TITLE: "Memory" Part 3 of 4
AUTHOR: Layla V.
CONTACT: v_layla@hotmail.com
WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/chakotayseven
ARCHIVING: Sure. Just let me know where.
FANDOM: Star Trek Voyager
PAIRING: Chakotay/Seven
RATING: PG-13.
CODES: Slightly A/U. Angst. H/c.
SUMMARY: What if the Rumaran virus meant to erase Kellin's
memories from every mind on Voyager wasn't as effective as
we'd thought at first?
DISCLAIMER: All characters owned by Paramount. I am merely
playing with them. No copyright infringement is intended.
NOTES: Major thanks to Sorcha for her invaluable suggestions
and betaing. Also thanks to Kristin for her encouragement
without which I could never have been able to finish this.
:)
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This Story won *First Place* in the Bowl First Kiss contest!
http://www.geocities.com/the_fresh_bowl/contest.html
========^*^========^*^=========
Dreams filling my mind's eye. Events that unfolded around me
in a not so recent past. Memories assailing me, disturbing
me, comforting me.
My first look into his mind.
His voice. A soft, soothing hail rising above the cacophony
of never-ending noise. Millions of voices speaking together,
directing my thoughts, telling me what to do. Yet that one
voice drowning all others with it's enticing, luring, velvet
timbre.
/Annika. Listen to your human side. To yourself. The little
girl./
His voice. Urgent. Urging. Pleading. It's silken resonating
tones washing over my whole being, tingling my nerve endings
with a spark I'd never felt before. A spark of vitality and
passion. A sea of faces and memories---its frenzied waves
rising and crashing against the jagged, craggy rocks of
uncertainty---of confusion. But his voice leading me.
Guiding me. Calling me.
/I can see your memories. You remember being human./
My eyes on the viewscreen on Voyager's bridge, my human hand
grabbing the console at the helm as the injection tubules
snake out of the implant on my Borg wrist and penetrate the
helm controls. I hear the Collective in my mind.
/Alter course to bring the Alpha Quadrant vessel to
Unimatrix 368, grid 0015./
His voice. Yielding, tempting. His memories inundating my
consciousness, his thoughts entangling the perfection of
harmony in my mind. Filling me with confusion, disrupting my
order. My voice rising in a wounded roar of denial.
/We are Borg. Your appeal to my humanity is pointless./
The cacophony inside my head increasing in its perfect,
hideous order. Millions of voices speaking as one. Their
presence sharply felt in my mind, in his mind. His voice
rising in alarm, rising in fear.
/Stop what you're doing. You're human. I can hear your
thoughts. We are one./
And then a new vision filling my mind. Events that couldn't
have been a part of my memories because they never occurred.
Yet they are images that come unbidden, propelling into my
mind, uninvited.
A Borg vessel appearing on the viewscreen. My tubules
interacting with Voyager's systems, disrupting their
defenses, dropping their shields. The voice of the
Collective speaking as one.
/Your technological and biological distinctiveness will be
added to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us.
Resistance is futile./
Drones transporting all over the ship. Phaser fires all
around me. His voice pleading me, cajoling me---even as I
hear their screams on every deck, in every mind, in the
Collective thought.
/Our minds are linked./ His voice calls me, filled with
anguish. /We are one. I can hear your thoughts./
But it's too late for him. They wrench him down to his
knees, his struggles in vain. I watch as his head is yanked
back and a drone injects the claws of the tubules into his
neck. I hear his pain-filled scream, his eyes clouding with
distress---his pain plunging me into a sudden desolate
blackness.
And with that suffocating darkness, comes the beginnings of
a scream that fills my own tightening throat. However the
only sound that comes out is a small gasp of misery, as my
eyes finally snap open.
The Interlink Node disconnects from my Alcove and under the
sound of my heavy, desperate breathing, I hear the voice of
the computer announce.
"Regeneration cycle incomplete."
I stare into the dimmed cargobay two, my heart beating
frantically, my breaths coming in gasps, as I try to bring a
semblance of order to my bewildered state. It is then that
my eyes settle on the figure perched on the cargo containers
a step below the platform.
His shoulders as tense as mine, as if he's shared my
thoughts this time as well, as if he knows what I went
through under the guise of my regeneration cycle. I stare at
him hesitantly, perturbed by his presence, my mind still
reeling from the images I'd seen in my dreams.
"Commander." I finally say, as I step off the Alcove,
willing my heart to calm its frantic beat.
He slides off the container, a few lines of worry wrinkling
the skin between his brows. "Seven."
I access the chronometer. Its 0413 hours.
I look at him, unsure of his reasons for being here at this
hour. "You're up early."
He shrugs, a slightly apologetic twist on his lips. "I
couldn't sleep." His eyes probe mine. "Are you all right?"
It was just a dream, I remind myself. Just a tangle of
confusion cooked up by my strained mind, nothing more.
I take a deep breath and step off the platform. "I seem to
be suffering from the same predicament as you are."
He looks uncertainly at my profile, looks behind me at the
Alcove I've just stepped down from, and then slightly
frowns. "Aren't you going to go back to regeneration?"
"Perhaps later." I reply, as I notice his attire---an earthy
toned collar-less shirt, seemingly made of a soft material,
and loose cream-colored pants---apparently his off-duty
clothes of choice.
He nods, and makes a small gesture with his arm. "Then may
I..." He pauses as he turns sideways, his eyes on the cargo
containers behind him, and shakes his head. "No seating
arrangements here."
"This is a cargobay." I look at him. "What purpose would
having a seating arrangement serve in a cargobay?"
He seems amused. "Cargobay or not, it is still *your*
domain."
I lift my chin. "Borg do not sit." But my words don't have
the same brusqueness as they could've had.
And he notices. A slight smile brushes his lips. "Borg who
socialize with humans *do* sit."
