1-04 I Soldier
In which the Captain makes the Colonel an offer and is surprised by his refusal to take it up. The Voyager crew find out more about their unusual passenger and finish with a ball! Seven of Nine receives an offer she finds she can not refuse...
Disclaimer:- Characters in this story are fictitious, no semblance to real people is intended or should be taken. Voyager and all characters (except the Colonel) are copyright Paramount Studios.
The storyline and the Colonel are my own.
Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail story@rgower.plus.com.
This is the fourth story of a sequence. If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway.
This story is rated PG
©R Gower 2001
In the dim light of the Star Ship Voyager's Cargo Bay 2 a complex machine hummed quietly as it quietly repaired, energised and correlated the data it was collecting from the slim figure that was held unsensingly in its seemingly supernatural grasp.
The figure was a lonely one as it stood there, seemingly asleep. It was definitely female, even if she herself was not totally aware of the full implications of the term, the smooth swell of her breasts were distinct even in the half light of the Cargo Bay, highlighted as they were by the body hugging suit she was wearing. Her hair a golden blonde, scrunched up firmly at the back of her head in a strict bouffon, along with the silvery metallic plate that extended from beside the bridge of her nose then circled around her left eye to finish underneath in the centre of her cheek, gave her a handsome regal yet slightly alien look.
The machine stopped and the young woman that was held in its grasp was released. Her blue eyes snapping open as she felt her senses come alive in one smooth action, taking control of her body again.
Satisfied that everything was in order, she stepped from the alcove that had held her for the last six hours. Her long slender legs carrying her impossibly erect body smoothly towards a computer console that was located a mere fifteen feet in front.
She pressed a button and started to speak.
"Seven of Nine, Personal Log."
"The Colonel is still failing to achieve expected results in his training. I believe he is not putting sufficient attention into his studies, he is easily distracted. We will re-attempt applied warp dynamics after the staff meeting."
"I have repeatedly failed to allow sufficient time to realign the deflector for a new long range sweep. I shall engage the Colonel to assist me."
"My discussions with the Colonel are continuing to yield concepts that require extensive consideration, with a view to my understanding of humanity and its relationship with my experiences as a Borg. I cannot place a reason to the personal value either he or I place in them, or my feelings when he holds me, but they are proving beneficial. I am finding his company agreeable."
"End."
Seven of Nine completed her morning entry into her personal log. For the last three months, the Colonel had been a major factor in her log entries, appearing in almost every sentence.
He was also a major factor in her waking thoughts. If he was present in the room she found herself watching him as he moved and interacted with the crew, sometimes he would catch her watching him and and he would colour slightly and smile shyly at her and she would look away hurriedly.
If he wasn't physically present then he was never far from her thoughts, whether it was dealing with orbit equations during lessons, laser ball on the holodeck with the Captain, or even conversation on the rare occasions she ventured to the Mess, she found herself a willing contributor to any topic involving him.
This willingness had been noticed and commented on by the surprised crew between themselves, they were now watching her reactions as hard as she watched the Colonel.
She found the handsome Colonel a fascinating subject to think about and could rarely keep herself entirely focussed on her own duties. Sometimes she talked to him about her Borg life, he would listen, when he felt her become distressed he would hold her hand. Sometimes he put an arm around her and held her gently. This was the most surprising and comforting thing of all, she liked being held by this strong man! It troubled her analytical mind that she could find no logical reason for her interest or the strange 'feelings' that dogged her whenever she thought about him.
Thinking that she may be in some way 'damaged' she had consulted the Doctor, who had simply directed her to a range of texts that had left her with even bigger questions than she had started with.
The Colonel, dressing in his quarters, had no doubt as to what his feelings for Seven of Nine portended and he was worried. Her manner, disliked by most of the crew, appealed to him, as did her continuous strife to achieve perfection and understanding. He was fascinated by her analytical consideration of problems and loved her intelligence and the matter of fact way she spoke, even the Borg implant around her eye had an aesthetic appeal he found hard to ignore, all that topped by her physical beauty and perfection, made her difficult to ignore.
Under the cool manner and impassive mask she wore, he had detected the sense of loneliness, confusion and fear she carried within her. These had intrigued him and had led him to investigate the ships records, both about her and the Borg, as well as his discussions with her. The results showed parallels that he found distressing, they had helped waken a desire to protect in him that he had not felt for years.
He knew he was falling in love with her and was struggling to keep it hidden behind his own protective mask. He could not find a way of stopping his slide into oblivion.
He had tried keeping as much distance as possible between them, but Voyager was simply too small to keep away from her. Throwing himself at his studies was similarly useless, as his instructor he had to approach her on a regular basis for assistance and examination. As for other tasks, there were simply too few on the ship that he was technically capable of carrying out proficiently. In desperation he had approached both Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay again, begging for reassignment. They had listened to his arguments carefully, then refused on the grounds that there was nobody on the ship more available or qualified to act as instructor. His request to be released from the ship was refused point blank. They had simply told him he would have to come to terms with his feelings one way or another.
To compound his discomfort, he had noticed that she was watching him whenever they were in a room together, indeed there were times when she seemed to deliberately seek him out, even physically looking for him instead of using the communication system aboard the ship. The way she looked away guiltily if he caught her eye, suggested that there was more than casual interest. This he found the most distressing thing of all.
He was aware that through some quirk of nature or science, he didn't know which, he had arrived at the end of the worm hole that had brought him to Voyager, physically somewhat younger than he had been when he left Earth. He also knew that the nano-probes that had been used to heal him, had removed almost every scar on his body, leaving, he had admitted reluctantly, a young and handsome man.
He could not accept that his stormy past and doubtful future would ever make him an acceptable beau for any woman, let alone Seven of Nine.
He sighed wistfully and inspected his uniform for fault in the mirror, it was a problem that he would have to find a solution to when it came to a head. He gave his green tie a final twist to get it positioned correctly, before carefully placing his peaked hat upon his head and heading for the door. His uniform was about the only thing he had left that he could show visible pride in. There was no way he was going to let his uniform disgrace him, or he disgrace it, if it could be avoided.
"Excuse me!" The Colonel announced at the daily staff meeting. He was interrupting another of Seven and Tuvoks extended discussions comparing the efficiency and logic of Borgs, humans and Vulcans.
"You are arguing about different things, efficiency and logic are not always inextricably linked, they depend upon the goal and its measurement."
The assembled meeting stiffened in expectancy, the Colonel didn't often get involved in the meetings discussions, preferring to sit and listen. When he did chose to get involved, then he often threw a whole new perspective into the debate that would stop it dead.
He waved down Tuvoks protest as he opened his mouth.
"If you'll permit me, I'll explain my interpretation, demonstrate why they will both fail, then you can shoot me down afterwards."
The Captain nodded her assent, smiling. She had decided to bring the Colonel into the staff meetings to aide his integration into Voyagers crew structure. In the event it had been unnecessary, the Colonel had employed his own methods of introducing himself to the crew. In the process he found out more about their personal lives, their views and opinions about their situation and crewmates, their hopes and aspirations, than the computer records could ever tell. Secretly she felt a hint of jealousy at the way this tall soldier, with the lopsided grin, and easy manner, had so insidiously managed to become an integral part of the ship. It would be good to see if somebody could bring him up short. Tuvok and Seven, on their favourite topic, might just be the people to do it. Besides it had been a quiet week, she thought.
