The Anthropologist
 

Part One: Settling In

"But Seven, human beings don't normally accept th-" Janeway stopped midsentence as she heard a sound from her bedroom. "What was that?"

"I do not know," Seven answered. Warily, the two women approached the doorway.

"Janeway to Tuvok. Intruder alert," Janeway snapped. "Computer, lights in the bedroom up." A young woman lay on Janeway's bed, looking surprised. "Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in my bed?" Janeway demanded.

The intruder blinked, and looked around. "How do you know this is your bed?" she asked reasonably. She spoke with an accent that suggested she was from Earth, but hard to quite pin down, and somehow managed to give the impression of drawling, even though she spoke faster than Janeway herself did. "I could ask you what you're doing in my bedroom. You don't know that we don't just have identical ones. For that matter, for all I know you could be burglars, lying to try and deceive me."

Janeway hesitated. Seven looked intrigued, however, and quirked an eyebrow at the unknown woman. "A rational hypothesis," she allowed. "How do you suggest we determine an answer?"

The stranger grinned. "I don't. If this was my room, you'd have been ambushed by the pygmies living under the mess by now." She sat up and jumped off the bed. "I'm the intruder. Pleased to meet you. I'm Sally. I love this," she added, touching her left eyebrow to suggest Seven's implant.

"Answer the question. Why are you here?" Janeway asked again.

"I have no idea." The young woman seemed sincere.

"You are human," Seven observed. "Yet you are not of Voyager. How did you come to the Delta Quadrant?"

"I don't know that, either," the young woman observed. "But I'm generally inclined not to get in a tizzy about little details." Janeway began a slow boil as Sally brushed past her, strolling into the main area of her living quarters. "Hey, nice flat." She glanced at the windows, paused, then moved to stand against a viewport. "Sweet Jesus," she breathed.

At that point, Tuvok entered, and trained a phaser on Sally's back as she peered out the window. Turning, she smiled pleasantly as she apparently regained her mental balance. "Wotcher, guv'nor," she greeted him.

"Is the universal translator non-functional, captain?" the Vulcan queried, and frowned faintly as Sally giggled.

"Half a mongrel!" she declared. Even Seven looked confused.

"I know what all the words mean," Janeway said. "It's just when you put them together..."

"Explain yourself," Seven ordered Sally.

"Explain yourself," Sally retorted. "What are you doing in the captain's quarters at this time of night?"

"Don't answer that, Seven," Janeway snapped.

"Ooh, way territorial." Crossing back to the captain, Sally grinned conspiratorially. "Chill, chief. Closets are for clothes, you know, but I wouldn't dream of outing you to Bigears there." She glanced sideways and looked Seven up and down. "Score, though."

"Captain, may I inquire as to what precisely is going on?" Tuvok asked.

"I wish I knew."

It took hours, but eventually captain, security chief and ship's doctor all concluded that Sally was human, harmless, and genuinely lacking in knowledge of how she had reached Voyager. She was also misplaced in time and universe as well as location.

"I'm telling you, that didn't happen," Sally declared, pointing at a line of text on the screen of the conference room. "Seriously, this is not the twentieth century I grew up in." She paused. She was still fairly sure this was an elaborate dream. It helped her to stay calm, but she was starting to wonder what it said about her subconscious. "Anyway, didn't the doctor say my atomic whatsit signature thingummy was wrong?"

Seven was finding Sally's idiolect difficult to deal with - the young woman used, apparently, a much less formal style of language than Seven was accustomed to. Combined with the fluid rhythm of her speech patterns, she had an oddly intriguing manner of speech. The ex-Borg had noticed that most of Voyager's officers had rapidly adapted to it, and had concluded that perhaps it was worthy of further study.

"Harry, what did the sensors show last night? Anything unusual?" the captain was asking. The young ensign shook his head.

"Nothing, captain. I've checked every sensor log at least twice. No transports, no space-time anomalies, nothing showed up."

Janeway leaned back in her chair. "Well, Sally... It looks like we're stuck with you. The question is, what are we going to do with you?"

Sally left the wall screen and reclaimed her seat at the table between Seven and Harry. "I'm not totally useless, captain. I'm a quick study and I'm good with my hands. I've also just finished my degree, but I don't suppose it's going to do me much good."

"That depends," said Chakotay. "What did you study?"