I look into his eyes, trying to keep my voice cool under his
interested gaze. "Are you asking me to socialize with you,
Commander?"
He shrugs. "Oh, I don't know... I *am* asking you to take a
walk with me to somewhere with a couple of chairs at least."
He hesitates a moment, looking slightly unsure. "If you're
not busy that is."
And it's in this small show of hesitancy that I find a
little assurance for myself. If I am not the only one who is
uncertain about facing him, if the Commander is as
apprehensive about talking to me as I am to him, then
perhaps we'd be on equal grounds.
Pushing the remnants of the strange dream I'd just had to
the back of my mind, I take a deep breath and nod. "I am
unoccupied at this time. I will take the walk."
He smiles, satisfied, and turns around, leading me out of
the cargobay. The corridors are vacant at this hour of the
morning, with the gamma crew on shift and the rest of them
in their quarters sleeping. We don't use the turbolift.
Instead Commander Chakotay finds an Observation Lounge at
the far end of Deck twelve and we walk inside.
It's a lounge I hadn't looked closely at before. I was being
honest when I told the Commander that Borg do not sit. Borg
don't socialize either. And certainly not with
former-renegade First Officers of Federation ships stranded
in the delta quadrant. But it would appear that times have
now changed. And as always I'll have to find a way to adapt,
whether I am ready for it or not.
My gaze travels across the small room furnished with
comfortable chairs, cushioned two-seaters, and the few low
set glass tables set in front of the two viewport windows,
to stop at the man standing next to a seat---looking at me
expectantly. I realize he'd been watching me while I was
studying my surroundings, lost in my thoughts. I take a
breath, step forward to pull out a straight-back chair and
carefully sit down, watching him take a chair in front of
me.
He leans back in his chair in a relaxed posture and looks at
me closely, and I suddenly realize he has lost the slight
lines of apprehension that had creased his face earlier.
Perhaps the small walk helped him focus, as it did me, in a
way.
"So..." He starts, his eyes intent on me, and trails off.
I urge him on. "I am waiting for you to begin."
His brow arches. "Begin what?"
I feel myself frown slightly. "You did bring me here to talk
about Kellin, didn't you?"
There's a slight pause during which his eyes linger on mine,
and then one corner of his mouth twitches. "No, you
misunderstood me. I brought you here because I wanted to
talk about *you*."
I look at him incredulously. "Me."
"Yes." He straightens up on his seat, his face suddenly
turning serious. "How are you doing? Since coming back from
the away mission?"
There's concern in his eyes and although I am not sure why,
its strangely comforting to me. It's been fourteen hours
since our return from the planet. Lieutenant Paris is
recovering in sickbay. The Commander and I were unhurt and
we've been off-duty since our return. I don't understand why
he'd be concerned about me now.
"I am fine." I reply.
"Are you sure?" His voice is soft, unexpectedly reminding me
of the velvet timbre from my dreams, my
memories---distracting me for a moment---before it suddenly
occurs to me what he's attempting to do.
I raise my brow at him. "Is this a counseling session,
Commander?"
He smiles gently and shakes his head. "No. Just lending a
friendly ear."
Though, for some reason I don't want to talk about this. I
make an attempt at changing the subject. "Are you sure you
do not wish to speak about Kellin?"
He stares at me closely, his throat working as his mind
apparently processes the information at his disposal. Then
as if coming to a decision, he sighs and leans back on his
seat, his brow smooth. "All right. Tell me, what *do* you
know about Kellin?"
I waver, unsure of his changing tactics. How much *does* he
know? How much does he *want* to know? I decide to start at
the beginning.
"She was a Rumaran tracer who had come to Voyager looking
for a runaway..."
He breaks in. "I know that."
I pause, feeling my brow arching in mild impatience. "The
two of you began a romantic relationship..."
He shrugs. "That's in my accounts too."
I purse my lips, as I feel my impatience expand into slight
irritation. Humans have a strangely annoying habit of
playing along just for the sake of it. "Her leaving you
after her memories were erased caused you a great deal of
pain..."
He pauses for a second. "For approximately two hours."
My brows wrinkle at his mysterious behavior. "Are you
suggesting that you have not been distracted, that you have
not been upset, over this subject in the past few days?"
He blinks and then sighs, a smile breaking on his face, as
he shakes his head. "Is this a counseling session, Seven?"
I feel my irritation slowly melt away at the sight of his
amusement. "No. Perhaps, I too am only lending you a
friendly ear."
There's another pause as he silently appraises me and then
the smile disappears. "Seven," His eyes are solemn. "I
really *am* sorry about how I spoke to you down on the
planet."
I heard the Doctor once tell me that all things in the
universe go on in a never-ending circle. I told him it was
an illogical supposition. I told him all matter in the
galaxy was constantly expanding and not moving in a circle
as he'd proposed. I couldn't have known how right he was, at
least in respect to *some* things.
I heave in a deep breath as I face Chakotay. "As I said
before, Commander, you have no reason to apologize."
But the Commander's dark eyes are implacable. "You're wrong.
I was out of line. That calls for an apology."
"You want to apologize to *me*?" My tone rises in
exasperation. "Even after I almost persuaded you to let
Lieutenant Paris take the shuttle---which if he had done so,
would have resulted in all of us getting killed?"
He grits his teeth. "One thing has got nothing to do with
the other."
"But I was wrong." I almost got us all killed.
"Yes, you *were*." His voice rises in force, his eyes
piercing mine as he stares hard at me---his mouth set in a
firm line.
I stare at him in a shocked silence, my throat convulsing.
And then his eyes soften, the blazing anger replacing with
patient understanding. "But I *didn't* let you do that. I
*wouldn't* have. I told you that before."
