Author's Notes:
Hey guys. Welcome to the story. I hope you enjoy it :) This is still ongoing, although updates are sometimes a long time coming. I do intend to keep going though, so even if it's been a while since I posted a new chapter, I haven't forgotten about it :P
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Game Theory
Chapter 1 - The Tyrant
The courtroom was the pride of the Skyrion capital. Set amongst the gleaming spires of the country sized city, the mile-high chamber was encased in stained glass which channelled the light of Vinlor's twin suns into dazzling arrays of shape and colour. Ornate balconies clung to the inner walls like barnacles, in which the elite and wealthy watched justice being dispensed from their lofty viewpoint. From every ledge hung a banner detailing the absolute words of law as dictated by the Grand Preceptor during the Ninth Age of Ambiguity. On the floor below, row upon row of carved pews now bore the weight of the largest public jury ever to grace the hall. For this was a momentous day that would be remembered for many generations.
This was the day The Enemy would face trial.
"All rise for the honourable Lord of Sceptres," a clerk's voice cut through the murmurs which filled the room, seemingly directed at the solitary figure who sat on a simple metal chair in the centre of the circular judgment floor.
The figure remained seated.
"Did you not hear the command, prisoner?!" spat one of the guards, taking a step forward, all four of his hands clenching into fists.
"I heard it well enough," the figure replied coolly, his voice almost hinting at boredom. "But you would be wise not to enforce it. You know as well as I do that these chains can in no way prevent me from killing you."
The guard snarled and took another step forward, but an order from the presiding judge forced him to back off.
"Let's not concern ourselves with the formalities," the court official said as he entered the room and took his place at the top of the monolithic bench. "Besides, the chains are purely ceremonial. It is the arcum field which is keeping you in place."
"An arcum field?" the figure chuckled. "I'm flattered," he moved one of his hands experimentally, encountering an impenetrable wall of invisible light a few feet from his body. "Tell me, how many homes are currently without power just to keep this machine running?"
"Many citizens of this city would gladly die to see you brought to justice. I assure you that a few hours in the dark was a price they were more than happy to pay. In any case, let us begin the trial. I think we would all like it over with as soon as possible."
"This is hardly a trial at all," the accused figure retorted. "My guilt has never once been in question in the eyes of your law."
"As is rightfully so," the judge hid his expression behind a stack of papers which he shuffled idly, but it was obvious to everyone in the court that he detested the acused as much as any other citizen. "Never in the history of our culture has there been a war criminal that even begins to approach your level of barbarism. Your crimes, and the face behind them, are known throughout all of civilized space. We gather today not to discuss your laughable claims of innocence, but to decide upon a sufficient and fitting punishment."
"You can't blame me for trying," the accused man barked out a harsh, humourless laugh. "So let me guess. You've decided to rescind the ban on public executions simply for my benefit? That's awfully sweet of you."
"Death, if the termination of whatever you are can be called death, would be far too kind a sentence," this was met with a few cries of approval from the assembled crowd. "But now I'm getting ahead of myself."
Clearing his throat, the magistrate signalled to one of his entourage, who then produced a hefty scroll, similar to the banners which lined the walls.
"The being known only as The Enemy stands accused of grievous and repeated travesties against the Skyrion Empire and its affiliated member states," the clerk's voice easily carried throughout the entire spire, which had been acoustically designed to amplify the voices of those on the ground floor. "These include but are by no means limited to; the sacking of Realion spaceport, the murder of Princess Azinance, the use of outlawed biological weapons against the colonists of New Palcy, the theft of Imperial war assets, the..."
"Oh stop, please, you're embarrassing me." The Enemy smiled; a mirthless expression which didn't come close to touching his eyes.
"Your irreverence only serves to increase the severity of your sentence."
"There is nothing you can do to injure me."
"Perhaps," The magistrate conceded. "But we do not need to harm your body to punish you."
He rose from his seat, leaning forward in his dais to stare down at the figure below.
