Human Error:
Silhouette of a Woman
 

“Computer, what time is it?”  Kathryn Janeway stretched her muscles, awaiting the computer’s response.

“O-two hundred twenty five hours.”

She blinked forcibly shocked at how long she’d been sitting in the chair.  Groaning and rubbing her eyes, she sat up, haphazardly threw the coverlet over the back of the chair and left the book to keep her place warm.  “Halt audio.”  Unknowingly still in her uniform, she crawled into bed.  Not before she could settle into a halfway comfortable position, the door chime sounded.  “Ugh, computer, who’s at the door?”  Janeway rolled onto her back pulling the pillows up under her head more.

“Seven of Nine.”

“Come in,” she spoke louder than normal, slightly irked by the intrusion.  At least the timing is always the same.  The door opened and closed and even in the starlit darkness, she could see the tall woman’s silhouette.  “I’m in here, Seven,” she called quietly.  Seven hesitated at the door.  “I just lay down.  You didn’t wake me.”

Feeling like an intruder, Seven kept her post at the doorframe.  She wasn’t sure if she was in the captain’s quarters for the right reasons.  “You sound tired.  I’ll let you sleep.”  Turning on her heels, she started toward the door.  Janeway’s voice stopped her, turning her around again.  “I,” her voice was small, shaky, then shifted into a defense, “The Doctor didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

“About what?”  Janeway was tentative.  Knowing it had something to do with the time Seven had spent in the holodeck, she had to tread lightly.  The lie Seven told her earlier would come to a head eventually.  Reliving the fact that Seven lied to her brought a frown to her face.

“You’re disappointed.”  Seven took a few steps forward, marginally looking left and right showing her nervousness.  She sighed.  “The simulations I informed you of: the array, it wasn’t the truth.”  Halting only a few steps from the bed, she apologized: “I’m sorry, Captain.”

Janeway sat up, pushing the pillows up farther to make a backrest.  “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Seven.  If you wanted to keep it a secret, you could have pushed it.”  She heard Seven mumble something in between her own sentences.  “What?”

Seven looked down at the floor.  “I didn’t want to make you angry.”

“Oh.”

“When I do something that upsets you, I feel as if I’ve let you down.  But, according to the Doctor, I’m not allowed to feel.”

“Excuse me?!”  Janeway sat upright quickly, ready to jump out of bed and strangle the hologram.  Seven stepped forward again in protest.

“No, don’t blame the Doctor.  He is only ‘the bearer of bad news’.”  Janeway slowly relaxed back into the pillowed bulkhead, though she still showed signs of tension.  “After my… experiment in the holodeck, he found that my cortical node was failing.  Not because I wasn’t regenerating, but because of a ‘failsafe’ designed into my Borg components.”  Seven closed her eyes and sighed, fighting to keep the tears building up inside.

Seeing Seven’s distress and realizing this wasn’t their typical philosophical discussion, Janeway offered: “Sit down?”  She patted the bed area beside her and moved over a smidgen.  Seven hesitated again then slowly eased her way down onto the bed.  “What kind of failsafe are we talking about here?  Can we get around it?” she continued gently.

We?  “He said he could help: in time and after numerous surgeries.  I am all ready malformed, I do not wish to become more so,” she finished quietly.  Janeway furrowed her brow and shook her head.  Seven stopped her from speaking.  “When I came here,” Seven’s voice was just above a whisper, “I rejected being ‘human’; now, that is all I wish to be.  I’m tired of being something in between, something that doesn’t belong.  I- do you want to know which program I was running?”

The question was forthright, almost demanding that she say yes.  “Of course, I want to know, Seven, but one doesn’t always get what they want.  I’d like you to tell me because you want to share it with me.”  Seven was obviously taken off guard by her response.  “Do you want to share your experience with me?”

Seven blinked her surprise away with a small smile.  “I know you meant well with your question; however, Captain, I do not think you would want to participate in the activity with me.”

“It isn’t dangerous, is it?”

Blushing, Seven admitted, “No, engaging in intimate relations is not dangerous.”  She thought about that for a moment, and her research.  “Most times,” she added.

It took all Janeway’s strength to keep her jaw from dropping to the bed.  Her skin paled and cooled before it turned red-hot, flushing all the way down into her abdomen.  She couldn’t fight back on the topic considering she’d done something similar in the past.

“The goal in the simulation was to become more sociable, to become comfortable with members of the crew.  Believing the Doctor had removed my implants, that I was fully human, was an easy task.  Finding out what I preferred was another matter, although the characters I created helped a great deal.”  Noticing a change in Janeway she stopped.  “Are you all right?”

Janeway gulped down the lump in her throat.  “I’m just… surprised.  Are we,” she hesitated again, not knowing if she was about to cross a boundary.  “Are we so terrible that you had to create holograms of us so that you could be yourself around us?”

Innocently, Seven shook her head no.  “This is why I kept it from you.  You don’t understand.  No one could.”  She moved to stand, but Janeway laid a hand on her arm.  Looking at her, Seven saw a plea inside confusion and hurt.

“Then, would you please explain it to me?”  Janeway stared at her for a long time before Seven resettled.  “There’s a lot I don’t understand about you that I’d like to know, actually,” she spoke quietly, awkwardly.

“Come with me?”  The words spit from her mouth faster than she could think.  “To the holodeck.”

Her head tilted to the side, “No, Seven, I don’t want to get to know you in a simulation.  It’s not real.  This,” referring to her bedroom, “is real.”  She squeezed Seven’s arm tenderly where her hand still lay, “I am real.”  There was fear clouding Seven’s eyes.

“That is what troubles me: you and I are real.  Whatever I say here makes a difference, it changes everything.”

“Some changes are good,” Janeway interjected quickly.  “You’re trying to make them yourself…”

“No, I am not.  I’ve decided to discontinue my research.”

Puzzled, Janeway simply asked, “Why?”  Seven just stared at her.  “It has to do with the failsafe, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

The somber answer troubled her.  She tried to piece together the information in her head, but there was something missing from the brainteaser.  “What exactly is the failsafe?”

Blankly, Seven looked at Janeway, seeing beyond her eyes into the person who was really underneath pretense.  “It’s designed to prevent drones from feeling an excess of emotion, a ‘last resort’.  My cortical node was failing because I…  It was shutting down my systems.”

Janeway didn’t know what to say; words had escaped her.  All she could do was lean forward, wrap her arms around the blonde and hug her.  She felt tears coming down her cheeks and tried to stop them.  “I’m so sorry, Seven,” she sniffled, holding her breath to halt the crying.  “If I could help, I would; I swear it.”  Seven’s arms finally came around her, embracing tightly, crying for support and offering it.

“I know,” Seven whimpered, leaning her head into Janeway’s.  To her surprise, Janeway leaned her head in, too.  The small act forced long held tears from her eyes.  “I don’t want to let go,” she murmured.

“Then don’t,” Janeway husked softly.  When Seven squeezed her again, she leaned back, taking one arm to arrange the pillows flat, then pulled Seven down with her into a comfortable embrace.

With her arm draped over Janeway’s stomach, head on her shoulder and her body seamlessly curled up against her own, Seven smiled: her illogical real choice felt superior to her logical holographic one.