I think back over the events of the away mission, how I'd
argued with him there and how he'd firmly denied my request
and realize how relieved I am now that he was as immovable
with me as he was. The consequences otherwise would've been
devastating.
I shift mental gears and think of the dream I woke up from a
while back. The false dream. Of events that *hadn't* taken
place. The images of Borg attacking Voyager, assimilating
the crew---assimilating him. And suddenly a realization hits
me. That even during regeneration, the human part of me---or
perhaps it is the Borg part after all---was trying to tell
me something. Was trying to give me a message.
I close my eyes for a second, take in a deep breath, and
then open them---knowing all traces of conflict have left my
expression. "You stopped me." I tell him.
His brow smoothes. "Yes, I did. We stayed together. Tom is
all right now."
I shake my head. "No, I mean---you stopped me... before
too."
His eyes narrow in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
I look into his dark eyes. "When you severed my connection
to the Collective," They're brown, I notice for the first
time, an appealing color for eyes---a warm color. "You
stopped me from leading the Borg to Voyager. You stopped me
from getting Voyager assimilated."
It takes a moment for comprehension to dawn in those eyes,
and then he nods slowly, his gaze turning even softer than
before. "I spoke to you in your thoughts."
I swallow as I reply. "You were the last person I heard in
my mind."
He looks impressed, almost awed by this revelation---as if
he'd never considered it before. "Do you still have those
memories?"
"You don't?" I ask him.
He looks at me closely and shrugs as he replies---looking a
little dazed. "I guess I do."
"I have them as well." I confirm.
He nods and then the expression on his face changes, his
eyes squinting as he tilts his head to one side. "Your
regeneration cycle... Is that where your memories of Kellin
returned? That is, if I assume you had lost them like the
rest of us."
For some reason, I feel relieved at the change of topic and
shift my position on the chair. "I had, and yes that's where
they returned approximately eleven days ago."
His brows crinkle as he appraises me. "Why did you take this
long to tell me, Seven?" He sounds curious.
I hesitate as I drop my gaze to my lap and then taking a
deep breath look up at him. "I was unsure of how to approach
you."
He shakes his head, the same amusement again peeking from
his eyes. "Seven, you chose a hell of a wrong time to do
so."
I sigh, feeling a sudden flush heat the skin of my neck. "I
would admit my timing was a little off."
He suddenly smiles as he notices my embarrassment. "And I
would say I was just a little... shocked."
I raise my brow at his lighthearted expression. He no longer
seems upset and that relieves me even further. "I noticed."
I nod. "But then I had already surmised that you would be
upset before I spoke to you. I was just..." My voice trails
off.
He finishes for me. "Unprepared for that intensity?"
I shrug. "I guess I wasn't."
A slightly repentant look crosses his face again. "I don't
blame you."
I stare into his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted---as if
I've run an ancient marathon race. "How is Lieutenant
Paris?" I change the topic again. "I haven't seen him for a
few hours."
He looks at me knowingly, well aware that I am trying to
turn the conversation around, his eyes twinkling with
comprehension, but lets it go. "Sleeping. I stopped by
sickbay on my way to see you. He's going to be just fine.
He'll be released to his quarters tomorrow."
"It is tomorrow now." I remind him of the early hour again.
"Well, then... A few hours from now, I guess." His lips
quirk again. It is disconcerting how suddenly I can notice
the color of his eyes and see how many times his lips twist
into a smile, when a few weeks back things like these
would've been the farthest from my mind. My Borg half would
certainly disapprove.
But I find that my human part doesn't mind too much.
"As I remember," I decide to continue on in the same vein.
"The Captain ordered you to take time off as well."
His brow arches. "I *am* on my time off. I told you what I
do in my off-duty hours should be no one's concern but
mine."
I stare at him in silence once more, my own brow raised in
query.
And then he shakes his head again and sighs. "But since
you've already shown some concern about how I spend my
off-duty *time*," A slightly indulgent look crosses his eyes
as he regards me. "I decided to spend some of it with you.
Do you want to get rid of me?"
I let a small smile appear on the corner of my own lips.
"No. I want you to do as the Captain said. Get some rest."
He smiles in return. "I *am* resting."
I lift my chin and state in my no-nonsense voice. "Then get
some sleep." He does seem somewhat tired. Spending his
off-duty hours sitting with me in the Observation Lounge
nine decks down from his quarters won't help him. The away
mission was tiring for him as well.
He straightens his shoulders. "Only if you promise me one
thing."
I look at him in question. "What is that?"
He looks me straight in the eye. "That you'll complete your
regeneration."
I return his gaze as I contemplate his request. My cycle
earlier had been ridden with unpleasant dreams that
concerned this crew, and the man sitting in front of me. Can
I confront the same kind of images if they storm inside my
mind again?
"Is there something wrong?" The Commander is frowning,
concern apparent in his expression.
I stare at him a moment and realize my thoughts are much
calmer now that I've spoken to him. As much as I was
dreading facing him, discussing the various aspects of our
individual and mutual conflict seems to have helped.
"No." I shake my head. "There was. But not anymore. I
believe I can return to my regeneration now."
His dark eyes probe mine. "Sure everything's okay?"
"Yes." I nod. I *am* sure.
"In that case," He smiles and gets up from his chair. "I'll
walk you to your *domain*."
========^*^========^*^=========
It is strange how life sometimes throws you a curveball and
then expects you to go catching even though your hands are
already full with other things.
You juggle the items already in your hands as you try to
catch the ball. Sometimes you manage to do so. Other times
you watch in horror as the ball goes sailing past you in
vain. Sometimes you even dump the stuff you were already
holding and run for the curveball to make a catch of a
lifetime.
I am not sure what I've chosen to do so, but I believe my
life has thrown me a heck of a curveball as well.
And I think I just barely caught it.
