitious as well, considering that they now were motivated by a dream of vanquishing the Collective itself. 

 

 

She forced herself to maintain her composure as she completed another recitation of technological attributes.  The Krigi had remained silent throughout most of the presentation, for which she was grateful.  When they spoke, the fear and hate unleashed was distracting, to say the least.  She glanced over at Tuvok and the captain, her left eye arching to indicate that she was finished. 

 

 

The captain immediately stepped in, smiling and asking the trio to retire to the conference room for refreshments.  As the group quietly shuffled out of the cargo hold with Tuvok in the lead, Seven saw the captain direct a quiet question at Commander Mercut.  Her Borg hearing easily discerned the words.

 

 

“Would you like Seven of Nine to join us?”

 

 

“No, Captain.  She has been quite informative.  I may, however, require another meeting with her at a future time.  With your permission, of course.” 

 

 

“Of course.”  And Seven watched Janeway gesture graciously towards the exit. 

 

 

As the room emptied, the captain turned to Seven.  The captain’s visage was somewhat grim, and Seven wondered what she was thinking.

 

 

“Seven, thank you for the presentation.  You did a good job.  Your presence is not required any longer, so consider yourself off-duty.  Thank you for your work.”  Janeway turned to go, hesitating only when Seven softly called her name.

 

 

“Kathryn.” 

 

 

Janeway half-turned toward the blonde officer, her reluctance to engage in conversation clearly apparent.  “Yes, Seven?”  Her voice was cool, terse, distant.

 

 

“It was a … most difficult … experience.”  Seven didn’t understand exactly why she was embarking on this personal conversation with the captain at this moment, knowing full well that the older woman’s presence was required with the alien visitors.  Still, she felt an indefinable need to connect personally at this moment with her lover, somehow knowing it could help counteract the daggers of hatred and fear that had hammered her. 

 

 

The captain sighed, turning to face Seven, yet maintaining her distance near the exit.  “I know.  I felt it, too.”  Janeway paused, her body seeming to tense.  “Let’s talk about this later?  I have to go.”  She quickly turned and walked away.

 

 

Watching Janeway’s departure, the young ex-Borg felt disappointment and hurt rippling through her body.  She recognized now that she had simply craved small comforts – to be reassured that she was cared for, that not everyone hated her, that she was more than simply Borg. 

 

 

She had not realized these were difficult comforts for Janeway to provide.

 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^