"You may not be so jovial once you hear what we have devised. As soon as your capture was confirmed, our top engineers, some of whose families you yourself have murdered, were tasked with creating a device that could produce the same misery you yourself have inflicted on so many others."
"I doubt they will be capable of succeeding. If there's one thing I've become quite adept at, it's spreading misery." The figure smirked again, his impossibly shiny teeth catching the light.
"So we are aware." The judge said, before snapping his fingers. "For this reason, you are to be imprisoned in the Eternity Ark. Naturally, the sentence is life. I assume, for you, that will be quite a long time."
"No vote? Whatever happened to democracy?"
"The vote has already been taken. You think we'd risk the possibility of you intimidating the jurors into giving you a lighter sentence? No."
"A wise move. So, tell me...what is this 'Eternity Ark'? It's got a rather grand name."
The judge's lip curled imperceptibly in a venomous, triumphant snarl.
"Your synthetic nature was what inspired the device. Unlike us mortals, you are capable of remaining conscious indefinitely without any form of sustenance. The Eternity Ark will do just that; suspend you in a state where you are incapable of movement or action of any kind, yet your mind will remain aware. You will be chained forever, with nothing but your own special breed of sadistic insanity for company."
The magistrate keyed a few buttons on his personal control panel, activating a holo-emitter built into the floor of the chamber. Overhead, a blue, translucent image of a perfect cube shimmered into view. Its faces were engraved with a multitude of text and symbols; warnings and details of its occupant's crimes.
"Your new home awaits you."
The Enemy stared at the image, and for the first time, he was silent.
"The time is 0600 hours."
"Already?" Captain Kathryn Janeway mumbled in a defeated tone. She rolled over in bed, stuffing her head into the pillow and running over the checklist of potential excuses she could use to avoid getting up. It was the same thought process she'd gone through every morning for the past month or so, and like always, no matter how much she wanted to just lie there, she knew that in the end, it was her duty to be dressed and on the bridge by 0630.
It's wrong that I even entertain the possibility. She chastised herself. A starship Captain does not slack off.
With an enormous force of will that seemed to require more and more effort each day, the Captain opened her eyes and forced her petite frame up onto her elbows.
"Lights."
The harsh glare of a starship's interior illumination assaulted her retinas. She could have asked for a dimmer magnitude, but this was the fastest way to wake herself up. Today, just like every other day, Voyager required her to be 100% alert.
Groggily, she made her way to the bathroom, wondering why it had started taking her half the night to actually doze off. It wasn't like sleeplessness was anything new to her, but these recent weeks had been particularly bad.
"Restless," she said the word aloud, her voice rough, realizing it was the best description of how she felt. It wasn't just the lack of sleep, although that was the most obvious symptom; it was everything. No matter where she went, she felt uneasy, like there was something she should be doing or some other place she should be. The area of space they were currently passing through was remarkably quiet, almost boring. There had been nothing of note, either good or bad for...well, for a month.
Janeway felt foolish, even a bit selfish, for seeing that as a negative. After all, no news was good news; a saying which seemed especially true in the delta quadrant since all the news was invariably bad. Still, it didn't sit well with the feisty Captain. She liked to act; whether it was making the first move or reacting to a threat or an opportunity. At least then she was playing an active role in expediting their return to Federation space. This waiting frayed at her nerves, and granted her the one thing she could really do without: time to think.
Not time to think about ship business, she could do with an unlimited amount of that, but time to think about herself; to be introspective. It hadn't always been the case, but Janeway had come to hate looking inwards. She told herself that it was because a Captain couldn't afford to second guess herself. That she must be confident in every aspect of herself for the crew to be able to feel the same. It was true, but that was only part of the reason she disliked introspection so much. The real reason was that it scared her. That was something she wasn't used to and made her extremely uncomfortable. It scared her because every time she looked behind the command mask, every time she checked on Kathryn the woman, and not Janeway the Captain, there was less and less there. It was like the person she'd once been was withering away, until eventually all that would be left was layer after layer of carefully practiced stoicism. She used her Starfleet training to hide her personal emotions from the crew, to allow her to make the tough, sometimes ruthless decisions that were needed to ensure their survival in this hostile quadrant. The problem was that she could see the day approaching when she wouldn't need to hide her inner self because there would be nothing left to hide.
