CHAPTER SIX
The Doctor met Kathryn and Seven at the transporter to Cape Cod, an area of Massachusetts reconstructed years ago after Starfleet was able to reverse the effects of global warming. His home was on the coast in Chatham, a gorgeous area surrounded by white, powdery sand dunes, quiet marshes and a moderate climate. It once served as a major tourist destination during the summer months, but in the years post-reconstruction had been repopulated with fewer homes and structures, making it one of the most serene landscapes in the country. Both Seven and Janeway spent time there in years past, before Jennifer became too ill for visitors.
"I've left a good amount of gourmet items for you in the walk-in cooler, and there are many local restaurants that will deliver top-of-the-notch New England fare," the Doctor reported, handing over the codes to Kathryn for accessing every part of the house. "As I said before, I should only be a few days. I cannot tell you enough how much I cherish both of you."
"Don't mention it," Kathryn smirked, trying to appear calm, though she had no idea what was in store.
"Seven, I've given you instructions for identifying the files that need to be merged with my portfolio for Starfleet. You'll find the personal items in several boxes throughout the house. I apologize in advance for not having things better organized."
"I am happy to help," Seven attempted to smile, but was clearly uneasy.
The Doc smiled back before giving the nod for the operator to initialize the transporter.
Within a matter of seconds, they re-materialized on a bridge overlooking the small inlet wrapped around the Doctor's home, which stood between them and the Atlantic Ocean. It was a classic beachfront property, painted light blue with white trim along the roof and windows. The two followed the trail to the front of the house and up onto the expansive porch, where an old wooden bench swayed gently in the warm breeze. Kathryn reached into her luggage to retrieve the access code, but Seven flipped open the console next to the door and typed it from memory, permitting their entrance.
"Well," Kathryn breathed as she shuffled inside, dropping her bags in the foyer and taking a look around. All of the furniture was old world rustic, light wood, the occasional wicker. The colors were soft, the nautical decor simple but carefully chosen. "Doesn't appear to have changed much. I assume you know your way around?"
"Yes," Seven responded, closing the door behind them. She gathered her belongings and headed upstairs to the bedrooms. Kathryn followed.
They both paused when they reached the landing at the top. There were several rooms from which to choose.
"I prefer to sleep on the west side," Kathryn offered. "Less light in the morning."
Seven nodded, then proceeded to a room on the east end of the house.
The two took as much time as possible to unpack, but given it was only a short stay, found themselves wandering back downstairs and into the den in a matter of minutes. There were boxes piled in front of the fireplace, in the kitchen, along the hallways, and surely in parts they had yet to explore.
"Where to begin?" Kathryn mused.
"I will begin working on the file transfer," Seven declared.
"Alright," Kathryn sighed. "I guess I'll start with these."
She hoisted a medium sized box from the floor to the kitchen counter, opening it and peering inside. She couldn't help but laugh at what she found.
"Look at this," she stepped over to Seven, showing her the large book. "A beloved tome from the 21st century. Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking."
"No doubt one of Jennifer's belongings," Seven swallowed. "Given the Doctor does not partake in culinary efforts himself."
"No, but he certainly reaped the benefits thanks to those taste subroutines," Kathryn continued to laugh, a little sadly. "Her boeuf bourguignon was divine."
"I had not had the dish outside the Holodeck until she served it during one of my visits," Seven reflected.
"Ah, Chez Sandrine," Kathryn reminisced. "For a dive bar, the food was always spot on."
She flipped open to the first page and noticed the inscription.
"To my darling Jennifer. May your appetite for adventure never fade. Yours forever, Joe."
Taking a deep breath, she closed the book and slowly put it on the counter.
"I will commence with my portion of the work," Seven insisted, leaving Janeway alone with the box of intimate items.
They worked separately until nightfall. Seven finally emerged from the office and found Kathryn sitting in the kitchen right where she had left her. Kathryn looked up as the blonde approached.
"Progress?"
Seven shifted uncomfortably for a moment before responding.
"I have completed the task."
Janeway's jaw dropped a little, though she quickly recovered, remembering just how efficient the former Borg had always been.
"You've done everything? All the computer files? Sorted? Transferred?"
Seven nodded.
"Well," Kathryn smirked. "Guess that means you'll be joining me tomorrow with this Herculean endeavor."
Seven peered around the room and slowly became aware of the nearly 50 boxes Janeway had opened, pulling some of the contents to the floor, scattering others on the sofa, and piling a good amount on the counter next to her. The blonde swallowed, and for a moment, Janeway thought she looked a bit pale.
"Don't worry," Kathryn tried to offer reassurance. "I think I've worked out a pretty good system."
