Her Eyes' Silence
 

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me or which i cannot touch because they are too near somewhere i have never travelled

(ee cummings)

Seven slept more soundly than Kathryn would have thought possible for any living sentient, even sedated as she was. She was reposed with casual, unknowing elegance, completely still. Only the faint rise and fall of her chest told the watching woman that she breathed, lived, and that the death that stalked her had yet to claim her. Kathryn was afraid and didn't want to show it.

A faint ripple of expression brushed across the milky cheeks, tonight even paler than normal, too fleeting for Kathryn to identify it. Seven was dreaming, and Kathryn wondered of what. She hoped the images were pleasant, but doubted it. Seven had confessed only hours before that the memories of her recent abduction by the Hive still bothered her.

That was then. Now, it was the least of their problems.

She turned as the Doctor entered from his office, clearly upset. "Report, Doctor," she ordered softly, not wanting to disturb Seven's slumber. He put a tricorder down with unnecessary force.

"There's nothing I can do," he told the captain, his own voice low but intent. "There's just too much to fight. If I try to modify or reprogram her nanoprobes, the ones I introduce are immediately destroyed and absorbed by the infected ones. If I removed all the nanoprobes causing the problem, assuming that were even possible... Seven would die." He sounded frustrated. "The only option we have is to let her die."

"I'm not giving up yet, Doctor." A snap to her voice, that he could even suggest it.

"Neither am I, captain. It's possible that we can remove the infected nanoprobes postmortem, and then supply her with nanoprobes from a sample I took some days ago for analysis. However, it has a risk of its own."

"Dead is dead, Doctor."

"Neural damage isn't." He looked for a long moment at the young woman on the biobed. "The brain is the most sensitive organ of the body. Oxygen deprivation can damage it in seconds. Seven is physiologically dependent on the function of the nanoprobes. Once they're removed, I may not be able to replace them fast enough. We'll be able to revive her, but I have no idea what condition it would leave her in."

"So her choices are to be dead, or damaged."

"I'm afraid that's highly possible."

Kathryn gave in to the demands of her aching heart and gently grasped Seven's hand. The metal and flesh of it were chill against her fingers, and Kathryn's skin crawled at the touch of Borg technology. Normally, she didn't see the Hive's mutilations on her friend; they were a quirk of her appearance and mark of her history, like Chakotay's tattoo. But now Seven was dying, at the ghostly hands of the Borg queen they'd killed by collapsing a conduit.

A nanovirus, infecting the tiny machines that were integrated into Seven's physiology, was slowly killing her once out of their mistress' control. The death of the Borg queen had set off a timebomb in Seven's bloodstream, and Kathryn Janeway couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Her eyes tracked the smooth line of Seven's unblemished cheek, while her imagination supplied images of the nanoprobes wreaking their destruction on the body of Seven of Nine. She wanted to scream. It wasn't fair.

Motion caught her eye, and she looked just in time at the stretching fabric across Seven's chest to see as ugly grey metal erupted from her skin, splaying across her neck like a gross parody of a necklace. Kathryn jerked back in sudden horror, and watched blood soak into the biosuit Seven wore. The systems that made assimilation so bloodless weren't functioning.

"Doctor!" she called, too loudly, as she regained control of her voice. Tremors were starting to run through Seven's lanky frame.

The hologram rushed to her side, and would probably have sworn were he programmed to do so. "Her trachea is rupturing," he explained, snatching an instrument from a tray and beginning frantic surgery. Kathryn stepped to the biobed again, careful to keep out of his way. Finally, after several minutes of intent work, the Doctor stepped back, taking a deep breath she knew he didn't need. "She's stable. For now. The virus is beginning to behave entirely randomly. There's no way to know what's going to stop functioning next."

"Work on it, Doctor. I want a better option."

"Yes, captain." He looked at Seven. "Will you be staying, captain? I'd prefer..."

Kathryn met his eyes, silently acknowledging that this being of light and technology had somehow managed to love the woman between them. I'd prefer that she not be alone. "I'll be here, Doctor."

As he left, she settled her eyes on the porcelain face before her and quieted herself to wait.

 

* * *

The mess hall was subdued tonight. The word was out across the ship that Seven was sick, maybe dying, and by now the prevailing feeling was that Seven was one of their own. The crew were worried.

Neelix finished shutting down his kitchen, and joined the largest table.

"She could be annoying as hell, but it wasn't like she knew any better," B'Elanna was saying. "She's learned so much since she came aboard."

"Hers is a brilliant and logical mind," Tuvok put in. "She was bound to adapt to our ways."