"That's Captain Janeway for you," she murmured to herself, surprised by the bitterness in her voice. "A walking, talking personification of the Starfleet Command Handbook."
Perhaps that was unfair. After all, she'd bent plenty of the rules during their time away from the Federation, and even straight up broken a few others. While it had taken some time to square those decisions with her conscience, Janeway knew that they had been the right ones. That lack of regret was something that she clung to, like a drowning woman would cling to flotsam in a storm. It was proof that she was still an individual, still able to see beyond the protocol she had memorized and understand the spirit in which it was intended, and when it had to be modified.
An image of her astrometrics officer and former Borg drone, Seven of Nine, flashed involuntarily through her mind. Yes, taking Seven with them had been perhaps her most unorthodox violation of Starfleet protocol. In fact, she'd made a point of reviewing every directive against such an action, in some cases multiple times, as if she was guilty that she didn't feel guilty. Yet all it took was one look at the woman Seven had become, and suddenly all those dry, clinically precise lines of text seemed to melt from her memory. She could never regret what she had done, not even in the immediate aftermath, when Seven had been so alone and scared. Even then, she knew that what she was doing was right, and she was immensely thankful that her faith in the woman had not been misplaced. Watching Seven grow as a person was a wondrous experience.
Whoever wrote the official Starfleet guidelines for interaction with a hostile alien race could never have foreseen Janeway's situation, and could certainly never have envisioned the existence of someone like Seven of Nine. The Borg woman was someone who had to be seen to be believed, in more ways than one. She was brilliantly intelligent, wilfully stubborn, and, perhaps unbeknownst to her, exceptionally beautiful.
Janeway halted her train of thought in its tracks. Whenever she got into these self-analytical moods, her mental wanderings always seemed to lead back to Seven. The woman had become something of an emblem for the Captain, and, perhaps ironically, was also one of the few people she socialized with on a more personal level. Yet, images and memories of the Borg drone brought with them a strange and confusing mixture of emotions, like happiness and nervousness rolled into one. Janeway always forced herself to focus on something else before she could analyse what that meant. Or perhaps, deep down, she knew what it meant, but was too afraid to even peek at the part of her mind which was reckless enough to admit it. She feared what would logically follow, like Pandora and her box. Instead, she wearily crushed Kathryn back down into her small mental cell, locking her away behind the weight of responsibility and duty that she was inescapably sworn to bear on her own. As she did, she felt another tiny piece of that woman die.
"Damn it," she growled, affixing the last of her four golden command pips before striding to the door. "This is why I'm not a morning person."
"Captain on the bridge," Commander Chakotay said, turning in his seat as Janeway entered from the turbolift.
"At ease Commander," she replied, having exchanged the exact same words a thousand times before. "Anything to report?"
"Actually, yes, you'll be pleased to hear," the good-natured first officer smiled, relinquishing the Captain's chair. "We've picked up something interesting on the long range scanners. It's still a ways off, so I figured it wasn't anything worth waking you for."
"I see. Interesting how?" Janeway felt her mood lighten somewhat at the news, although it was tempered by the memories of so many other encounters with things she would rather Voyager had avoided.
"I am unsure, Captain," Tuvok, her Vulcan security officer, responded. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly as he studied the console displaying the sensor data in front of him. "It is an object of some sort, cubic, smaller than Voyager, and artificial in its design. Our sensors are having difficulty penetrating its surface."
"Then how do you know it's interesting?" Janeway was cautious, not wanting to latch onto something irrelevant and divert, or even worse, endanger the ship just to scratch her own personal itch for excitement. Nevertheless, her curiosity was piqued at the news. "Is it a vessel?"