Seven raised an eyebrow.
"I'll bring you up to speed tomorrow," Kathryn insisted. "Right now I'm famished. How do you feel about ordering in?"
"I suppose it will facilitate proceeding through the evening more quickly," Seven sighed.
Kathryn tried not to take the blonde's displeasure personally. She could only continue pulling teeth for so long.
Forty minutes later, a local fisherman dropped off a heaping portion of fried oysters, clams and scallops, along with french fries and tartar sauce. Janeway spread the contents on newsprint across the countertop and motioned for Seven to join her on one of the bar stools. Seven eyed the food as if it were a feast of Klingon bregit lung, warnog and grapok sauce.
"What?" Kathryn scoffed. "You've never eaten like this before?"
"I immediately regret allowing you to order for me," Seven slowly took her place at the counter. "I believed you would make a more nutrient-rich selection."
"You said, and I quote, 'Order whatever you please,'" Kathryn reminded her. "Said you weren't that hungry anyhow."
"Indeed," Seven sighed, looking for utensils.
"Use your fingers," Kathryn instructed.
Seven marveled as the Admiral scooped up a cluster of clams and fries, dipped them into the sauce and appeared to consume them with immense pleasure, practically licking her fingers.
Seven's cheeks grew pink.
"That is...a rather primitive method."
"I assure you, it's the only way," Kathryn smirked between bites.
The older woman tried not to stare as Seven hesitantly reached for an oyster, selecting carefully from the pile of fried delicacies, methodically dipping it into the tiny tub of tartar sauce, before slowly bringing it to her lips and taking a bit. A bit clumsily, she caught the rest with her other hand and proceeded to finish the morsel as quickly as possible.
It took all of Kathryn's strength not to laugh.
"Good, aren't they?"
"They are sufficient," Seven was forced to agree once she finished chewing.
"That's high praise coming from you," Kathryn took a sip from her glass.
Seven noted the Admiral's beer.
"You appear to enjoy a fair amount of synthohol with your meals."
Janeway narrowed her eyes a bit, even as she took a swig.
"Can't have fried oysters without a good summer ale," she swallowed. "I'm sorry you can't partake. I think you'd find it's worth it sometimes."
Seven continued to tear her oysters into smaller bites.
"I require no additional substance to relax."
"Ha!" Kathryn shrieked.
Seven dropped the piece of fried food she held in her hand and stared at Janeway.
"Sorry," Kathryn smiled softly. "Maybe you're just afraid of saying things you'd regret."
Seven looked at her sharply.
"I believe that is what psychologists call 'projection.'"
Kathryn sighed heavily, wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat back in her chair.
"Look," she whispered deeply, bringing her eyes to meet Seven's, indeed feeling bolder than before. "I know neither of us would be here if it weren't for the dire circumstances. But now that we are here, perhaps we should attempt to make the best of things. Don't you agree?"
Seven sat up straight.
"I believe I am 'making the best of things,'" she replied.
"Okay," Kathryn exhaled. "Well then, for what it's worth...I'm sorry."
Seven raised both eyebrows this time.
"For what?"
Janeway ran a hand through her hair. She took her time, searching, until the blonde appeared to be getting impatient.
"Ruining your life, I suppose? If that's what you believe."
Seven looked at her incredulously.
"For judging you," Kathryn tried again. "For turning you off to the idea of joining Starfleet because of my own adherence to protocol."
Seven seemed to be equal parts puzzled and abhorrent.
"Do you really believe that is why I stayed away?"
"I figure it's as good a reason as any," Kathryn shrugged.
Seven shook her head.
"You are correct in that I did not join Starfleet because I had grown weary of following antiquated rules. Initially, after being severed from the Collective, that sort of structure was necessary, comforting. However, as I progressed in my social development, I realized I preferred less constriction. Your influence had little bearing on my decision."
"Alright," Janeway tossed her napkin onto the counter. "Still. I apologize."
Seven held her gaze.
Kathryn couldn't tell if she was buying it, though her sentiments were genuine. She wasn't ready to begin analyzing why she had behaved the way she did, nor was she ready to explain it to Seven, who seemed to be waiting for something more.
The blonde swallowed, exhaling slowly through her nose. They continued to stare at one another, Seven appearing to become more and more flustered. Finally she stood, gathering the remnants of her portion of the meal and discarding it in a nearby waste basket.
"If you'll excuse me, I will return to my quarters."
Kathryn wasn't sure if she had accepted the apology or not. She simply watched as Seven walked to the stairs, lifting her red skirt just above her ankles as she began the ascent.
"Goodnight," the Admiral whispered.