"I Think I'll Keep You"
Licky/Dana Katherine Scully:
"Tell me, what were you thinking through all of this. You both are experienced Star Fleet officers, and now your fighting like a couple of first year cadets!" Taking all her anger and frustration she had accumulated over the past few days out on these less then deserving officers, Admiral Janeway stood in front of the bloody Worf and Tuvok.
"I thought you had better sense in you Tuvok."
"I am sorry, Captain. It will not happen again," he apologized
"It better not, because next time it does I am personally putting you both in the brig." she turned to the Doc, "Doctor, how long till they can return to active duty."
"In about 10 minutes. The regeneration will take about that long."
"Thank you."
"Hmm." The doctor smirked and walked away.
Nobody ever appreciates me. They probably would never even realize if I turned myself off. Only if they have a 'Medical Emergency'. "Oh no I got a paper cut! Help me!" Ha I could perform brain surgery, but all they need me for is cuts and bruises. The doctor smirked to himself. Who is the more primitive creature here?
"Well if the two of you aren't planning to get into anymore brawls any time soon, I'm going to the bridge where there are real problems to be solved." The two men didn't miss the sarcasm in Admiral Janeway's voice as she turned on her heel an marched out of sickbay.
"I am...Sorry." Worf managed to get out, refusing to look at Tuvok. "I acted out of place."
"I made a wrong decision. I am the one who is wrong. I suggest we get back to work, before Admiral Janeway decides to proceed with her threat."
Worf stared at the Vulcan. Was that a joke? A Vulcan? "Agreed."
*
Jean-Luc stirred from his deep dream. It was about Beverly. He smiled just from the faint memory of her. Slowly he was brought back to reality, and away from his peaceful dream by a loud humming from beneath him. His vision was blurry and dark. Where am I?
As his mind started to clear, the past days came flooding back to him. "My God," he whispered. He opened his eyes to see her huddled in a corner, a couple of meters from his body.
Beverly's quiet sobbing disturbed Jean-Luc. She seemed...smaller than before, more frail. The twenty pounds she'd lost in captivity hadn't helped, but there was something else, something more elementary. She looked afraid. She was terrified of something. As soon as she saw him looking at her she froze: paralyzed by fear. Then she scampered away from him, as far as the confines of this new environment allowed. "Beverly?" he whispered, hoping to sound comforting. He watched, astonished, as she nearly choked and tried to practically run through the wall. When she couldn't she began to whimper: quietly at first, then louder and louder until she was screaming and wailing. She kept her legs tightly clenched together. Jean- Luc could vaguely make out the three large, bleeding bite marks on Beverly's shoulder, uncovered because the sleeve of her uniform had been torn clean off, taking with it the section of the black top which covered her delicate, ivory neck. It was also the side of the uniform that her rank pips had adorned.
Suddenly, Jean-Luc slapped his hand to his collar where his own pips were. They had been taken from his uniform. His mind raced. The bite marks on Beverly, their "de-rankings"...it brought to mind a psychology lesson he'd received at the Academy. It was about rape and sexualized crime, and he remembered his instructor reminding the class that rapists often wanted to degrade their victims with biting, stabbing, and often removal of clothing. Had Beverly been raped? "Oh my God..." he said, disgusted and afraid. It didn't take night-vision to see that Beverly was trying very hard to conceal her private parts from him as rape victims often did. "Oh my God, oh my God...." he kept repeating, like a mantra.
He had to do something, comfort her, touch her, know she was alright..."Oh God Beverly no no no..."
He made a sudden move in her direction and she screamed, smashing her fist against the wall and the floor. "DON'T YOU TOUCH ME!!!!" she shrieked. Then more quietly, "No, no, please no, no don't...you're hurting me! Data you're hurting me!"
DATA! Jean-Luc's blood boiled. Data was responsible for this, for their kidnapping! Data!! He had...he had done THIS to her.
"Beverly it's me, Jean-Luc. I'm right here. I won't hurt you. I'm not going anywhere. Come to me Beverly."
*
Adat re-sedated the Captain and Doctor several hours after they had departed from his lab. Well, he re-sedated the Captain. The doctor he...well he sedated her all right. His mouth watered at the thought. How stimulating, to see her writhing and screaming and pleading beneath her. The composition of her flesh was still fresh in his mind: he made a mental note to capture another human and study their tasting centers. He was sure that flesh tasted good.
