Disclaimer: Only the story is mine. Everything else belongs to Paramount. kicks Paramount But they've abandoned their characters and stuff and did really nutso things to them, so I delete Paramount. I'm not making any money off this, so leave me alone, Paramount minions! I wrote this story, which was my very first-ever Voyager fanfic, in August, 2000. It was not beta'd. This story contains a relationship between two women, so if that offends you, please read something else.
Code: T/7.
Genre: Romance, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Ghosts, Chapter 3
The alien turned toward Kyote and lowered her forehead, from which a five-inch curving, opalescent, cerulean horn grew, threatening the Ensign. Kyote aimed her phaser at her.
"Stand down, Ensign." The captain held out a hand to Kyote, who reluctantly lowered her weapon. The alien danced agitatedly back and forth, like a bipedal equine. Janeway got her first good look at her. She was just shorter than Harry Kim, with a wild blue mane that tumbled down her back almost to her knees. Her eyes, which were as big as any Betazoid, were flashing white, rolling like a frightened horse. She stamped her hoofed feet, which had blue fetlocks, matted with blood darker red than human, another sign of agitation. Any time a crewmember would get too close, she'd lower that horn of hers at them, making it clear that she wouldn't be taken without a fight. Her small nostrils flared and she emitted an unhappy snort, while a deep bass growl began from somewhere in her slender throat.
Her skin was white and pink-veined, tiny blue hairs covering about as much of it as if she were a human. Her breasts were strawberry colored and the fluff between her legs looked like it would be soft as bunny fur if it weren't matted and filthy. All of her was dirty, as though the Ssckerellon hadn't offered her any sanitary facilities at all. Somehow, Kathryn was not surprised.
"Anotu oijhh iajoiut loupriit nyinliisken."
"I'm sorry, we don't understand," Janeway replied, curious as to why the universal translator wasn't doing its job. Tuvok came in and, seeing that no one else was brandishing arms, lowered his phaser. The alien let out a high-pitched, nasal whinny and stamped her left hoof. Her forehead lowered and she pawed the deck.
"Whoa, girl," Harry began, drawing the alien's attention. "Easy. We're not here to hurt you." The woman calmed a little, sidestepping a little closer to Harry. "Here," he said, taking off his jacket. She watched every move he made suspiciously. When he came too close, she sidled away slightly, lowering her horn, watching him. He slowly extended his jacket to her, offering it. She looked around at the group, shifting her weight, and then finally took the proffered clothing. She put it on and it fell to just below her waist, barely covering what needed to be covered.
"Jzhelout ep." She nervously glanced at the crewmembers surrounding her, then sidled up next to Harry, pressing herself against him for protection. "Yemolin zhekano ple vel wirk'be..." She began murmuring something in her language, completely lost on the five Starfleet personal standing around her.
"Species 1013. Adversarial. Uncompromising. The Borg were unable to assimilate them. They made poor drones, tending to self-terminate after rejecting borg technology with which they are incompatible. The Borg did not find them a threat, however. Their ships are better suited to atmosphere than vacuum as their hulls rupture fairly easily. Their ships were assimilated for their superior shield technology and high-yield torpedo blast ability then rejected as they could not be adapted to borg technology."
"Why did their bodies reject borg technology?" the doctor inquired. Seven turned her focus to him.
"Their hides were difficult to pierce, even with assimilation drills. The nanoprobes could not travel freely. Furthermore," Seven paused and swallowed. She glanced at Lt. Torres, who was watching her intently. For some reason, unknown to her, her throat was suddenly dry. She swallowed and tried to continue. "Their bodies produce a..." she coughed slightly, "produce a..." the deck began rocking, swaying up and down before her eyes. She suddenly felt arms around her and realized she was on the ground. She looked up and saw Lieutenant Torres. Was that worry? Concern for her? Seven's stomach suddenly felt light.
"You assured me that you were up to this," the Doctor reprimanded softly to Seven. She tried to sit up but failed. Another failure. Another miscalculation. Seven felt frustrated and weak. Her eyes began burning and she forced herself not to cry. She had not told anyone about her crying earlier and Naomi had not noticed.
"It's alright," B'Elanna said in a voice that was barely a whisper. Only Seven's superior hearing was able to pick it up. She looked at B'Elanna in surprise. She looked just as startled as Seven felt. She heard the captain order the transporter to move her to sickbay and she started to reach for B'Elanna's hand, thinking 'don't leave me' when she materialized on a biobed. A nanosecond later, the Doctor appeared and the new tests began.
Janeway stalked into Sickbay demanding, "What happened?" The doctor walked over to her, responding quietly, so he didn't disturb his patients.
"Her body is still fighting the poison, captain. It's running through her bloodstream, faster than I can track it. I've given her a hypospray to use whenever she feels dizzy, to counteract the effects of the alien toxin. It's my hope, that with several treatments, we will be able to eradicate the poison from her system." Janeway nodded at the end of the doctor's speech.
"Keep me informed."
"Yes captain." Janeway looked at the alien woman, asleep on another biobed.
"What about our guest?"
