A/N - well, I've proven myself wrong again. This'll be longer than 25-30k words. *sigh* Probably looking at 45-50k. Ah, but I don't think you'll be complaining too much, yeah :D

Chapter 11

Prisoner Transfer

Several crew gave them looks, some suspicious, though most greeted them cheerfully. In the turbolift, Seven ordered it to her cargo bay's level and raised an eyebrow at Seras' childish reaction to its movement, whirling around and looking bright-eyed with glee. Barely able to discern its movement herself, she wondered what Seras was experiencing. On the short walk from the turbolift, the woman continued to ogle the ship.

"This is where my alcove is." Seven stood at the open entrance to the bay.

"Your alcove?"
They entered, and it was gestured at. Without prompting, Seras approached and stepped in, running her hands along the structure. Seven waited nearby. An arc of static electricity sparked between Seras and the alcove. "Your cybernetics are recharged by this thing."

"Yes."

Seras took in the rest of the hold, the various cargo, the walls and consoles. She hopped down and picked up a PADD. "You live in here."
"I complete my regeneration cycles and spend a large amount of my off-duty hours here." Seven said.

"Don't you have a toilet? Or don't you need one?"

"I eliminate my bodily waste in the same manner as you. It is across the corridor."

"Wouldn't they give you your own place?" Seras was upset.

Seven canted her head. "This is my own place."

"Is all this stuff yours?" The cargo was waved at.
"No."

"What about privacy? Personal stuff? A chair to relax in?"

These were things Seven had little experience with and didn't know if she wanted them. "They are unnecessary."

Seras huffed and sat on the raised dais of the alcove.

"May I ask you a few personal questions?" Seven initiated the next step of her plan.

There was hesitation, but Seras nodded. "It's only fair."

"Is Rylie your birth name?"

"Yeah. What was yours?"

"Annika. Where are you from?"

"Oregon."

"A state on the western coast of the former United States of America." Seven stated, yet she raised an eyebrow, waiting for confirmation.

"Yes. What about you?" Seras asked.

"I did not grow up on Earth. The majority of my childhood was spent on a ship in space until I was assimilated." Exchanging questions was not expected. Seven was unsure of continuing further questioning, which would be more intimate in hopes of gaining information and trust.

Rylie beat her to the next question. "What does it mean to be assimilated?"

"The Borg are a race of cybernetic beings connected to a single hive mind. To grow their numbers and work toward their goal of perfection, they create more cyborgs through the process of assimilation via injection of nanobots." Seven explained. "Can you sense their movements within me?"

Abrupt stiffness and suspicion flooded Rylie's frame, and Seven worried she had asked too soon. "If I had them all self-destruct, would you die?"

Seven felt a rush of adrenaline at the not-quite-hostile tone. "Yes." Despite the edge of fear, she held still as Seras approached and touched the spot over her cortical node.

"Your energy is," Rylie dropped her hand. "Stable."

"Thank you for the diagnosis."

Taking a step back, Rylie chuckled. "You're not much of a people person, are you?"

"As I spent the majority of my formative years in a maturation chamber, I am learning interpersonal skills at a later stage than most humans." Seven said.

"Are you friends with the woman with the pointy forehead?" The topic was changed.

"Do you mean Lt. Torres?"

A shrug had Seven bringing up the chief's personal data and displaying her Starfleet record. "Yeah. Her."

"I do not believe that our relationship would be categorized as friendly. We are colleagues." Seven waited.

"She's not human."

"Her father was human, but her mother was Klingon."

"She came to see me the day I woke up. When she came in, she was smiling, but I insulted her and haven't seen her since." Seras fiddled with the fabric of her pants. "I was already freaking out because I was in a lab-looking place with a block of energy calling itself a doctor, and her appearance scared me." She looked up. "Why did she come to see me? Why did all of those people give me so many looks, talk to me in the hallways? Why are you so familiar?"