"I thought I told you to wait until you were back on duty
before submitting your report." Kathryn looks at me
indulgently from behind her desk.
I smile at her. "But you'd known that I couldn't wait to get
it over with. It's almost all I've been thinking about for
the past twenty-four hours. And besides, I can always relax
after I've discussed this with you."
"You have a point." She nods as she gets up from her chair
and walks around her desk to the replicator. "I was going
through the Doctor's reports and according to him, the toxin
that the creature left in Tom's body was highly potent. If
Tom hadn't been treated with the antidote in the shuttle, it
could've affected some of the major organs in his body more
severely, maybe even permanently."
She walks back to the desk, places a cup of herbal tea in
front of me and settles down in her seat with her coffee.
I look at her grave expression and sigh. "It was a close
call. We almost didn't make it to the shuttle. Those
creatures were vicious and extremely fast."
She looks at me closely as she takes a sip from her mug.
"But there's something else on your mind."
I sip the sweetened tea. "I was just thinking of the
carcasses we saw there. I saw two different species. Tom's
scans show records of a third and Seven's one more. That's
four distinctive separate species---all probably killed by
the same creatures, beginning at the same timeframe---seven
weeks ago."
"And no signs of any other life form." Kathryn muses.
"That's what's bothering me." I look down at the padd in
front of me and then up at her. "I don't want to think that
those creatures killed all other life forms in that
area---or worse, on that whole planet."
"Maybe it's a mutation of some sort." She offers.
"It could be." I reply. "Think about it, Kathryn. No other
living animal in sight. No bird in the air. I'd hate to
think that these creatures have evolved out of some other
native form of life on that planet and then taken control of
the environment, killing their way through all the
indigenous life forms."
Kathryn looks at me curiously. "Do you think we should've
perhaps explored some more?"
"I don't know how we can explore a planet of this size,
especially in the light of all the atmospheric conditions
that made even that one shuttle ride such a hassle." I shake
my head. "For all we know, we could be looking at this
situation entirely wrong. For all we know, this could be a
very natural occurrence in that environment that happens in
this particular season perhaps---when all the other animals
migrate to other climates."
"When I was discussing this with Tuvok and the Doctor,"
Kathryn says. "They were of the view that there are ways of
controlling an unusual bend in the evolutionary process in a
known environment. In cases where evolution has come to an
abrupt dead end with only one species thriving in an
environment where more should be living, we have the option
of introducing an agent in the environment. Something to
hinder the growth and evolution of that single species so
that the other life forms can fight back."
"But that is only valid for a known environment." I look at
her. "This environment is completely alien to us. We just
spent half a day in that area and yes we *were* attacked.
But we could be interfering with what might be the possible
natural evolutionary cycle for this world. Maybe that is the
way it's meant to be here."
"So we're damned if we do," Kathryn lifts one brow. "And
we're damned if we don't."
I sigh. "When I think about it---we *were* the intruders to
their environment. Maybe they were just pissed off that we
interfered in their peaceful existence."
She shakes her head. "Well, they surely showed their
displeasure in a very profound way."
I nod as I take another sip of the tea. "That they did."
"At least one good thing came off it." She smiles. "We now
have a wide variety of fresh vegetables and fruits for the
food stores, and seedlings for the hydroponics bay. Neelix
is quite appreciative of that fact, even though he's a
little shaken at what it almost cost us."
I shake my head at the thought of what new experiments
Neelix will do with our latest harvesting efforts. I lean
back in the chair and look at my Captain. "Well, that was my
report. I am sure Seven's report will provide another unique
insight that you'll find helpful."
Kathryn grins at me. "She was *here* two hours before *you*,
with her complete report."
I chuckle. "As efficient as always."
It's funny how the thought of Seven no longer fills me with
that slight uneasiness I used to feel in the past. In fact,
there's a lightness in my heart---a strange feeling of
pleasant vitality that parts the clouds of gloom that had
been covering my horizon for the past few days.
Kellin isn't even on my mind anymore.
A curveball indeed.
Kathryn looks at me closely, her eyes probing. "She told me
of the slight altercation she had with you when she asked
for all three of you to be separated on the planet."
I look into my friend's eyes. "There was no altercation. She
and Tom made a suggestion. I refused. That was all."
"But she was blaming herself for almost causing everyone's
deaths." Kathryn prods.
I shrug at her. "Yes, I know, she's been blaming
herself---and I'll keep telling her it wasn't her fault
until she begins to believe me."
Kathryn seems amused, her eyebrows arching in mock-surprise.
"Why, Commander, do I detect a change in your perception of
our ex-Drone?"
I can't help but smile at this. "Perhaps."
She seems genuinely pleased. "That is good, Chakotay. She
could learn so much from you---your sense of intuition about
everyday things, your compassion."
"I don't know about her, Kathryn," I look at her. "But she
certainly has helped open *my* eyes about things in this
short time that I couldn't clearly see before."
Kathryn smiles. "I am happy to hear that. She's a strangely
complex person, with many difficult layers, but once you get
to know her---you do realize she's worth the effort."
I nod, noticing Kathryn's eyes quietly observing as she
looks at me from behind her coffee mug. "I am beginning to
see that. And also---as far as compassion is concerned, I've
found she has enough of her own---you just have to look hard
enough to see it."
Kathryn's eyes are discerningly penetrative but my thoughts
are already drifting. I give her a furtive smile, and notice
her slight shake of head as she chuckles.
"You're a piece of work, Chakotay."
"What?" I stare at her, my brow arching in query. "Have you
been spending a lot of time with Tom? He's the only one who
talks like this."
But instead of replying, she shakes her head again. There's
a covert smile on her lips and I feel slightly lost in the
wake of her probing gaze.
Piece of work? What could she possibly mean?
I sigh.
Damn curveballs.
========^*^========^*^=========
Continued in Memory 4 of 4
AUTHOR: Layla V.