The M-class planet he had picked loomed on the view screen, and Adat absentmindedly initiated landing procedures. He had modified the shuttle computer to a quantum system, so it would think on its own while he finished his business with Doctor Crusher.
*
The door to the shuttle bay slid open, the silhouette of the pasty white, yellow-eyed Adat at the door. Beverly's haunted eyes widened in terror, and she started to scream, but Jean-Luc was soundly sedated and she was alone. The horrours she had already experienced were enough: she felt she'd rather be dead.
"Hello Doctor," he growled, pacing towards her like a bloodhound on a scent. "I hope you've enjoyed your time to think."
His hand came down like an anvil on her cheek, and she could feel the skin split on contact. She bit her lip so hard it bled. Son of a bitch!!! she kept thinking, the words blazing in her brain but never quite making it to her lips. She hated herself in that moment. She was completely powerless, overcome, and alone. Damn it!! Damn it!
He was already prying her legs open, fighting her weakened muscles till she gave in. He spread them too wide, and she could feel the ligaments tearing. His iron hands gripped her trousers and yanked them off, this time not even bothering to unbutton them. They ripped in half. He watched her cringing at the double pain of losing her shield and losing it with her legs wide open. He examined her ivory legs, bare and too thin from starvation. He grunted and moaned with the sick pleasure of seeing her so in his grip.
The next four hours were a nightmarish blaze of pain, humiliation, rage, anger, torment, sorrow: images of her innocence violated, her trust and faith murdered. He broke her spirit, and the fire finally left her eyes. She was nothing more than a rag doll, nothing more than a toy for him. She was not a person, or even a she, but an It. An object.
When he finally left, she fell unconscious from the blood loss. She'd suffered multiple contusions, two concussions, and her whole body was racked with lacerations and tears. Her dreams were more frightening than anything she'd ever experienced.
*
"Janeway to engineering."
"Torres here."
"B'Elanna, can you get a stronger read on the origin of that homing beacon?"
"We're already working on it captain."
Janeway used the light switch beside her bed to turn on the overheads. "That's the B'Elanna I remember." She smiled ironically.
"Yes Captain uh I mean, Admiral. Torres out."
*
Kathryn Janeway was in her element. Sitting in the Captain's chair, her adopted family all around her, she finally had a purpose. Teaching at Starfleet and living on Earth just had not fulfilled her sense of purpose. Finally, she had a goal.
"Harry, are you detecting any life signs from the site of the homing beacon?"
"Yes Admiral. Two humans. It looks like Captain Picard and Dr. Crusher."
"Can you beam them off the planet?"
"Yes ma'am: I've locked on."
"Transport them directly to sickbay."
"Yes Admiral."
A few moments passed, and the console beeped. "Admiral a Federation shuttle has just appeared on our port bow! It's the stolen shuttle."
"Do you have the Captain and Doctor?"
"No ma'am: I have been unable to beam them out."
"Admiral the shuttle is powering weapons."
"Red alert: raise shields. Let's see what this baby can do. Evasive maneuvers Tom!"
"I'm trying Admiral but this pilot is insane!"
"Harry can you determine the shuttle pilot's species?"
A few tense moments passed before Harry said, "No! There are no life signs being emitted from that shuttle!"
"How can that be? Check the readings."
Tuvok responded. "Mr. Kim is correct. There are no biological life forms aboard the shuttle."
The ship shuddered with a torpedo hit. "Report!" Janeway shouted, her authoritarian barking belying her growing unease.
"Damage to decks ten through twelve, no casualties reported."
"What about our shields!" It was more a comment than a question, but Tuvok felt the need to respond: "The pilot of the shuttlecraft aimed at the only weak point in the shields of the Enterprise."
As if to punctuate his remark another blast wracked the ship. The comm chirped.
"Tom! Tom it's B'Elanna! Miral's been hurt." The desperate screams of Voyager's youngest family member tore into Kathryn Janeway's heart. "I'm taking her to sickbay but she's bleeding a lot. You've got to get down here!" B'Elanna's voice was panicked and ragged. A look of dread and the terror known only to a parent settled onto Tom's face and without a word he bolted from the bridge.
Kathryn herself took the helm, amidst objections from both Harry and Tuvok. Mysteriously, Chakotay still had not appeared on the bridge.
"LaForge to the Admiral! The pilot of that shuttle is an android!"
"What?!"