Taking the Captains assent, he started. "Many years ago I went to a lecture at a University, the guest speaker, I forget his name, was a Professor of Probability and Mathematics. One of the examples he offered of logical thinking was in proving that crows are black not white. He argued that the only logical way to prove that crows were all black, was to kill all the black crows and count what was left. You had to kill the crows because of their annoying habit of breeding, thus affecting the balance and preventing a definitive answer. It is therefore more efficient, and a lot easier on the crows, to take a number of samples of crows, count the number of black crows and the number of white crows then you can use probability to show that any crow you met would be black not white."
"Now. It seems the Borg are very logical in their aim to be the dominant life form. The logical approach to being dominant life is to be the only life form. But that is not efficient. Humans have by and large become dominant in the Alpha Quadrant without the need and expense of continuous warfare and annihilation."
"The Borg are efficient!" Protested Seven, "They gain knowledge, it is added to the collective."
"With which they do nothing," he snapped back. "The Borg is a race that has given up the ability to efficiently invent solutions to their problems, in an all out and logical' attempt to assimilate everybody else's. The most efficient way of gaining technology is to trade it. If you have a technology that allows you grow food for a million people in an area the size of a matchbox, but need to get water from fire, what is more logical than trading that knowledge with some one that can create water from fire but can't feed itself? It also means that if they then develop an even better process then you can trade for that as well! The Borg approach means that whilst the winner takes all, nothing more can be done with it.
It also ignores the not unreasonable assumption that they will one day meet a race that is older, more powerful and nastier than itself. Against which it will not be able to defend itself, because it doesn't have the independence of mind, or the history, to put all the disparate technologies it's stolen together. You should recognise that! During the species 8472 debacle. The Borg needed a comparatively low technology race to invent a method of combating a much superior force. Voyager brought different technologies together, human, Borg and 8472's. All of that knowledge was within the Borg's Collective, but they couldn't use it!"
"Then there is their organisation."
"That is efficient!" protested the ex-Borg again, but her tone suggested a much lower degree of confidence.
"Is it?" he asked mildly. "Let us look at it."
"It is governed by a central mind, nothing wrong with that, provided it doesn't go wrong. Each drone knows its place and keeps to it, only being activated when whatever knob it needs to twiddle needs twiddling. It doesn't know any different, it is mindless, you could employ animals to do it!"
"If something goes wrong, it needs to contact the collective to find the next manoeuvre. But the Collective is attached to billions of other drones who are also demanding attention, so the answer may take time, that is inefficient."
"Each time the Borg take over another race they gain more drones, so there is an even greater demand on the Collective. Not only that, but it gains more knowledge, that it must sort out, catalogue, cross match with previous knowledge, how it ranks and so on. Personally I'd call that a recipe for a major headache and heart attack. But I suspect the knowledge of aspirin is also lost in one of the endless loops of cataloguing.
Given that all this is going on, it also has to decide who is going to be taken over next. Without a second mindset how does it decide the best approach out of the thousands it has in its grasp? Has it occurred to it, that turning up with a couple of cubes, shouting 'Resistance is Useless!' may not bring the best results. It works because of numbers, not efficiency."
"Compare that with this ship. It is driven by efficiency not logic. We have our central mind, the Captain," he pointed at the the Captain, who flushed at being described as the 'Mind' of the ship. He wasn't going to be beaten today she realised. Then she frowned at the next statement.
"But she doesn't control the ship!"
"She has a team of specialists that do it for her. Her job is to ensure that those specialists combine their talents to achieve a goal, the side issues are not important. I doubt if she even knows that Naomi fell off a tree on the holodeck yesterday, or that a replicator doesn't work on deck four, or the caveman still hasn't completed his exams. They are dealt with by the specialists, it's not her problem, unless it affects the overall performance of the ship or crew, then she needs to step in and crack a few knuckles."
The Colonel sat back, challenging a rebuke. Seven frowned, she had not enjoyed his dismantling of the system that she was still drawn to. Nor did she like being reminded of how the pupil, for whom she had taken on a personal duty to teach, had repeatedly failed to grasp the core principles of warp drive.
"Your studies are inefficiently organised," she muttered.
The Colonel noticed a look of smugness pass across Lieutenant Torres's face at Seven's discomfort and attempted to come to the defence of his tutor, by deflecting it at himself.
"They're probably not," he admitted. "Nor do I declare any affection for logic. I'm a six-hundred year old human trying to do the best I can, in subjects that hadn't even been invented when I was born. If you needed complicated maths, in my day, you used logarithmic tables. To be honest I'm amazed you've got so much into this thick skull, but I promise I will get there!"
The Captain also smiled, he was not the only one who was amazed at his progress, so were the all the crew, except possibly Seven. She wondered, if the tables were turned, if she could have achieved so much.
Seeing that there would be no objections to the Colonel's monologue, she straightened up.
"Perhaps we had better give you a task that you can excel at," she claimed confidently.
The Colonel raised a questioning eyebrow at her, "Ma'am?" He asked.
"Tuvok, Chakotay and I have discussed the need to improve the level of security on the ship. We want you to train some of the crew to carry out operations like the Vordun Action."
She had expected some positive reaction, a smile, anything. Instead she got silence as he considered his hands.
Finally he asked quietly. "You know what you are asking? You know what I am?"
"I believe so! You are the best man for the job!" she claimed, exasperation taking over from surprise.
"With respect Ma'am I don't think you do. I am a soldier, my primary function is to settle disputes in the most direct and often bloody way possible. On top of that I belonged to a small specialist force who's function was to go into places and conditions that nobody else could stand and cause the maximum possible disruption. I was very good at it, but I was an ideal candidate, low IQ, no home or family and an internal rage that couldn't be put out. I could train some of your crew to be like me, but in so doing I will brutalise them, submit them to pain and depravations that you can only imagine. Then I'll make them do it again but in conditions even worse. I will break them, then rebuild them into machines that are turned on and off at will. If I took the whole ships crew, I doubt I would find more than a couple who could survive the training intact!"
"You make it sound like Borg Assimilation!" Chakotay announced.
"In many ways it is worse!" Claimed the Colonel. "The Borg take peoples minds away, they can't think or feel about what they've done. I cannot do that, it is not within my abilities. If I train the crew to my standards, they will still have those thoughts and feelings that make them human. They will put them aside when needed, but they will still be there when not and they will feel it. I urge you Captain to please reconsider your request. If you demand it, I shall improve the quality of your security team, but I will not make them soldiers like me!"
The meeting sat appalled at the vehremenance he had shown against the idea. Seven shifted uneasily in her seat, she was remembering the conversations she had had with the Colonel, and how they affected her.
Finally the Captain swallowed, uncomfortable at the visions that had crossed her mind as he had spoken. "Very well, I'll consider your request Colonel."
