With a strong sense of satisfaction, Seven of Nine transmitted the last of a series of reports and documents to the Krigi science vessel. The past few days had been grueling. After the captain had renegotiated the weapons barter — replacing the nanoprobes with Seven’s medical records, a trade-off that Seven and Janeway approved with mild trepidation — the astrometrics officer’s work had begun in earnest.
Construction of the Borg decision matrix itself took a full nineteen hours, and then another ten hours were devoted to training Sylvan and Intern Srange on the intricacies of using it, including teaching the labyrinthine logic of the Collective’s philosophical approach to assimilation opportunities. In addition, writing the exposition on Borg social and leadership structure had proven to be a particularly demanding experience. At times, Seven reflected with irritation, it seemed as though the entire Krigi anthropological and political faculties had bombarded her with individual questions and issues to address. It was a most inefficient display of intellectual curiosity. Consequently, the exposition itself had consumed approximately 50.3 hours of composition and 13.8 hours of correspondence.
The length of the document far dwarfed anything Seven had written previously. The Doctor had grinned and labeled it as Seven’s ‘Magnus opus’ on the Collective. Seven was merely glad to be done with it. Reconstructing all of this data on the Collective had taken a great emotional toll on the young ex-drone, and she had forced herself to work on it continuously, preferring an early finish, rather than one prolonged by regeneration. And even now, though she felt a weariness begin to creak through her limbs, she had no plans to regenerate.
She wanted to see Kathryn. The past few days had produced precious few opportunities to see the captain, aside from too-quick conversations over a comm. badge and the occasional corridor run-in. Janeway also had been busy overseeing the weapons installations and modifications, a process that had been more problematic than expected, given some of Voyager’s makeshift engineering quirks, the product of years isolated from Federation technical support and frequent need for creative solutions.
Eyes flicking once to the empty wall where two regeneration alcoves had once stood, the blonde ex-Borg swiftly exited the cargo bay and made her way to the captain’s quarters, quietly reviewing the state of her romantic relationship with Janeway. The rift between the two women was still not fully overcome, although Seven now felt vastly more reassured of Janeway’s feelings towards her. The two in-depth conversations they had shared before the successful barter renegotiation had done much to elucidate the unconscious, almost conditioned nature of Kathryn’s personal response to Seven’s Borgness, and for this Seven was grateful, for it meant that the problem could be reconciled if acknowledged and dealt with openly.
But it still stung to know that her physical attributes could induce fear in the other woman, and that her personal history with the Collective triggered deep-seated concerns about Seven’s own trustworthiness. All this, Kathryn had repeatedly promised, would be overcome in time. For the only thing that really mattered, the ex-Borg woman had been told, was that Kathryn loved her and would allow no barrier to stand between that love and their happiness together.
If only she could return to the easy, deep trust of the past, Seven thought sadly, when she had no reason to doubt Kathryn’s sincerity and straightforward manner. If only she could believe fully and totally in her lover’s promises. Yet, she admitted with no small anxiety, a part of her seemed to have retreated from the relationship — a part that did not wish to be hurt again. For the revelation of Kathryn’s personal prejudices had greatly shaken Seven, making her wonder if the captain truly even knew her own heart and motivations. How is it possible, the young ex-Borg wondered glumly, to be so unaware of one’s own feelings and yet still confidently make promises for the future? Was this an aspect of humanity that she just did not understand?
Seven sighed as she exited the lift and neared the captain’s quarters. Kathryn would be expecting her, and probably was waiting with a chilled bottle of wine and desserts, as was now her habit for late-night meetings. The younger woman tried to stifle a sudden twinge of apprehension in her stomach, and she forced a faint smile onto her face as she pushed the door chime.
The door slid open to reveal Janeway, clad in a deep-blue silk nightgown and robe. She held a paperback novel in her hands and wore a dazzling smile on her face. Seeing the smile, Seven’s own widened genuinely, and her chest seemed to warm with an expanding heat.
“Are you finished with everything, darling?” asked Janeway, drawing the blonde woman into the room and into her arms for a kiss.