"I checked the energy signature of the shuttle and it's showing positronic wave patterns. Admiral I don't think we'll win this. If it's who I think it is, he knows the ship better than any of us."
As Kathryn madly punched commands into the helm she barked, "I don't have time to beat around the bush Mr. LaForge: tell me out straight what your theory is!"
"Admiral, that android's energy signature is nearly identical to Data's."
*
Miral Paris's screams intensified with every minute, and B'Elanna's already mad pace increased. Her baby's blood was all over her uniform. The wound having been inflicted by the little Voyager model in their quarters: when the ship had been hit it had flown off of the bureau and its bow had sliced into Miral's first stomach. Her redundant organs helped, but the bleeding simply would not stop. "Doctor!" B'Elanna shrieked as she flew into sickbay.
"Oh God." The EMH ran to the hysterical mother and as he picked up the baby he shouted, "What happened?"
B'Elanna's voice was hysterical, her eyes flooded with tears. "We were hit by a torpedo and the model flew into her stomach and she just...she won't stop bleeding. Oh Miral, Miral I'm so sorry! Oh God..."
Tom raced into sickbay as the Doctor frantically moved to stem the bleeding. "Miral!" he shouted, rushing to his daughter. Her screams intensified.
"Tom! Oh God...Miral!"
The frantic parents hovered over their equally frantic daughter, their screams reaching a fever pitch. Miral was in pain and obviously terrified, but the Doctor was working methodically and quickly, despite his panic, to stem the bleeding so he could assess the damage. "Why is there so much blood?" Tom kept asking. The Doctor would reply the same way every time: "The wound severed an artery. I'm trying to clamp it now..."
Finally he did clamp it, and with the bleeding down he sedated the infant and began to perform reconstructive surgery. Tom and B'Elanna watched his every move intently, clinging to each other. Neither one of them noticed Chakotay sitting on a corner biobed.
The Commander's eye was swollen shut, his nose still dripping blood. The deep scratch in his neck had gone untreated for so long that it had begun to develop into scar tissue. He wasn't sure where Seven was but he knew she was not in Stellar Cartography. Frankly, at the moment he didn't really care. He was desperate to escape from his failing marriage and lost romance. All he wanted was to sit peacefully in a pine forest somewhere in the northern North American continent, watching the deer as they passed by him. He could almost feel the cool breeze and smell the pine scent. Perhaps Kathryn could be with him...
Chakotay finally stirred from his reverie when the Doctor announced to Tom and B'Elanna that he expected Miral to make a full recovery. With a little less of his usual egomaniacal arrogance, he told them that it "Was touch- and-go there for a while but that he was able to pull her through." Chakotay had to laugh. Here he was, avoiding bridge duty to fight with his wife, people-watching in sickbay.
Suddenly alarms sounded, wailing that an unauthorized phasor had been fired aboard the ship. Chakotay pulled himself off of the biobed and lumbered toward the door of sickbay, gaining speed. By the time he was halfway down the hallway he was running. "Computer, location of phasor fire!"
"Deck 3, section 2. Crew quarters: Chakotay and Seven of Nine."
"No!!"
Chakotay ran faster than he ever believed possible. His wife was in danger, and no matter how much they fought he would be there for her till the end.
When he arrived at their quarters he slammed into the door as the computer chirped, "Security lock-out engaged. Authorized personnel only."
"Seven!!!: Chakotay pounded his fists against the door, shredding his knuckles. "SEVEN!!!"
No answer.
Chakotay's life seemed to be in slow motion. His hands swung at an infuriatingly slow pace, the sound of the blows ringing in his ears. His mouth moved so slowly, the words came out so garbled. He fell, spent, against the door, sliding down till he was laying on the ground sobbing. "Seven!! Seven!"
He knew, somehow and with absolute certainty, what had happened. She was dead. His wife. Dead. "No, no, no, NOO!" he repeated, whimpering and wailing, simpering and shouting till he could no longer speak, just keen loudly in the hallway. The security details finally moved in and opened the door, knowing full well what they would find. The phasor that had been fired lay in the sprawled-out Seven's hand, the burns from the wound in her temple telling the whole tail. The sight of her body brought Chakotay's voice back. "SEVEN!!! NOOOO!!"
The security details dutifully picked up the body and ordered a transport to sickbay, knowing full well that nothing could be done.
"Seven!! I love you...please Seven...I love you! I'm sorry...so sorry...Seven!!"