Tuvok spoke up, "You are the only person we know that has fought the Borg in direct action. As such your experience is invaluable."
"You really want my advice regards the Borg and this ship?" The Colonel asked. "I'll give you that for free. You don't need to make zombies of the crew for it. Runaway, fast. Leave the actual fighting to fleets and walking dead like me! The only way the Borg can be stopped, is to find the Collective and destroy it totally."
He glared at them silently.
The meeting was brought to an uncomfortable close.
"Before you go Colonel, I'd like a word," Janeway called.
The Colonel waited until everybody departed.
"I do not like people saying 'NO' to me Colonel. Why did you do it?" she asked in a hard voice.
"Because I believe you made a mistake. You don't need or want twenty people like me, the cost is too high!" He replied evenly.
Her voice softened. "How did you survive in the army for so long if it was such a hard existence?" Perhaps she could get into this man herself without having to rely on Seven.
He looked into her eyes. He sighed, he didn't want to hurt her, anymore than hurt Seven.
"In truth, when I joined the Army I knew no better. From the age of one I'd been pushed from one home to another, beaten, abused and confused. When I was allowed to escape from school the army offered consistency and the companionship of several hundred others in exactly the same position. It wasn't worried about intelligence or history, it just demanded that you do as your told." he said levelly.
"Let me give you an example?" He said, seeing her confusion and resorting to another story from his past.
"In the course of one operation, I was sent on a reconnaissance mission with four others to pave the way for a strike mission. On the way back we almost ran into enemy patrols, we were surrounded but undiscovered, so we dug in and hid. They pitched camp on top of us, so we had to lay still until they left four days later. That is four days without food or water, barely daring to breath, let alone relieving the cramps in ones legs, whilst being steadily eaten by insects. I was even used by one of the buggers as a seat! They even laid on entertainment for themselves! I ended up watching people, soldiers like me, some of them from my own regiment! Being tortured to death, less than five feet from my hiding place and I couldn't do a thing about it! Do you have any idea what you have to do to people to get them to endure that sort of stress without breaking?"
"No," admitted the Captain, horrified by the prospect.
"I do," he admitted. "I'll tell you, you need to start from the right point You need people without hope. Only two of us on that mission got home with our sanity intact. I'll also tell you there isn't a man or woman on this ship that doesn't believe you will get Voyager and themselves home."
"What about you?" She asked in awed tones, "Do you think you'll get home?"
"I am at home, or as near as I will ever get," he said simply, "I can't go back to where I was, because that doesn't exist. I can't look forward to going to Earth because it's not where I came from anymore. So I'll have to make the most of what I have, a safe place to sleep and the companionship of friends."
The Colonel stood, straightened his tunic and saluted the Captain. "Now, if you'll forgive me I think I had better return to my studies, before Miss Nine throws me out of this home," he smiled.
She smiled back, weakly.
He turned and left her with her thoughts. He had shaken her considerably. She found herself considering how much pain the man had taken and how he managed to conceal it so well. More foreboding, just how much he would take.
With her thoughts still haunting her, she returned subdued to the bridge.
"You got him to accept?" asked Chakotay.
"No," she replied distractedly, "He made me see the error in our demand."
"There must be something else to him than death and destruction!" She declared desperately, "Or else why is he still alive? Or why are we still here?"
"There is," said Chakotay knowingly, "It's called Seven of Nine. You know there's a book running on the crew decks on which one will notice first that they're in love."
"But he's terrified of her," she pointed out.
"No. He's afraid he will start loving her and terrified she might love him back," he corrected her, "That's why he keeps asking for reassignment."
She nodded, "You're right of course," she admitted, "I suspect it's the only thing in the galaxy he is scared of. You know she spends a lot of time chasing after him?"
Chakotay nodded wisely.
The Colonel for his part was also finding settling down to his duties difficult. In the end he threw down his pen in disgust. Seven looked up from her console, irritated by the interruption, "You are having difficulties," it was a statement.
"Yes," he admitted wistfully. "Not with the subject for once, I think I've cracked that."
"The warp simulation is similar to specification," Seven confirmed. Was that a hint of relief he heard in her voice he wondered.
"The problem is me! People must think that my life on Earth was a continuous stream of blood, terror and death. Amidst all of it, there was me gaily waving my sword, watching but not feeling. The truth is it wasn't like that much of the time. What sort of monster does that make me look?"
"A big one?" Suggested Seven of Nine evenly.
"I know," he agreed heavily, "What can I do to correct the impression?"
Suddenly an idea flashed to mind.
"The Holodeck can be programmed to appear like anything can't it?" He asked Seven.
"Yes, but the programming is currently beyond you," Seven replied coolly.
"Will you assist me in creating a programme?" he asked, suddenly enthusiastic.
"I can spare some time from my duties. If you need something specific it would be more efficient to approach Ensign Kim, he has a particular abilities in holodeck programming," Seven replied, wondering what the Colonel had in mind.
"I think you will do fine. If I'm right, you'll only need to create one small programme. After that I think I may be able to cope. If you would permit me a couple of days from my studies?"
"The Captain, believes I have been pushing you too hard. Your request is acceptable. I shall assist you," announced Seven.
Overjoyed, the Colonel leapt up, grabbed and kissed her on the cheek. "Miss Nine, you're a wonderful girl, please don't ever change! Shall we start now?"
Flustered by the sudden change in pace and mood, she could only nod in agreement. "We may go to the Holodecks now."
The programme the Colonel wanted was for a man. As she worked, the curious Seven asked, "Who is this person that you wish me to recreate?"
"Corporal Miller was a computer hacker. In his criminal life he broke into more bank computer systems than soft mick. In my service I had him keep track on our American allies across the field. He was never caught!"
"He is unreliable. Why do you wish him to assist you?" asked Seven.
"I'm hoping that when you've finished creating him for me, he can complete what I have in mind," the Colonel answered cryptically.
After several hours of programming and questioning, she announced. "The programme you requested is complete, I shall activate it now. Computer run programme 'Samuels01'."
A small weasely man materialised with a computer console. He was 5' 4" tall, about forty years old, with a long thin face, thin nose, thin described this man to a tee. His eyes were narrow, the pupils dilated. Thin black hair was streaked back from a receding hair line. He looked, Seven thought, as dishonest as she had surmised from the Colonel's description. He was dressed in a bottle green uniform similar to the Colonel, instead of a full length sword, he was wearing a shorter one of eighteen inches in length.
"You stated that you wished your 'project' to remain a secret. I have therefore incorporated some extra routines that may help you achieve your requirements, including some additional access to ships systems that will enable it to continue when not active," intoned Seven proudly.
"Thank you Miss Nine, you've been too kind, I'll have to keep a close eye on him though!"
"Corporal Miller, I have a little job for you," the Colonel called.
The hologram started, turned, slammed to attention and saluted the Colonel.
"Sir! Wow what a babe!" It announced spying Seven of Nine.
"Corporal Miller! I will mind you to control your lecherous comments, in the presence of a lady, or me. Now shut up and listen. I've got something I want you to help me with, that you will enjoy and if you don't that is tough. Got it!"
"Sir!" The holograph replied grinning.