CONTACT: v_layla@hotmail.com
WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/chakotayseven
ARCHIVING: Sure. Just let me know where.
FANDOM: Star Trek Voyager
PAIRING: Chakotay/Seven
RATING: PG-13.
CODES: Slightly A/U. Angst. H/c.
SUMMARY: What if the Rumaran virus meant to erase Kellin's
memories from every mind on Voyager wasn't as effective as
we'd thought at first?
DISCLAIMER: All characters owned by Paramount. I am merely
playing with them. No copyright infringement is intended.
NOTES: Major thanks to Sorcha for her invaluable suggestions
and betaing. Also thanks to Kristin for her encouragement
without which I could never have been able to finish this.
:)
========^*^========^*^=========
This Story won *First Place* in the Bowl First Kiss contest!
http://www.geocities.com/the_fresh_bowl/contest.html
========^*^========^*^=========
Dreams filling my mind's eye. Events that unfolded around me
in a not so recent past. Memories assailing me, disturbing
me, comforting me.
My first look into his mind.
His voice. A soft, soothing hail rising above the cacophony
of never-ending noise. Millions of voices speaking together,
directing my thoughts, telling me what to do. Yet that one
voice drowning all others with it's enticing, luring, velvet
timbre.
/Annika. Listen to your human side. To yourself. The little
girl./
His voice. Urgent. Urging. Pleading. It's silken resonating
tones washing over my whole being, tingling my nerve endings
with a spark I'd never felt before. A spark of vitality and
passion. A sea of faces and memories---its frenzied waves
rising and crashing against the jagged, craggy rocks of
uncertainty---of confusion. But his voice leading me.
Guiding me. Calling me.
/I can see your memories. You remember being human./
My eyes on the viewscreen on Voyager's bridge, my human hand
grabbing the console at the helm as the injection tubules
snake out of the implant on my Borg wrist and penetrate the
helm controls. I hear the Collective in my mind.
/Alter course to bring the Alpha Quadrant vessel to
Unimatrix 368, grid 0015./
His voice. Yielding, tempting. His memories inundating my
consciousness, his thoughts entangling the perfection of
harmony in my mind. Filling me with confusion, disrupting my
order. My voice rising in a wounded roar of denial.
/We are Borg. Your appeal to my humanity is pointless./
The cacophony inside my head increasing in its perfect,
hideous order. Millions of voices speaking as one. Their
presence sharply felt in my mind, in his mind. His voice
rising in alarm, rising in fear.
/Stop what you're doing. You're human. I can hear your
thoughts. We are one./
And then a new vision filling my mind. Events that couldn't
have been a part of my memories because they never occurred.
Yet they are images that come unbidden, propelling into my
mind, uninvited.
A Borg vessel appearing on the viewscreen. My tubules
interacting with Voyager's systems, disrupting their
defenses, dropping their shields. The voice of the
Collective speaking as one.
/Your technological and biological distinctiveness will be
added to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us.
Resistance is futile./
Drones transporting all over the ship. Phaser fires all
around me. His voice pleading me, cajoling me---even as I
hear their screams on every deck, in every mind, in the
Collective thought.
/Our minds are linked./ His voice calls me, filled with
anguish. /We are one. I can hear your thoughts./
But it's too late for him. They wrench him down to his
knees, his struggles in vain. I watch as his head is yanked
back and a drone injects the claws of the tubules into his
neck. I hear his pain-filled scream, his eyes clouding with
distress---his pain plunging me into a sudden desolate
blackness.
And with that suffocating darkness, comes the beginnings of
a scream that fills my own tightening throat. However the
only sound that comes out is a small gasp of misery, as my
eyes finally snap open.
The Interlink Node disconnects from my Alcove and under the
sound of my heavy, desperate breathing, I hear the voice of
the computer announce.
"Regeneration cycle incomplete."
I stare into the dimmed cargobay two, my heart beating
frantically, my breaths coming in gasps, as I try to bring a
semblance of order to my bewildered state. It is then that
my eyes settle on the figure perched on the cargo containers
a step below the platform.
His shoulders as tense as mine, as if he's shared my
thoughts this time as well, as if he knows what I went
through under the guise of my regeneration cycle. I stare at
him hesitantly, perturbed by his presence, my mind still
reeling from the images I'd seen in my dreams.
"Commander." I finally say, as I step off the Alcove,
willing my heart to calm its frantic beat.
He slides off the container, a few lines of worry wrinkling
the skin between his brows. "Seven."
I access the chronometer. Its 0413 hours.
I look at him, unsure of his reasons for being here at this
hour. "You're up early."
He shrugs, a slightly apologetic twist on his lips. "I
couldn't sleep." His eyes probe mine. "Are you all right?"
It was just a dream, I remind myself. Just a tangle of
confusion cooked up by my strained mind, nothing more.
I take a deep breath and step off the platform. "I seem to
be suffering from the same predicament as you are."
He looks uncertainly at my profile, looks behind me at the
Alcove I've just stepped down from, and then slightly
frowns. "Aren't you going to go back to regeneration?"
"Perhaps later." I reply, as I notice his attire---an earthy
toned collar-less shirt, seemingly made of a soft material,
and loose cream-colored pants---apparently his off-duty
clothes of choice.
He nods, and makes a small gesture with his arm. "Then may
I..." He pauses as he turns sideways, his eyes on the cargo
containers behind him, and shakes his head. "No seating
arrangements here."
"This is a cargobay." I look at him. "What purpose would
having a seating arrangement serve in a cargobay?"
He seems amused. "Cargobay or not, it is still *your*
domain."
I lift my chin. "Borg do not sit." But my words don't have
the same brusqueness as they could've had.
And he notices. A slight smile brushes his lips. "Borg who
socialize with humans *do* sit."