"She was loyal." Harry Kim turned his drink in his hands. "She went back to the Borg to save us."

"Strange as it is..." B'Elanna said softly, "I'm going to miss her." Tears shimmered unfallen in her eyes, but she wasn't alone.

Neelix fought to sound optimistic. "We haven't lost her yet," he said. "And the Doctor is working constantly to find a way to save her. Let's hope he succeeds." Scattered nods, and then B'Elanna raised her glass in a toasting gesture.

"If not, then at least we got her back. She dies with honour among friends. There's no better way to go." Then she softened again. "But let's hope she doesn't go at all."

 

* * *

B'Elanna entered Sickbay slowly, not entirely certain she wanted to be doing what she was doing. The Doctor was nowhere in evidence, and the captain was sleeping fitfully on another biobed near Seven's. Almost reluctantly, the engineer approached where Seven lay.

"Lieutenant Torres." Seven's voice was weak as she greeted her.

"Hi, Seven. How are you feeling?" B'Elanna asked awkwardly.

"I am functioning," Seven answered.

"That bad, huh?" B'Elanna managed a smile. "The Doctor's doing everything he can, you know. You're going to be fine."

"The nanovirus was designed by the Borg." Seven's eyes held no hope, and B'Elanna's spine crawled.

"We've beaten the Borg before, Seven. We can fight them on a microscopic level. It's just a matter of scale." She forced a look of good-natured sternness onto her face. "Don't you dare give up on Voyager, Seven."

She was rewarded with a faint smile. "Is that an order, Lieutenant?"

"Yes." B'Elanna patted Seven's shoulder. "And I expect you to pay attention to the chain of command on this one, you hear me?"

"Yes, Lieutenant." Seven's eyes closed for a long moment before she dragged them open again. "I am tired."

"Then sleep." B'Elanna watched until the monitors on Seven's biobed showed that she was asleep again, and sighed.

"Did she wake?" the Doctor asked, emerging from his office.

"Yes," B'Elanna answered. "I... came by to talk to her. How are you doing finding a cure?"

"Not well. I can't find a way to extract her nanoprobes quickly enough that I'll be able to replace them without the old ones re-infecting the new."

"What about the transporter?"

"It doesn't have a high enough scanning resolution." The Doctor frowned worriedly at Seven. "Believe me, I tried. Ensign Kim did the best he could, but..."

"So if it doesn't have it, we can build it." B'Elanna felt her spirits lift as the resolve filled her. "How long do we have?"

* * *

Kathryn was roused from a doze by the soft voices of the Doctor and B'Elanna Torres, and the audio bleed of a tricorder's sensors. The engineer was running a tricorder over Seven's body as the Doctor set up yet more medical equipment nearby.

"What's going on?" the captain asked softly.

B'Elanna didn't look up, eyes intent on her tricorder. "We're working on something that has a chance of saving Seven. "

Kathryn felt hope stirring for the first time in hours. "How good a chance?"

B'Elanna bit her lip. "We don't know."

The Doctor pushed a piece of equipment along next to the bed. "I'm replicating functional nanoprobes as fast as I can. They're complex technology, and hard to reproduce. I'm experimenting with a new method which will hopefully cause a nanoprobe culture to reproduce itself. If it works, they'll start accumulating at an exponential rate." He gestured at a machine in the corner with the half-finished look of newly invented technology. "The real problem is going to be re-introducing the functional nanoprobes fast enough. That's what we're working on now."

"I see." Kathryn looked at the unfamiliar equipment the Doctor had moved up as B'Elanna began to work on it. "What's that for?"

"It's the most high-resolution sensor device we've been able to put together in the time we've had. It's designed to interface with the transporter system which, with the sensor's help, will lock onto Seven's nanoprobes and be able to beam them out of her body." She smiled tightly. "Harry's working on increasing the transporter's resolution right now. We'll need to move Seven to the transporter bay to do the procedure, but right now I'm testing to see if the sensor will work."

"How will you reintroduce the nanoprobes?"

The Doctor looked at Seven, refusing to meet Kathryn's eyes. "I don't know yet."

 

* * *

B'Elanna and the Doctor had left for Engineering. Kathryn watched over Seven, disturbed by the changes in the young woman's appearance. Seven's cheeks seemed gaunt, and there was a bluish tinge to her lips. Silently, the captain rose and fetched a blanket to spread over Seven's body.

"Thank you,"said a low, rasping voice. Seven's eyes fluttered open, their bleak gaze meeting Kathryn's.