Seven realising her presence was no longer required, turned and left.
"Now Corporal, I've gained for you. Access to some new technology that allows you to create a solid holographic image of whatever is required. I want you to recreate the Officers Mess, Mess Orderlies, and the senior regimental officers, I need guest places for seven people ready for a Mess Dinner in three days time. You can do it!" The Colonel hesitated slightly in his command.
"Sir!" replied the hologram smartly.
"Carry on Corporal! I've a couple of other things to arrange."
"Sir!" the hologram replied again, then sat down at his console and started work.
Smiling the Colonel marched for the door. "This might just work," he thought hopefully.
Carefully he put the programme into the background, partly to leave the deck free for others, but mostly to ensure nobody walked in on the little Corporals work.
His next port of call was Neelix.
He found him in his normal place, fussing over the lunch time soup.
"Mr Neelix, old chap!" He greeted him.
"Colonel, what can I do for you? It's a little early for lunch!" The Talaxian commented warmly from behind his range.
"I need a big favour, your discretion and your catering. I'm planning a little dinner party on the holodeck, will you help?"
"Well Seven doesn't eat much, so there is no problem, even the holodeck can create that!"
"Who said it was Miss Nine?" he asked in fascination.
"Everybody knows that you and her have an interest in each other," the little cook stammered.
"I assure you my interest is purely platonic." He hoped the lie sounded convincing. Then added, "If it's spread I'll rip your furry ears off," trying to sound threatening.
"As you wish Colonel," he replied, clearly not believing a word of it. "So how many are you catering for exactly?"
"Eight, plus a dozen holographic officers and I need a full five course meal, that's entrees, soup, fish, meat and desert, with brandy and wine. You may have my unused replicator rations for the last few months and any other assistance you need, I shall provide."
He scratched his ear thoughtfully. "How many rations have you got exactly?" he knew the Colonel rarely used the replicator.
"Over the last eight weeks. All of them. No, sorry, I tell a lie, I used one for some more paper and pen. Will that be enough?"
"I think I can arrange something Colonel, are you sure you only want five courses?" Silently he laughed, the Colonel could have his dinner party twice over with that many rations. Even if he didn't have the rations, the little cook would have found a way for it to happen. He liked the Colonel despite all the unpleasant stories he was forced to narrate from his previous life.
The Colonel thanked him profusely, then set about the final task in his quarters. From memory he sketched out the official regimental invitation, working on it until satisfied, then persuaded the replicator to provide cards, and a bottle of ink. Carefully he crafted a quill from a stiffener from his Shako using a pocket knife, then equally carefully addressed the cards.
When completed he went to check on Miller's progress. The Corporal was as quick and efficient as he remembered him to be, possibly quicker.
"Sir, I've completed the Mess, the orderlies and most of the Officers, I am also assuming that you will require the regimental band, so I'm duplicating characters from programmes that have been left on the system. I must say this is an easy system, it almost programmes itself!"
"Oh, it does Corporal, it does," he said with feeling.
Together they sat and debugged the programme well into the night.
There was a buzz in the following days staff meeting. To start the Colonel was missing, but also small envelopes had appeared at each officers usual seating place, each immaculately addressed to the person in question.
"What's this?" The captain asked. Curious she carefully opened the envelope to find the small card inside.
She took it out and examined the card. It was 6"x4", heavily engraved in copper plate. At one top corner there was an emblem of a crown, at the other was the regimental crest of the Rifles, with their latin motto 'Et Adverses Et Victor' on a banner spread between the two.
"This is a work of art!" She exclaimed to the gathering.
Then she read the card to the rest of the assembly, "Lieutenant Colonel Samuels and Officers of the 1st Battalion, 60th Regiment cordially extend an Invitation to Formal Dinner and Ball 19:00 hours tomorrow to Captain Kathryn Janeway, Commander, United Federation Star Ship, Voyager. RSVP."
"I've not seen anything like this since passing out at the Academy, I feel like an excited Cadet again!" She announced, as the others tore open their envelopes to find similar cards.
Only Seven had not opened hers. The Captain caught her eye, "What's up Seven, not going to the ball?"
"I cannot go, I must regenerate. I have nothing to wear," she protested, suddenly realising the state of the occasion.
"You can regenerate early, and as for what to wear, we will find something for you. Come and see me after the shift, Cinderella must go to the ball" the Captain laughed cheerfully, a mischievous idea crossing her mind. "Besides you may enjoy the interaction."
"Captain? Who is Cinderella?" asked Seven, raised her questioning eyebrow.
"Cinderella was a fairy story about a beautiful girl made to work like a slave by her ugly sisters, until she met her Prince Charming. I'll tell you about it later, when I fit you up for a dress."
"How did he manage it? The holodeck programme, getting the cards here, what's going to happen, you must have had something to do with it Seven?" Tom Paris asked.
"I assisted him to create a small programme for the holodeck. That is all I know!" Seven protested.
"Knowing the Colonel he sneaked in and delivered the cards this morning. What about food, surely he hasn't got the rations to replicate food for something like that?" Asked Torres in wonder, she was in a continuous struggle to make hers last.
Chakotay checked a manifest. "According to this, the Colonel has replicated exactly, a set of curtains, 12 cards, a bottle of ink, a pad of paper and a pen, since he joined us, so yes he could. He really doesn't like replicated rations, does he?"
"Perhaps we should interrogate Neelix?" suggested Tuvok.
"No, I don't think so, I believe the Colonel is trying to demonstrate that he and his men are not all that he has had to tell us. I think it would be better to go with it," suggested Chakotay.
"Agreed," announced the Captain. "I think a general brushing down of formal dress is called for by everybody, I for one need to check I still fit mine. If there is nothing pressing I suggest this meeting is dismissed."
The all adjourned conversation buzzing. Rarely had the shift clock been watched so long or so hard.
Seven appeared at the Captains quarters, as instructed, to find B'Elanna Torres there as well.
"Come in Seven, I asked B'Elanna to join us, to help us sort out your clothes. We've just been going over some ideas, come and have a look," The Captain greeted her.
"I am unclear as to the point of dressing up for dinner?" Stated Seven, looking at the baffling range of clothing that the Captain and Chief Engineer had found in the archives.
"For officers it is an opportunity to look important and strut around like an overstuffed peacock. It is not always popular, but occasionally it's good for the soul. For young unattached women it is the chance to look absolutely stunning. You should look stunning on your first date," explained the Captain. "Now I think this one don't you?" She asked the two women.
"It has possibilities," admitted Torres. "But perhaps we should pull the waist a little, like this," she said eyeing the picture and Sevens body mischievously.
"Oh yes, and perhaps a little glitter," giggled the Captain, adjusting the picture.
"Now some decoration?"
"Arcturon Moonstones would be perfect, I love those and the colour will set her hair off," suggested Torres. "That's perfect!" She declared looking over the Captains shoulder.
"This will be perfect on you Seven, you will knock him dead!" Cooed the delighted Captain, showing Seven the finished design.
"Captain, I have no desire to kill anybody, certainly not the Colonel. Nor do I see a method by which this garment will cause damage!" She protested.