Seven needed a moment to collect her thoughts for a proper response. While she did so, she analyzed Rylie's behavior and concluded that she was distraught. "To answer your second question, you have been of immense help to us. With your help, we escaped a forced labor camp and recovered Voyager from the organization that had hijacked it. You risked your life for this ship and its crew, including myself. You must be subconsciously recognizing my unique energy signature."

The woman breathed heavily. "Torres?"

"I believe that she had come to consider you a friend. She was worried for you."

At that quiet interlude, a security team led by Tuvok burst into the cargo bay. "Seven, are you okay?"
"As Rylie informed me, my energy is stable." Seven reported, moving to stand slightly in front of her companion.

The lieutenant-commander took in the situation and raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Why did you leave your combadge in sickbay?"

"Rylie seemed like she needed a change of surroundings. I was going to take her to the mess hall next." She said.

"She has not been cleared to leave sickbay. Without her memory, she could be dangerous." Tuvok countered.

"Yes. And with her memory, she is dangerous. Aside from drugging her, we could not stop her from being dangerous. It seemed illogical to confine her when a change of scenery could trigger a helpful memory." Seven argued.

"Tuvok to the captain."

"Janeway here."

"I have located Seven and Rylie in cargo bay two. They were taking a walk."

"Escort them back to sickbay. I will meet you there."

"Aye, captain."

On the way back, crewmembers hopped out of the way. There were not any of the friendly overtures, not with a security detail surrounding them. Seven checked on their mystery passenger to find her staring over her shoulder.

"Seven of Nine, do you have crew that wear energy suits?" She asked.

Seven stopped. "No. Explain the question."

"That man in the red back there, the one with the shaved head. He was covered in one. I don't think he looks like what my eyes saw."

"Tuvok to the bridge. We may have an intruder."

"Acknowledged." Chakotay's voice answered.

"Take her to sickbay, Seven." Tuvok ordered. "The rest of you, come with me." They jogged after Ensign Bradley.

"Who are you?" Janeway demanded of the alien sitting behind the brig's forcefield. "Why are you on my ship?"

"I am Lerq. We are studying you." It replied.

"Who is we? Why?"

"We want to know about you."

"How many are on my ship?"

The alien stared at her.

"How many?"

Its lips pulled back, exposing sharp green teeth. The captain retreated and ordered that all repairs be focused on sensors, and for security to start combing the decks, armed with phasers. She wasn't taking any chances, not while they were sitting ducks on the moon's surface.

"Until scans can give us more than vague readings, everyone is to stay vigilant." Janeway ended the morning staff meeting.

"Captain, it may be helpful to give Rylie personal quarters." Seven stopped Janeway from leaving. "She reacted unfavorably to the lack of privacy and personal effects in my cargo bay."

"Seven, I appreciate your insight, but this isn't really the time." Janeway brushed her off and tried to leave again.

Seven stood. "This is exactly the time, captain. She has been of extreme help to us, even after losing her memory. Without her, we would not have known about the intruders. According to my sociology research, her vulnerable state is precisely when we should be treating her as a full member of this crew. Or, at the very least, a dignified passenger, not a dangerous patient to be kept under the Doctor's constant scrutiny, whose time would be better spent helping engineering to repair the bio-circuitry on Voyager."

B'Elanna had paused at the threshold at the mention of Rylie. She went to back up Seven's argument, but Tuvok beat her to it. "She presents a credible argument, captain."

Headache already pounding, Janeway was in little mood to argue. She had more important things to worry about, like impostors on her ship. "Look, we simply don't have the room. Everyone but the senior officers are already sharing bunks because of the damage that," her voice rose in exasperation, "We don't have the time or energy resources to repair."

Not having her own personal quarters, Seven delayed in offering to share her cargo bay. It gave B'Elanna an opening to blurt out. "I'll share, captain. Or with another crewmember, so she can bunk with a human."

Captain Janeway gave her a startled look, headache momentarily forgotten.

