Armed with a phaser rifle, a medical tricorder, and a regular issue tricorder, Seven of Nine assisted Lieutenant Paris onto the transporter pad. She faced him in the correct position as Captain Janeway took the controls to the transporter beam.
"We will return, Captain," Seven sought to reassure her.
The captain smiled and nodded. "I expect no less. Seven, take care of Mr. Paris. Mr. Paris, good luck."
Seven took a deep breath, pushing memories from her past into the back of her mind. "Energize."
The ship faded out of view as a dark, greenish corridor of a Borg Cube replaced it. Seven repressed a shudder and more memories as she focused her mind on her and Lieutenant Paris' task.
The lieutenant gasped and staggered beside her, directly in front of a passing Borg. Seven let her reactions take over and grabbed him just in time to avoid a startled confrontation.
The lieutenant slid to the metal-plated floor, his breathing laborious. His eyes rolled in the back of his head and he did not appear coherent. Quickly, Seven unhooked the medical tricorder and scanned him. The cueproan was very much active.
"Lieutenant Paris, respond," she demanded, reattaching the tricorder to her belt. She glanced up and down the corridor; as long as they did not pose a threat they were safe. Still, Seven wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. "Lieutenant, comply!"
At last she saw a flicker of life behind his eyes. So softly she almost couldn't hear, he said, "Seven, do me a favor, will you? If I die here, I don't want the last familiar voice I hear to be calling me by rank. Please call me 'Tom'. It means a lot to me."
Seven thought about his request and decided there would be no harm in it. "Very well then, Tom. Shall we begin our mission?"
He sighed. "Yes."
Helping him to his feet, Seven wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him steady. They walked quickly to another area, and another. The cueproan was becoming a picky feeder and Seven was beginning to believe that it's host wouldn't make it much farther.
When they had begun down the fifth string of alcoves, Tom raised his head, a glean of sweat running down his face and neck.
"Stop," he said with great difficulty. His breathing was shallow and his skin even more pale. He pointed a hand that shook at a regenerating Borg two alcoves away. "Him."
Seven cautiously approached the Borg, and felt shock to discover it was a member of Species 3501. She had not known of many of that species that could survive the life of a Borg drone. They did not adapt well. The Borg had not assimilated that species in over twenty years. Yet here one was.
"This Borg?" She double-checked with Tom, to make certain. When he didn't answer, she adjusted his weight to the front of her body so she could see him better. What she saw was that Tom was once again fighting slipping into unconsciousness.
"Tom," she used his name to draw his attention. "Awake! Comply!" She began to panic. "Tom, comply!"
With dubious effort, Tom rolled his head around to signify he could hear her.
"Tom, I have located the Borg. What can I do to assist you?" Seven offered.
"My hand…" He said weakly. "The face…"
Understanding, knowing that Tom's time was running out, Seven lifted Tom's right hand and pressed it to the Borg's face. She knew what would happen when any touch of a Borg resulted.
Almost immediately, the Borg's eyes snapped open. He didn't move right away. Instead, he gazed at Seven.
"State your designation," he ordered in the voice of a Borg.
"Seven of Nine," she answered automatically.
His one eye swiveled to observe Tom's hand pressed against his chin. "Explain, Seven of Nine."
Her hatred of what the Borg had done to her and her parents lent an ironic twing to the situation. With a perverse satisfaction, Seven said, "We are transferring a deadly parasite into your brain. If all goes well, the entire Collective will be affected and dead within forty-eight hours."
The Borg drone stepped out from his alcove. "We cannot allow that."
And several other Borg drones surrounded Seven and Tom.
Tom, gasping, managed to choke out, "It's done", before slithering to the metal plates, either unconscious or in a coma, Seven was not sure and did not now have the time to verify. She would later.
Tapping her commbadge, Seven ordered, "Voyager, emergency transport." She knelt over Tom as the broken up reply came.
"Seven…no lock…stand by…compensating."
Tensely, Seven realized that the Borg were trying to gather Tom. Knowing they'd assimilate him, Seven prepared to fight.
