The streets of San Francisco were bustling with their usual late night activity. Groups and couples wandered the streets, popping in and out of bars and shops. Exhausted groups of Starfleet Academy recruits burnt the midnight oil along with their academic anxieties. Humans, Betazoids, Bajorans, and even the sparse Tellarite could all be seen amongst the mingling groups-all living in the harmony and tolerance that the Federation so proudly advocated, for which the Human species had so strongly fought.
Sitting at a table along a side street, one particular human felt distant from these feelings of tolerance. She had been on Earth for only two years, yet in those two years she had felt her world falling away from her, just as it had in those first few months aboard the USS Voyager in the Delta Quadrant.
Voyager is my collective. Earth is far from it. Seven of Nine looked around the scene. Amongst these billions of lifeforms, she had never felt more like an individual. Alienated and stigmatized, she felt more alone than she had six years ago on Voyager when the crew had to be put in statis. The implants surrounding her eye, once key to her identity and service to a collective, now acted to keep her apart from the crowd.
She remembered her first day back on Earth, the time spent by Starfleet just deciding what to do with her. After all, she was undoubtedly the first of her kind. Certainly, quite a few in the Federation had been assimilated into the Borg and then later reclaimed-Jean Luc Picard being a notable example. However, they were all long since removed of their implants, and were forever detached from the Borg mentality of efficiency and perfection. If it came down to it, Seven was certain they would not hesitate to kill a drone. So it should come to no surprise that Starfleet Command had been so critical of Captain Janeway's 'crusade' to acquaint former Borg with the ways of individuality, even more than they had condemned her temporary alliance with the Collective to defeat Species 8472.
She had tried to get back in contact with any family, to little avail. She was only given a true place in this city by the generosity of her former crew, who managed to arrange a career in a Starfleet lab and set her life in relative ease. The Voyager crew, she remembered in a flashback. Her Collective. But her collective was gone once again, and this time without so much as a damaged neurotransmitter to give her warning.
Seven of Nine stood to leave. Little purpose could be served by staying here. She would continue back to her Earth apartment, where she had several PADDs of information awaiting her work.
As she walked, she felt the sensation of being followed. Glancing slightly behind her, she saw the culprits. A group of fairly young human men and women, all staring at her.
"She's the Borg Starfleet brought back!" one shouted, as the group quickened their pace. They came into view-Starfleet cadets.
"Tuvok was right, Humans do have an uncanny tendency to state the obvious." Seven stated to herself, subtle agitation in her voice.
"You know, I bet she's just a double agent." another jeered. "Just waiting to find our weakness and assimilate us all." The group continued with a number of insults.
"We... I am not Borg." Seven said, correcting herself, but as calmly and objectively as ever. "I am human. An individual. I do not maintain contact with the Collective."
"Once a Borg, always a Borg." a female human sneered. "You have no place on Earth."
"I am quickly beginning to agree." Seven said under her breath.
"What was that? If you have something to say, just say it to us." One of the group stepped forward.
"It was nothing of your concern." Seven said, glancing into their faces. "Stand aside. Please." The Doctor's lessons on politeness were still embedded in Seven's mind.
However, group did not move.
"Comply." Seven said, raising her voice.
It didn't take long for her to notice the group advancing on her, an angry mob impassioned by decades of prejudice. Underestimating a former Borg, she easily incapacitated several of the group.
Several grabbed her arms, and began to drag her backwards. "Stop! Let me go!" Seven commanded, her voice elevated.
The struggle continued, until the distinct sight and sound of phaser fire shot centimetres from the shoulder of one of the group members.
"That was just a warning shot. Don't make me try my accuracy," said a cold voice behind them.
Everyone stopped and turned around to the scarcely illuminated arrival. Petrified, the cadets looked into the black eyes of the commanding presence before them.
"You should know better than to try and mob a former Borg drone."
The man stepped out of the darkness, the tan skin of his face marked with a distinct bird tattoo.
"Particularly one that's a member of my crew. Leave before there's real trouble here."
The group stood there, paralyzed.
"I have all day, but you don't." Chakotay said, matter-of-factly.
A few in the group glanced between Chakotay and Seven, before they quickly departed.
The pair stood in silence for a moment.
"That was...unexpected, Commander." Seven said.
Chakotay smirked slightly. "I suppose a 'thank you' simply doesn't work for you. It's Captain, now." He added conversationally.
Seven raised an eyebrow. "Thank You...Captain."
She thought a moment. "However, I do believe you are incorrect."
Chakotay gave an amused look of surprise. "Oh?"
"I am not currently a member of your crew. That distinction was terminated two years ago."
Chakotay chuckled, walking around. His feet found a pebble along the road. "You haven't changed, Seven. Still detailed and efficient." He said, playing with the pebble. "But you see, that's why I've come. Starfleet has informed me I'm to gather a crew to provide detailed scans of the Typhon Expanse."
He stopped and looked at Seven. "I'd like you to be a member of that crew."
Seven raised her eyebrows, and the ever so slightest smile revealed itself across her face, just faint enough to disappear in the dimly lit street.
"And what ship shall I be reporting to?"
Chakotay smiled, looking directly at Seven. "Voyager. We are going home."