Licky/Dana Katherine Scully:
"Tell me, what were you thinking through all of this. You both are experienced Star Fleet officers, and now your fighting like a couple of first year cadets!" Taking all her anger and frustration she had accumulated over the past few days out on these less then deserving officers, Admiral Janeway stood in front of the bloody Worf and Tuvok.
"I thought you had better sense in you Tuvok."
"I am sorry, Captain. It will not happen again," he apologized
"It better not, because next time it does I am personally putting you both in the brig." she turned to the Doc, "Doctor, how long till they can return to active duty."
"In about 10 minutes. The regeneration will take about that long."
"Thank you."
"Hmm." The doctor smirked and walked away.
Nobody ever appreciates me. They probably would never even realize if I turned myself off. Only if they have a 'Medical Emergency'. "Oh no I got a paper cut! Help me!" Ha I could perform brain surgery, but all they need me for is cuts and bruises. The doctor smirked to himself. Who is the more primitive creature here?
"Well if the two of you aren't planning to get into anymore brawls any time soon, I'm going to the bridge where there are real problems to be solved." The two men didn't miss the sarcasm in Admiral Janeway's voice as she turned on her heel an marched out of sickbay.
"I am...Sorry." Worf managed to get out, refusing to look at Tuvok. "I acted out of place."
"I made a wrong decision. I am the one who is wrong. I suggest we get back to work, before Admiral Janeway decides to proceed with her threat."
Worf stared at the Vulcan. Was that a joke? A Vulcan? "Agreed."
*
Jean-Luc stirred from his deep dream. It was about Beverly. He smiled just from the faint memory of her. Slowly he was brought back to reality, and away from his peaceful dream by a loud humming from beneath him. His vision was blurry and dark. Where am I?
As his mind started to clear, the past days came flooding back to him. "My God," he whispered. He opened his eyes to see her huddled in a corner, a couple of meters from his body.
Beverly's quiet sobbing disturbed Jean-Luc. She seemed...smaller than before, more frail. The twenty pounds she'd lost in captivity hadn't helped, but there was something else, something more elementary. She looked afraid. She was terrified of something. As soon as she saw him looking at her she froze: paralyzed by fear. Then she scampered away from him, as far as the confines of this new environment allowed. "Beverly?" he whispered, hoping to sound comforting. He watched, astonished, as she nearly choked and tried to practically run through the wall. When she couldn't she began to whimper: quietly at first, then louder and louder until she was screaming and wailing. She kept her legs tightly clenched together. Jean- Luc could vaguely make out the three large, bleeding bite marks on Beverly's shoulder, uncovered because the sleeve of her uniform had been torn clean off, taking with it the section of the black top which covered her delicate, ivory neck. It was also the side of the uniform that her rank pips had adorned.
Suddenly, Jean-Luc slapped his hand to his collar where his own pips were. They had been taken from his uniform. His mind raced. The bite marks on Beverly, their "de-rankings"...it brought to mind a psychology lesson he'd received at the Academy. It was about rape and sexualized crime, and he remembered his instructor reminding the class that rapists often wanted to degrade their victims with biting, stabbing, and often removal of clothing. Had Beverly been raped? "Oh my God..." he said, disgusted and afraid. It didn't take night-vision to see that Beverly was trying very hard to conceal her private parts from him as rape victims often did. "Oh my God, oh my God...." he kept repeating, like a mantra.
He had to do something, comfort her, touch her, know she was alright..."Oh God Beverly no no no..."
He made a sudden move in her direction and she screamed, smashing her fist against the wall and the floor. "DON'T YOU TOUCH ME!!!!" she shrieked. Then more quietly, "No, no, please no, no don't...you're hurting me! Data you're hurting me!"
DATA! Jean-Luc's blood boiled. Data was responsible for this, for their kidnapping! Data!! He had...he had done THIS to her.
"Beverly it's me, Jean-Luc. I'm right here. I won't hurt you. I'm not going anywhere. Come to me Beverly."
*
Adat re-sedated the Captain and Doctor several hours after they had departed from his lab. Well, he re-sedated the Captain. The doctor he...well he sedated her all right. His mouth watered at the thought. How stimulating, to see her writhing and screaming and pleading beneath her. The composition of her flesh was still fresh in his mind: he made a mental note to capture another human and study their tasting centers. He was sure that flesh tasted good.