Seven felt herself relax as she was surrounded by the scent of Kathryn, as she returned the kiss enthusiastically. She pulled away for a brief moment, enough to utter a breathy “Yes,” before she was drawn again into the warm embrace. She heard the captain toss aside the book, then deepen the kiss, wrapping both arms around Seven’s back and caressing her neck.
Seven smiled into the kiss, before drawing away. “You are happy to see me,” the ex-Borg murmured, nuzzling the auburn head before she tilted her head to gaze into bluish-grey eyes.
Janeway smiled again, that large, open smile that made Seven’s heart seem to lurch forward in her chest. “Very much so.” She gestured towards the dining table, upon which sat a chilled bottle of champagne, two crystal glasses and a crystal bowl full of strawberries. “I thought we could enjoy our own private celebration of the end of the barter.”
“Indeed.” Smiling faintly, the Borg allowed herself to be guided to the table, where Janeway quickly filled the two glasses, which she handed to Seven. Then, the captain picked up the crystal bowl and led the way to the waiting sofa.
As they settled on the sofa, Janeway immediately plucked a strawberry from the pile and offered it to Seven, indicating with a more sensual smile that the young woman simply should open her mouth. Intrigued, Seven parted her lips, through which Janeway slowly fed the strawberry, fingers lingering on the warm lips. As she chewed the sweet fruit, Seven noted the open delight Janeway took in simply watching her.
“You are in good spirits, Kathryn,” Seven asserted, tilting her head to one side.
Janeway popped a strawberry into her own mouth and turned to Seven, chewing thoughtfully. She swallowed and then answered lightly, “Yes, I am. And why not? My ship is now stronger and more capable than ever, and I’m sharing champagne and strawberries with the most beautiful woman in the quadrant. I consider myself a very lucky captain.”
Seven flushed slightly at Janeway’s complimentary words, and quietly accepted another strawberry.
“One final thing to do, and we are done with this barter,” Janeway said, sipping her champagne with clear relish.
Seven nodded. “Yes. The leaders’ dinner on the Mata and the crew party here on Voyager tomorrow night.” She tilted her head. “Why are they not hosting the crew party as well?”
The captain shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “Mercut requested that we host the party for both crews, since he felt it would be a small relief for his crew to celebrate in non-Borg architecture.” She frowned. “Are you going to be alright here on Voyager with so many Krigi guests?”
“I do not plan to attend the party,” Seven declared, somewhat defiantly, as she expected the captain to protest her decision. When Janeway remained silent, the ex-Borg explained further. “I am not comfortable around them, nor are they around me, therefore I intend to regenerate fully during the occasion.”
To her surprise, the captain simply nodded. “You can celebrate around the crew later,” she remarked mildly. “Perhaps dinner with me at Sandrine’s the night afterwards? It’ll be you, me, and whatever crew are there. I can recommend a lovely red dress that would look absolutely stunning on you.”
Seven’s eyes widened, and she frowned slightly. “But why would I wish to wear a red dress?”
Janeway’s smile was smug, if a bit tremulous. “I’m the captain. I expect my date to look fabulous.”
“Date?” The ex-Borg woman pinned the captain with a perplexed stare. “Are you ready for such a display, Kathryn? It will mean that the crew will learn of our romantic relationship,” she pointed out, her voice shaky.
Reaching up to cup Seven’s cheek, Janeway merely stated softly, “There’s no point in keeping it a secret, now is there?” And she fed Seven another sweet strawberry.
The two sat for a few long minutes, content to sip champagne and feed each other the sweet red fruit. After a while, Janeway began to caress Seven’s right arm, then slowly shifted down her side to the abdominal area. It seemed to Seven that the captain was intentionally seeking out her Borg implants, paying special attention to those parts of Seven that previously she had avoided systematically.
“Kathryn…” the young blonde began, her voice low.
“Hmmm?” the captain responded, face relaxed and voice almost a purr.
Seven swallowed, as the captain’s caresses moved higher to just beneath her breasts. “Are you purposely touching my implants?”
Janeway’s hand paused for a moment, then resumed its circling motion. “I am,” she replied decisively. Another pause. “Does this bother you?” Janeway asked quietly, tilting her face to look directly at Seven.