I look into his eyes, trying to keep my voice cool under his
interested gaze. "Are you asking me to socialize with you,
Commander?"
He shrugs. "Oh, I don't know... I *am* asking you to take a
walk with me to somewhere with a couple of chairs at least."
He hesitates a moment, looking slightly unsure. "If you're
not busy that is."
And it's in this small show of hesitancy that I find a
little assurance for myself. If I am not the only one who is
uncertain about facing him, if the Commander is as
apprehensive about talking to me as I am to him, then
perhaps we'd be on equal grounds.
Pushing the remnants of the strange dream I'd just had to
the back of my mind, I take a deep breath and nod. "I am
unoccupied at this time. I will take the walk."
He smiles, satisfied, and turns around, leading me out of
the cargobay. The corridors are vacant at this hour of the
morning, with the gamma crew on shift and the rest of them
in their quarters sleeping. We don't use the turbolift.
Instead Commander Chakotay finds an Observation Lounge at
the far end of Deck twelve and we walk inside.
It's a lounge I hadn't looked closely at before. I was being
honest when I told the Commander that Borg do not sit. Borg
don't socialize either. And certainly not with
former-renegade First Officers of Federation ships stranded
in the delta quadrant. But it would appear that times have
now changed. And as always I'll have to find a way to adapt,
whether I am ready for it or not.
My gaze travels across the small room furnished with
comfortable chairs, cushioned two-seaters, and the few low
set glass tables set in front of the two viewport windows,
to stop at the man standing next to a seat---looking at me
expectantly. I realize he'd been watching me while I was
studying my surroundings, lost in my thoughts. I take a
breath, step forward to pull out a straight-back chair and
carefully sit down, watching him take a chair in front of
me.
He leans back in his chair in a relaxed posture and looks at
me closely, and I suddenly realize he has lost the slight
lines of apprehension that had creased his face earlier.
Perhaps the small walk helped him focus, as it did me, in a
way.
"So..." He starts, his eyes intent on me, and trails off.
I urge him on. "I am waiting for you to begin."
His brow arches. "Begin what?"
I feel myself frown slightly. "You did bring me here to talk
about Kellin, didn't you?"
There's a slight pause during which his eyes linger on mine,
and then one corner of his mouth twitches. "No, you
misunderstood me. I brought you here because I wanted to
talk about *you*."
I look at him incredulously. "Me."
"Yes." He straightens up on his seat, his face suddenly
turning serious. "How are you doing? Since coming back from
the away mission?"
There's concern in his eyes and although I am not sure why,
its strangely comforting to me. It's been fourteen hours
since our return from the planet. Lieutenant Paris is
recovering in sickbay. The Commander and I were unhurt and
we've been off-duty since our return. I don't understand why
he'd be concerned about me now.
"I am fine." I reply.
"Are you sure?" His voice is soft, unexpectedly reminding me
of the velvet timbre from my dreams, my
memories---distracting me for a moment---before it suddenly
occurs to me what he's attempting to do.
I raise my brow at him. "Is this a counseling session,
Commander?"
He smiles gently and shakes his head. "No. Just lending a
friendly ear."
Though, for some reason I don't want to talk about this. I
make an attempt at changing the subject. "Are you sure you
do not wish to speak about Kellin?"
He stares at me closely, his throat working as his mind
apparently processes the information at his disposal. Then
as if coming to a decision, he sighs and leans back on his
seat, his brow smooth. "All right. Tell me, what *do* you
know about Kellin?"
I waver, unsure of his changing tactics. How much *does* he
know? How much does he *want* to know? I decide to start at
the beginning.
"She was a Rumaran tracer who had come to Voyager looking
for a runaway..."
He breaks in. "I know that."
I pause, feeling my brow arching in mild impatience. "The
two of you began a romantic relationship..."
He shrugs. "That's in my accounts too."
I purse my lips, as I feel my impatience expand into slight
irritation. Humans have a strangely annoying habit of
playing along just for the sake of it. "Her leaving you
after her memories were erased caused you a great deal of
pain..."
He pauses for a second. "For approximately two hours."
My brows wrinkle at his mysterious behavior. "Are you
suggesting that you have not been distracted, that you have
not been upset, over this subject in the past few days?"
He blinks and then sighs, a smile breaking on his face, as
he shakes his head. "Is this a counseling session, Seven?"
I feel my irritation slowly melt away at the sight of his
amusement. "No. Perhaps, I too am only lending you a
friendly ear."
There's another pause as he silently appraises me and then
the smile disappears. "Seven," His eyes are solemn. "I
really *am* sorry about how I spoke to you down on the
planet."
I heard the Doctor once tell me that all things in the
universe go on in a never-ending circle. I told him it was
an illogical supposition. I told him all matter in the
galaxy was constantly expanding and not moving in a circle
as he'd proposed. I couldn't have known how right he was, at
least in respect to *some* things.
I heave in a deep breath as I face Chakotay. "As I said
before, Commander, you have no reason to apologize."
But the Commander's dark eyes are implacable. "You're wrong.
I was out of line. That calls for an apology."
"You want to apologize to *me*?" My tone rises in
exasperation. "Even after I almost persuaded you to let
Lieutenant Paris take the shuttle---which if he had done so,
would have resulted in all of us getting killed?"
He grits his teeth. "One thing has got nothing to do with
the other."
"But I was wrong." I almost got us all killed.
"Yes, you *were*." His voice rises in force, his eyes
piercing mine as he stares hard at me---his mouth set in a
firm line.
I stare at him in a shocked silence, my throat convulsing.
And then his eyes soften, the blazing anger replacing with
patient understanding. "But I *didn't* let you do that. I
*wouldn't* have. I told you that before."