"I just wish I could do more," Kathryn admitted. "How are you feeling?"

"Like... I-I am malfunctioni-ing." Seven's voice seemed to burr on occasional syllables, and she winced. "I am."

"Yes."

"I a-am dying." Her voice was unemotional, but Kathryn could see the fear in her eyes.

"We're doing everything we can, Seven," she promised. Seven looked at her.

"Will it be enough?"

Kathryn took a deep breath, and wished she had it in her to lie to Seven.

"We don't know."

 

* * *

B'Elanna entered Cargo Bay Two ahead of Harry, intending to pick up some equipment. Her eyes fell on the bank of Borg alcoves along one wall. She paused, allowing herself, if only for a moment, to feel the creeping sense of defeat. With grief-spurred guilt, she was regretting just about every damn word she had ever said to Seven. After all Seven had been through in her life...

And after all Seven had put herself through for the crew...

B'Elanna sighed. She didn't have time to kick herself. Not while there was still a chance - even a slim one.

Then she blinked, looking again at the Borg alcoves. "Harry..."

The ensign looked around from the case he had been rummaging in. "Yeah?" His voice was flat. She knew he'd just about given up.

"Harry, I just thought of something."

 

* * *

Kathryn looked up as B'Elanna and Harry burst into Sickbay, looking more hopeful, excited even, than anyone she'd seen in days. "B'Elanna's thought of something," Harry said, without preamble.

"Assimilation," B'Elanna said.

The Doctor frowned. "What about it?"

"When the Borg assimilate someone. The initial injection of nanoprobes works fast to take over. And they start with the brain. If we could just make the nanoprobes think they're assimilating Seven of Nine..." B'Elanna spoke rapidly, eyes alight.

The Doctor considered it. The long pause, considering the speed at which his program operated, suggested he was weighing a lot of variables. "We can try," he finally said. "It's Seven's best chance. Unfortunately the only true expert on nanoprobe programming we know is also our patient. But we can try," he repeated. He looked at Seven, whose skin now was almost bloodless. "We'd better hurry."

 

* * *

They'd been unable to wake Seven. So the Doctor had worked on the biometallic compound that encased Seven's left hand until her assimilation tubules shot from her knuckles. They jerked spasmodically, evidence that the nanovirus was in them, too.

"Hold them," the Doctor told Janeway quietly. Eyes wide, the captain caught the grey tubes in the air. They felt dry and unnaturally slick as they wrapped around her fingers. She tried not to shudder at the contact as the Doctor carefully extracted nanoprobes from the shafts of the tubes. "All right, I'm done."

She released them gratefully, and they retracted into Seven's hand. Janeway automatically wiped her hand on her uniform.

"B'Elanna. Ensign Kim." The Doctor handed B'Elanna the extracted nanoprobes. "Hurry. You'll be able to compare the structure and programming of these nanoprobes to normal ones, but we don't have a lot of time."

Brisk nods, and the two young officers went to work. Janeway looked back at Seven, and wondered if it would be enough.

 

* * *

"I think this is it," Harry said uncertainly. B'Elanna glanced into the main ward, and saw the captain, looking pale and drawn.

"We'd better hope it is. I don't think we have time for anything else." She began the process of replicating more of the altered nanoprobes.

 

* * *

Seven's lips were tinged blue, and her skin was cold and dry. Only the faint rise and fall of her chest and the almost-imperceptible flutter of her pulse at her throat suggested she was still alive at all. The captain found herself watching Seven's breathing, unconsciously matching each breath as she willed the next to come at all.

Inhale.

Seven's right hand, human to the touch, was icy in hers.

Exhale.

"We're ready, captain." B'Elanna, Harry, and the Doctor were here with a gurney. "Time to go."

Inhale.

"All right." She stood back and watched as they lifted the frail-seeming woman across from the bed -

Exhale.

- and then followed as they pushed her through the corridors and lift to the turbolift. There seemed to be an awful lot of crew members loitering in corridors along the route, unnaturally silent as they watched Seven and her entourage pass. Kathryn stood next to the gurney as the turbolift moved, and looked at Seven.

Breathe.

From the turbolift to the transporter room, now, and she watched as they carefully arranged Seven's long, limp body between the panels of the new sensor device. The sensor looked curiously unfinished, its working parts exposed and patched into a tricorder to serve as its interface. Janeway knew it would be functional, but B'Elanna and Harry had spared no time for aesthetics.

"Ready, Doctor?" she heard B'Elanna say, as the Doctor crouched by Seven holding an evil-looking implement in his hand.

