Disclaimer: All the characters of Star Trek: Voyager belong to those who make money off of them…which is certainly not me. I just borrow them for a little playtime every once in a while.
Dedication: Thanks Gene Rodenberry for your ideas and insights to spur our imaginations ever onward, to go where no man has gone before.
The faint hum of the ship during the induced night cycle created a lull that helped some to sleep. Those who did not sleep remained at their duties, while others were in a state of regeneration.
Or were supposed to be.
Seven of Nine, ex-Borg, stood completely still, briefly pondering what could possibly have disrupted her regeneration cycle. Her eyes scanned the cargo bay where her regeneration chamber had been set up. Her ears pricked and, although no sound came from within her chamber, she heard a billion voices, calling to her again.
"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."
Stiffening, Seven moved into action quickly. Lengthening her strides, she strode into the corridors of the Starship Voyager and rapidly arrived at Captain Kathryn Janeway's quarters.
Touching the door's side panel, a soft chime issued forth and there were several seconds in delay as it penetrated Captain Janeway's sleep. A groggy, "Enter", followed soon and Seven stepped forward to obey.
Janeway seemed surprised to see her.
"Seven? Is something wrong?" The captain of Voyager inquired as she finished straightening her jacket on her uniform. The woman hand thrown on appropriate attire, not knowing who it could be or what kind of emergency at this late hour.
Seven of Nine tried to think of a way to say her unpleasant news without upsetting Janeway much. In the end, she reflected, speed is of importance and however she said it, it would upset the captain.
"I have been contacted by the Borg," Seven said bluntly, careful to observed the sudden tension in Janeway's shoulders.
"What did they say?" Janeway asked, nonchalantly, while her mind raced. She ran fingers through her hair hurriedly.
Seven suppressed a sigh. "That they are the Borg and resistance is futile."
Janeway motioned for Seven to join her on her way to the bridge. "Is that all?" She said as they approached the turbolift. Two crewmembers in gold uniforms saw the captain and graciously let them take the lift in their place.
"The bridge," Janeway snapped. Every second counted now. "Why was I not alerted sooner?" She felt disappointed in Chakotay. Usually, he came to her himself as soon as trouble even suspected it would brew—which it usually did.
Seven cleared her throat. "No one told me, Captain. I heard them."
Janeway lifted an eyebrow. "Is your transmitter activated again?"
"Not that I am aware of, Captain," Seven replied. "I will have the Doctor check into it in a few minutes."
The lift stopped and the doors slid open. Janeway expected to see her crew too busy to contact her with this new threat, at least to see some activity due a Federation Starship. Instead, she and Seven were greeted by the second shift's jokes and idleness. Younger officers shared units with others, playing at each other's professions.
A Bajorian named Gradly noticed Seven and Janeway. Loudly, to cover the background noise, he said, "Captain on the bridge!"
Seven thought what happened next could be termed as 'humorous' by human standards. Junior officers scrambled to their posts and sat or stood rigidly still while Janeway stepped onto the upper level of her bridge. Her keen eyes penetrated the scene quickly and she refrained from commenting on the lapse in discipline.
"Where is Commander Chakotay?" Janeway asked Gradly.
Standing at strict attention, Gradly answered, "In your ready room, ma'am. He told us to see him if anything arose." His wrinkled nose twitched.
"Thank you," Janeway said. She turned her attention to Seven. "Seven, scan the quadrant for the Borg and contact me in my ready room. Also, wake up prime crew and get them up here. Dismiss night crew once prime crew is gathered. I'll be in my ready room." The captain swiveled on her heel and stalked to her ready room door as Seven bent over her station and got to work.
Irritated and amused at the same time, Janeway touched the chime to her door. A masculine voice immediately responded for her to enter.
At least he's awake, Janeway thought as she stepped inside.
"Captain!" Chakotay's brow wrinkled, obscuring his tattoo as he did so. He stood from behind her desk, putting down a datapad. "Is something wrong? You're supposed to be resting from your time trapped on that deserted planet."
Janeway kept the smile from her face. "I'm fine, Chakotay. Seven woke me with disturbing news: the Borg have contacted her."
Chakotay's eyes widened in shock. "When?"
Janeway motioned for him to join her back on the bridge. "Only a few moments ago…"
"Captain, the prime crew has arrived," Seven's voice interrupted.