Seven considered the question. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think about it. On one hand, she was touched by the effort that the other woman was demonstrating; after all, she thought, coming to terms with Seven’s Borgness was absolutely critical for the continued progress of their relationship. On the other hand, she still felt a need to understand the emotions behind the actions; if Kathryn still felt repulsed and fearful, Seven needed to know, even if the other woman’s actions belied those very emotions, and even if this knowledge hurt.
“I feel pleasure and relief that you are able to touch my Borg implants,” Seven began, slowly trying to articulate and verbally untangle her many emotions over the issue, “because they are irrefutable parts of me. However, I wish to know your emotional state as you proceed. I accept that this is a complicated emotional issue for you, and that your reactions may not be entirely rational.”
The captain nodded gently, moving her left hand to caress the starburst at the intersection of jaw and neck. Then she leaned in to capture Seven’s lips in a tender, loving kiss. “I love you, Seven of Nine,” she murmured against the full lips, “and whatever you need to know, I will do my best to share with you.”
Janeway straightened, took another sip of champagne, and then placed the glass on the table firmly. She seemed to have arrived at a decision, thought Seven, watching the captain curiously. The auburn-haired woman stood up suddenly and held out a hand to Seven. “I have an idea,” Janeway announced with a gentle smile. “Come with me to the bedroom.”
Seven hesitated. “Kathryn?”
The two women had not made love since before their painful rift, because Seven now felt uncomfortable displaying her body to her lover. The revelation of Seven’s new discomfort had been very upsetting for Janeway, and the captain had reacted with great sadness and regret, blaming herself greatly for causing the problem. That particular discussion had ended on a very somber note. Seven had not remembered ever seeing the captain look so…defeated.
Now, however, Janeway merely smiled, a little wistfully, and said softly, “We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Just, please, try to trust me.”
A slight pause, and then Seven slipped her hand into Janeway’s, signaling her assent. Together, they moved into the bedroom, the captain’s hand welcome warmth on the small of Seven’s back. Janeway guided the younger woman to a sitting position on the bed, and then kneeled down before her.
“Computer, lights three-quarters,” Janeway commanded. She moved closer to Seven, and brought up her hand gently to the blonde’s chin, tilting it so that their eyes were directly aligned. “Seven, I would like to see and touch your body. Will you let me?”
Seven swallowed, feeling a knot of apprehension tighten in her stomach and her eyes sting. She looked away, her face suddenly sad. Beside her, she heard Janeway inhale deeply, felt the warm fingers trail from chin to cheek in a soft caress. “You have every right to refuse me,” the captain continued slowly, her voice almost a whisper, “but I wish you wouldn’t.”
The ex-Borg took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then turned to Janeway. “You may proceed,” she stated softly.
Eyes swirling in a complex blend of grey and blue, the captain leaned in for a soft kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Janeway reached up to the back of Seven’s neck and unfastened the biosuit. She watched as it unwound soundlessly, spilling down over the ex-Borg’s ample breasts and pooling at her flat, muscled stomach. Her eyes tracing over the silver implants on Seven’s bicep and abdomen, Janeway used her right hand to skirt briefly over some abdominal bands, before resting it on the space between Seven’s breasts and pushing gently so that the blonde rested on her back. Then, the captain tugged off the biosuit, dropping it to the floor, and, stretched out next to the blonde, left elbow propped up and head resting on the left hand.
Janeway leaned closer, moving her right hand over the implants, caressing them, exploring the various bumps and depressions that her fingers encountered. At points, the redhead would move her face to an implant, studying it carefully, her warm breath lightly wafting over Seven’s skin. The younger woman lay patiently, studying her lover’s activities with a quiet intensity. Every so often, the captain would reach down to kiss a scar within the abdominal bands, or lift her head to smile gently, reassuringly, and kiss the soft full lips.
“Was it very painful?” asked Janeway quietly, her eyes now a smoky grey.
Seven frowned slightly, wondering at the reference and deciding to guess at it. “You are referring to assimilation and the physical implementation of the implants?”
Janeway nodded.
Seven took a breath, staring steadily at the captain with eyes so pale as to be nearly colorless. “In truth, it was the most painful experience of my life. Or, rather, series of experiences.” Seven’s face turned away, so that her eyes peered straight up into the ceiling, and the ex-drone’s voice took on a detached, clinical quality. “The initial introduction of the nanoprobes into my body was particularly painful. I remember only a pain that seemed to suffuse my entire … consciousness … As though my internal organs were splitting apart. In retrospect, I believe the initial assimilation consumed mere minutes, but for the host it seemed much longer, as if one is frozen in time.”