The M-class planet he had picked loomed on the view screen, and Adat absentmindedly initiated landing procedures. He had modified the shuttle computer to a quantum system, so it would think on its own while he finished his business with Doctor Crusher.
*
The door to the shuttle bay slid open, the silhouette of the pasty white, yellow-eyed Adat at the door. Beverly's haunted eyes widened in terror, and she started to scream, but Jean-Luc was soundly sedated and she was alone. The horrours she had already experienced were enough: she felt she'd rather be dead.
"Hello Doctor," he growled, pacing towards her like a bloodhound on a scent. "I hope you've enjoyed your time to think."
His hand came down like an anvil on her cheek, and she could feel the skin split on contact. She bit her lip so hard it bled. Son of a bitch!!! she kept thinking, the words blazing in her brain but never quite making it to her lips. She hated herself in that moment. She was completely powerless, overcome, and alone. Damn it!! Damn it!
He was already prying her legs open, fighting her weakened muscles till she gave in. He spread them too wide, and she could feel the ligaments tearing. His iron hands gripped her trousers and yanked them off, this time not even bothering to unbutton them. They ripped in half. He watched her cringing at the double pain of losing her shield and losing it with her legs wide open. He examined her ivory legs, bare and too thin from starvation. He grunted and moaned with the sick pleasure of seeing her so in his grip.
The next four hours were a nightmarish blaze of pain, humiliation, rage, anger, torment, sorrow: images of her innocence violated, her trust and faith murdered. He broke her spirit, and the fire finally left her eyes. She was nothing more than a rag doll, nothing more than a toy for him. She was not a person, or even a she, but an It. An object.
When he finally left, she fell unconscious from the blood loss. She'd suffered multiple contusions, two concussions, and her whole body was racked with lacerations and tears. Her dreams were more frightening than anything she'd ever experienced.
*
"Janeway to engineering."
"Torres here."
"B'Elanna, can you get a stronger read on the origin of that homing beacon?"
"We're already working on it captain."
Janeway used the light switch beside her bed to turn on the overheads. "That's the B'Elanna I remember." She smiled ironically.
"Yes Captain uh I mean, Admiral. Torres out."
*
Kathryn Janeway was in her element. Sitting in the Captain's chair, her adopted family all around her, she finally had a purpose. Teaching at Starfleet and living on Earth just had not fulfilled her sense of purpose. Finally, she had a goal.
"Harry, are you detecting any life signs from the site of the homing beacon?"
"Yes Admiral. Two humans. It looks like Captain Picard and Dr. Crusher."
"Can you beam them off the planet?"
"Yes ma'am: I've locked on."
"Transport them directly to sickbay."
"Yes Admiral."
A few moments passed, and the console beeped. "Admiral a Federation shuttle has just appeared on our port bow! It's the stolen shuttle."
"Do you have the Captain and Doctor?"
"No ma'am: I have been unable to beam them out."
"Admiral the shuttle is powering weapons."
"Red alert: raise shields. Let's see what this baby can do. Evasive maneuvers Tom!"
"I'm trying Admiral but this pilot is insane!"
"Harry can you determine the shuttle pilot's species?"
A few tense moments passed before Harry said, "No! There are no life signs being emitted from that shuttle!"
"How can that be? Check the readings."
Tuvok responded. "Mr. Kim is correct. There are no biological life forms aboard the shuttle."
The ship shuddered with a torpedo hit. "Report!" Janeway shouted, her authoritarian barking belying her growing unease.
"Damage to decks ten through twelve, no casualties reported."
"What about our shields!" It was more a comment than a question, but Tuvok felt the need to respond: "The pilot of the shuttlecraft aimed at the only weak point in the shields of the Enterprise."
As if to punctuate his remark another blast wracked the ship. The comm chirped.
"Tom! Tom it's B'Elanna! Miral's been hurt." The desperate screams of Voyager's youngest family member tore into Kathryn Janeway's heart. "I'm taking her to sickbay but she's bleeding a lot. You've got to get down here!" B'Elanna's voice was panicked and ragged. A look of dread and the terror known only to a parent settled onto Tom's face and without a word he bolted from the bridge.
Kathryn herself took the helm, amidst objections from both Harry and Tuvok. Mysteriously, Chakotay still had not appeared on the bridge.
"LaForge to the Admiral! The pilot of that shuttle is an android!"
"What?!"
