DISCLAIMER: You all know the drill - Paramount is God. All hail Paramount. They own everything in the Star Trek Universe - I'm just using my overactive imagination to take their characters where they refuse to go. All in the name of fun, not profit (I wish).
ORDER AND CHAOS
CHAPTER TEN: DEFENSES
Chakotay waited until the Captain had retreated to her ready room before he rose from his chair and made his way over to the security station.
"Could you join me in the conference room?" he asked.
Tuvok arched an eyebrow but nodded after a few seconds.
"Tom, you have the bridge," said Chakotay as he and Tuvok moved towards the conference room. When the doors shut behind them, Chakotay walked slowly over to the windows, then turned around.
"I'm worried about the Captain," he said finally. "I want your opinion."
Tuvok discretely hid his surprise. "On anything in particular?"
Chakotay sighed and crossed the room again, standing opposite the Vulcan. "Have you noticed any unusual behavior from her?"
"The Captain seems more reserved than usual, but I have not noticed anything out of the ordinary."
"She hasn't been avoiding you?"
"On the contrary. I have found that she has sought me out more than usual since her recovery."
That surprised him. "She's talking to you…more than usual?"
"I believe so. Why do you ask, Commander?"
"She's been avoiding the rest of us. B'Elanna says she's barely spoken to her, and she seems restrained with me."
"I cannot say that I have noticed any alteration in the Captain's behavior."
"Then you must be the only one."
"However…you believe the Captain is more restrained than usual?"
"That's right."
"Then I do not believe it is likely that I would notice such a change. Although the Captain is usually open with me, she is also normally quite reserved where her emotions are concerned."
"Is it possible that her behavior is an after-effect of the mind meld?"
"I do not believe so. Any effects of the meld would not have lasted more than a few days."
Chakotay sighed deeply. "I just don't know what to do to reach her."
* * *
B'Elanna was pleasantly surprised when the doors to the turbolift opened and she found Captain Janeway waiting in the corridor.
"Captain!" she said pleasantly.
The Captain merely smiled as she joined her in the turbolift. "Deck three," she ordered when the doors closed.
B'Elanna watched the Captain, waiting for her to say something. When the silence still hung in the turbolift, she cleared her throat. "We've fixed that problem with the gel packs on deck twelve. It looks like there was some kind of power surge that overloaded them."
The Captain nodded but gave her no further acknowledgement.
"Have you spoken with Axum at all?" B'Elanna asked after a few seconds.
"No, I haven't found the time yet."
"Well, he's making himself vary useful in Engineering."
"Glad to hear it."
"He's a lot easier to get along with than Seven was at first," she added with a smirk.
The Captain chuckled but didn't answer. The turbolift stopped on deck 4, and B'Elanna stepped towards the door, turning around before she left. "You should drop by the holodeck later this evening. Tom's designed a fabulous skiing program."
"Maybe some other time."
B'Elanna was taken aback by her cold tone and the turbolift doors shut before she had a chance to say anything more.
Captain Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose as the turbolift started moving again. A piercing headache was stabbing in her temples, and she was overcome by a sudden feeling of panic. The feeling subsided after a few seconds, and the doors opened on deck three. She made her way down the corridor and entered her quarters.
She had only taken a few steps inside when she was bombarded by voices. She closed her eyes and fell to her knees with her hands covering her ears, trying to block out the chaotic noise. She had a sudden flash of B'Elanna in front of her, dematerializing. She reached out, trying to touch her, but her fingers swept through the last remaining molecules as B'Elanna disappeared in front of her. She could feel the cold metal of the exoplating against her skin, the implants digging into her body.
She had to get to the shield controls. Or the transporter. There had to be some way of getting off the cube.
You underestimate me, Captain. I don't intend to let you get away that easily.
The voice of the Borg Queen in her mind made her blood run cold.
The neural suppressant, she thought, her mind racing. It's wearing off.