"Double major. Linguistics and anthropology, minor in computer science. My doctoral thesis was in sociolinguistics." She grinned ruefully. "So if you've got any four-hundred-year-old computer systems you need fixing, I'm your girl. Or if the universal translator fails, hey, call me!"

"I have a suggestion," Seven spoke up. "I have completed my charts of our projected course for some weeks ahead. I could most easily be spared to find how best Sally can fit in aboard this ship."

Janeway hesitated, and Chakotay answered in her place, though his remarks were addressed to the captain. "That sounds like a good idea. Seven could find out what she can learn to do and see if she can fill any of our personnel gaps."

"And when she's not busy with Seven, I can introduce her to some of the crew," Neelix suggested.

Janeway nodded, perhaps a shade reluctantly. "All right."

"I am curious," Seven began, as she and Sally walked towards Astrometrics.

"Yes?" Sally was watching the passing corridors, apparently with an eye to their route. "You know, Seven, I think I know what we need to do first. Can you teach me how to use the computer system and those data padds?"

"I can."

"Thanks. What did you want to know?"

"You seem undistressed to be stranded with Voyager in the Delta Quadrant." They had reached Astrometrics, and Seven picked up a padd and cleared it of data. The conversation that followed was interspersed with a tutorial on the padd's interface.

"Well..." Sally hesitated. "You have to understand my situation. On the one hand, I'm going to miss my friends. But on the other, I'm single, no kids, and I don't get on with my family - and life on Voyager's going to be a hell of a lot more interesting than life back home. And probably more enjoyable, too."

"You were not happy on Earth."

"Fuck no." Sally caught Seven's blink, and cleared her throat. "No, I wasn't."

"Your idiom intrigues me," Seven said. "You use many phrases I don't recognise."

"You, and the rest of the crew," Sally replied with a grin. "A lot of it is colloquialisms from my area of 20th-century Earth. Some of it is just me. I should stop."

"You can?"

"Sure. I'm a linguist, aren't I? Plus - uh, also - even where I come from there's a distinction between formal and informal speech. This is informal. Formal would be more BBC proper." She winced. "More correct within prescribed English usage." She shot Seven a glance. "Tell you what. I'm not much good on this ship until I can be taught how to make myself useful. But what I do know is how people communicate, how humans interact generally. So how about we trade? While you teach me how to be a functional 24th-century human being, I'll give you a hand learning to socialise."

"The Doctor has already been teaching me how to interact with the crew," Seven told her, though she was rather intrigued by the offer.

"That would be the hologram, right?" Sally shook her head. "I'm sure he's fine and all, but Seven - this is what I *do*. I've spent the last four years learning about it. The Doctor's a great doctor - but *I'm* an anthropologist." She smiled winningly.

Glancing around the mess hall as she entered that evening, Janeway spotted Seven of Nine at a corner table with Sally. She felt a stab of jealousy, but suppressed it, reasoning that there was no reason why Seven shouldn't be having dinner with her new protegé. Her young, attractive, friendly, and (Janeway had surmised after working out what Sally had actually said in her quarters) lesbian protegé. No reason at all.

She greeted Neelix cordially and crossed to their table. "Evening. Mind if I join you?" she asked, not waiting for an answer as she sat down. Sally had broken off whatever she was telling Seven as the captain approached.

"Evening, captain," Sally answered politely. "I'm explaining to Seven what swearing is for." She shook her head, half-grinning. "My parents always said I shouldn't do it. Now I get to try and justify why I do anyway."

"Swearing?" Janeway repeated, eyebrows raised. "This should be interesting."

"It's one of the most interesting things about human language, captain." Sally paused. "And possibly about alien languages too, but I haven't had time to research that yet." She paused again as Neelix approached, bringing Janeway her dinner, a delighted smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you, Mister Neelix," Janeway said. "Go on, Sally."

"Uh... right." She giggled slightly, then cleared her throat. "Sorry. I'm itching to talk to him. Okay. Swearing serves a number of different linguistic functions. Firstly, it has basic functions like an expression of pain, surprise, disgust, whatever. Or it can be an intensifier - an emotional intensifier, very rarely a quantifier."

"I do not understand," Seven said.

"Okay. It's like this." She coloured slightly. "Excuse my language, captain... Seven, in the English language, which I speak, and another dialect of which the captain speaks, the most universal swear words would probably be damn, hell, shit and fuck. You may have heard one or two of them before."

"Indeed. Not all of them, however."