"Unknown, but it shows no signs of a propulsion system. As for its interest value, one might say it is curious because of how unremarkable it is," when Janeway made no move to interrupt, Tuvok continued. "The object barely registers on our scanners. It has a minimal energy signature which is almost undetectable. In fact, it would appear that someone went to great lengths to ensure that it remains undetected. However, a more detailed scan revealed the intermittent emission of extremely high-frequency gamma ray bursts. Had we not been in the process of testing the sensors wavelength response times, we may not have detected it at all. These gamma rays could indicate the presence of a strong power source of some kind, contained within the object, which is being actively shielded."
"How strong are we talking about?"
"It is impossible to be certain at this distance, however I would speculate that it is at least comparable to our warp core."
"I don't suppose we can tell if there are any life signs on board?"
"That is correct, Captain. The shielding is too strong. At close range, our sensors may be able to penetrate the outer hull and get a more reliable reading."
Janeway glanced at Chakotay.
"How far out of our way is it?" She asked. His smirk told her he'd known the question was coming. Well, of course she was going to ask. They couldn't just leave a mystery like this dangling and not expect her to bite.
"Actually, it's almost directly in front of us. At current warp, we'll be within close sensor range in about two days." He replied.
"Well, since it is en-route, I see no reason why we shouldn't pause and investigate. This power source could be valuable; perhaps something we can use if this object is indeed abandoned. At the very least, it will give the crew something to keep themselves busy." Standing up and straightening out her jacket, Janeway headed for her ready room, eagerly anticipating the first coffee of the day. "You have the bridge again, Commander. Keep me informed of any changes.
"Aye, Captain." Chakotay acknowledged.
Seven of Nine glanced at the upper corner of her work display where a small, flashing indicator alerted her to a communiqué from the bridge. With characteristic Borg efficiency, she opened the document and scanned its length, committing all relevant information to memory. Apparently Voyager would be making a brief stop to examine an artifact of potential scientific interest.
It was welcome news for the young Borg. Boredom was still a relatively new emotion to her, but she had noticed signs of it increasingly frequently during the last couple of weeks. With nothing but empty space in all directions for the foreseeable future, astrometrics had little to do save for routine maintenance and upgrades. And while she derived satisfaction from efficiently carrying out these duties, they did little to challenge or excite her.
"Excitement is irrelevant," she murmured. She didn't really feel that was true, but convincing herself that it was the case was preferable to being 'bored'.
Of course, there was another, more personal reason that she was grateful for the discovery. She had noticed that these prolonged periods of inactivity usually coincided with increased levels of depression and melancholy within Captain Janeway. For reasons which had so far eluded her, the thought of the Captain...Kathryn, experiencing these emotions seemed to make her feel the same way, something she did not enjoy at all. She recognized it as the human attribute of 'empathy', yet she seemed to respond to the Captain's mood much more than she did with the moods of others.
Perhaps my empathy is aberrant. She thought, resolving to ask the Doctor about it the next time she was with him.
Resuming her original work, Seven was mildly perturbed to find that she was having difficulty removing images of the Captain from her mind. Her fingers danced across the keys on autopilot as she visualized Janeway; all five and a half feet of her. Yes, there was definitely something...intriguing about the older woman. The truth was, was that it was not just her empathy which behaved abnormally in the Captain's presence. No, it seemed that many of her other human features malfunctioned as well. She recalled their last encounter, when Janeway's simple presence had caused her circulatory and respiratory systems to behave outside of their normal parameters. It was imperceptible to an outside observer, for which Seven was thankful, but her Borg systems catalogued the changes in precise detail.
For some reason, she found herself reconsidering bringing the subject up with the Doctor just yet. It also seemed unwise to mention these responses to Janeway herself, although again, Seven was unsure as to why she thought that. After all, there was very little about her fledgling humanity that she did not share with the Captain. This time though, she felt a desire to keep her thoughts private, at least until she had better categorized them. It was a distinctly...human behaviour. Seven was not sure whether to be pleased or worried at that realization.