Seven felt Janeway shift, felt warm lips brushing her forehead and cheek. The blonde closed her eyes, but not before a single tear leaked through. She continued, her voice more hushed and slightly ragged, “Shortly thereafter, it was determined that my left arm could be more efficiently utilized if modified. Accordingly, my left forearm was severed and replaced with this implant. That process also was painful because my nerve endings had not yet fully adapted to Borg conditioning.”
The ex-Borg stopped, her thoughts suddenly flooded with a sequence of images from those early days as drone. She shook away the images, focusing instead on the steady pulse of Janeway’s heart, easily felt as the woman tenderly lowered herself onto Seven’s body, enclosing the blonde in a warm, body-length hug. Janeway’s face glistened with newly shed tears, and her eyes had turned impossibly gentle.
“I’m so sorry all that happened to you, darling,” the redhead whispered, her hands moving to cradle Seven’s face. “I love you so much.”
At that moment, Seven could think of nothing better than to reach for her lover, pulling her down for long, deep, open kisses.
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Arriving aboard the Mata, Sylvan’s science research vessel, the Voyager leadership team of Captain Kathryn Janeway, Commander Chakotay, Lt. Commander Tuvok and Chief Engineer Lt. B’Elanna Torres were escorted with great fanfare to the Researcher’s special dining room, an area that boasted expansive windows and one of the best Krigi chefs available. After a laudatory speech by Intern Srange, the group settled down to an evening of cultural and culinary delights.
To Janeway’s vast amusement, the Krigi cuisine greatly resembled Asian fare from Earth, with hot spices that somehow tasted familiar and a preponderance of a white, light noodle in many of the main dishes. She smirked as she watched Chakotay, knowing that he preferred less spicy foods. Tuvok and B’Elanna, on the other hand, were obviously enjoying the feast, Janeway observed, as she savored a light soup that reminded her of tamarind. She wondered how the party on Voyager was proceeding.
The first Krigi crewmembers arrived on board Voyager with great carafes of Krigi wine, hoarded for special occasions such as this one. As the Krigi entered the dining hall, they were greeted enthusiastically by Voyager crewmembers, many who had made their acquaintance in the past week or so of technological exchange. The party quickly began in earnest, as Ensign Tom Paris revved up 20th-century rock-and-roll classics from Earth on his beloved jukebox. More than one Krigi experienced twinges of early regret at the unfortunate duplicity required of them later in the evening.
One Krigi crewmember casually asked about Seven of Nine’s whereabouts, only to be told that the ex-Borg would not be attending the event, preferring rather to regenerate in cargo bay two.
Laughter was commonplace around the table, as Sylvan recounted the best tall tales of Krigi military feat, daring the Voyager crew to guess at the precise detail that was exaggerated. To Janeway’s amusement, B’Elanna performed impressively at the game, while the hyper-logical Tuvok faltered spectacularly. Many toasts were offered to Krigi officers, old and current, with each tale’s recounting, and the Voyager team marveled at the sweetness of the Krigi wine. Boastfully, Commander Mercut revealed that his family operated one of the premier vineyards on the newest colony; immediately, Janeway asked for, and received, three cases of the much-praised wine.
More Krigi transported over onto Voyager, swelling the gathering to a raucous number. Much to their delight, they found that Voyager’s synthenol offerings were greatly enhanced by Tom Paris’s drinking games. Mindful of their coming duties, however, only previously designated drinkers were able to participate as fully as they desired. The rest of the Krigi contingent was forced to look upon their merrier, drunker compatriots with envious eyes.
Two Krigi were able to slip away, roaming the halls unseen. They arrived at cargo bay two, but were dismayed to find the door sealed with a Borg encryption. They immediately sent a secret communiqué to the starship Sannah about this difficulty, and were reassured that it posed no large problem. Satisfied, they made their way back to the party.