The Captain and Torres both laughed.
"It's a figure of speech, it means you will make a bigger impression on people than normal," the Captain said.
"Now strip off that suit, while we replicate this dress."
The dress took the replicator a full five minutes to reproduce. Together the two Star Fleet Officers helped the bemused girl into her new costume. She took their word for it that suited her perfectly, her initial thoughts were, it was uncomfortable.
"Now take it with you and hang it up ready for tomorrow, and make sure you're fully regenerated for the dinner." instructed the Captain.
The baffled ex-Borg left for her regeneration. She tried the dress again in the cargo bay, and examined herself as best she could. As she turned the material rustled against her skin, it tingled and she felt a sudden desire to be thought special, by at least one man.
The Colonel spent the following day, checking and rechecking the programmes. He wanted the evening to be a good simulation of Mess Dinners back at home. The amount of work he had put in and the nerves he felt, reminded him of the first Dinner he had had to organise as a Second Lieutenant in the Green Jackets. He had remembered everything he thought ruefully, the band, the music, place cards. Everything, that was except the food. How the regimental cooks had created a full meal at two hours notice he never knew, but after the roasting he got from the Sergeant Chef, he never again forgot to give them notice. Thinking of the food, he contacted Neelix.
"How's the menu coming Mr Neelix?"
"It's all prepared according to your specification," Neelix answered. "I've never prepared anything like this before, some of it seems very strange to me."
"I'm sure you've done your best and it'll be fine." the Colonel assured him. Then he turned to his own preparations.
In his room Neelix examined the strange uniform. The Colonel had asked him to act as senior steward for the night, but had warned him that a uniform would be involved, thinking that it may worry the cheerful little Talaxian. It did indeed seem strange to him. The trousers were black, with a one inch wide red stripe running down the outside of the leg. A white shirt with a high stiff collar came next, along with a black bow tie, (the Colonel had realised the the difficulty the strange item would present to the informal cook and had produced an elasticated item that fitted under the collar perfectly). Over the top of the shirt went a white full length single breasted jacket, which buttoned high on the chest, the buttons themselves were polished silver with a crown moulded upon them. Another crown was embroidered to the corners of the jacket collar. The collar and lapels themselves were scarlet. Fortunately there was no hat. Upon the right sleeve, three black chevrons were attached, pointing downwards.
Carefully he put it on, then standing in front of the mirror in his room, he snapped himself to attention as he had seen the Colonel do many times, then winced as he smacked his ankles together.
"There is an art to this," he thought.
He tried again, then standing to attention he rattled a smart salute to himself, "Not as precise as the Colonel's, but acceptable I think." Suddenly he felt very important.
He left his room and hurried to the holodeck to meet the Colonel.
He found him sitting on the Holodeck, nursing a mug of tea.
"Senior Steward Neelix, reporting sir!" Neelix snapped to attention and saluted the amused Colonel.
"Sergeant Neelix, that uniform suits you!" He exclaimed, returning the salute.
"You think so Colonel?" Asked the Talaxian nervously. "My race is not very militaristic and abhor violence!"
"I wouldn't take you into battle, so I'm not asking you to rip the hearts out of my guests with the soup spoons," he laughed. "Besides it makes a mess of the uniform, and dress uniforms are buggers to clean properly!"
Neelix took a closer look at the Colonel, he seemed bigger than normal, then he realised that he was wearing a different hat.
The 'guests' started to arrive just before 19:00. Neelix feeling his position, announced them in the way the Colonel had described.
"Hi Neelix," greeted Tom Paris as he entered. "You're involved in this as well?"
"I'm Sergeant Neelix, Senior Steward," he announced sternly.
He turned to the room and shouted as he had been told, "Star Fleet Lieutenant, Tom Paris! Star Fleet Lieutenant, B'Elanna Torres!"
"Good evening Lieutenants," intercepted the Colonel saluting smoothly and shaking their hands, "Glad you joined us, may I introduce my official pilot Flight Lieutenant Tony Archer, he's under a rent a mob contract from the Royal Air Force, but acceptable for all that, and Second Lieutenant Susan Barker, B Company, the 'fixer', they will show you around."
"Star Fleet Ensign Harry Kim!" Announced Neelix.
"Ensign," the Colonel greeted him again with a salute.
"This is a good programme, how did you do it?" Kim asked.
"Not by myself I'm afraid," the Colonel admitted. "I'll show you at some point, but in the mean time may I introduce you to Captain Anne Williams, C Company, she'll be your host for the evening." He showed him to an attractive and athletic looking woman dressed in green.
It went on, each time Neelix announced a guest the Colonel greeted them and matched them to a host he had preselected for the best chance of starting an easy conversation, even the Doctor, who he linked with the Padre.
The Captain arrived with Chakotay.
"Star Fleet Captain, Kathryn Janeway, Commander USS Voyager. Star Fleet Commander Chakotay." Announced Neelix, who was starting to enjoy himself.
"Good evening Neelix," said the Captain as they awaited the Colonel. "Your uniform is smart!"
"I almost wish we had an army on my own world," confessed Neelix, "It really gets you here after a while," he announced tapping his chest proudly.
"Captain?" called the Colonel, smoothly intercepting the conversation.
She examined him and his uniform carefully, suddenly she felt underdressed in her dress Star Fleet Uniform. Working from the bottom were bottle green close fitting trousers with razor sharp creases and a broad black stripe on the outside of the leg. At the top was a bottle green double breasted and tailored jacket with black buttons, it fastened high on the neck with a silver clasp over a polished black leather 'stock' collar, a gold brocade sat on one shoulder and black and silver trimmings finished the jacket off. Over the top was a black leather belt and shoulder strap, polished like patent leather, with a thin silver chain looping from it into his breast pocket. For once he was not wearing the sword, but on his head he was wearing a shako, also polished to a high shine with the regimental crest emblazoned across the front, the tall hat added an extra 12 inches to his already imposing 6'4".
The Colonel noticed the Captain checking him over. "You like the uniform?" He grinned, "Like most British Army dress uniforms, it is a throw back to the Napoleonic Wars, all starch. You look impressive in it, but you can't move, it's where the saying 'a stiff upper lip' came from." He turned around so she could check it out better.
I feel positively scruffy in the face of that! The Captain gasped in awe.
"I thought British soldiers wore red?" Chakotay asked mildly.
"Most did," answered the Colonel. "But the light infantry rifle regiments always wore green, they decided they needed to look different to ordinary line regiments to show their superior status," he explained.
"Is Miss Nine joining us?" He asked, suddenly concerned.
"She'll be along shortly," the Captain assured him, "We went by the Cargo Bay to check. She's suffering from nerves for her first date, thinking she'll be out of place," she laughed.
The Colonel nodded. "Well while we're waiting may I introduce my Adjutants, Majors Kevin Smithe and Bertrum Woodcock. Please make yourselves at home."
"Miss Seven of Nine!" announced Neelix, barely able to take his eyes of the tall blonde.
The Colonel turned, then his mouth dropped in shock at the spectacular apparition.
