Chapter 4

Part 1

Lunchtime in the Mess Hall was always a pleasant interlude for the crew, with good food (courtesy of Neelix), pleasant company and, being the social hub of the ship, no shortage of gossip. The chatter between the three officers seated at a corner table had already covered the evening's plans, the oddly-flavoured soup, a new holodeck program and some suggested alterations to the Delta Flyer to make it more comfortable. For a minute, silence reigned. It never lasted.

"I had an interesting chat with Seven this morning," remarked B'Elanna offhandedly with a sly grin. Her mealtime companions quickly looked up, matching her expression.

"What did she want?" asked Tom, "The warp field out of alignment again?"

"By a phase of, what was it, 0.0004%?" laughed Harry. "She's a Borg alright, always striving for perfection."

"No," replied Torres, shaking her head thoughtfully and placing down her cutlery, laying her hands on the table in front of her. "This was personal."

"Did one of your engineers annoy her again?" asked Paris, only half-joking. Torres shook her head again and lowered her chin to rest in her cupped hands.

"No. She asked me how to go about asking someone on a date."

The men's faces were disbelieving. "Seven? No way," said Harry. "I thought she'd given that up."

"Who'd she have in mind?" asked Tom, shifting B'Elanna's plate in front of him and shovelling her leftovers into his mouth with a series of satisfied grunts.

"I don't know. She didn't say. I may have been a bit short with her," admitted Torres, eyeing her plate which was being emptied rapidly.

"You, short? Surely not!" teased Tom, eliciting a sarcastic grimace from his feisty girlfriend and a badly-concealed smirk from his friend. Torres held her hands up.

"I know, I know. Seven just…winds me up, you know? But she was serious this time. She's probably tracking down her prey right now, cornering him in some isolated Jeffries tube where he can't escape…"

"I hate those things," muttered Tom, "you get attacked in one of those, you can't even take a good swing at whatever's coming to get you."

"Anyway, I probably shouldn't even have mentioned it. Just forget about it, ok?"

Paris and Kim exchanged glances and grinned. Torres, in the process of retrieving the last few morsels of her lunch, failed to notice their mischievous expressions.

Part 2

"Afternoon, Seven. Good job on the new course calculation; should save us a few weeks." Chakotay strolled into the state-of-the-art astrometrics lab, every inch seemingly covered in display screens or operational panels or computer interfaces, and stood next to the Borg, who was tapping buttons and frowning.

"Three weeks, two days, eighteen hours and twelve minutes to be precise, Commander. Is there something I can help you with?" Seven's tone was her usual one – cool, with a slight edge of irritation threatening to poke through. Chakotay glanced across at the young woman. She was obviously concentrating intently on her work yet he sensed that she was waiting for more. With a mental shrug, he obliged.

"The Doctor told me what you did to the Captain. I have to say, it goes against every rule in the book." Chakotay paused, unsure how to continue. Seven-of-Nine took the opportunity to reply.

"I merely offered Captain Janeway a drink. I informed her as to its usage on Talaxia and she chose to drink it. I fail to see any transgression on my part, Commander."

'Logic,' thought Chakotay. 'Used by Vulcans to win arguments against humans for centuries, and now an ex-Borg is getting a piece of the action. Earth is clearly doomed.'

"I'm not here to talk about that. The Doctor tells me that you'll be accompanying the Captain on her vacation. I just wanted to know if there's anything you need, anything I can do to help?"

Chakotay waited. Eventually the blonde's hands stopped moving across the console and came to rest by her sides. Her expression was inscrutable, even to the sensitive First Officer. After an unbearably long pause, Seven replied.

"I would appreciate some…suggestions, Commander. What activities does the Captain enjoy most during vacations?"

Chakotay laughed. "Depends on the vacation, Seven. A week off with the possibility of being called back to duty at any moment? That would be a quiet, peaceful place where she could read books and relax. One day between normal duty shifts? A few games of velocity, a nice restaurant with good wine and tasty food. A night off? A beer and a game of pool in Sandrine's-"

"Two nights' uninterrupted vacation with no return to duty on doctor's orders?"

Chakotay blew out a soft breath. He knew Janeway better than almost anyone on board (Tuvok was the obvious exception) but he struggled to find an answer. It didn't help that Seven-of-Nine was regarding him intently, expectantly, inquisition-like. He coughed slightly, and those exquisite eyebrows rose a notch.

"I know just the place. Tell you what – leave the holodeck program to me. That way, it'll be a surprise for both of you. You have to relax sometime too, surely?"

It was meant as a joke, but as usual Seven failed to recognise (or acknowledge) the funny side. "The Borg do not relax. They assimilate."

Part 3

Beep

Janeway heard the faint noise through the dregs of her slumber. She ignored it rolled over, clutching the freshly-scented pillow closer and rolling away from the sound.

Beep

She pulled the covers over her head in a childlike way, seeking to hide from the world but – in the way children do – listening in all the same. Janeway felt groggy and disoriented, yet curiously rested. She remembered –

Beep

"Come in!" Janeway almost shouted, now fully awake and ready to face the day. Hirogen, Borg, Krenim – bring it on!

Seven-of-Nine entered the Captain's quarters. As soon as Janeway caught sight of the slender figure her breath caught in her trachea. The same feeling that had thrown Janeway off balance in Astrometrics had returned to haunt her. And there was only one common denominator.

Seven paused when her eyes alighted on her Captain. Sitting up in bed, she would have appeared to most people to be resting, but the ex-Borg thought otherwise. There was an alertness, a sense of anticipation in Janeway's eyes that could be explained in many ways; Seven put the thought to the back of her mind for the moment.

"Captain. The Doctor informed me that you require a vacation. I will accompany you. State your desired destination." Almost immediately the former Borg recognised her harsh tone, but it was too late to stop. Janeway remained unfazed by the demand. The Captain put her thoughts into gear, then smiled cheekily.

"You choose, Seven, I'm not up to it." Janeway lay down on her bed and sighed. The smile on her face belied her words. Janeway was indeed 'up to it' – she just wondered what Seven-of nine had in store.