Don't own Star Trek. Star Trek Voyager. Original BattleStar Galactica or any cool space ships not trying to make any money

Relatively Seven Chapter One

Nanoprobes darted about the motionless artery's weaving amongst the motionless blood, slipped harmlessly through cell walls and flew along silent neural pathways stopping constantly to repair the damaged systems before hurrying away.

But always there was more damage and the nanoprobes themselves were starting to fail without a functioning environment to sustain them, the nanoprobes had to rely on the onboard power reserves, which were fast running out.

Nor could they be replenished until they could get the proper systems running. It was a no win situation without a heathy environment to produce more nanoprobes they did not have the numbers to repair the damaged environment.

One Nanoprobe trying to reverse narcosis in a muscle cell in the right hand, came to the end of its life cycle, too old and worn to be economically repaired, it began shutting down and signaled for recycling.

The short subspace transmission had only infinitesimal power behind it, meant only to travel to next closest probe. There was enough of a power spike however to send the attending nurse scrambling for his tricorder.

That meant nothing to the nanoprobes they had their duty and Nurse Randel did not loom large in their thinking.

What caught the near mindless machines attention was the return signal confirming reseat of recycle code from 64cm's outside the environmental boundaries.

Not just from any Borg nanoprobes, that after all this time away from the Collective and dozens of upgrades rewrites and complete redesigns Seven of Nines nanoprobes had been subjected to, would have been useless and one more problem straining there already overstressed resources.

But nanoprobes reporting the same I.D. codes …

A Nanoprobe by itself would not even be classed as stupid, two together would have to work to rate idiotic, at last count there were eight million four hundred thousand nine hundred and forty three, approximately, in each of the deceased Seven of Nine's.

And They had a cunning plan.

Randel set the Stasis draws working through a complete self diagnostic routine. The U.S.S. Relativity had nearly four months (subjective) left to its patrol and the draws needed to be in perfect working order to carry out their function in the rather strange space the Timeship sailed through.

With one last glance at the two Seven of Nines he walked out the connecting door to the main medical bay.

If he had turned just as the doors slid shut he might have noticed the sudden tensing of the copse's shoulders, he missed it though his attention already focused on his next task. It was a slight movement anyway and even the most observant of humans probably would have overlooked it.

The much more dramatic moment came just after the door's had finished closing when the right hand of the starfleet uniform clad body closest to door shot out to grasp the wrist of the similarly reaching left hand of its counterpart.

Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One, Annika Hansen came awake with shocking suddenness unlike any regeneration cycle she had ever experienced, not even the time when her alcove had overloaded was in any way comparable.

Looking around her in what the normally composed women could only describe as panic. In the second it took her to quickly scan the room and for her eye's to be captured by the horrific sight laid out next to her, the fact of her recent death also became apparent as she accessed her cortical node.

Without conscious thought she found herself on the opposite side of the room eye's still locked on her corpse laid out on a gurney one hand outstretched toward her. Back pressed to the bulkhead. Still she tried to move away pushing herself harder and harder into the wall the ex-drones vision swam and it was her son, One's empty shell she was seeing.

A small hurt sound startled Seven unlike anything she had heard before. That she had produced the pain filled whimper brought her careening thoughts to a screeching halt. With ruthless efficiency the Ex-Borg set about bringing her panicking biological systems under control. Emotions were cut off as her cortical node clamped down on the electrical impulses in the brain the adrenaline flooding her body, tracked and neutralized by endorphin armed nanoprobes which rocketed through her bloodstream hunting the chemical down.

A deep shuddering breath wracked her six foot frame and she was if not calm at least collected one of the Delta Quadrants great analytical minds began to function at something like an acceptable standard.

The last thing she could remember was handing an earlier version of herself the rather ineffective weapon, supplied by Captain Braxton in order that her younger self could apprehend an older Braxton.

Captain Janeway was correct time travel did give you a headache.

Though there were many similarity's this was not Voyagers morgue where she had bid farewell to her son and many of the design differences were reminiscent of the Timeship she had recently been aboard.

So I am back on the Timeship whose crew believes me to be dead. She looked at the morgue's other occupant If I am alive might not they also be mistaken about …her.

After one step the tall Blonde stopped. More information became apparent as her cortical node accessed her implants and the monitored biological components.

She's dead

The Ex-Borg realized as she quickly, not so much read, as merged with the information during the actions taken by her nanoprobes to heal her body the copse infront of her had been drained mined of every resource to fuel her own reanimation.

It could have been me

The decision of which Seven to repair had down with her having only a 8 percent better chance of survival than her doomed sister if Braxton had got in a lucky shot it would have been the other Seven that was resurrected