Janeway lifted her head toward Seven's voice. "I'll be right there, Seven. Commander?" Getting a nod from Chakotay, they arrived on the bridge together. Janeway crossed directly to Seven's station, ignoring the puzzled looks the newly awoken crew were sending them.
"Have you found anything?" Janeway asked, peering over Seven's shoulder as she continued to work.
Seven's voice was preoccupied. "Not yet, Captain. I am now conduction a further sensor scan. There is nothing immediately near our viscidity."
"Captain," Tom Paris' lean form moved to her vision. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed man leaned casually on the rail. "What's going on?"
Janeway glanced around to find the same, unspoken question on everyone else's faces. "Seven has been contacted by the Borg," she revealed bluntly.
The usual amount of tension filled the room that normally did with the threat of the Borg.
As usual, Paris found his voice first. "Where are they?"
Janeway glanced at Seven, who had straightened herself from the panel. "If they were here, they are no longer. There is no activity near us."
B'Elanna Torres crossed her arms. "What do you mean, 'They're no longer here'? Where are they?"
Seven turned a dispassionate gaze to Torres. "They are no longer a threat. They are gone," she repeated patiently.
"Gone?" Harry Kim echoed. He looked as if he were just now waking up; his brain sluggish. "As in, departed? Just like that?"
Chakotay could not understand, either. "Why contact you and then leave? What is their purpose?"
Seven's blue eyes glinted with memories no one wanted to share. "The Borg prided themselves on causing fear and terror. Apparently, they have found new tactics to do so."
"Using you to help them?" Tuvok finally interjected with his calm logic. "That is not logical."
"I did not know I was assisting them at the time," Seven mildly defended herself, keeping her hands behind her back. "If that is the case."
Janeway frowned. "This doesn't seem like the Borg's usual behavior," she mused.
"Yes, it is unusual," Tuvok agreed. Nods could be seen around the bridge. "One must question their motives. Is it possible Seven's transmitter malfunctioned?"
"I was planning on reporting to sickbay in a few moments," Seven replied. Janeway thought she could detect a faint level of an edge to the response. Seven was indeed nearing more sides of her humanity.
Chakotay must have detected it, too. "If there is not other threat," the XO suggested, "then why don't you go ahead? The captain and I will be there shortly."
Seven nodded and, dropping her hands, strode into the turbolift. It whooshed down, leaving the bridge in silence.
Paris' eyes snapped as he confronted Tuvok. Evidently, he had heard the anger in Seven's voice as well. "Good grief, Tuvok! Why don't you make her feel bad?"
Tuvok calmly regarded the younger officer. "I merely asked a question, Mr. Paris."
Janeway cleared her throat. "Gentlemen," she said loudly. Once she had their full attention, she added, "I have no doubt Seven is telling the truth. I'm sorry your sleep was disturbed. If you wish to go back to your quarters, I'll get night crew back up here."
B'Elanna sighed. "It's only two hours until our shift. I'm going to stay on."
Tom nodded, as did Tuvok and Harry. Chakotay was the only one who hesitated.
"I'll return after a short nap, if that's all right, Captain," Chakotay inquired.
Janeway smiled. "I was about to suggest that, Chakotay. I'll never be able to go back to sleep now. Would you join me in sickbay first?"
Chakotay grinned back. "Glad to."
The holographic doctor scanned Seven's transmitter with his medical tricoder. He frowned at the readings briefly before Seven caught his eye.
"What is it, Doctor?" Seven inquired, a feeling humans called 'unease' flitting through her.
The Doctor kept the crown on his face as he placed the tricoder on the medical bed. "Seven," he began, his tone troubled, "I think I've found something. Will you please lay on the biobed?"
Seven met his gaze. "Certainly, Doctor." Obediently, trusting his judgment, she lay still as the biobed surrounded her.
The Doctor was in the midst of checking her organs for what he had found in Seven's brain when Captain Janeway and Chakotay came in. Seven noticed Janeway seem to flinch slightly at the unexpected sight.
"Doctor," Janeway immediately said as she hastened to them, "What seems to be the trouble?"
Hesitantly, the Doctor let the biobed settle back down and helped Seven sit up. Finally, when three pairs of eyes were demanding an answer, the Doctor supplied the disturbing information.
"There is a small cluster of cells located near Seven's transmitter. I believe that these cells inadvertedly triggered stimuli in Seven's brain which caused her to have a memory surge. The only thing she likely remembers is the one thing she, when she was Borg, repeated over and over again. There was never any danger to us," the Doctor finished.
