Don't own Star Trek. Star Trek Voyager. Original Battlestar Galactica or any cool space ships. Not trying to make any money.
Lots of useful info from Memory Alpha and the Battlestar Galactica Technical Manual.
Relatively Seven
By Mackon
"Thoughts"
Prologue
Federation Time Ship USS Relativity
Star Date approximately 2489
Nurse Randel stared sadly down at the two corpses that had been placed in his care. Normally this would not be a good indication of Randel's feelings, as his shipmates would quickly explain; staring sadly was Robert Randel's default expression.
In this case however it was accurate, according to the brief bio he had read that had accompanied the bodies, the death of these young women had been a tragedy, an avoidable tragedy that should never have happened. Both 24 years old at time of death, brilliant scientists with a bright future. Of course she still did, just not these versions of her.
The small morgue aboard the Relativity had not been used in his 2 years of deployment on her and now not only did it have two "customers" on a single day. But, in defiance of most of the directives the Time Ship had been launched to enforce, it was the same person. Looped back on herself according to some insane plan of Ex Captain's Braxton's, the details of which had not yet filtered down to Nurses and other lower deck personnel.
Randel doubted the plan that had cost this young woman her life, twice, had gone very well, considering he had seen Captain Braxton being escorted under guard in the direction of the Brig and his order's to prepare the Morgues occupants for stasis had come from Acting Captain Ducane.
Randel sighed and put down his medical tricorder to pick up another device from a tray sitting between the two deactivated biobeds the morgue used.
With some care Randel used a general Medical probe to remove the holographic camouflage that hat been used to make the women look human, exposing his patients implants and the metallic devices fused into the classic Nordic features. Above the left eye the neck below right ear and the left hand and forearm, returning the bodies to their "natural" state. Her original Uniform had been reintegrated back into the timeline so they would have to remain in the 2371 Starfleet issue.
Just as he was finishing the second bodies hand the medical probe gave a small bleep, with a start he quickly grabbed up his tricorder again and scanned the area. The Borg nanoprobes that infested the bodies where still active, still fighting a loosing battle against the Chronotron particles that were disrupting the organic cells and degrading the implants.
According to the tricorder the last would loose functionality in just less than three hours; Randel snapped the tricorder shut and put it away. Three hours, that would give the stasis chambers plenty of time to start up and run through a complete self diagnosis.
The Stasis draws needed to be bought online so the cadavers could be returned to Relativity's homeport. Disposal anywhere else had the chance, with all the technology packed into the bodies, of contaminating the time stream, even more than this space wreck of a mission already had. The ships new Captain was adamant that from now on all regulations would be adhered to.
As so many new Captains had found Captain Ducane was about to discover that the universe did not follow orders.
Scene BreakScene BreakScene Break
Nanoprobes darted about the motionless artery's, weaving amongst the motionless blood, slipping harmlessly through cell walls and tracking along silent neural pathways, stopping constantly to repair the damaged systems before hurrying away.
But always there was more and more damage to repair 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 to provide and they were fast running out. It was a no win situation, without a healthy environment they could not produce more nanoprobes and without more nanoprobes they did not have the numbers to repair the environment.
Slowly but surely they were losing ground reports buzzed between the darting microscopic machines as they desperately tried to regenerate the organics and repair the machine.
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 signalled to be collected 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 calculations.
What caught the near mindless machines attention was the return signal confirming reseat of the recycle code from 64cm's outside the environmental boundaries.
Not just from any old Borg nanoprobes. Standard nanoprobes 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 eighty three 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.
Scene BreakScene BreakScene Break
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.
Scene BreakScene BreakScene Break
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.
Jerking upright the six-foot tall human/Borg hybrid was left gasping by the chill that seemed to cover her entire body and the nameless dread she felt deep inside herself.
Looking around her, in what the normally composed women could only describe as panic, Seven's jumbled mind grasped for something she could latch onto to explain the bizarre feelings racking her.
It took her barely a second to quickly scan the room and for her eye's to be captured by the horrific sight laid out next to her, at the same time error reports and alerts flooded bioware as the fact of her recent death drove itself into her brain like a lighting strike as her cortical node finished rebooting.
Without conscious thought she found herself on the opposite side of the room, eye's still locked on her corpse laid out on a slab of bland silver metal one hand outstretched toward her.
Back pressing tightly to the bulkhead wall, Seven still tried to move away. Pushing herself harder and harder into the wall. The ex-drones vision swam as the world seemed to spin and it was her son Seven was seeing, One's empty shell laid out in some morbid human custom the Captain had decided Seven should practice inherited from her Hansen ancestors.
A small hurt sound startled Seven, a noise unlike anything she had heard before.
That she had produced such a pain filled whimper it appalled Seven to her core. It went against everything she'd fought and struggled to make herself since she'd been severed from the collective. The shock 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 was 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 for her younger self to apprehend an older Braxton.
"Captain Janeway was correct, time travel did give you a headache."
Taking another deep breath Seven gathered herself and looked around, avoiding the resident of the other morgue slab Seven examined the rest of the room she found herself in.
Though there were many similarity's this was obviously not Voyagers morgue a room that was eched into her memory where she had bid farewell to her son. The design differences were reminiscent of the 29th century engineering 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 from during the actions taken by her nanoprobes to heal her body. The copse in front of her had been drained, mined of every resource, used to fuel her own reanimation.
"It could have been me"
The decision of which Seven to repair had come down to her, this version of her, having only a 8 percent better chance of survival than her doomed sister.
If Braxton had got in a lucky shot, or even something as minor as a skinned knee. It would have been the other Seven that was resurrected.
Seven looked long and hard at the body of Annika Hansen before she turned away.
TBC