"I don't want to be a spoilsport, but I feel like someone should play devil's advocate here," Tom interjected from behind B'Elanna. The room's attention on him, he plowed on. "I like and trust Seras as much as the rest of you, but wasn't there a good reason we put Rylie under observation? Who knows what kind of person she was before B'Elanna met her."

"Exactly, Tom. We don't and this is a good way to find out." B'Elanna fired back.

He wilted at her displeasure. Janeway shot looks to each of them. "We're outnumbered, Tom. Alright, Seras can share your quarters, B'Elanna. You can collect her after shift. And you are going to be responsible for her."

"Yes, ma'am." B'Elanna and Seven exited together.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" B'Elanna stalled in front of sickbay and turned to Seven, who had shown up as well. "I am not sure, lieutenant."

The half-Klingon huffed. "It was your idea."

"And yours to invite her into your bed." Seven retorted.

"I did not say that!" B'Elanna hissed. "I have a couch."

"Why would you have her sleep on the couch when your bed is acceptably large enough for two people?"

"Haven't you ever heard of propriety?"

The doors opened, and the Doctor's annoyed face scowled out at them. "What is all this commotion out here?"

Both women drew to attention. B'Elanna could see Seras peering around the Doctor, and their eyes caught. Nervously, B'Elanna managed a weak smile and was rewarded by Seras slowly returning it. "We're here to offer Ser-ugh-Rylie a different place to sleep."

"Finally." The Doctor huffed. "I thought the captain would never let her out of here. Which one of you gets her cheery presence?"

Taken aback by his tone, B'Elanna said. "If Rylie would like to bunk with me instead of here, she's to be released into my custody."

"This isn't a prisoner transfer, Lt. Torres." Seven berated.

B'Elanna turned on her. "Are you criticizing my phrasing now?"
"I merely wanted to point out that the captain said Rylie would be your responsibility, not that you would have custody of her." Seven rephrased.

"That's exactly the same thing."

"Is this true? I can get out of here?" Rylie asked around the Doctor's shoulder.

Nervous again, B'Elanna nodded. Seven made an impatient motion and elaborated. "Lt. Torres has offered to share her quarters with you until repairs to the lower decks are completed. Then, you will be given quarters of your own."

"I can speak for myself, Seven."

"Yet you did not."

"Why are you even here?"

"To make sure Rylie found an appropriate living arrangement."

A stare-down commenced between misunderstood intentions and injured pride, but the Doctor quickly intervened with an annoyed ahem. "Well, Rylie?"

"Yes!" was the enthusiastic response.

B'Elanna held out a small satchel for the handful of things she'd learned Rylie had acquired. "Pack your stuff."

Seven escorted them to the turbolift and bid them a good evening. The rest of the way was quiet, B'Elanna seething over the ex-Borg's annoying everything.

Walking into her quarters, B'Elanna gestured at the small sitting area. "We can switch off until you get your own quarters. Couch," the partition vaguely separating the spaces was walked around, "Bed."

"Nice place." Rylie poked at a stack of PADDs on the desk, watched the rotating images in a holo display. "Cool."

"Thanks." One hand on a hip, the other fingered her scalp. "The hygiene closet is there. What do you want tonight, couch or bed?"

Rylie poked in to look at the toilet and shower, played with the lights, adjusted the satchel carrying her change of clothes and PADDs, and returned her nervous attention to B'Elanna. "I'm sorry for being insulting the other day."

The impatience that had been building evaporated.

"I was scared and freaked out, and I overreacted seeing your head ridges. You're obviously a really great person, and we must have been friends for you to go through this kind of trouble for me."

"Thank you," whispered B'Elanna.

Rylie nodded and switched her attention to the dark windows. "Are they always black like this?"

"Computer, lights off." Obeying immediately, the room was put into near darkness only broken by the soft blue strips at the base of the walls. Blinking at the abrupt change, B'Elanna said. "When your eyes adjust, look again."

A couple minutes later, a light gasp sounded. B'Elanna moved to stand near and look out as well. Planet-shine from the violet gas giant was casually illuminating the foliage covered moon. A handful of insects glowed infrequently as they danced nearby. Taking up half of the horizon, the planet itself whirled in color, great storms roiling ferociously on its surface.