She stood tall and straight in her new garments, scanning the congregation nervously. Her low cut and strapless gown slinked tightly to her waist. It tucked tight over her waist and hips then bloomed into a wide ruffed skirt, finishing just above the floor. In the light it glimmered in shades of white and gold. She had let her golden hair out of its normal restraints and it had tumbled down to her shoulders, prevented from getting out of control by a single clip, that shone like emerald at the back of her head. Accentuating her long slim neck was a simple black choker with another single green gem in the centre.
"Wow!" Swore the stunned Colonel, "How did you do that?" he asked the smiling Captain, "She looks like a million dollars!"
He hesitated, "Sorry, that phrase doesn't mean anything now, does it?"
"No, but I get your meaning and I'm not going to tell you, it's a girl thing!" laughed the Captain, pleased she had finally stopped the confident Colonel in his tracks.
The Colonel mentally kicked himself into motion and walked up to her. "Miss Nine, I am fighting the temptation to be as crude as Corporal Miller. I have never seen you so ...", he hesitated, searching for the right word, beautiful, glamorous even gorgeous passed his mind and were rejected, "Radiant! A real Princess!" He finished at last. Gallantly he took and kissed her hand.
"Thank you!" she intoned nervously, "I was unsure of the effect the Captain was attempting to achieve!"
"I think you may safely conclude she achieved it," he said in an awed voice, "You look simply amazing!"
Just then Neelix announced dinner was served.
"Miss Nine, may I escort you to your table?" the Colonel requested formally, holding out his arm.
Seven hesitated, then stated firmly. "That will be acceptable!" She took his arm and held it firmly as he guided her through the ranks to dinner. The whole room watched the elegantly dressed Colonel and the even more stunning blonde walk into the dining room.
Carefully he helped her into her chair, than sat heavily into his own next to her.
"If I didn't know you better Kathryn, I'd say you set Seven up as a man trap for the Colonel," Chakotay whispered to the Captain as they were seated next to each other at the table.
"Yes, they suit each other don't you think?" she whispered back. "Now, what do we do with all the cutlery? We're not going to use it all are we?"
"If we were Ferrengi, steal it I suppose," suggested Chakotay lightly.
Everybody set to to work through their meal and chat comfortably with their guests. Whilst a string quartet played quietly in the background.
As the last plates were cleared, the Colonel stood and tapped his empty glass to draw attention to himself. "Ladies and Gentlemen, as we have guests here who may never have been to a formal Mess Dinner, and before I ask the Padre to lead the evening prayer, I thought I'd better give a short description what these proceedings are about."
"Some of our Star Fleet guests present may think that we, the 60th, are nothing but a bunch of murdering animals, devoid of feeling and humanity. Truth to tell, they could be forgiven for this belief because of the stories I've had to tell them. In fact those stories are taken from my experiences in the Army, and tend to be from concentrated periods of action which are or were interspersed with longer periods of inaction. Between actions and even in the middle of them, we have these little parties to prove that we are still civilised and let our hair down."
"After our evening prayers, I would request all here to stand for the toasts of allegiance and anthem, after which my officers and I will 'sing for their supper', with a short series of sketches. I should warn you that some of them are pretty terrible, but we all need to make a fool of ourselves at some point, better it's in the company of friends. Should any of our guests wish to contribute, then please advise the stewards."
"After the side entertainment, we shall adjourn to the main room, where the regimental band will entertain us with dance music."
"Padre, if you please." The Colonel finished and motioned to the Regiments Padre.
The Captain was watching fascinated by the proceedings. She half listened to the Padre, intoning the old Christian prayer for forgiveness, 'Nobody believed that sort of thing anymore,' She dismissed. Suddenly she was snapped to attention by the Padres new prayer.
"Eternal Father," he started.
"Guide your lost flock, aboard the Star Ship Voyager.
Protect her and her crew with your mighty hands.
Aide her Captain so that she may guide them home,
that they rejoin their families in joy.
This we ask in Jesus's name.
Amen."
"Amen," she added aloud. She leant towards the Colonel, "You believe this sort of thing?" She asked seriously.
Gravely the Colonel replied, "The first thing you learn in combat, is that to survive, you need all the help you can get. If the Lord, or any other deity, wishes to take a direct hand then I'll pray to them. So far he has taken pity on me."
He stood, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please take your glasses and stand with me for the toasts."
Everybody stood.
"The first is to the Her Majesty the Queen. May God bless and protect her!"
"Our Second, to our friends, the mighty Star Fleet. May God bless and protect them!"
"Our third to the 60th Rifles. May God bless and protect us!"
At each toast the green cloaked men intoned 'Amen!'
Then they stood in silence as the national anthem of the United Kingdom, 'God Save the Queen', was played.
"Now our entertainment, if you would be so good, Sergeant!"
Neelix snapped to attention, "Sir!" He snapped.
"Our first act is the Officers choir and the Regimental song. 'Over the Hills'."
A sad song thought the Captain, full of despair and resignation.
There followed a series of short sketches, of humour, wit and music, each one introduced by Neelix in his new found 'army voice'. It ended with the Colonel, who sang in a full, smooth and rich tenor without accompaniment the song 'When I Fall in Love'.
It seemed to the Captain, watching carefully, that he was singing it to Seven of Nine. Seven also seemed to realise it, her eyes opening wide, following his every move carefully. The Captain nudged Chakotay, nodded towards them and winked.
Finally, they all left the dining area and returned to the main room, where the Regiments fifteen piece band had set itself up in the corner. It started to play as the diners entered. The band was good, and played a wide spread of music. Finally Harry Kim, who had become immersed with his attractive host, decided to add Star Fleet honours to the music. He approached the Colonel, who was chatting amiably with Seven and the Doctor.
"Excuse me Colonel?" he asked.
The Colonel turned from the Doctor and raised an eyebrow.
"May I join the band for a tune?" He asked hopefully.
"I'm not actually in charge of the proceedings," he said cheerfully. "But if you care to pass my compliments to the Drum Major, then he may allow you to tune up with them. Good luck, he used to terrify me, a definite man of independent thought." He winked.
Kim did as he was bid, and shortly found he was playing with a borrowed clarinet.
Slowly the music turned to dance, with a waltz coming first.
Major Smithe approached the Captain, "As my Colonel appears to be otherwise engaged, my I offer you this dance Ma'am."
The Captain blushed, "Thank you Major, it's been a long time since I've been to a formal dance," she said as she reached for the offered hand, and was waltzed away. The Colonel had been trying to keep the conversation going with other people, to distract some of the feelings about Seven that were making him uncomfortable. She for her part, was feeling out of place, not wishing to be separated from the sociable Colonel at least until she had the chance of joining another crew member she trusted or simply escaping, kept a firm hold of his arm. He noticed the actions of his Adjutant, it was the one he should of taken himself, by protocol. Kicking himself mentally, he turned back to Seven.
"Miss Nine, may I offer you the dance?"
"I cannot dance!" She protested hesitantly. Somehow the retort 'Dance is inefficient and serves no useful purpose', which would normally have tripped of the tongue didn't seem to meet the situation.
"Nobody can until they try, just follow me!" he said brightly. Placing an arm around her waist and taking her hand in his, he whisked her away.