As suddenly as the cube had appeared, it vanished and she was back in her quarters, slumped against the wall inside her door. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her hands trembled as she ran her fingers through her hair. The rush of throbbing emotions subsided, and she slowly rose from the floor. She made her way across the room and collapsed in a chair. The thumping of her heart gradually slowed, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand.
She wanted to scream, she wanted to throw something, she wanted to cry…but she couldn't. Once the flood of violent emotions subsided, they left an empty void.
And she had never felt so entirely alone in her life.
* * *
Seven of Nine to the Captain.
"Go ahead, Seven."
We are receiving the data transmission from Starfleet.
"Acknowledged." She rose from her chair and nodded at Chakotay to follow her to the turbolift.
"Deck eight," she ordered as he stepped in beside her and the doors closed. She turned to him once the lift started moving. "Refresh my memory…when was the last transmission?"
"About three days after we rescued you."
She nodded. "So Starfleet knows everything."
"Everything except that we successfully removed your implants. But from the Doctor's optimistic report they probably expected that."
She nodded again, deep in thought. The turbolift stopped and they strode down the hall to Astrometrics without speaking.
Seven and Icheb were decompressing the datastream when they entered.
"Report," ordered the Captain.
"Seventy-four personal messages for the crew, so far," Seven told her. "Including one for you, Captain."
She took the PADD Seven offered her as Chakotay looked over her shoulder. "From my mother," she said with a smile.
"Starfleet has also sent us suggested modifications to our shields, weapons, and several other areas." Seven continued scrolling through the data. "News bulletins from the Alpha quadrant, dating back to our last transmission. There are also four messages from Starfleet Command for you, Captain."
She raised an eyebrow. "Transfer them to my quarters."
"Yes, Captain."
*
Captain Janeway sipped from a cup of coffee and made her way over to the desk in her quarters with her PADD in hand. She sat down and pulled her terminal towards her, accessing the Starfleet transmissions.
The first was a communiqué from Admiral Necheyev, requesting -- no, demanding -- an account of her experience with the Borg. After violently reprimanding her for 'provoking the Collective' for at least two pages, Necheyev wanted details of her 'ill-advised, reckless endeavor'. She wanted tactical information, a psychological profile of the Borg Queen, a projection on the effect of the 'revolution' on the Collective…the Captain removed the message from the screen with a sigh, leaning back in her chair.
The next message was from Admiral Hayes. He was less demanding, but he wanted the same thing. This time, it was her perspective on assimilation and her experience after she was rescued. He wanted her to work with Seven -- or, as he called her, 'your Borg officer' -- and the Doctor ('your EMH') in developing strategies to combat assimilation or assist in the future rescue of assimilated Starfleet personnel.
Her brain was pulsing against the confines of her skull, and she tried to massage away the throbbing ache with her fingers. She moved on to the next message, and her stress level receded when she saw that it was from Owen Paris. He didn't want anything from her, he was just concerned. He wanted to know how she was holding up. He reminisced about some of the times she had gotten herself into scrapes while serving with him on the Al-Batani, and he told her that he knew she would pull through. If anyone can face down the Borg Collective and come out of it without a scratch it's you, Kathryn.
She smiled and looked at the last message, frowning when she saw who had sent it.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
She had only met Captain Picard once, although she knew him by reputation. Curious, she began to read, wondering what had possessed him to send her a message through Headquarters.
He claimed that he had heard of her experience from his contacts at Headquarters, and he thought it might be helpful if he shared his experience with the Borg. She smiled to herself -- she had never thought of Picard as the sentimental type who would go above and beyond for someone he didn't even know. Risking his ship, maybe…but revealing something this personal? Perhaps his reputation for being reserved and private was undeserved.
This possibility seemed to grow in likelihood as he launched into a painfully detailed account of his assimilation, but the Captain didn't get very far before she became uncomfortable and shut off her computer terminal.
"I'll read them later," she muttered to herself. Starfleet probably wanted her reports to be sent back in the next transmission…but that was in less than eighteen hours and there was no way she would be able to finish that quickly. It would just have to wait.
