p a r t t w o

"Neelix to the Captain!"

Our morale officer's voice is panicky and I heave a sigh. I'm tired, all the more so since this is rapidly becoming a white night. The last thing I want to deal with right now is one of Neelix's minor crises and major hyperbole.

I reach over for my jacket to tap the badge. "Janeway here," I say softly, keeping my voice low.

"Captain, you've got to get down to sickbay!" Neelix says urgently. "Seven of Nine, she- she fainted! In the mess hall!" Neelix's voice rises as he finishes, and I wince.

I hear the rustling and the soft grunt that always attends Chakotay's wakening, and shake my head. So much for not disturbing the poor man.

"I take it Seven's with the Doctor now," I say in my most soothing tone, with just enough Captainly authority to halt Neelix's near hysteria. At least, that's the idea.

Chakotay, eyes heavy with sleep, stumbles over to me. "Kathryn?"

"Captain?" Neelix's voice echoes, almost comically. He sounds startled and I stifle a groan.

"Yes, Neelix."

"Captain, there's something very wrong with Seven. She-she- her implants, they regenerated!"'

That gives me an unpleasant jolt. Until now, I've been convinced that Neelix is simply over-dramatizing, as usual. I swallow and put down my mug, the coffee turning sour in my mouth.

"Regenerated?" I repeat.

There's a pause. I hear a murmured conversation through the open comm link. I raise my eyebrows and look at Chakotay, who now appears considerably more alert.

"Captain," Neelix's voice says again. "I gotta go. Sam's just come in. Naomi's having nightmares."

"Tha- Oh." My brows fly up again and I shrug. "Janeway out," I murmur, more out of habit than anything else since Neelix has already deactivated the link.

"Kathryn?" Chakotay says again, rousing me from my reverie. He pushes a mug of steaming coffee- the real thing, this time- into my hand.

"Is there something wrong with Seven?"

I take a sip, and feel slightly better as my favourite form of organic suspension courses through me. I hadn't realised I was so cold. I clutch the cup and look up at my First Officer and partner. "Neelix says she collapsed in the mess hall," I explain softly. "There seems to be something wrong with her implants."

Chakotay looks concerned and I know it's as much for me as for our resident ex-Borg. "Are you going down there?"

I nod and take a final gulp of the coffee. Then I reach for my jacket and shrug it on. My hands are shaking, very slightly. Chakotay puts a hand out to brush my hair behind my ears, and he zips my jacket with a tenderness that brings tears to my eyes.

"Go to sickbay," he whispers. "I'll see you later."

I nod again and try to swallow my fear and smile. As I leave our quarters, I tap my badge and inform the Doctor that I'm on my way. He sounds relieved to hear my voice, even though he grunts when I tell him of my informant.

He meets me at the door of sickbay.

"I'm glad you're here," he says. He sounds uncharacteristically subdued. "Seven still hasn't regained consciousness. I wanted to wait until you got here before reviving her."

I glance at him and move towards my protégée, prone on the biobed. Her face is pale, and with those piercing eyes shut, she looks very young and very vulnerable. The Doctor jabs her neck with the hypospray and I lean over as Seven's lids begin to flutter.

"You lost consciousness in the Mess hall," I tell her she looks up at me questioningly. "Your body's begun to reject your implants."

Her eyes go wide, and she glances over at the Doctor.

He speaks gently. "I'm afraid it's a result of that glitch we found in your cortical node."

I look up at him. Glitch? What glitch? He does not meet my eyes, focusing instead on the young woman on the bed. His voice is still soft. "Apparently, it's more serious than we thought."

I don't like the sound of this, but I'm still not unduly worried. I look at Seven. The Doctor has become experienced in the ways of Borg implants over the past couple of years, but Seven is still our undisputed expert.

"The node is destabilising," our undisputed expert says, sounding rather like she's submitting a particularly boring sensor report.

The Doctor is gentle but implacable. "It's no longer able to regulate your implants. They're shutting down one by one."

Seven sits bolt upright at this, and for the first time, I see a glimmer of some emotion in her eyes. She swallows, and does her best to speak calmly.

"When you've disconnected implants in the past I've always adapted," she says, her tone daring the Doctor to disagree.

I see the Doctor shrug out of the corner of my eye, and I turn to look directly at him. His dark gaze is compassionate.

"Minor implants," he reminds Seven. "An assimilation tubule here, a few nanoprobes there- nothing crucial to your human physiology. These implants control your vital functions." Your vital human functions goes unsaid.

We could replace one, I think, or the other, but both? I turn my attention back to Seven. As usual, she's speaking the truth plainly, and I wince at her words and- even more- at her tone.

"Without my cortical node to regulate them, I'll die."

I see her swallow, and I know that my earlier impression of her vulnerability was not mistaken. All the same, in some part of me I'm relieved when she points out, with her customary arrogance, the adaptability of Borg technology.

That's the Seven we know and love, I think wryly. Confident. Assured.

"My cortical node will repair itself in time," she announces with finality. As far as she's concerned, the discussion is over.

She slides towards the edge of the bed, and the Doctor and I exchange glances. We both know that Seven has settled the situation in her own mind, and, if not stopped, will return blithely to Astrometrics and her usual routine. We can't allow her to do that. I nod at the Doctor and he takes the cue, but he sounds hesitant, unwilling, knowing what he's destroying.

"I don't think so, Seven. If anything, the deterioration is accelerating." He's as certain as she was a moment ago. Seven opens her mouth to argue, and I know it's time for me to intervene.

"You'll have to stay here for observation," I tell her gently, but with enough edge to force her to listen.

Seven remains her usual obstinate self. Her chin goes up a few millimetres, in a gesture I recognise. It's odd to see one of your own mannerisms in another, especially when that other is not a blood relative.

"I think I've been sufficiently observed," Seven insists. Almost as if she believes that if the problem is not spoken of, not addressed, then it will cease to exist.

I bite my lip and glance at the Doctor. "Would you excuse us, please?"

He huffs, but obeys the request. I move closer to Seven, invading her personal space deliberately and forcing her to maintain eye contact.

"I'm sorry for what's happening," I say forcefully. "You have every right to be angry, but that isn't going to help us solve this problem."

She's still adamant. "The node will correct itself," she repeats- but I know her well enough to detect the subtle but creeping uncertainty. I hate to push her into confronting that, but I don't think I've much choice.

"Suppose it doesn't, for the sake of argument," I say. Her face looks shuttered, and I cannot bear to destroy her optimism. She's so young- in more ways than one. I speak more gently. "Is it possible to replicate a new one?"

Something resembling despair and twisted pride flashes in her eyes for a moment and then is gone. "The technology is too complex."

I take a deep breath. I won't accept this. I won't let her die. She's come too far to give up on her now. A thought occurs to me.

"What if this had happened when you were part of the Collective?" I ask. "How would the Borg have repaired the damage?"

Seven drops her head, refusing to meet my eyes. "They wouldn't have," she admits. "Trying to repair a node would be a futile exercise. The Borg would simply replace it."

I stare at her for a long moment as an idea begins to form.