"Right. You see, different words have different degrees of intensity - I mean, damn is practically not a swear word at all any more where I come from, but fuck is, and is the worst of those four. Hell is about on a par with damn, and shit isn't as bad as fuck but is worse than damn and hell. But all of them have different uses, which are only partially linked to their original meanings." She took a breath. "For example, I might say: 'Damn. I have no fucking idea where the hell he put that shit.' All four words are used, and I personally would only say that if I was really upset by the absence of whatever it was. But they're not used interchangeably, even though any of the four could be used in isolation as an exclamation. To add to that, different regional dialects have swear words that aren't in common usage elsewhere. I might say 'I can't find my bloody padd' if I couldn't find my data padd, but Captain Janeway wouldn't, am I right, captain?"

"Right," Janeway answered, slightly amused and slightly outraged by the conversation.

"I thought so. You see, by her accent I can tell that Captain Janeway is American. Uh, from the Earth continent of North America or somewhere that sounds just like it - I'm not sure about geopolitical boundaries. And where I come from, at least, that background is inconsistent with using the word "bloody" as anything other than a purely descriptive adjective." Sally glanced at the captain, and grinned. "It'll take hours to explain fully the rules of using just those four words, and I think the captain's getting a little bit worried about me corrupting you. But you see, Seven, this is what makes swearing interesting, and it's also why very few people can swear properly in anything other than their native language. It's complicated. I could refer to 'that damn book' and 'that fucking book' and my criteria for word selection would be based on the degree of expression I wanted. In my dialect I could say 'that bloody book' and it would come in between those two, and wouldn't suggest that the book had bloodstains on it or anything - but someone to whom this language isn't native might say 'that hell book' and it would be wrong, even though 'the hell book' could be correct."

"I am coming to the conclusion that this is a complex field of understanding," Seven said slowly. "And one the Doctor has not so far begun to cover."

"I doubt he will," Sally told her, leaning back in her seat. "Somehow the Doctor didn't strike me as a man who swears a lot. Whereas I sometimes have what's known in some cultures as a dirty mouth."

"Quite," Captain Janeway observed weakly.

Sally had been assigned quarters recently vacated when two crewmembers had decided to move in together. She was thrilled with them, primarily because they had windows - windows that looked out into the depths of space. She wasn't tired of the sight, yet, even after several days.

Right now, however, she wasn't looking at the stars, because she was glaring at the replicator. Finally, scowling, she tapped the comm badge she had been issued. "Uh, Kingston to Seven of Nine," she said into the air, a trifle uncertainly. She hadn't used the communicator before.

"Seven here."

Sally blinked at her chest. "Seven, I can't work out how to get the replicator to give me what I want. Could you stop by my quarters when you've got a moment, if possible?"

"I will be there shortly."

"Thanks, Seven."

While she waited for her new friend to come by, Sally returned to her work, shooting the odd poisonous look in the direction of the replicator. She had persuaded the computer to supply her with a breakdown of the crew complement by species and origin, but had come across something she didn't understand - references to both Starfleet, which she was familiar with by now, and something called the Maquis. Accordingly, she was doing background research - she'd covered recent history (at least enough that she had a vague idea how Voyager had come to be where it was with the crew it had), and was now reviewing the ship's public logs. There was a lot to catch up on. Soon she was absorbed in it, and almost didn't hear the door chime.

It was Seven.

"Ah, Seven, come in," Sally said, smiling warmly. "Please, please, save my life - help me work out that stupid replicator."

"The replicator is possessed of no intelligence," Seven told her, entering the room.

"Tell me about it," Sally grumbled. "Idiom, Seven. An expression of irritation with it."

"I see. What precisely is your difficulty?"

"I need clothes. I only have what I arrived in. I've been washing them before I go to bed and drying them overnight, since I haven't found the laundry yet, but last night I washed my jeans and they weren't dry by morning. I hate wearing damp jeans."

Seven looked at her, apparently amused. (It had taken Sally the first two days to adjust to reading Seven's expressions, but she was used to it now.) "The replicator can be used to clean clothing. It can also provide new clothing. What is your difficulty?"

"Uh... Well, the problem I'm having getting new clothes is that the only thing I've managed to get out of it so far is a Starfleet uniform, and I'm not Starfleet. What I'd like is another pair of jeans and a couple of shirts, I guess. And some underwear."