It was a signal, each member of the Voyager crew was approached by an officer and taken into the dance.
They were well into the second dance when the Colonel and the Captain bumped into each other.
"Major, may I take your partner?" He asked.
"Sir!" the Major responded, immediately releasing the Captain to the Colonel, kissing her hand as he did so.
Briefly the Captain wondered why the Colonel had abandoned the beautiful Seven of Nine, he had been dancing with to dance with her. He answered her question without it being asked. "Etiquette," he said. "The Colonel's wife must be the first to dance with the distinguished guest, The Colonel dances with guests wife. Besides, Miss Nine requires somebody else other than me to talk to."
The Major bowed before Seven of Nine, who was watching the Captain and the Colonel dance away, feeling a little hurt. Despite herself she had been enjoying the experience.
"Miss Nine, may I continue the dance with you?" He asked gallantly.
"At least we will be able to keep close enough to reclaim him before somebody else does," he offered quietly.
"Yes, I shall comply, thank you," she stuttered.
"I congratulate you Captain," said the Colonel as they danced. "You really floored me having Miss Nine turn up dressed like that!"
"I thought she ought to look special for a first date," she replied confidently. "It's a humanity building exercise."
"For who, her or me?" he asked, with a crooked grin.
"Both," she said firmly. "You both have feelings for each other, but won't admit it. She because she doesn't know what it is, you because you're afraid of it."
He changed the subject. "Apart from your blatant attempt at matchmaking. How are you enjoying our evening?"
"It's splendid. I've never seen anything like it!" She enthused. "Perhaps we should introduce them on the ship?"
"Perhaps, but I used to hate them, until they didn't come along anymore," he admitted.
"You are a very deep man, Colonel," she laughed cheerfully.
At the end of the next dance they swapped partners again. The Colonel returning to Seven. Chakotay swapping her for the Captain.
"You are enjoying this aren't you?" Chakotay commented. "Pleasant surroundings, convivial company and a little mischief on the side. Seven is totally lost, she's hanging onto the Colonel like death. Is your matchmaking wise, somebody may get hurt?"
"Yes I am, and I don't think anybody will get hurt. If they become serious, then good, they need each other. If not it will die slowly. Seven can't be protected for ever." She reasoned.
The session went on for another three hours, gradually Voyagers crew dropping out through exhaustion. The Captain realised suddenly they had been continually waltzed around the dance floor for over four hours. "No wonder we're exhausted," she thought, "It must be after 03:00, I'm due on duty at 09:00.
It's time to go!" She nudged Chakotay, together they blearily said goodnight to the Colonel and walked back to Chakotay's quarters.
"Can I offer you a night cap?" He asked teasingly.
The Captain, going onto tip toes, kissed him gently. "I think not, somebody will talk!" She teased, then continued towards the Bridge and her own quarters.
"The Colonel is not the only one who's going to have problems with his emotions," Chakotay thought mildly, entering his quarters.
When the last of his guests had departed, the Colonel turned to Neelix.
"Thank you for your assistance, Sergeant Neelix, I really couldn't have done it without it," he announced tiredly.
"It's been one of the most fun evenings I've seen in a long time, besides I like the uniform. You must do it again, I've never seen the Captain look so happy." The Talaxian assured him, then he too returned to his quarters.
"Come on Miss Nine. It's time for bed," he said gently lifting her to her feet. As he let her go, she slumped against him.
"Cinders, has spent too long at the ball," he thought, holding her up.
Gently he picked her up and carried her out.
He took her to Cargo Bay 2, and tried to get her to stand in the regeneration alcove, but found he couldn't get the somnambulant girl to stand long enough to set it running. Looking around, he spotted both her normal 'uniform' and a tatty teddy bear, hiding shyly at the back of the alcove. The bay seemed too cold to leave her to sleep on the floor, so he picked up Seven, clothes and teddy, and staggered up to his quarters.
He laid her on his cot, released the tight fastenings on her dress, then gently covered her with his duvet. The catsuit he hung from a hook on the wall. He turned to check his unwitting guest. She had rolled onto her side and curled up. One arm reaching off the bed. Gently he put the teddy bear under her arm. He smiled and kissed her forehead, she looked so vulnerable and beautiful, "Like a child", he thought.
He drew up a comfy chair, leaned back and took her slender hand loosely in his. He too drifted off to sleep.
Seven stirred. Confused and disorientated, from the unusual situation of having slept naturally in unfamiliar surroundings, she tried to work out where she was. Groggily, she saw in the dim lighting a shadow of a dark figure, reclined on a chair by her bed, it appeared to be holding her hand on its knee. Without thinking, she snatched it back. The figure stirred but didn't awaken.
She examined her surrounds carefully. She was sure she was on Voyager, she could hear the low subdued hum of the ships engines. "Not above deck 3," she thought.
The window near the bed leaned forward towards her, "Not below deck 5," she reasoned.
Suddenly she recognised the curtains. Only one person on the vessel had insisted on putting up curtains and drawing them at night!
"Computer increase lighting to 30%," she demanded quietly. Then she saw the Colonel properly. He had undone the collar of his dress uniform and had removed his shoes, but was otherwise fully dressed, his head tilted back uncomfortably, mouth open, breathing quietly.
Sensing no danger, she gently placed her hand on top of his and laid still, watching him curiously.
She didn't have long to wait. As the chronometer on the far wall changed to read 5:30AM, he snapped awake. Disorientated by his uncomfortable position, he automatically looked around and started as his eye alighted on Seven of Nine, who was watching him from her pillow.
Quickly he regained his composure, and lost it again when he remembered why she was in his quarters.
"Good Morning, Miss Nine!" He stammered, embarrassed.
"It'll take more than ripping Neelix's ears off to stop this going around the ship like a bush fire," he thought.
"I'm awfully sorry about this, but you were too far gone to stand last night. I couldn't work out how to get your alcove to work. I didn't think it right to leave you on the floor, so I brought you here," he rushed.
"You're babbling, you fool, get a grip of yourself!" He thought.
She sat up, amused at the Colonels discomfort. "Your apology is acceptable," she stated, then flushed herself as the top of her dress started to slip. Quickly she pulled the duvet up to her neck. "You released, my clothing!" she accused.
The Colonel had even more rapidly turned away, correctly guessing what would happen if she sat up quickly.
"It was necessary," he stated. "The bodice was too tight to sleep in comfortably," he continued, finding comfort in talking to the wall, rather than Seven of Nine.
"Your normal clothing is hanging in the alcove, I shall leave you to dress in comfort," he announced.
"Your departure is unnecessary," she assured him.
"For you, perhaps, and our reputations are probably already shot to hell. But for my peace of mind, it most certainly is!" He replied heavily and left.
He strolled down to the Cargo Bay 2, Seven of Nine's normal quarters, and looked around. The bay consisted of numerous containers, the Borg Alcove, and a computer terminal. Apart from a spare suit and the teddy bear now in his quarters, she had no personal belongings.
"It's not right for a young woman to be in these conditions," he thought. He felt from his limited intimate experience of young women, it most unnatural. Disturbed by the absence of anything personal in her life, he returned to his room.