"She's resting. The universal translator has yet to begin picking up on her language. Ensign Kim has been working on it all day." Then the doctor began smiling. "But, on the other hand, she's beginning to pick up on a few of our words. So even if Mr. Kim is unable to do his usual stand-up job, she should be able to communicate in a day or so, given her rate of learning."
"Dock tor?" The alien girl announced her consciousness. Janeway looked at her. She was wearing an unflattering starfleet-gray hospital robe and swinging her legs off the side of the bed. "I em... bat room?" Her words were heavily accented and halting, but the meaning was clear.
"Of course. Right through there is the bathroom," he directed her, and then turned to the captain. "See what I mean?" Janeway smiled and nodded, then turned back to Seven of Nine, who was asleep. She walked up to her and watched her worriedly. Her hair had escaped its usual knot and Kathryn brushed it off her face maternally. A soft thumping alerted her to the alien's return and she refocused her attention momentarily.
"Do you have a name?" Janeway asked. The other woman smiled.
"Arynlliana Camylleenta Artruo, Cap teen."
"That's a mouthful. Is it alright if I just call you Aryn?" Arynlliana wrinkled her forehead slightly, trying to make out the captain's words. Janeway understood and tried to clarify. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway," she said, placing her hand over her heart. "But usually people call me Captain or Kathryn. I'm asking if I may shorten your name, so that I can better pronounce it," she explained, then pointed to Arynlliana. "Aryn." Arynlliana listened carefully, watching the captain and decided to guess at what she was saying.
Placing her hand over her own chest, she repeated, "Aryn. I." Then she pointed to Janeway with one long-clawed finger. "Cap-ten." She lowered her hand. Kathryn smiled. The doctor had been right about how fast she learned. Her big, green eyes were fixed on the captain's, somehow unnerving her. Janeway couldn't help wondering if the young woman was an empath, probably just because her eyes looked so—penetrating. Yet, they were innocent at the same time.
"B'Elanna?" Kathryn turned towards the voice. Seven was sitting up in bed, looking about with semi-glazed eyes. Kathryn walked towards her, watching her eyes focus and her face sculpt itself into its usual lack of expression. "Doctor," she began, "how long have I been here?"
"Not long," he replied. "Only about fifteen minutes. Don't worry," he reassured her, "You're going to be fine if you take it easy." He then proceeded to explain to her what had happened as he had to the captain only moments before.
"Then may I continue my—"
"Seven! What did I just say? You need to regenerate, eat and take it easy. Speeches are not in any of those categories." Seven glared at the hologram and looked at Janeway.
"Please, captain," she began, and then saw the look in the captain's eyes. There would be no more briefing. At least, not for her. She sighed. "I... wish to be useful."
"Seven," the captain said, her features melting into compassion. "You have been useful. You will be useful again. But you need to rest and eat. How long has it been since you've regenerated for an entire cycle?" Seven looked away. "How long?"
"Nine days." Seven did not look up.
"Seven! You only reported—" the doctor began sputtering, but Janeway interrupted him.
"That's alright, Doctor. I'm sure Seven is ready to return to her alcove." Janeway gave Seven a meaningful look. Seven cocked her head, then nodded.
"Yes, captain." Seven slid off the biobed and took the hypo that the doctor offered her with a reproving look. She did not look up as she left Sickbay. She walked down the corridor towards the turbolift, mentally reviewing Arynlliana's species. Species 1019. The J'marel. Hunted by the Ssckerellon when the Borg encountered them. Peaceful, gentle. A combination of equine and feline. They had made good drones. Seven had not had time to share this information with the crew. She knew that the captain would now finish her lecture with the data she had submitted before the review. Seven was so deep in thought that she failed to notice Lt. Torres until she had stepped on her boot. She jerked her head up and looked at the Lieutenant, mentally flinching and expecting a scathing 'why don't you look where you're going?' Instead, she saw worry in the other woman's eyes.
"Seven, are you okay?" B'Elanna wasn't sure why she had come down here. She had told Tom that she was going to Engineering. She also didn't understand why she had lied. Concern for a comrade—no. B'Elanna had never cared about Seven. Why should she now? She knew the questions, just not the answers, so here she was—seeking them.
"I am... on my way to Cargo Bay Two. To regenerate. I have had difficulties as of late."
"Yeah, me too. I've been waking up with a splitting headache for over a week."
"I have not had any... headaches, but my inability to regenerate has lasted for a similar period of time."
"No kidding. Think it had something to do with our intruder's visit?" B'Elanna asked, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to lean on the wall behind her.
"Perhaps. The Ssckerellon emit a mild telepathic field that can disrupt the biorhythms of other species. They use it for communication." Seven's heart was beginning to pound and her hand holding the hypospray shook slightly. She swallowed and felt her lips twitch into a smile. "I must go now, Lieutenant. Th-thank you for your concern." Seven hurried through the turbolift doors and ordered the computer to send her to deck four.
B'Elanna stood in shock. Had Seven just smiled? She watched Seven's figure retreat into the turbolift and just stood there, feeling more confused than ever.
To be continued…