Seven showed her how to call up the patterns available in the ship's database. Sally picked a couple of shirts easily enough, but the options she found for pants failed to satisfy her. "None of these have pockets or anything. Don't people in this century wear jeans any more?"

"Pockets?" That was the precise almost lack of expression that was a perplexed frown. "In clothing?"

"Well, I'd really like another pair of jeans like the ones I'm wearing." Sally showed Seven the pockets of her jeans. "People in my century carry more minor stuff around than the people here, I'm guessing. We need pockets to stay happy."

"What do you carry in yours?" Seven asked, intrigued.

"I used to carry my wallet, but I've stopped bothering while on Voyager. Uh... It's a little holder for money and identification and stuff. I've still been carrying my pocket knife, and I usually have a couple of chips that carry data I'm working on if I take my work to the mess hall or somewhere." She sighed. "Mostly it's a habit thing. I'm just used to having them."

"In that case, put the 'jeans' you have into the replicator and instruct it to use them to create the replication pattern you desire," Seven said. "Then instruct it to give you more."

"Oh." Sally looked at the replicator. "You can do that?"

"Yes. I will show you, if you take them off. Presuming you are not inhibited by cultural taboo."

"Not particularly." Sally grinned and unbuckled her belt, then slid off the denim.

Seven appraised Sally's body curiously as the anthropologist emptied the pockets of her clothing and pulled the belt free of the fabric loops sewn into the waistband. Sally was tall, by human standards, only a shade shorter than Seven herself. Her build was fairly similar to Seven's own, though her uncorseted waist was less tapered and her chest less generously endowed. Her hair was very different - rather unruly dark curls she tended to pull back with a small black band. She was, Seven decided, quite aesthetically appealing, by human standards.

Sally noticed the look, and was intrigued by it even as she handed Seven her jeans and watched her demonstrate the replicator's function. She had learnt early to make no assumptions about Seven - ever. She had also learnt that Seven and the captain weren't involved - and as far as she could tell, the idea hadn't even occurred to Seven at all. But the look was one she'd seen before on others, and she could swear she'd just been checked out - in the peculiar way women who didn't realise they were queer tended to check out other women without realising they were doing it.

Interesting. Very, very interesting. She hid a grin as she mentally slotted the fact into her "Seven file". Though she had been planning to study the Voyager crew as a whole, she'd quickly grown intrigued by specific crewmembers - Seven was one, Neelix and the Doctor others. She was also interested in spending more time around the captain, since Janeway was such a key figure on the ship, but was well aware it wasn't likely to happen. She'd been flagging data about specific crew members for separate analysis, and Janeway remained one of them despite how little Sally had seen the woman. If nothing else, she'd heard a lot about her from crewmembers she'd spoken to.

"Thanks," she said to Seven, as the ex-Borg (and reading about the Borg had been a hell of a very creepy scary shock) handed her two identical pairs of jeans. By means of experimentation, she deliberately angled her body as she put one of them on to give Seven a good cleavage shot down the V of her shirt, watching her friend surreptitiously to see how she reacted.

Seven's eyes tracked the progress of the denim along the length of Sally's legs, then lingered a shade too long at her chest. Bingo. Set lasers to queer - Seven was 'family', even if she didn't know it. Sally suppressed a chuckle, and decided to try an experiment.

"Since you're here, stay a bit." She offered Seven a disarming smile. "I'm trying to get a handle on - that is, an understanding of - some of the more prominent individuals in the crew." She turned to the replicator. "Hot chocolate. Seven, you want anything?"

"No, thank you," Seven answered with rote politeness. Sally took her beverage from the replicator as it materialised, fetched the padd she usually used from her desk, and crossed to lean against the back of the couch. Seven seemed most comfortable standing, so Sally tended to compromise.

"So. Who do you know well, amongst the crew?" Sally asked, keying the padd to record the conversation. She could go over the actual content of Seven's answers later, and for now watch Seven's ever-subtle expressions for cues as to her emotional attachments to them.

Seven considered the question. "I have spent significant periods with several of the crew," she began. "The Doctor has been giving me social lessons. He felt that he would be best-qualified, as he too once had to learn to adapt to the crew. Commander Tuvok and I have worked together. We 'get on well'. Ensign Kim and I have also worked together extensively. At one time he wished to copulate with me."

"Mm-hm. What about the captain? You were in her quarters when I arrived," Sally suggested, a casual pose masking the great care with which she was watching Seven.