"I checked the energy signature of the shuttle and it's showing positronic wave patterns. Admiral I don't think we'll win this. If it's who I think it is, he knows the ship better than any of us."
As Kathryn madly punched commands into the helm she barked, "I don't have time to beat around the bush Mr. LaForge: tell me out straight what your theory is!"
"Admiral, that android's energy signature is nearly identical to Data's."
*
Miral Paris's screams intensified with every minute, and B'Elanna's already mad pace increased. Her baby's blood was all over her uniform. The wound having been inflicted by the little Voyager model in their quarters: when the ship had been hit it had flown off of the bureau and its bow had sliced into Miral's first stomach. Her redundant organs helped, but the bleeding simply would not stop. "Doctor!" B'Elanna shrieked as she flew into sickbay.
"Oh God." The EMH ran to the hysterical mother and as he picked up the baby he shouted, "What happened?"
B'Elanna's voice was hysterical, her eyes flooded with tears. "We were hit by a torpedo and the model flew into her stomach and she just...she won't stop bleeding. Oh Miral, Miral I'm so sorry! Oh God..."
Tom raced into sickbay as the Doctor frantically moved to stem the bleeding. "Miral!" he shouted, rushing to his daughter. Her screams intensified.
"Tom! Oh God...Miral!"
The frantic parents hovered over their equally frantic daughter, their screams reaching a fever pitch. Miral was in pain and obviously terrified, but the Doctor was working methodically and quickly, despite his panic, to stem the bleeding so he could assess the damage. "Why is there so much blood?" Tom kept asking. The Doctor would reply the same way every time: "The wound severed an artery. I'm trying to clamp it now..."
Finally he did clamp it, and with the bleeding down he sedated the infant and began to perform reconstructive surgery. Tom and B'Elanna watched his every move intently, clinging to each other. Neither one of them noticed Chakotay sitting on a corner biobed.
The Commander's eye was swollen shut, his nose still dripping blood. The deep scratch in his neck had gone untreated for so long that it had begun to develop into scar tissue. He wasn't sure where Seven was but he knew she was not in Stellar Cartography. Frankly, at the moment he didn't really care. He was desperate to escape from his failing marriage and lost romance. All he wanted was to sit peacefully in a pine forest somewhere in the northern North American continent, watching the deer as they passed by him. He could almost feel the cool breeze and smell the pine scent. Perhaps Kathryn could be with him...
Chakotay finally stirred from his reverie when the Doctor announced to Tom and B'Elanna that he expected Miral to make a full recovery. With a little less of his usual egomaniacal arrogance, he told them that it "Was touch- and-go there for a while but that he was able to pull her through." Chakotay had to laugh. Here he was, avoiding bridge duty to fight with his wife, people-watching in sickbay.
Suddenly alarms sounded, wailing that an unauthorized phasor had been fired aboard the ship. Chakotay pulled himself off of the biobed and lumbered toward the door of sickbay, gaining speed. By the time he was halfway down the hallway he was running. "Computer, location of phasor fire!"
"Deck 3, section 2. Crew quarters: Chakotay and Seven of Nine."
"No!!"
Chakotay ran faster than he ever believed possible. His wife was in danger, and no matter how much they fought he would be there for her till the end.
When he arrived at their quarters he slammed into the door as the computer chirped, "Security lock-out engaged. Authorized personnel only."
"Seven!!!: Chakotay pounded his fists against the door, shredding his knuckles. "SEVEN!!!"
No answer.
Chakotay's life seemed to be in slow motion. His hands swung at an infuriatingly slow pace, the sound of the blows ringing in his ears. His mouth moved so slowly, the words came out so garbled. He fell, spent, against the door, sliding down till he was laying on the ground sobbing. "Seven!! Seven!"
He knew, somehow and with absolute certainty, what had happened. She was dead. His wife. Dead. "No, no, no, NOO!" he repeated, whimpering and wailing, simpering and shouting till he could no longer speak, just keen loudly in the hallway. The security details finally moved in and opened the door, knowing full well what they would find. The phasor that had been fired lay in the sprawled-out Seven's hand, the burns from the wound in her temple telling the whole tail. The sight of her body brought Chakotay's voice back. "SEVEN!!! NOOOO!!"
The security details dutifully picked up the body and ordered a transport to sickbay, knowing full well that nothing could be done.
"Seven!! I love you...please Seven...I love you! I'm sorry...so sorry...Seven!!"