Seven had watched him go with mixed emotions. Part of her wished she had never let the Captain talk her into going to the Party, another wished that the Colonel had stayed with her, rather than leave the room, neither had been satisfied. She had dressed up to stun the Colonel, as the Captain had prescribed; monopolised his attentions all evening; even spent the night in his room, even if he had slept uncomfortably in a chair. "Why?" She wondered, "What was the purpose of my actions."
Apart from a certain level of embarrassment, he had shown little emotion. "It is almost as if he is ashamed," she thought.
Slowly she removed the gown she was still wearing, even in the cold light of morning, it felt special, it was a pity it would have to be recycled, she decided. Then put her own clothes on.
"Maybe he will be reactive, when he returns," she thought, without much hope. A germ of an idea formed in her mind.
When the Colonel returned, he found Seven sat at the table waiting. She had produced breakfast! Carefully programming the replicator to produce a meal that was not quite perfect- the tea was stewed, the toast scorched on one side, the porridge lumpy, in short the way he seemed to prefer it.
"You should have your meal in your room. Neelix will be late opening the canteen this morning," she announced calmly.
"Miss Nine you will make somebody a wonderful wife!" He declared, touched at her efforts and in awe at her skills with the replicator.
"It is merely the correct application of programming," she asserted. "Something you will achieve, should you decide to apply your mind," she added, with the some of her usual disdain.
"None the less, I am very grateful."
"You require sustenance, you will eat," she ordered.
"Yes Ma'am," he smiled at the command.
Her curiosity got the better of her as she watched him eat. "Why did you bring me here, if not for gratification?"
He looked up, surprised that she should even ask the question. "One thing I had drummed into me as a young soldier, and I've drummed into the men under me, is to always attempt to behave impeccably, to protect, not to take advantage of others who need protection," he explained laying down his spoon.
"There was no way I could leave you in the dungeon that is the Cargo Bay. Nor is there anyway that I would take advantage of you, even if that meant I slept out in the corridor!" He continued.
He paused, trying to come to a decision, then slid from his chair into a kneeling position in front of her.
"Miss Nine, I'm afraid I have fallen in love with you," he admitted, casting his eyes downwards as if in shame.
He looked up again before continuing. "Worse than that, I've fallen deeper than anything I've ever known and I don't know how to get out again. If you wish to accept it or even return it, I'd think you mad, as I have nothing to offer you except a broken heart in the future; But I will be pathetically pleased. If you wish to reject it, then you would be much wiser than me, but I will still protect you till my dying breath."
He looked hard into her blue eyes, watching them widen in astonishment.
He had said it, he felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders.
Seven of Nine silently got up and walked out the room.
The Colonel sighed, "Too much, too soon," he thought wistfully and took the plates back to the replicator for recycling.
He picked up the teddy bear and held it as sat back in a chair, watching the Universe pass by the window, "What do you think I should do now?" He asked it absentmindedly.
Seven of Nine was uncertain how she should react to his announcement. Walking out seemed to be the most appropriate as a whirlwind of emotions hit her. His admission had thrown her own thoughts into sharp relief, she needed time to organise them before deciding on the next step.
Blindly she followed the corridors towards her Cargo Bay. Entering she gazed blankly at the coldly unwelcoming platform of the regeneration alcove, her refuge. But it did not try to understand her, or provide the comfort and protection she had felt the night before when she had been holding him. It simply regenerated her Borg implants and allowed her to hide for a short while. She had never realised she used it like that, a place to hide from... loneliness.
It was not going to give her an answer to her current confusion.
She knew she had feelings' for the man that had unconditionally offered his love' to her. But she did not understand them or their meaning, they were new and frightening. She found those feelings were also illogically desirable and he was offering comfort and understanding. She desperately wanted help, but did not know who to turn to.
He had described the cargo bay as a dungeon', it suddenly felt like an apt title. It was cold, lonely and unwelcoming. She turned on her heel and marched out again.
Fifteen minutes later the door to the Colonels quarters chimed.
"Come in Captain!" called the Colonel in resignation, getting up to receive his expected visitor.
He was ready to be lectured about his improper conduct.
He was taken by surprise when Seven of Nine stepped in. "I do not wish to return to the Cargo Bay!" She announced simply, stalking over to him and putting her arms around him. Laying her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes, feeling those same desirable feelings she had had the night before. Warm, safe and comfortable.
Gently he lifted her chin with one hand and kissed her firmly, feeling her return it. The other arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. "Consider my quarters yours. I hope we don't grow to regret your decision," he breathed heavily.
The Captain gazed at her semi-comatose staff with a barely disguised smile of benevolence. Of the ten people gathered for the daily meeting, only Seven of Nine and the Colonel looked as alert as normal. "I assume you all feel like you look?" She asked.
There was general ascent from the room.
"And you enjoyed the experience?"
Again nods from the room, wondering where she was going.
"Good, how about another one in a months time?" She suggested. "But with the crew instead of the Colonel's men?"
Everybody sat up, a hint of enthusiasm showing through the tiredness.
"I expect people to provide sketches, similar to last nights!" she warned.
"Sounds good," voted Harry Kim, can we borrow the Colonels musicians. He had got on well with a young flautist in the band, and had enjoyed trying to match the precision of the holographic military band.
"Can I use the Uniform?" asked Neelix.
"I'm sure you and the Colonel will arrange what you want."
"Ma'am," the Colonel acknowledged gruffly. "I would recommend optional dress, for regular dinners. Leave the starch for special occasions with company," he suggested mildly.
"Agreed, and a lighter meal as well," she smiled.
After the meeting was adjourned, Seven remained.
"Rumour has it Seven, you spent the night in the Colonels quarters. Have you anything to tell me? I hope there was no impropriety?" She accused mischievously.
"Captain!" She said, haughtily ignoring the accusation. "The Colonel slept in a chair. He declared love for me this morning."
"I rather expected he might admit it, sooner or later. What did you do?" The Captain smiled.
"I believe, I accepted. We kissed and embraced," she answered levelly.
The Captain paused for thought.
"You've come a long way in a very short period, I hope you never regret it," the Captain declared, happy that Seven would now find someone that would find more time to respond and care for her than she could.
"That is what he said, I am not sure I understand the meaning?"
"I hope you never have to!" the Captain assured her.
"I have returned the dress, so that you may recycle it," Seven declared, holding up a carry-all with the fateful gown inside.
"I think you had better keep it, you may need it again," she suggested. "I intend to give you stiff opposition for attention at the next party!"
"Thank you Captain," said the relieved Seven.
The Captain sighed, reflectively. "In different circumstances, I might have scratched your eyes out for his attentions. He is almost everything I ever wanted, tall, handsome, kind, strong, protective, intelligent and good company. You are very lucky, take good care of it. You two suit each other perfectly."
"Captain?" Seven questioned.
"You had better get on back to the Colonel, before somebody else try's to catch him."
"They will fail," Seven said haughtily.
"I know!" The Captain said softly, as she watched Seven leave, head high, with her party dress in its bag.