Chakotay seemed unsure if that was truly all the Doctor had to say. The hologram kept glancing at Seven as if he were afraid she would disappear. "What do you mean exactly by 'there was never any danger to us'? Is there danger or not?"
Janeway nodded, agreeing with Chakotay's question. Their minds were on the same track, as usual.
Seven tilted her head to regard the Doctor better. She trusted him implicitly and knew he would tell her in his own way.
The Doctor shifted, uncomfortable. "Seven might be in great danger. Apparently, when her…personalities…took over her mind, some of their physical, or mental rather, attributes also became a part of her. One of them had a strange disease that there is no translation for in English; the closest word would be 'terminal cancer'. It has no cure that are in the medical logs. In six months time, Seven will die."
Neelix whistled happily to himself as he dropped a type of root that the crew of Voyager picked up two days ago on a class-M planetoid into the stew he was preparing for the crew. It was the only stew he had made recently for the Voyager crew that they had seemed to come back more for. The tangy root turned sweet and sour when added to the stew, giving it a pleasant taste.
He was busy stirring the concoction when he noticed Seven of Nine enter, walking slower than her usual long-legged stride. Her face was pale and her eyes contained a glazed expression. Alarmed, Neelix made sure that the stew would be find unattended and hurriedly crossed the room to her side. She sank, straight-backed, into a table's chair and said nothing.
Neelix took in her countenance and spoke to the replicator near Seven. "Chocolate cake." Almost at once, a moist piece of chocolate cake and a fork appeared. He joined Seven and pushed the cake in front of her. Her eyes never lost their far away gaze. He didn't think she knew where she was.
Gently, wary of startling the strong ex-Borg, Neelix ventured, "Seven? Are you all right?"
The blue eyes abruptly focused on him. "I was…thinking," she said, her voice holding a barely imperceptible tremor.
"Would you like to talk about it?" Neelix asked softly. He wondered if Seven had noticed the cake yet.
She glanced down and saw the dark brown mass on her plate. It reminded her of the cluster of cells the Doctor had shown her near her Borg transmitter. "It is a personal matter. One I do not wish to discuss," her tone was as equally soft as Neelix's but firm.
Neelix took it in stride. He could find out later. "If you need to talk, just come see me," the Talaxian trader remarked, standing up.
Seven wrestled with a silent need for a second. She picked up the fork and stabbed off a piece of cake as she quietly asked, "What is the human form of 'terminal cancer'?"
Neelix was only a step away when her question hit him. He turned, fighting to keep his face calm, and sat back down. Nonchalantly, he inquired, "Terminal cancer, hm?"
Seven swallowed the lone bite, then pushed the cake away. The sweetness was not a comfort at the moment. "Yes. The Doctor believes he found a cluster of cells in my brain born from one of the peoples I helped assimilate. The human translation would roughly be 'terminal cancer', yet the Doctor did not elaborate much."
Neelix's mind was numb. "If I remember correctly from the medical files on illnesses of Earth dating back to the 1920s, terminal cancer was a ravaging, quick-growing disease which had no cure. Humans had medicines to alleviate the pain but nothing was found to stop it, until 2035. Did the Doctor happen to say how long of a timespan you…are…uh…given?" He scratched the side of his face self-consciously.
Seven's answer nearly caused him to fall out of his chair. "Six months." He was not able to ask anything more for Naomi Wildman entered. The little girl with long, dark blonde hair skipped over to them, clutching her Flutter doll.
"Hi, Neelix," she greeted her godfather. She straightened as she noticed his companion. Her voice was slightly more serious as she added, "Hello, Seven."
Seven liked the child for strange reasons. Perhaps she reminded Seven of her own lost childhood. Once, Neelix had asked her if she missed her parents. She had responded that she had adapted and so could Naomi with the loss of her mother. Now, she wasn't so sure if she had adapted quite as well as she had thought.
"Good morning, Miss Wildman," Seven replied. She faced Neelix as they stood. "I thank you for your time, Neelix. I have some calculations to complete in astronautics. Good day." She turned and left, the cake still sitting on the table.
Naomi tugged on Neelix's sleeve. When she had her godfather's undecided attention, she asked, "Is Seven all right, Neelix? She seemed sad."
Always amazed at Naomi's insight, Neelix struggled for an answer. Finally, he settled on one that was more truth than lie.
"I don't know, Naomi. I really don't know."