The lively discussion had shifted to B’Elanna and Mercut, who were gustily comparing the best manifestations of warrior behavior among various species they had encountered. Tuvok and Sylvan, apparently, were doing their best to provide dry, somewhat sarcastic true examples of how such traits, time and again, also led to remarkable strategic defeats for the relevant species. The logical needling by the two senior members only seemed to be spurring the two junior officers to even more ridiculous assertions, observed Janeway, contentedly sipping her viscos tea.
With the party now in full swing, as groups of Krigi and Voyager crewmembers vied with one another in describing their most colorful galactic exploits and battles, a trio of Krigi made their way to cargo bay one, which was deserted. They set up a makeshift console and waited for the appointed time. Meanwhile, a team of two advanced Krigi technicians stood before cargo bay two, inserting a worm into the control panel for the cargo bay door. Using a database of Borg encryption technology, they quickly were able to override Seven’s seal without tripping any alarms and enter the cargo bay. They stood before the regenerating drone with weapons drawn. Sensors already had been placed discreetly in the hallways to alert them if any crewmembers came their way.
On the starship Sannah, a technical team finished triple-checking the biosigns of all of Voyager’s crewmembers — gathered diligently by Krigi engineering and diplomatic teams which had spent time on the alien ship, finding reasons to meet with every single Voyager member in order to surreptitiously record their biosigns. Satisfied with preparations, the starship sent one-word confirmations to selected Krigi aboard Voyager: “Proceed.”
The Voyager leadership team, deciding the time was near to evening’s end, unveiled their special farewell gift to the Krigi — a crystalline representation of the main home planets of the Federation. This gift was received with great fanfare, and more than a little sadness from the Krigi hosts. At the moment, Voyager’s team, quite understandably, interpreted such sadness as simple regret at the parting of ways.
Curiously, a Krigi officer suddenly entered the room and whispered urgently in Sylvan’s ear. The Researcher nodded once and shot a glance at Intern Leov, who stood and left the room. Sylvan apologized for the interruption, citing ‘empire business’ for Leov’s abrupt departure.
The starship Sannah transmitted a powerful transporter burst to Voyager, beaming Voyager’s personnel from their posts and the dining hall to cargo bay one, where waiting Krigi technicians instantly activated a contained force field and transferred ship’s control, using a program devised by Krigi engineers familiar with Voyager’s systems, to their makeshift console. The Doctor was deactivated remotely, the comm. badges were rendered useless, and a special warning that would have been sent to Voyager’s senior staff was stifled immediately. In cargo bay two, Seven of Nine was awakened from regeneration by the two Krigi, and, before she could react, also was beamed to cargo bay one, joining her crewmembers within the force field.
An assortment of Krigi crew was beamed to Voyager from the Sannah. They quickly took their posts and solidified Krigi control of the Federation vessel.
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Intern Leov materialized in Voyager’s cargo bay one. Instantly, Krigi commandos in full battle gear surrounded her protectively. She shifted her grip on her small bag, as her eyes quickly scanned the vast hold, taking in the angry eyes and defiant stances of Voyager’s crew, who were ensconced behind a force field reinforced with special Krigi encryptions.
She looked over at Enforcer Duttir. “Status,” she requested, moving over to the commanding officer.
“All are accounted for, save the senior officers on board the Mata, Intern Leov. The Borg is here as well,” he responded, his face tightening at the last phrase.
Leov nodded once, then turned to survey the crowd once more. She slowly walked towards them, and a silence blanketed the hold. The men and women of Voyager straightened as she approached, their faces assuming nearly uniform battle-ready edges of alertness and hostility. They remained quiet, studying her as intently as she did them. She easily located the tall Borg, whose face remained impassive, revealing far less in comparison to her more transparent shipmates.
Leov stopped a body length from the invisible boundary, setting her feet apart in a stance of strength and dignity. “People of Voyager,” she began, her voice carrying easily throughout the hold, “we apologize for this inconvenience. Soon, your ship will be flown to the very outer boundary of our space, whereupon we shall return your senior officers, and relinquish Voyager, with its new enhancements, back into your possession. We do not seek to steal your ship, endanger your lives or raid your supplies. This confinement is merely temporary, and very regrettable. You have shown us nothing but courtesy and civility, and I understand if you feel betrayed.”