Feeling decidedly annoyed at all the uncertainties eroding her efficiency, Seven filed her queries away to be addressed during her off-duty time, and forced herself back to the console, although images of Kathryn still lingered in the back of her head. She would perform some more intense scans of the distant object and see if she could glean any preliminary data about its composition. That should prove to be acceptable to the Captain. The thought of obtaining the older woman's approval created a pleasant warmness in her abdomen.
Perhaps empathy is not irrelevant after all. Seven thought, her lips quirking in a minute smile as she redoubled her efforts.
Captain Janeway reclined in the chair behind her desk, absent-mindedly sipping at a warm cup of her favourite coffee blend as she reviewed some staff reports. It was fairly run-of-the-mill stuff, except for a few points of note. It seemed Ensign Adams had finally proposed to Ensign Foren, and they were now requesting a combined living space.
About time. Janeway chuckled. She's been telling everyone to expect it for weeks.
It was more good news. A marriage was always a great boost to morale. Seeing love blossom despite the ongoing hardships seemed to make the ship's situation less bleak. It tended to give people hope that they could one day return to a more normal life, back at home. Janeway also liked to think of it as a sort of passive resistance against every species which had an axe to grind with Voyager. In spite of the best efforts of the likes of the Borg and the Hirogen, Voyager was still going strong, and making the best of what they had.
A side effect of the request was that it would free up a set of quarters, something which hadn't happened for a while. The Captain smiled to herself...she knew just who to give them to. Tapping her communicator, she turned to gaze out of the window at the stars streaking past.
"Janeway to Seven of Nine."
"Yes, Captain," the reply came a second later.
"Are you busy right now, Seven?"
There was a momentary pause, and Janeway could almost see the striking Nordic woman considering her answer, as well as what the question could be implying.
"I have no duties which cannot be temporarily delayed."
"Good," Janeway said, having expected the answer. Astrometrics was probably a ghost town at the moment. "There's something I'd like to discuss with you. Report to my ready room."
"I am on my way, Captain," Seven said, and Janeway could hear the whoosh of astrometrics' automatic doors to prove it.
Of course, discussing her idea with Seven could have waited until after their duty shifts, but Janeway found that she enjoyed having an excuse to see her before then. Once again, she tried not to think too deeply about what that meant.
She's good company; intelligent, insightful, and even humorous at times. That's all it is.
The Captain was unsure of what Seven's opinion on having her own quarters would be. The Borg woman had never complained about 'living' in cargo bay two, but then again, she rarely tended to express any discomfort, even when she was obviously in pain or upset. As a member of the senior staff, it seemed only fair that Seven should have a private area that she could call her own. Kathryn just wondered why she hadn't considered it sooner.
Perhaps because the fact that she regenerates in cargo bay two means you can watch her while she sleeps.
Despite quashing that thought as soon as it sprung up, the Captain was still dismayed at the ring of truth it had. Whenever she felt restless, she tended to wander the ship, and her impromptu ramblings had often seemed to end in cargo bay two. It seemed that regardless of whether it was her legs or her mind which was wandering, all roads eventually led back to Seven of Nine.
Janeway was startled from her introspective mood as the very object of her musings entered her ready room. Seven was an exquisite sight to behold; six feet of womanly Borg encased in a silver-grey biosuit which hugged her curves in all the right places, and left only her hands and head visible to the naked eye. She wore her hair in her usual austere bun; an 'efficient' style, she had once told the Captain.
Composing herself, the Captain rose from behind her desk and gestured to the sofas.
"I prefer to stand," came Seven's rote reply.
Sometimes Janeway would insist that the stubborn Borg sat, but today she was hoping that Seven would be willing to agree to something new, so she allowed this small concession, instead perching herself on the back of one sofa to avoid having to crane her neck to look up at the other woman.