"The captain and I disagreed on many issues when I first came aboard Voyager. Since then, however, we have become... friends. At that time we were discussing the reasons for her behaviour during a recent mission." Seven's matter-of-fact voice was masking something. Sally's interest was piqued.

"I see. How would you describe her?"

"Captain Janeway is resourceful. She is quite efficient in pursuing her goals."

Sally smiled gently. "I didn't ask for a performance review, Seven - I want to know what you think of her. As a person." Seven looked perplexed, so Sally tried a different tack. "I'm just trying to understand you better, Seven, you see?" Sally thought for a moment. "Okay. Tell me something, Seven. What's the last thing you think about before you regenerate?"

"It varies."

"What's the most common thing you think about that has emotional significance? Last night I fell asleep thinking about my work. But the night before that I was thinking about my friend Natalie. I was wishing I could see her and have the chance to say goodbye to her, because I'm going to miss her." Sally wiped at her eyes before tears could fall, and cleared her throat. "You see, the period before sleep - or regeneration - is where we tend to let our minds wander. Often we spend that time thinking about things we're not conscious of during the day. When I think about Natalie then, I'm most aware of my feelings about her. That I love her, and that it hurts me to know I won't see her again." It was getting harder to get the words out. Sally paused, breathing hard. Through tear-blurred eyes she could make out Seven watching her, expression unreadable; finally Seven seemed to come to some decision.

And stepped forward, awkwardly wrapping her arms around Sally's shaking shoulders. Sally broke down entirely, sobbing uncontrollably into the smooth blue fabric at Seven's shoulder. She wasn't sure how much later it was that she was finally calm, her tears spent, face buried against Seven's neck and her arms around the too-slender waist. "Thanks," she whispered, and managed a faint smile. "I think I needed that." She felt Seven nod slightly, but she made no other move. Seven's embrace was just as she needed it, neither distant nor too enclosing. And it seemed she would be willing to stand like this forever. Sally absorbed the comfort a moment longer before pulling back a little. "But you didn't answer my question," she mock-chided. Seven nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at her own lips.

"I believe I understand what you mean. However, my feelings in this case are not negative." She paused briefly. "I most commonly think of the captain."

Sally nodded. "Do you love her?" she asked. Seven considered the question for almost a minute before she answered, and Sally waited patiently.

"Yes," Seven answered slowly. "I believe I do."

"I appreciate you telling me that," she then told Seven sincerely, then let her head fall against her friend's shoulder, exhausted of emotions of her own. Seven held her gently. It occurred to Sally to wonder if Seven had needed to comfort another before, or if it was a new experience and a natural capacity.

Several hours into her duty shift the next morning, Seven heard the door to Astrometrics open behind her. Turning, she saw Sally, in an apparent state of mild agitation. The anthropologist was hesitating in the doorway, keeping it from closing automatically. "Sally," she acknowledged her. "Is something the matter?"

"No... yeah... Um." Sally cleared her throat. "I want to apologise for breaking down last night, Seven. I didn't mean to. It's just been hitting me these past couple of days that I really am never going to go home again."

Seven considered this before coming up with what she hoped was an appropriate response. "It is... all right, Sally. I was neither offended nor discomfited."

She was rewarded with a lessening of the tension in Sally's posture, and a half-grin. "You're sure? Oh, of course you're sure, it's you." She cleared her throat again. "Thank you, Seven."

Seven thought again. "You're welcome."

A flicker of expression passed across Sally's face to quickly for Seven to identify it. "Well. I'll see you later, Seven. Meet you in the mess hall for lunch?"

Seven nodded. "I will be there at thirteen hundred hours."

"Right. Catch you then." Sally ducked out.

Janeway felt unaccountably irritable that morning, several days later, as she took her seat in the conference room. "Morning, Chakotay," she grumpily acknowledged her first officer. They were the first to arrive.

"Good morning, Kathryn."

Janeway hmmed non-committally, and looked up, scowling, as Seven of Nine entered with Sally Kingston. She really didn't know why the anthropologist was attending the staff meetings - it wasn't as if she had an official position. However, since, two days before, she had brightly announced her intention to write a chronicle of Voyager's travels as well as a paper on the "crew tribe", it seemed people were including her quite happily in everything. Chakotay had been maddeningly reasonable about it.