Disgusted snickers could be heard throughout the assembly, and more than one lip curled in disdain. She took a breath, steeling herself with the knowledge that soon, all will be revealed and Voyager’s crew would realize their contribution to a greater good.
Suddenly, a flat voice interrupted her thoughts. “State your intentions.”
Leov turned her head slightly, watched as the drone stepped forward. She noted in irritation that it seemed to stand proudly, arrogantly, and its pale eyes dared to stare at her with a thoroughly disconcerting impertinence. Behind her, she heard slight movements, and she knew that her military officers had tightened their grip on their weapons.
Leov carefully slung her bag over her shoulder before turning back to the captive crew. She decided to ignore the drone’s direct question in favor of a prepared speech. “You all know that the Borg Collective nearly destroyed my people,” she began, releasing tremors of sorrow and rage that were palpable even through the force field. Some Voyager crewmembers swallowed in unwilling sympathy at her obvious anguish.
“In this quadrant, we now serve as an ally to those threatened by the Collective. But that is not enough. One can run only so far, hide only so much. Therefore, you also know that we have dedicated ourselves to the monumental task of ridding the universe of the Collective. This is not an easy task by any means. It has meant focus and dedication of a previously unimaginable quality.”
She paused, eyes traveling over the crowd, who now seemed to be listening intently, even if hostilely. “Alternative dreams and goals have been deferred. Our children grow up knowing that their energies and creativity must be devoted to this single goal. It has come at no small cost to the individual,” she admitted, resonating a complex mix of regret and determination, “for the prerogative of the species necessarily dictates this sacrifice. And the rewards have been large. We have managed to save some species from total assimilation. We have forged friendly ties to many, many worlds and species across the sector.”
“Yet, even with our massive technological capabilities and the inspiration of phenomenal scientists like Researcher Sylvan, we could only look forward to more decades, if not centuries, of incremental steps towards unlocking the secrets of the Borg Collective. Until we met you.”
Her eyes moved to rest on the light-haired drone, who stiffened visibly. Leov continued, her voice lowered slightly, “Your Seven of Nine has provided remarkable detail on the inner machinations of the Collective, from the form and function of the Queen to the very decision matrices utilized in assimilations. We are most grateful for this vast store of knowledge. It will make our task that much easier.”
She paused again, and in the resulting silence paced the length of the cargo hold, meeting every look, every stare, and every glance thrown her way. These were good people, she reminded herself. According to the reports of Krigi engineers, who had spent much time interacting with the Voyager crew, many of these people barely were able to tolerate the drone’s presence, and likely did so simply because of both Starfleet fealty and practical deference to its remarkable strategic capabilities.
Leov walked back to her original position, one hand possessively gripping her bag. It was now time, she determined.
“However, this knowledge,” she said, words edged with a sudden cold resolve, “is not enough. We require more data — the kind that simply cannot be gleaned from a mere report.”
In one quick motion, she turned to Duttir and nodded. His face impassive, he moved forward with three of his men, their rifles now trained on the drone woman. They stopped just outside of the force field.
“Please, everyone take three steps backward, except for the Borg drone,” Duttir ordered in a low voice.
As Seven remained rooted in place, her features tightening into an impassive mask and her hands fisting into balls of tension, the surrounding crewmembers hesitated. One or two retreated, but a number dared to advance, almost forming a protective shield around the blonde Borg.
A dark-haired human male stepped forward. “What do you want with Seven?” demanded Ensign Harry Kim.
“Intern Leov will explain shortly. Please, we do not wish to hurt you. We are not your enemies,” asserted Duttir in a gentler voice, releasing waves of respect and friendship.
Another crewmember stepped up, leaner and distinctively Vulcan. “Seven of Nine is a valued member of this crew,” asserted Ensign Vorik. “She is not your enemy, either. We will not relinquish her to you.”
“You have no choice,” snapped Leov, who was growing rather impatient with the drama. Time was wasting, she thought, and Sylvan would be eager to begin his research on the drone.
Leov turned to the Krigi technician who stood near the door. “Simply transport the drone to just outside of the force field,” she ordered.
He nodded once, hands moving on the makeshift console. Seven of Nine sparkled, then disappeared, only to reappear on the other side of the barrier.
Leov smiled in anticipation.
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