"Ready."

"Co-ordinates for Sickbay prepared, Doctor. You'll go as soon as the nanoprobes start to take." Harry sounded edgy.

"Proceed."

B'Elanna adjusted something on the sensor monstrosity. The panels facing Seven began to glow. "Sensors ready."

"Transporter filter system engaged."

"Sensors tracking."

Harry saw the captain's confused look. "We first have to plot the nanoprobes - where they are and where they're moving. We're going to have to remove them all at once. We're not sure how much computation it's going to take, so we've disengaged the ship's computer's processor from all non-critical systems. If it's possible for this to work at all, it will."

"Sensor sweep at fifty-three percent," B'Elanna reported. "No problems yet."

They waited in tense silence. "Processing," Harry said. "Initiating transporter pass one... now."

There was a faint, but familiar transporter whine, and Seven's skin was momentarily iridescent. B'Elanna frantically keyed instructions into the sensor device. "We missed about one percent, Harry."

"Reading co-ordinates. Energising." The transporter whine stuttered erratically now for almost a minute before B'Elanna nodded.

"Doctor, go," she snapped, and the hologram pressed the unfamiliar device he held to Seven's neck.

Janeway blanched as Seven's milk-white skin greyed, metallic traces rippling beneath and outlining the veins of her face and neck. Seven's back arched stiffly and she woke, giving a half-whimpered cry of agony. Kathryn's heart caught at the look of ancient and renewing horror in her eyes.

"What - I - no..."

And then she and the Doctor were gone.

Janeway swallowed hard, hand shaking as she involuntarily reached towards where Seven had just been. "I'll be in Sickbay," she said hoarsely.

B'Elanna nodded slowly. "Let... let us know, when you do. Please, captain?"

 

* * *

The Doctor ignored her as she entered. He was working intently on Seven's cortical implant as Tom Paris hovered tensely, hypospray in hand and instruments at the ready. The captain remained wisely silent, not wishing at all to distract them from their work.

"Be ready with the synaptic stimulators," she heard the Doctor order.

"Her heart rate is dropping off."

"Well get it up again," the Doctor snapped. "If we lose her cortical implant, we might as well give up."

Paris did something to the biobed controls and pressed a hypospray to Seven's chest. "Got it."

"Good."

There was a brief, tense silence. "Stop," said the Doctor suddenly. "Time to see if her autonomic functions can hold now."

"Turning off life support," Tom answered tonelessly, and waited. "Pulse is thready, but there. Respiration rapid and shallow, but her blood oxygenation is holding at seventy-two percent. Implant regeneration is tapering off. Now at thirty-four percent."

"Neural function?"

Tom hesitated. "Inconclusive."

The Doctor frowned. "Computer, activate atmospheric containment around biobed two and increase interior oxygen levels to sixty percent."

A moment's static glitter in the air around Seven's bed indicated the computer's compliance. Tom rocked back on his heels. "Did we do it?" he asked the Doctor quietly.

"I don't know." The forcefield crackled as the Doctor reached through it to attach a cortical monitor to Seven's neck, then gazed for long moments at the readings that sprang up on a terminal. "We'll have to see if she wakes."

"You mean when," Tom said, eyes wide.

The Doctor shook his head. "If." He turned to face the captain. "It will probably be several hours, captain."

Janeway's voice was rough in her throat. "I'll wait."

 

* * *

She was waiting in vigil, again. Tom Paris, his boyish face sombre, had brought her a chair to sit by Seven's bed. B'Elanna Torres had twice been in to see if Seven was better. Janeway had watched the monitors, feeling hope stir as the signs of Seven's life rose - fractionally, and slowly, but they rose. She still looked like a nightmare version of herself, grey-skinned and ugly with traceries of metal beneath her skin.

But Kathryn counted her the most beautiful sight in the galaxy when Seven's breath caught in her throat and her eyes, a clear, familiar blue, blinked open and focussed.

"Captain." Seven swallowed. "It's over?"

Kathryn felt the tears come, and let them flow unchecked as she smiled. "Very, very nearly, Seven." A command to the computer expanded the forcefield to include her too, and then she could twine her fingers with Seven's and hold on like the weak grip she returned was her lifeline. "The Doctor's going to have to remove your implants again. But you're going to be fine now."

"You are..." It seemed an effort, but Seven reached up with her free hand and touched Kathryn's cheek. "You are crying, captain. You should not... be made sad."

"I'm not, Seven." Kathryn raised Seven's hand to her lips and pressed a light kiss to the fragile-seeming skin. "I promise."