One drone, the one Tom had transplanted the parasite into, struck at her head. Recognizing the tactic, she blocked his arm, caught it at the elbow, and flipped him over her shoulder into three other drones behind her.
"Captain!" She tried again. "Haste is required!"
"Just a…Seven…"
Another drone, female and impassive, charged her. Seven kicked at the drone's legs as still another grabbed her from behind. She struggled to free herself, not wanting to join the Collective again.
At her feet, three drones lifted and began to carry off the inert Tom.
Something inside of her, whether from repressed memories or just simply knowledge of what was to happen to Tom, snapped. Screaming, she bit and scratched at any Borg that came near her, besides the one holding her.
"Seven! …going on? Respond!"
"Help me!" Seven yelled. Tom's captors disappeared around the alcoves. "Help Tom! Somebody help us!"
The female drone she had kicked at appeared before her. "Cease your useless emotions," she said coldly.
"Captain! Captain!" Seven shouted.
The drone punched her and Seven sagged, half-senseless. The drone holding her released her just briefly to jab a neutralizer into her neck.
"No…" She whimpered as her body lost its functions to move. She hoped she would lose consciousness as the Borg drones picked her up.
When the tingling began, she thought either she was imagining it or her body was waking up. Finally, she recognized it for what it was: the transporter beam. She allowed herself to relax, and only then lost consciousness.
Captain Janeway felt panic when, over the static-filled commbadge, Seven began to scream.
Urgently, Janeway demanded, "Seven! What's going on? Respond! Seven, respond!"
"Help me! Help Tom! …help us!" Was her only reply.
Janeway frantically readjusted the transporter beam. There was some kind of interference trying to block Seven and Tom's signatures. Blowing out through her mouth, she refocused on Seven first. She reconfigured the transporter beam—
Panicked, Seven yelled, "Captain! Captain!"
—and gave it tight parameters to Seven's commbadge.
"No…" A moan of hopelessness floated over the link.
"Gottcha," Janeway muttered as the faded blue outline of Seven slowly materialized on the transporter dais. The woman was unconscious.
"Now, Tom…" She said, to help orient herself.
Doing the same tightly controlled beaming for Tom, his inert form joined Seven's shortly on the pad. Leaving the controls, she raced to Seven and Tom's side.
"Seven…"
Seven forced her eyes to open. She fully expected to see Tom Paris, Borg drone, standing over her. The Doctor was a pleasant surprise.
"Doctor?" She asked, sitting up. She glanced quickly around and found she was in sickbay. Tom was on the biobed again, constantly monitored. "Is he…dead?"
The hologram shook his head. "No. The captain managed to get him back just in the nick of time." He ran a medical tricorder over her. "How are you feeling?"
"Grateful," she replied, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, feeling the last little bit of numbness going away.
"Really?" The Doctor inquired, putting the tricorder down and assisting her to her feet. "How so?"
She looked him straight in the eye. "I am not Borg again, and neither is Tom…Lieutenant Paris." She reflected that the lieutenant's request did not apply anymore since he was near others on the ship again. "When is the lieutenant capable of duty?"
The Doctor sighed. "It really depends on how long it takes Mr. Paris to regain his strength."
"Then I take it his theory was correct? Once the cueproan vacated his mind, he will survive?" Seven had to know.
"Yes," the Doctor smiled. "It was too peaceful here without his sarcasm. It's good to know he'll be rejoining us in the land of the living."
Satisfied, Seven clasped her hands behind her back. "Am I allowed to return to astromatrics?"
Still smiling, the Doctor said, "You are. But I believe Miss Wildman wanted to see you. Something about Flutter and plotting a course to a planet. If she's not in astromatrics, then Neelix will know where she is."
Seven nodded once. "Thank you, Doctor." She turned to leave.
"It's my job," he remarked.
Right when the doors closed, she failed to hear him say, "She called him 'Tom'", in a perplexed voice. Her mind was already on Naomi Wildman.