I think back over the events of the away mission, how I'd
argued with him there and how he'd firmly denied my request
and realize how relieved I am now that he was as immovable
with me as he was. The consequences otherwise would've been
devastating.
I shift mental gears and think of the dream I woke up from a
while back. The false dream. Of events that *hadn't* taken
place. The images of Borg attacking Voyager, assimilating
the crew---assimilating him. And suddenly a realization hits
me. That even during regeneration, the human part of me---or
perhaps it is the Borg part after all---was trying to tell
me something. Was trying to give me a message.
I close my eyes for a second, take in a deep breath, and
then open them---knowing all traces of conflict have left my
expression. "You stopped me." I tell him.
His brow smoothes. "Yes, I did. We stayed together. Tom is
all right now."
I shake my head. "No, I mean---you stopped me... before
too."
His eyes narrow in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
I look into his dark eyes. "When you severed my connection
to the Collective," They're brown, I notice for the first
time, an appealing color for eyes---a warm color. "You
stopped me from leading the Borg to Voyager. You stopped me
from getting Voyager assimilated."
It takes a moment for comprehension to dawn in those eyes,
and then he nods slowly, his gaze turning even softer than
before. "I spoke to you in your thoughts."
I swallow as I reply. "You were the last person I heard in
my mind."
He looks impressed, almost awed by this revelation---as if
he'd never considered it before. "Do you still have those
memories?"
"You don't?" I ask him.
He looks at me closely and shrugs as he replies---looking a
little dazed. "I guess I do."
"I have them as well." I confirm.
He nods and then the expression on his face changes, his
eyes squinting as he tilts his head to one side. "Your
regeneration cycle... Is that where your memories of Kellin
returned? That is, if I assume you had lost them like the
rest of us."
For some reason, I feel relieved at the change of topic and
shift my position on the chair. "I had, and yes that's where
they returned approximately eleven days ago."
His brows crinkle as he appraises me. "Why did you take this
long to tell me, Seven?" He sounds curious.
I hesitate as I drop my gaze to my lap and then taking a
deep breath look up at him. "I was unsure of how to approach
you."
He shakes his head, the same amusement again peeking from
his eyes. "Seven, you chose a hell of a wrong time to do
so."
I sigh, feeling a sudden flush heat the skin of my neck. "I
would admit my timing was a little off."
He suddenly smiles as he notices my embarrassment. "And I
would say I was just a little... shocked."
I raise my brow at his lighthearted expression. He no longer
seems upset and that relieves me even further. "I noticed."
I nod. "But then I had already surmised that you would be
upset before I spoke to you. I was just..." My voice trails
off.
He finishes for me. "Unprepared for that intensity?"
I shrug. "I guess I wasn't."
A slightly repentant look crosses his face again. "I don't
blame you."
I stare into his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted---as if
I've run an ancient marathon race. "How is Lieutenant
Paris?" I change the topic again. "I haven't seen him for a
few hours."
He looks at me knowingly, well aware that I am trying to
turn the conversation around, his eyes twinkling with
comprehension, but lets it go. "Sleeping. I stopped by
sickbay on my way to see you. He's going to be just fine.
He'll be released to his quarters tomorrow."
"It is tomorrow now." I remind him of the early hour again.
"Well, then... A few hours from now, I guess." His lips
quirk again. It is disconcerting how suddenly I can notice
the color of his eyes and see how many times his lips twist
into a smile, when a few weeks back things like these
would've been the farthest from my mind. My Borg half would
certainly disapprove.
But I find that my human part doesn't mind too much.
"As I remember," I decide to continue on in the same vein.
"The Captain ordered you to take time off as well."
His brow arches. "I *am* on my time off. I told you what I
do in my off-duty hours should be no one's concern but
mine."
I stare at him in silence once more, my own brow raised in
query.
And then he shakes his head again and sighs. "But since
you've already shown some concern about how I spend my
off-duty *time*," A slightly indulgent look crosses his eyes
as he regards me. "I decided to spend some of it with you.
Do you want to get rid of me?"
I let a small smile appear on the corner of my own lips.
"No. I want you to do as the Captain said. Get some rest."
He smiles in return. "I *am* resting."
I lift my chin and state in my no-nonsense voice. "Then get
some sleep." He does seem somewhat tired. Spending his
off-duty hours sitting with me in the Observation Lounge
nine decks down from his quarters won't help him. The away
mission was tiring for him as well.
He straightens his shoulders. "Only if you promise me one
thing."
I look at him in question. "What is that?"
He looks me straight in the eye. "That you'll complete your
regeneration."
I return his gaze as I contemplate his request. My cycle
earlier had been ridden with unpleasant dreams that
concerned this crew, and the man sitting in front of me. Can
I confront the same kind of images if they storm inside my
mind again?
"Is there something wrong?" The Commander is frowning,
concern apparent in his expression.
I stare at him a moment and realize my thoughts are much
calmer now that I've spoken to him. As much as I was
dreading facing him, discussing the various aspects of our
individual and mutual conflict seems to have helped.
"No." I shake my head. "There was. But not anymore. I
believe I can return to my regeneration now."
His dark eyes probe mine. "Sure everything's okay?"
"Yes." I nod. I *am* sure.
"In that case," He smiles and gets up from his chair. "I'll
walk you to your *domain*."
========^*^========^*^=========
It is strange how life sometimes throws you a curveball and
then expects you to go catching even though your hands are
already full with other things.
You juggle the items already in your hands as you try to
catch the ball. Sometimes you manage to do so. Other times
you watch in horror as the ball goes sailing past you in
vain. Sometimes you even dump the stuff you were already
holding and run for the curveball to make a catch of a
lifetime.
I am not sure what I've chosen to do so, but I believe my
life has thrown me a heck of a curveball as well.
And I think I just barely caught it.
"I thought I told you to wait until you were back on duty
before submitting your report." Kathryn looks at me
indulgently from behind her desk.
