Strawberries
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Star Trek Voyager
Copyright: Paramount/Viacom
"Good morning, Commander," said Neelix, beaming cheerfully as usual. "And how are you today?"
"Oh, I'm fine. Can I have a black coffee and...ah...let's see..." Yes, he still had plenty of replicator rations left. "Can you replicate me two crêpes with strawberries and cream? It's an Earth recipe."
"A little taste of home, eh?" Neelix's smile turned to one of understanding. "Coming right up. Looks like you're not the only one either."
The self-appointed Chief Morale Officer jerked his head in the direction of one of the tables. Chakotay blinked and raised his eyebrows – now here was an unexpected sight.
Seven of Nine, neat and trim as ever in her fuchsia-colored catsuit, had forgone her daily nutritional supplements in favor of a luscious slice of strawberry tart.
He watched as she brought the fork to her mouth, took a bite, and closed her eyes in pleasure. Her lips were nearly the same color as the strawberries.
"Here you go, Commander."
Neelix held out the plate of crêpes; Chakotay turned around to take it.
"Oh, ah, thanks, Neelix. They look great," he said over his shoulder, already several steps away.
It was really past time for him to stop avoiding Seven, he thought. She was a member of his crew now, a highly intelligent, resourceful, courageous woman who had proven herself the equal of any Starfleet officer. He had stopped seeing her as a security risk years ago. So why shouldn't he try to get to know her better, draw her out of that smooth professional shell of hers and see the woman underneath?
He had seen her that way once, on the planet of the Ventu. He remembered her instances of sarcasm; her fierce protectiveness of him when he was injured, snapping at the Ventu tribespeople to stay away until he assured her they were friends. He had witnessed her growing respect for these so-called 'primitive' people, even staying behind to heal the woman she had made friends with. He remembered the feel of her slender shoulders under his arm as she supported him on the way through the woods.
He was just about to join her at the table when a streak of pink and golden-brown skipped past him and took his intended seat. He sat down at the next table instead, to observe – not eavesdrop – Seven's reaction to having her breakfast interrupted by a six-year-old child.
"Hi, Seven," Naomi chirped, digging into the bowl of cereal she had brought. "Mind if I sit here?"
"No." Seven took one look at the green, pink and blue biomatter and her metal eyebrow twitched with distaste. "Is that your breakfast?"
"Yes..." The little girl looked down, flushing with guilt. "Is something wrong with it?"
"It is insufficient. The sugar content is far too high and the cereal has almost no nutritional value. At your stage of development, you require vitamins – fruits and vegetables."
Naomi sighed. "You sound like my mom," she remarked.
"That is because Ensign Wildman and I are both concerned for your welfare. Naomi – " Seven leaned forward slightly, fixing her protegeé with level blue eyes. "Your goal is perfection, correct?"
"Correct."
"And this includes perfect health, does it not?"
Chakotay smiled to himself. She had a point there.
"Okay," said Naomi. "I'll have what you're having. I like strawberries."
Seven surprised Chakotay once again.
"So do I," she said. "I used to eat them often as a child. Before I was assimilated."
Chakotay looked down at his own strawberries. So...this explained it. To Seven, the fruit was not just a fruit – it was a taste of her lost childhood, her regained individuality. And hadn't the Captain mentioned once that Seven's favorite color was red?
Come to think of it, she would look lovely in red. A strawberry-red silk dress with just a hint of cleavage...Chakotay reined in his imagination with a sharp mental tug, glancing around to check if any telepathic species were present. Thankfully, there weren't..
He watched and listened as Seven and Naomi ate and talked; Naomi was a bottomless well of questions about astrometrics, alien cultures, the Borg, Starfleet protocol and various other subjects. Seven answered each one with no sign of impatience; rather, affection and pride shone in her eyes, making her look very human indeed.
Chakotay heard a little beep in his mind, like the signal of a door about to slide open. Come in, he told this new feeling, curious and excited as to where it might lead him.
Close to 0800, Seven stood up. "My shift in Engineering will begin in 3.1 minutes," she said. "Request permission to report to your quarters at 1800 hours for Kadis Kot."
Naomi beamed. "Permission granted," she said, in perfect imitation of Captain Janeway, and sauntered happily out of the mess hall.
Chakotay took his chance. Stopping briefly to toss his empty plate into the recycler, he followed Seven into the corridor until he stood just behind her.
"Seven."
"Commander." She spun around, hands behind her back, and showed him that tiny, bird-like dip of the head she used as a greeting or sign of respect.
Chakotay found he was nervous, like a schoolboy with his first crush. He could imagine what Seven's way of refusing a date might be, and frankly, did not relish the idea.
"I have...something to ask you."
Her eyes, seen from up close, were astonishing – a pure, light blue, like the skies of his homeworld on a clear summer morning. How could he not have noticed before? His customary calm under stress seemed to have flown out the airlock, along with his powers of articulation. How do you ask a former Borg out on a date?
"Proceed," she said.
Taking his tone from her, he drew himself up to attention, pretending formality to disguise the flutters of anxiety he felt.
"Your presence is requested at Chez Sandrine's in Holodeck Two," he said. "Dinner for two, tomorrow, after your shift in Astrometrics."
"Are you...asking me on a date, Commander?" A blush rose on Seven's face and she dropped her eyes. If not for her visible cybernetic implants, she could have been any young girl experiencing her first brush with romance.
I think she likes me!
"Chakotay, please. And yes, that's exactly what I'm doing."
"In that case, Chakotay, I will comply."
Some men might have been insulted, but Chakotay knew Seven well enough by now. Her rosy face, the smile hovering at the corners of her mouth and the way she said his name, like savoring her strawberries, spoke much more clearly than the words she used.
"I'll see you then," he said, giving her a meaningful look.
Her blue eyes left a trail of fire along his face as she dipped her head in farewell. He watched her walk down the hall, moving with a Borg drone's precision and a woman's grace. She was beautiful, and utterly unique. He could hardly wait for tomorrow.