Her eyes fell on the message from her mother and she felt a pang of guilt. Her mother would worry if she didn't respond. She pulled the message up on the screen and began to read. It was her mother's usual concern for her, heightened of course by the news that she had survived assimilation by the Borg. She wanted to know that her daughter was all right, whether she was taking care of herself…it brought a smile to Kathryn's face. She wrote a brief message telling her mother that she was just fine and left it at that.
"I'm fine," she said out loud, as if saying it would make her believe it.
* * *
"I've never seen her act like this," insisted B'Elanna as she circled the table on the Holodeck. Tom's log cabin was empty except for some of the senior staff, who were all sitting around a table with grim expressions on their faces. "I'm telling you, something's wrong."
"I agree," offered Harry.
"So do I," said Tom.
Chakotay sighed. "All right, I think we can all agree that her behavior has been…altered…since we rescued her. What I'm looking for is an explanation."
"What explanation do you need?" demanded B'Elanna. "She was assimilated. Isn't being assaulted and victimized by a bunch of heartless drones reason enough?" She stopped pacing momentarily. "No offence, Seven."
Seven raised an eyebrow. "None taken. I happen to agree with your assessment of the Captain's altered behavior. However, you may not like my explanation of it."
"And what explanation is that?"
"In the Borg Collective, emotion is irrelevant. Drones do not experience emotion…and it is entirely possible that this explains the Captain's behavior. Her personality may have been irrevocably altered by her experience. She may have retained part of the Collective despite being disconnected."
"You mean she'll never return to normal?" asked Chakotay.
"I can't be certain. It has been…difficult…for me to experience emotion on the same level as the rest of you. It is not an ability that I possess in abundance."
"However," pointed out Tuvok, "You were assimilated as a child and were a part of the Collective for eighteen years."
"But you have noticed a difference in the Captain's behavior?" asked Chakotay.
She nodded. "I believe that the Captain has been avoiding me."
"Me too," said B'Elanna. "Whenever I try to talk to her, she just…"
"She answers concisely and terminates the conversation as quickly as possible," finished Seven.
B'Elanna put her hands on her hips with surprise. "That's exactly what she does."
"Have you been able to draw any conclusions from your mind meld with the Captain?" Chakotay asked Tuvok.
"I believe she has repressed the experience. I took a great deal of effort for me to reach her, and her subconscious was chaotic. Coupled with my observation of her, it seems you are correct that she is refusing to deal with the experience."
Chakotay turned to the Doctor. "Have you been able to find any explanation for her behavior?"
"Conclusive? No…however, I believe my original diagnosis may have been correct. I just don't have enough information to back it up."
"What original diagnosis?" asked Tom.
"I speculated that the Captain may be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder."
"How would we know?" asked Chakotay.
"There are a wide variety of symptoms…patients often experience hyperarousal. They believe they are under constant threat of attack, they become irritable and explosive, and have trouble sleeping and concentrating."
"That does not sound like the Captain's recent behavior," said Tuvok.
"No two cases are alike. There can also be what's known as intrusion, where the patient experiences vivid flashbacks of the traumatic event. These are often accompanied by overwhelming emotional responses."
"That doesn't sound right either," said Harry.
"The Captain has kept to herself for the most part," said Seven. "We can't be certain she is not experiencing flashbacks."
"The third set of symptoms is what caught my attention," continued the Doctor. "Patients often avoid close emotional contacts and distance themselves from others."
"Sound like anyone we know?" asked B'Elanna.
Chakotay nodded solemnly. "That does fit the picture."
"Tuvok," said Tom suddenly, "Didn't you say the Captain was talking to you more than usual?"
"Correct."
He arched an eyebrow and looked around the table. "What better way to avoid emotional contact than talking to a Vulcan?"
"This is hardly a sound diagnosis, Doctor," said Seven.
"But it's a start," interjected Chakotay. "Now. What are we going to do about it?"