"Very well," she acknowledged, before getting straight down to buisness. "Seven, are you aware of Ensigns Adams and Foren's recent engagement?"
The slight look of surprise on the blonde's face indicated that it was not the question she had been expecting.
"I am Captain," she replied a second later. "I have heard numerous crewmembers discussing the occurrence of this ritual."
"Well," Janeway continued, Seven's precise terminology never failing to make her smile fondly, "it may come as no surprise, then, that they have requested to share quarters."
"A logical progression of their relationship," Seven agreed, evidently uncertain as to where this conversation was heading, but willing to go along with her Captain. "In my lessons with the Doctor on human courtship, it was stated that couples often seek co-habitation once their relationship reaches a suitably 'serious' level."
"Quite so," the Captain liked these little guessing games she played with Seven, giving the brilliant Borg a chance to extrapolate what Janeway would say from the scant data she provided. Quite often, Seven would surprise her with something entirely unexpected. This time though, it seemed she needed a few pointers. "I guess you're wondering what this has to do with you," Janeway added, lips quirking in an amused smile.
Seven simply raised an eyebrow, causing her optical implant to quirk quizzically; a signal to proceed.
"Well, with Foren moving in with Adams, there is going to be a set of quarters going spare. I was wondering..." Janeway paused momentarily, thinking how best to phrase the idea. In the end, she settled for straightforwardly; after all, Seven appreciated efficiency above almost everything else. "...I was wondering if you wanted them. It seems only fair, since you don't have a place of your own."
"Cargo bay two is sufficient…" Seven replied, seemingly not quite understanding.
"Yes, but it's not really a living space. A real, personal, living quarters," Janeway insisted, although she made a point of keeping her voice friendly. After all, she wasn't giving Seven an order; she was merely trying to encourage her further development. "You regenerate there, true, but it is also a public area. Wouldn't you rather have somewhere private, where you can be alone if you wish to be? Besides, there aren't things like a bed or a toilet in the cargo bay."
Seven opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again as she considered the Captain's words.
"It is true that I sometimes feel...uneasy with the fact that others can access my habitation at any time, especially while I am regenerating," Janeway felt a small twinge of guilt, realizing she was probably more guilty of that than any other crewmember. "However I do not require sleep or waste disposal facilities."
"Not yet, but you may develop those needs as more of your dormant human systems reassert themselves," Janeway could tell that she was getting through to Seven, so she pushed on. "Why don't you give it a try? You can see how it goes, and if you end up liking it, we can even arrange to have your alcoves moved there if you like." Hesitating, she added, "As it turns out, the empty quarters are on the same deck as mine, so I'll be on hand if you need any help."
She hadn't been sure whether or not to point out that last fact, since Seven would obviously notice it herself. Then she realized how silly she was being. She'd always made herself available to the young woman before, and now should be no different. Her own conflicting feelings shouldn't factor into that.
Seven seemed to warm to the idea, although whether that was because of Janeway's last sentence or her own internal analysis, the Captain couldn't say.
"Acceptable. When will Ensign Foren be vacating?"
"Not for another week or so yet." Janeway replied. Then before she could help herself, she added. "I'll re-jig the duty roster if I can, to give me some free time to help you 'move in' and get settled."
Well, you've said it now. Janeway groaned. Deep inside her though, Kathryn smiled to herself.
Seven also seemed startled by the offer, but her surprise rapidly disappeared and was replaced with one of her rare but warm smiles.
"Very acceptable."
Kathryn's heart fluttered. She was thankful for the impending examination of the alien artifact. It looked like she'd need some help keeping her mind off of the kind of things her captaincy forbade.
She was alone in a solitary pool of light. All around her, blackness stretched away to infinity, and although she could not see beyond the circle she stood in, she knew that there was nothing else out there.
Except for a single figure.