"It's a great opportunity, Kathryn," he had said. "This ship, this crew, the journey we're taking - it's unique. Voyager is unique. I think it's wonderful we have someone who can record this journey - not just what happened, but who we were, and how and why we did it."

"Chakotay, she's not Starfleet."

"Neither am I, technically," he pointed out. "Besides, she's just like any other civilian scientist. Starfleet is used to those."

"Do you think we can trust her?" Janeway had demanded to know.

Chakotay had leaned back in his seat across from her desk, pensive. "I don't see why not. Though I don't think I've exchanged more than a few words with her."

"No-one has," Janeway grumbled.

"Seven has. They've spent a great deal of time together."

Somehow, that didn't make her feel better about it. Janeway wasn't sure she liked the idea of Seven spending all her time with a turn-of-the-millennium anthropologist. Who was probably trying to seduce her. Even now, her jaw tightened just thinking about it.

Right now, however, Sally seemed to be delivering another lecture. "... bonded into a distinct community, explicitly heirarchical but really, more complex than that. Loyalty is required to be absolute, or the entire social structure would have broken down by now. I think it's keyed to symbols." Her eyes were alight with enthusiasm about her topic, but she stopped speaking as she caught Janeway's eye. "I'll tell you later," Janeway heard her add softly to Seven, and stopped herself from shaking her head. Really, she wondered, what did Seven seem to see in the woman?

The staff meeting was fairly routine. Janeway kept an eye as it progressed on Seven. Her Astrometrics officer was characteristically composed, but there was a light in her eyes that Janeway wasn't used to seeing. She wasn't sure she liked the implication, even though Seven's work so far was as exemplary as ever, despite the enormous drain on her time Sally seemed to be providing. Janeway considered that, and sighed inwardly. It was entirely possible that the austere ex-Borg was simply delighting in the new experience of a companion. She knew all too well that Seven had few friends on Voyager, and she herself spent less time with her than she'd like. Sally, sombre-faced, seemed attentive, periodically entering notes into her padd. Janeway wondered what material for her work she garnered from staff meetings.

// What does it mean? \\ Sally keyed into her padd, and sent the message to Seven's, as two words in five of B'Elanna's Engineering report sailed blithely over head.

// Systems are functioning within acceptable parameters. \\ came the reply. // Lt. Torres wishes to experiment with minor upgrades. \\

"Seven, would you be able to lend a hand with that?" Janeway asked.

"Certainly, captain."

"Good. Anyone else have anything to raise?" Janeway continued, gaze sweeping her staff. There was silence. "Dismissed."

"I want to ask her a couple of questions," Sally murmured to Seven. "I'll meet you in the lab."

Janeway gave her a look of suppressed irritation as Sally caught her attention. "What is it, Dr Kingston?"

"Nothing major, captain. I'd like your permission to start learning to pilot shuttlecraft." Quick flash of grin. "I figure it's the twenty-fourth century equivalent of holding a driver's licence."

Janeway only hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Start with holodeck tutorials. Then see if you can find someone willing to help you learn."

"Aye, captain." No need to mention Tom Paris had already agreed - the young man was, it seemed, an avid twentieth-century historian and had practically begged to discuss it with her. Their universes, it seemed, had diverged in the early eighties. She had tried to tell him that she was only twenty-six and didn't really remember any time before around 1980, but he was undaunted. And he'd offered to teach her to fly. "Thank you," she added.

Sally was quite happy with the way her new life aboard Voyager was shaping up, though she had yet to settle in and become truly a part of the community. She sang softly to herself as she went from the conference room to Astrometrics, pleased by the fact that she had come to know her way around the ship.

"You are singing," Seven observed, as she entered the lab.

"I can stop if it bothers you." Sally forced herself to stop humming the refrain.

"No. Your voice is... pleasant." Seven offered her a trace of smile. "I, too, enjoy singing."

"Really?" Sally was intrigued. "You don't do it much."

"My repertoire is limited. I sometimes sing with the Doctor."

"Well, hey, I can teach you some new stuff." Sally thought for a moment. "Music and words to the songs from my time and place probably won't be available. We can always go for classics." She smiled. "Does the Doctor have a good voice? Maybe the three of us can put on a concert. See if we can rustle up a band from the crew and make a big night of it."

Seven hesitated, then nodded. "That would be... interesting."

"Wouldn't it? And hey, there's this other possibility." Sally's smile became positively wicked. "Only if you want to try this out, though..."

End Part One

Part Two