I smile at her. "But you'd known that I couldn't wait to get
it over with. It's almost all I've been thinking about for
the past twenty-four hours. And besides, I can always relax
after I've discussed this with you."
"You have a point." She nods as she gets up from her chair
and walks around her desk to the replicator. "I was going
through the Doctor's reports and according to him, the toxin
that the creature left in Tom's body was highly potent. If
Tom hadn't been treated with the antidote in the shuttle, it
could've affected some of the major organs in his body more
severely, maybe even permanently."
She walks back to the desk, places a cup of herbal tea in
front of me and settles down in her seat with her coffee.
I look at her grave expression and sigh. "It was a close
call. We almost didn't make it to the shuttle. Those
creatures were vicious and extremely fast."
She looks at me closely as she takes a sip from her mug.
"But there's something else on your mind."
I sip the sweetened tea. "I was just thinking of the
carcasses we saw there. I saw two different species. Tom's
scans show records of a third and Seven's one more. That's
four distinctive separate species---all probably killed by
the same creatures, beginning at the same timeframe---seven
weeks ago."
"And no signs of any other life form." Kathryn muses.
"That's what's bothering me." I look down at the padd in
front of me and then up at her. "I don't want to think that
those creatures killed all other life forms in that
area---or worse, on that whole planet."
"Maybe it's a mutation of some sort." She offers.
"It could be." I reply. "Think about it, Kathryn. No other
living animal in sight. No bird in the air. I'd hate to
think that these creatures have evolved out of some other
native form of life on that planet and then taken control of
the environment, killing their way through all the
indigenous life forms."
Kathryn looks at me curiously. "Do you think we should've
perhaps explored some more?"
"I don't know how we can explore a planet of this size,
especially in the light of all the atmospheric conditions
that made even that one shuttle ride such a hassle." I shake
my head. "For all we know, we could be looking at this
situation entirely wrong. For all we know, this could be a
very natural occurrence in that environment that happens in
this particular season perhaps---when all the other animals
migrate to other climates."
"When I was discussing this with Tuvok and the Doctor,"
Kathryn says. "They were of the view that there are ways of
controlling an unusual bend in the evolutionary process in a
known environment. In cases where evolution has come to an
abrupt dead end with only one species thriving in an
environment where more should be living, we have the option
of introducing an agent in the environment. Something to
hinder the growth and evolution of that single species so
that the other life forms can fight back."
"But that is only valid for a known environment." I look at
her. "This environment is completely alien to us. We just
spent half a day in that area and yes we *were* attacked.
But we could be interfering with what might be the possible
natural evolutionary cycle for this world. Maybe that is the
way it's meant to be here."
"So we're damned if we do," Kathryn lifts one brow. "And
we're damned if we don't."
I sigh. "When I think about it---we *were* the intruders to
their environment. Maybe they were just pissed off that we
interfered in their peaceful existence."
She shakes her head. "Well, they surely showed their
displeasure in a very profound way."
I nod as I take another sip of the tea. "That they did."
"At least one good thing came off it." She smiles. "We now
have a wide variety of fresh vegetables and fruits for the
food stores, and seedlings for the hydroponics bay. Neelix
is quite appreciative of that fact, even though he's a
little shaken at what it almost cost us."
I shake my head at the thought of what new experiments
Neelix will do with our latest harvesting efforts. I lean
back in the chair and look at my Captain. "Well, that was my
report. I am sure Seven's report will provide another unique
insight that you'll find helpful."
Kathryn grins at me. "She was *here* two hours before *you*,
with her complete report."
I chuckle. "As efficient as always."
It's funny how the thought of Seven no longer fills me with
that slight uneasiness I used to feel in the past. In fact,
there's a lightness in my heart---a strange feeling of
pleasant vitality that parts the clouds of gloom that had
been covering my horizon for the past few days.
Kellin isn't even on my mind anymore.
A curveball indeed.
Kathryn looks at me closely, her eyes probing. "She told me
of the slight altercation she had with you when she asked
for all three of you to be separated on the planet."
I look into my friend's eyes. "There was no altercation. She
and Tom made a suggestion. I refused. That was all."
"But she was blaming herself for almost causing everyone's
deaths." Kathryn prods.
I shrug at her. "Yes, I know, she's been blaming
herself---and I'll keep telling her it wasn't her fault
until she begins to believe me."
Kathryn seems amused, her eyebrows arching in mock-surprise.
"Why, Commander, do I detect a change in your perception of
our ex-Drone?"
I can't help but smile at this. "Perhaps."
She seems genuinely pleased. "That is good, Chakotay. She
could learn so much from you---your sense of intuition about
everyday things, your compassion."
"I don't know about her, Kathryn," I look at her. "But she
certainly has helped open *my* eyes about things in this
short time that I couldn't clearly see before."
Kathryn smiles. "I am happy to hear that. She's a strangely
complex person, with many difficult layers, but once you get
to know her---you do realize she's worth the effort."
I nod, noticing Kathryn's eyes quietly observing as she
looks at me from behind her coffee mug. "I am beginning to
see that. And also---as far as compassion is concerned, I've
found she has enough of her own---you just have to look hard
enough to see it."
Kathryn's eyes are discerningly penetrative but my thoughts
are already drifting. I give her a furtive smile, and notice
her slight shake of head as she chuckles.
"You're a piece of work, Chakotay."
"What?" I stare at her, my brow arching in query. "Have you
been spending a lot of time with Tom? He's the only one who
talks like this."
But instead of replying, she shakes her head again. There's
a covert smile on her lips and I feel slightly lost in the
wake of her probing gaze.
Piece of work? What could she possibly mean?
I sigh.
Damn curveballs.
========^*^========^*^=========
Continued in Memory 4 of 4