"This is real." Rylie sighed. It wasn't a question, and it made B'Elanna smile. "Can you feel it?"

Tension bunched up Rylie's frame. Haltingly, she turned her head toward the other woman. B'Elanna swallowed and asked again. "That's why you know this is real and not a dream, right? You can feel the star's energy bouncing off the planet."

Rylie's eyes glittered as she remained quiet.

"This moon gets most of its heat energy from that gas giant, but the sunlight gets pretty bright. Want to go outside after breakfast?" B'Elanna remembered a moment from the first days of knowing Seras. "For sunrise? Local time and ship time don't exactly match. We can grab breakfast to go."

"Are you allowed to take me outside?" Rylie eventually asked.

"Probably not, but if the drone can get away with unauthorized walks, so can I." B'Elanna grinned. "It wouldn't be the first time."

In her usual expression of nervousness, Rylie was rubbing her arm. "Discipline isn't seriously enforced here?"

There it was, further confirmation of Seras-Rylie's dark past. B'Elanna carefully considered her words and settled on something that Tom might say. "The worst form of discipline around here is a dull duty shift."

"How did we become friends?"

B'Elanna thought through the events on the slave world. "You made me tea."

The hand dropped in surprise. "Tea?"

Giving a little laugh, B'Elanna folded a leg beneath her and slid to the couch. She brushed hair out of her face and told a shortened version of how they met. "I don't know what possessed you to share your secret like that, but that tea was one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me. All three times."

Eyes darted to the planet, then back to B'Elanna. "You knew what I could do, knew how dangerous I was, but you've brought me to an exterior room, with an easily broken window, no guards, and yet, you expect to go to sleep and find me here in the morning. And you're sitting here, at ease and unafraid in my presence."

"I don't know about these windows being called 'easily broken', but yes."

Looking exhausted, Rylie sank to the couch and studied B'Elanna until a growling stomach startled them both. B'Elanna stood, ordered the lights to half, and moved to the replicator. She felt tired and lazy enough to spend some rations on the freshly repaired replicators. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"No."

"What do you want? Name it."

Rylie's forehead scrunched. "Anything?"

"If it's in the database, the replicator can make it."

"Spaetzle and chicken?"

B'Elanna input the request.

"Please specify type of spaetzle and chicken." The computer responded.

"That's a yes, but it needs more specifics." B'Elanna smiled and proceeded to teach her house guest how to use the replicator. Dinner was enjoyed in easy quiet, interrupted only by noises of surprise and enjoyment over the food. After, they took turns using the hygiene closet and changing into sleepwear.

B'Elanna was gathering blanket and pillow for the couch, having already offered to take it that night, when Rylie abruptly asked, "Do I call you Lt. Torres?"

"No. My first name is fine. It-"

"B'Elanna." She went after a nod of confirmation. "Seven of Nine showed me your file when I asked about you. Lieutenant-commander B'Elanna Torres, chief of engineering."

"Yeah."

"B'Elanna," was repeated, pronounced as everyone said it. "Why do I feel like I'm saying it wrong?"

There was a smile threatening. "You're not. It's the Universal pronunciation."

Rylie frowned.

"When we first met, I taught you how my mother says it."

"Your mother. Klingon?"

B'Elanna nodded, wondering what else the drone had told Rylie. "It was a little joke on my part. You were a stranger, and I was tired, stressed, and bored. I thought it would be funny to see you struggle with the Klingon version, since most people have difficulty with the language."

"Was it?" Rylie looked like she had her shields ready to flare up.

"You tried until you got it right, which was really fast." The smile won out. "I was impressed."

"Sunrise," came unexpectedly. "Will you take me to watch it? Please."

Thrown by the change of topic, she responded dumbly. "Yeah. Sure."

"And teach me your name again?"

As soft as it was requested, B'Elanna agreed. "I'd like that."