This is my first attempt at a slightly bonkers Voyager story. Several revisions later, I'm still not sure what I think of it. The inspiration comes from a friend's description of her father's preventative tactics with her accident prone sister. Thanks, Mary! As always, reviews are much appreciated.
"Doctor!"
The EMH raised his head in surprise at the barely restrained hint of- could it be panic?- in Seven of Nine's voice. Panic was not something the former drone did often. It was an emotion, and therefore inefficient. Wasn't it?
"I require advice," Seven said. She pulled her small companion forward, and the Doctor restrained a smile. Naomi Wildman had evidently been influenced by the rest of the crew's sickbay-shyness, and she hung behind the older woman, large eyes fixed distrustfully on the Doctor.
"How may my wisdom benefit you today, Seven?" the Doctor asked, not altogether flippantly.
Seven's brows- both human and Borg- drew together in a rare frown. "It is Naomi Wildman," she announced. "She-"
"I can see that!" the Doctor interjected.
Behind Seven, Naomi rolled her eyes.
"-is inefficient. She keeps falling over."
It was the Doctor's turn to roll his eyes. "Seven, Naomi's a child. Children fall over. It's a fact of life."
Seven's implant rose. "Borg children do not fall over!"
"Borg children don't do a lot of things," the Doctor muttered sotto voce. Seven glared. He cleared his throat. "Ah. Well. Falling over. We can't have that, can we? Did you hurt yourself, Miss Wildman?"
"No!" Naomi squeaked, rather desperately.
Seven transferred her glare from the Doctor to the child. "Naomi Wildman, that is untrue. You have a bump on the head which measures exactly six millimetres in height, a bruise on your elbow, a stubbed toe, a cut on your knee, a-"
"Alright, that's enough, Seven! I get the picture! Naomi, be a good girl and sit on a biobed for me and we'll patch you up good as new!"
"Will it hurt?" the half Ktarian asked anxiously.
The Doctor beamed in what he obviously believed was a reassuring manner. No-one had had the heart to tell him he looked more like a cannibal sizing up his latest dinner. Naomi shrank a little. The Doctor toned down his grin by a couple of gigawatts, and produced his regenerator. The look of fear on Naomi's face vanished.
"Can I do it?"
"That would be inefficient," Seven intoned.
"Right on cue," the Doctor muttered. "Of course you can, Naomi. Now look, here's what you do-"
"Doctor, this is a waste of time! You could complete the task with greater speed and eff-"
"Don't say it!" groaned Doctor and patient in tandem.
"Efficiency," Seven finished, sublimely unaware of their joint protest.
A second groan later, and Voyager's only child was once again sound in body. With a cheerful grin of thanks to the Doctor, she slipped off the biobed and padded across the room to Seven.
"Now can we finish our game?"
Seven looked down her nose at the little girl. "That would not be wise, Naomi. You could get injured again. I do not wish to return you to Ensign Wildman in an imperfect state."
Naomi shrugged. "She's used to it. Pleeeeeeeease?" She pouted, as only short, red-headed children with big eyes can.
Seven blinked. Then she transferred her gaze to the Doctor. "Doctor?"
Annoyingly, the Doctor emulated Naomi's shrug. "Seven, as I said earlier, Naomi's a ch- er, growing up. Tripping, falling, and knocking oneself is part of that. It's how children learn to er- look before they leap, to coin a phrase."
Seven was unamused. "You did not coin it, Doctor, and falling over is inefficient. There must be some way that-"
"Oh for pity's sake! I haven't time for this! Naomi will live; if she doesn't, you can bring her here. After years on this ship, Samantha is quite accustomed to the range of bumps and bruises her daughter acquires. If it bothers you that much, bandage her!" With that, the Doctor returned to his beloved experiments and turned his back on his visitors, who left shortly after.
One looked totally dismayed. The other appeared pensive
.
Three hours into the afternoon shift, Captain Kathryn Janeway and her First Officer marched along Voyager's corridors on their way to the mess hall, discussing crew evaluations all the while.
"I think it's time you promoted Harry," Chakotay suggested half-heartedly.
Janeway shook her head. "I don't think so, Chakotay. I prefer my lieutenants to stay alive!"
