Part 2

"I just know that you're… interested, in the captain."

With that, he gave her a friendly grin and left the mess hall to change into a fresh uniform before his shift began. Seven considered his words for a moment. It is clear, she thought, that my feelings for the captain are too obvious. I shall endeavour to find a way to ensure that Captain Janeway herself does not find out. I will not ruin her birthday for her.

"Chakotay to Seven of Nine," the voice echoed across Astrometrics; Seven quickly tapped her commbadge. She looked around to see that crewman Tal was already eavesdropping. She gave a slight squeak of embarrassment, or possibly fright, at being caught, and returned to her console a deep shade of pink.

"Commander," came the formal reply, "do you require assistance?" "Tom Paris tells me you managed to find out that Captain Janeway's birthday is tomorrow," he was chuckling; his voice sounded light and mischievous, "I wanted to congratulate you, and to offer my assistance in the celebrations."

Seven thought quickly; she was slightly panicked at the notion that several crewmembers may already know of her actions. She glanced around the room, and again at Tal Celes, as she thought of an excuse.

"Lieutenant Paris is being modest," she said, as confidently as she could, "it was he who found out, and it is he who is planning the celebrations."

"Tom Paris, modest?" he sounded incredulous; there was amusement in his voice, "Well, whatever you say, Seven. Either way, I would like to help. You'll be helping to organise the party, won't you?"

"Yes,"

"Is there anything you need?"

"I… we, require replicator rations," her jaw tensed at the mistake; deceit was not something she was accustomed to, "for customary birthday items. Do you require me to list these items?"

"No, no. That won't be necessary," he quickly answered, "but in that case, I will need you to be at holodeck two at 1800 hours."

"Very well, commander."

"Chakotay out."

Whatever you say, Seven. Her attempt to pass the credit to lieutenant Paris had not been a successful one. Even Tal Celes had looked unconvinced. Why was it so obvious that she had feelings for the captain? The pads of her fingers swept over the console as she thought of possible answers. None made a great deal of sense to her.

"Seven of Nine to lieutenant Paris," her voice was lowered.

"Tom here," he replied, "everything alright?"

"You have informed other crewmembers that I found out the date of the captain's birthday," she stated flatly, "and that I am organising the celebrations."

"Yes… is something wrong?" Tom sounded puzzled.

"You will inform them that it was you who found this out," she said forcefully, "and that it is you who is organising the celebrations."

There was a pause.

"But… Seven!"

"Lieutenant, I hope you are aware that my assimilation tubules are still fully functional."

There was another pause. "Yes, Ma'am!"

Sandrine's was full to bursting. Junior and senior staff alike were gathered, cheering around the tiny wooden table at the centre of the room. At this table sat a determined looking Harry Kim and Joe Carey, arm-wrestling. Harry appeared to have the upper hand, grimacing hard as he tried to force lieutenant Carey's wrist onto the surface of the table. Holographic waiters weaved through the candlelit tables to serve drinks to the onlookers. In a corner of the room, Tom Paris was talking excitedly to one of the crewmen.

The doors to the holodeck opened, and a hushed whisper spread through the room like wildfire. It's Seven of Nine! Quick, hide everything! Harry looked up, smiling at the new arrival. Carey took advantage of his lapse in concentration, slamming his wrist to the table in a manner far more forceful than was really necessary. A loud cheer erupted from the audience, and Harry took his defeat gracefully. He shrugged, and grudgingly took a roll of paper slips from his pocket.

"Come on ensign! Hand them over." Carey grinned, smug in his glory.

"I'll get you next time, lieutenant," he smiled wryly, handing over what appeared to be a significant amount of replicator rations, "just you wait."

"Sure, ensign," he laughed, stuffing them into his pocket, "whatever you say."

Seven pushed her way through the crowd, annoyed at what was unfolding before her. She had come to the holodeck expecting to meet with Chakotay, to plan the upcoming celebrations. It appeared that she would have to fritter this much-needed time away on reprimanding wayward crewmembers instead.

"You are engaged in a `betting pool'," Seven accused, "although you are aware that this is against protocol. Commander Chakotay has warned you about this before. Lieutenant Carey, you should know better. You will report to the captain's ready room with me immediately."

"It's not what you think, Seven," Harry replied, "can I talk with you for a moment, privately?"

"Very well."

They made their way through the crowd, until they reached a quiet corner. Harry looked around nervously, and spoke when he was satisfied that the other crewmembers couldn't hear them.

"The betting pool is our chance to win the replicator rations that you needed," he spoke in a hushed tone, "that's what this is about. It's a one-off."

"Your intentions are well-placed, ensign," she replied, "but commander Chakotay would certainly not approve of your methods."

"Seven," Harry laughed, "Chakotay organised this. He said that since it was for such a good cause, he couldn't see the harm in it."

"Why did he ask me to attend?"

Harry laughed, and turned to point at Joe Carey. The crewman he was arm wrestling with was one of the former members of the Equinox, a large bear of a man. Amazingly, Carey won without too much trouble. The room erupted into cheers again, and several crewmembers rushed to collect winnings from Tom Paris.

"He's just too good, and he always shows up to these things. Chakotay knew that he would be busy on the bridge," Harry smirked, "and that, besides himself, of course…"

"Of course," Seven replied, with more than a hint of irony.

"…Only you or Tuvok could beat him, and win those rations. The stakes are high; every challenger bets all the rations that they have to spare, and Joe has to do the same."

"I see."

"Don't worry, everyone has enough left over to live comfortably, they're just betting their spare slips. So you'll do it?"

Seven considered this for a moment. She thought of the captain's astonishment and delight at her plans; plans which she could not execute without the rations. The captain deserves to be happy, she thought, she has spent so much time on the happiness of others.

"Yes."

Harry smiled, and signalled to Tom, who grinned and stood up. Carey sat basking in the glow of his eighth victory that evening. The crew had begun to chant his name in thanks for the rations that he had won for them. Harry took the remainder of the bundle of ration slips from his pocket and handed them to Seven.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Tom yelled, "I believe we have a new challenger!"

Shouts of `10 rations on Carey!' and `I'll take 15 on Joe!' filled the room. Tom smirked, grateful for the fact that no one had bothered to ask who the challenger actually was. Only once all the bets were placed did he indicate for Seven to step up to the table. The room fell deathly silent as she passed through the crowd; the only sound was that of Tom and Harry cackling with delight in the background. Lieutenant Carey's smug expression fell from his face; he paled visibly as Seven seated herself opposite him.