"Captain." Seven said as she stepped into the spotlight. Her voice sounded odd, distorted, as if she was talking through a pane of glass. Her hands were cupped around something Janeway could not see. "I have found what you are searching for."
"You have?" the sentence made inherent sense to Kathryn, yet she was not consciously aware of what thing Seven was referring to. "Show me, darling."
Darling? A tiny part of her mind questioned in dismay, before it was smothered by the layers of this surreal reality. A warmth filled her body, comforting in its familiarity as she eyed Seven.
The woman approached her, each step of her luxuriously long legs elevating Kathryn's pulse. She could not tell whether she was anticipating the object Seven cradled, or the chance to finally lay hands on her astrometrics officer.
God, it's been so long.
The Borg stopped a few feet from the Captain.
"Here it is, as you requested."
As Seven revealed what she was carrying, Janeway recoiled in horror, contentment flipping to revulsion in a second. The younger woman held a severed human heart. Impossibly, it was still beating, and with each pulse, fresh spurts of crimson blood flowed from the severed arteries, running over Seven's hands and dripping onto the featureless floor. Only Janeway's training stopped her from vomiting at the unexpected sight.
"What...how...?" as she stumbled for words, the light which illuminated them changed, its colour darkening from white to a shifting mixture of blues and reds which whirled around each other in a maddening frenzy. A piercing noise filled the endless expanse, like a grinding, mechanical foghorn. It reverberated inside Janeway's skull, inside her very mind, forcing her to the ground.
"I-I don't understand," she cried, a sense of overwhelming despair and betrayal filling her, although she did not know where it came from. Tears stung at her eyes, and her vision blurred as she looked towards Seven, suddenly terrified of what she might see.
The woman's skin was shifting, rippling and distorting. Then, mirroring the tears which now streamed down Janeway's face, it trickled from her frame like tendrils of quicksilver. Beneath was an alien figure which Kathryn did not recognize, but which instilled a sense of primal fear in her heart.
It seemed to be some form of humanoid male, standing over eight feet tall. His skin was composed of metallic plates, shined to a perfect chrome finish...a synthetic organism, Janeway realized. Four arms emerged from his torso, each ending in a set of vicious, steely talons. As she watched, their eyes met. Twin points of ruby flame burned deep within his eye sockets; baleful and inhuman.
"Captain," he said, echoing Seven's greeting. The words were the same, but the traces of warmth which infused her Borg's voice were gone, replaced with something harsh and soulless. Like the thrumming which had preceded his arrival, his tone was base and mechanical, seeming to come both from his mouth, and from within her own head.
Before Janeway could stand, he was moving, closing the space between them in a few powerful strides. As he did, the claws of one hand seemed to elongate, growing to vicious spikes which now reached towards her. Janeway tried to react, but her limbs felt as heavy as lead and were completely unresponsive. She could only watch in horror as the points plunged into her chest, bringing with them an agony she had never imagined was possible and a dreadful, icy cold.
"You will thank me in time, Kathryn," the artificial man said as he pressed harder, seemingly oblivious to Janeway's cries of pain. "The days ahead hold many surprises, and you will find that physical pain will be the least of your concerns."
By now his whole hand was inside her torso. Kathryn was aware that she should be dead from the injury, yet despite the damages inflicted to her body, it seemed as healthy as ever. The pain was horrific, but more bearable than perhaps it should be.
"We all have our parts, but who is player, and who is pawn? The answer may not be what you expect."
With a sudden surge of savage strength, the man tore his hand free, severing Janeway's heart and discarding it on the floor next to the other one. The shock it sent through the Captain's body froze her in place, and she watched as the two organs melted away into puddles of midnight-black ink and disappeared through invisible cracks in the ground.
"Time makes a mockery of the mortal form, yet it is my greatest ally. Continue your journey. I will wait, and soon all shall be revealed…if you choose to see it. We shall meet again, and when we do, you shall embrace me as a brother."
The figure receded as Kathryn stumbled forward and the darkness swallowed her whole.