"Now Kathryn, don't- hey, did you see that?"
"H'mm?" The Captain glanced up from the padd she was squinting at. Strangely, the things had been getting harder and harder to read lately, and she was desperate to avoid a trip to sickbay.
Chakotay shook his head, looking bemused. "I could have sworn--. Hang on!" Slinking with a steadiness that would have done Kolopak's heart proud, the big man sidled up to the T-junction of the corridor and peered around it.
His shoulders stiffened, and Janeway, intrigued, let her padd (and her eyesight) take care of themselves and sidled up alongside him. "Commander?" she whispered.
The big shoulders began to shake.
"Commander!"
Recognising the sound of a mildly irritated captain, Chakotay glanced at her, his eyes dancing and dimple well in evidence. He put his finger to his lips and pointed.
With a caution equal to his, and a curiosity much more avid, the Captain followed his example- and found herself nose-to-nose with a small figure whose only distinctive features were her barely visible forehead spikes and the red-gold hair that flowed down her swathed back.
Janeway gasped.
"Captain?"
She managed to tear her eyes away from the child before her, and glanced up at her protégée.
Seven came as close to smirking as she ever could. "I believe this is an effective method of preventing injury due to the accidents that, according to the Doctor, all children experience as part of the maturation process."
Chakotay, who had turned a becoming shade of rich purple, nodded solemnly. "Of course, Seven. Very logical."
Seven's stiff shoulders relaxed. He gaze flickered to her mentor who was still standing speechless.
"Captain?" the former drone ventured once again.
Janeway blinked, gulped, and swallowed. "Er-" she began.
Seven frowned. "Are you incapacitated, Captain?"
"Er- yes. No! I mean, no, Seven, I'm absolutely fine."
"Do you agree with my actions?" Seven asked, almost anxiously.
Janeway's sense of humour was starting to get the better of her. She bit her lip. Hard.
Seven watched the glistening drop of blood form on her Captain's lip with dismay.
A muffled sound came from Naomi.
"What was that, Naomi?" Chakotay asked, commendably keeping his voice level.
"Teh te Cabtain to be capul or Seben bill band er too."
"What did she say?" Chakotay asked, as adults always do when children are incomprehensible.
Seven sniffed. "She said 'tell the Captain to be careful, or Seven will bandage her too.'"
Chakotay nodded. "H'mm. I see. Very wise. You have clever assistant here, Kathryn." At that point he made the mistake of catching Janeway's eye- and she lost her composure, which in turn set him off, and the Command Team dissolved into hysterics.
The former drone and her companion watched them with wide eyes.
"I don't understand," Seven complained at last.
Janeway wiped both streaming eyes and bleeding lip. She stepped closer to Naomi and circumvented the child, her eyes taking in every detail. Finally, she stepped back.
"Very impressive, Seven," she said in her best Captain's Voice. "That's the finest example of non-ancient mummification I've ever seen. Don't you agree, Commander?"
"Absolutely!" Chakotay agreed piously, although his eyes were wicked.
Janeway patted Naomi on the head. "Of course," she continued, "if the object was to prevent Naomi from hurting herself, I'd say you succeeded admirably. She can't move, I'm surprised she can see, and she certainly can't talk!"
"Candalk,Cabtain!" Naomi objected.
"See?" The Captain nodded, took her First Officer's arm, and started to resume her walk. Then she halted mid-step and turned to eye her crew-members. "Mummification. Ingenious. Seven, I'll remember that strategy the next time you and B'Elanna beat each other up in the Mess Hall!"
With that, she departed, leaving behind her one melting mummy, and one very worried drone.
Out of the corner of her eye, Seven had seen the the amazed face of Tom Paris, taking in the whole scene. Tom, Seven knew, was practiced disseminator of gossip. Perhaps, she mused, it would be as well to practice her own preventative techniques before she next encountered Lieutenant Torres.
Satisfied, the former Borg nodded to herself. She would do that. After all, avoiding injury was efficient, and if the Captain protested- well, it had been Janeway's own suggestion!
For the second time in one day, Seven's lips quirked in a definite smirk.
-end.