"What do you want to do?" (Seven & Borg Children, OC)
When Seven had first informed her foster-children that Azan's and Rebi's biological family had been found, Mezoti was determined not to trust them. The last time this had happened, Icheb had barely escaped a second assimilation. He still had nightmares about what Leucon and Yifay had done to him. Mezoti would not let this happen to her other brothers.
So far, though, shore leave on Wysanto was turning out like nothing she had expected.
"Come and have a look."
Mela, the twins' grandmother, beckoned with one gloved hand. She was draped head-to-toe in protective netting, and had politely insisted her guests do the same. Slowly, all six of them approached the wooden boxes at the back of the garden.
Mezoti had thought she knew gardens - she'd spent enough time in Voyager's Aeroponics bay - but a real, planetside garden was something very different. The air brushed her face softly through the netting, and the smells of metal and fuel were suddenly gone. All she could smell was plants and earth, and as for the sky above her head, she'd never seen so much blue in all her life.
She was so distracted, she almost didn't notice their hostess opening the boxes until the buzzing began.
"Flowerflies," the twins breathed in unison.
The insects flying in and out of the hive shimmered in the sunlight like tiny jewels. When one of them landed on a bush near Mezoti and dived headfirst into a big yellow flower, she could see that its transparent wings turned yellow to match the petals.
Mezoti loved insects. There was something deeply reassuring about watching a swarm of creatures work together in complex but logical patterns for a common purpose; like the Borg, only small enough that she could carry their entire structure in her hands, and none of them could hurt her as long as she was careful. She kept an ant farm on Voyager, but seeing these flowerflies in their very own garden was something else. She'd always known that insects were efficient. She'd never known how beautiful they were.
"That's right." Mela smiled. Underneath the gear, she had the same brown eyes that they had, and they crinkled up the same way. "I bring honey to the local farmer's market every double moon."
"One of them stung me once," Rebi said, staying a few steps away and rubbing his hands together. "My hand swelled up - "
"I heard him crying," Azan chimed in, moving to stand beside his brother. "So I ran over - "
"You picked me up, pulled out the sting and put honey over it and it didn't hurt as much anymore."
"And you said, don't blame them. They only sting when they're scared."
The twins looked at each other, then up at their grandmother, with tentative smiles. Seven's face, which had been stern throughout the whole tour, softened just a little. Icheb watched the flowerflies darting over their heads, hands in his pockets, face still unreadable. Mezoti could relate to those creatures; she, too, stung when she was scared. She wondered if this woman would be as patient with ex-Borg drones as she apparently was with insects.
Mela nodded. "That's why we always wear this now, you see," she said, gesturing to the netting with a somewhat self-conscious look in Seven's direction. "I'm surprised you boys remember that. You were so little."
"We are Borg," Azan said matter-of-factly. "We were programmed with total recall."
"Oh … yes, well." Mela twisted her gloved hands in front of her for a moment, then cleared her throat, as if swallowing some strong emotion. "I wouldn't know much about that, I'm afraid."
"You are not familiar with the Borg Collective?" asked Seven.
"Only what you told me in your messages, miss. I'd never heard of them before. My … my son and daughter-in-law," Mela faltered and pulled herself back together with visible effort, "Signed up for a generation ship, you see. They went further out than any of our people have before … or since."
"The Collective is constantly expanding," Seven retorted flatly. "They may reach this system sooner than you think, and attempt to assimilate your entire population. It would be prudent for your people to set up defenses in advance. These two can be useful tactical assets. Are you prepared to turn them over to your military to deploy them as such?"
Icheb's eyes narrowed as Seven spoke. He did not look away from Mela for a second.
"Excuse me?" The old woman recoiled. "You don't expect me to do that, do you? Defenses, yes, by all means, but keep my grandsons out of it. They're children."
"We're not - " Azan spoke up indignantly, but Rebi elbowed him to shut him up.
"Correct," said Seven.
The knot of tension that had been building in Mezoti's stomach unraveled at once, and judging by the slump of Icheb's shoulders, he felt the same way.. She didn't really believe Seven had been about to let the twins be used as weapons, not exactly … but then, they hadn't expected that from the Brunali either.
"Well, I must say," Mela snapped. "If you have questions about me as a parent, I'd appreciate it if you asked me straight out. I'm too old for playing games like this."
She was a tiny old woman, especially with her voluminous brown-and-gray curls stuffed under her protective gear, but when she glowered up at Seven, the younger woman looked away first.
"I apologize. The last people who applied for custody of one of these children were not fit for the task. I am only prepared to hand them over if I can be certain of their welfare."
Seven and Icheb shared a look over the younger children's heads that, Mezoti knew, meant the same as if she'd put her arm around him. Not fit for the task was an understatement when it came to Leucon and Yifay.
"I would never knowingly do anything to hurt these children," said Mela, her glare softening. "That, I believe, is one thing we have in common. I can see that you care about them very much."
"I do." Seven's tone was matter-of-fact as always, but that was the first time Mezoti could remember her ever saying it out loud.
"Now, look," said Mela, putting one glove on the younger woman's arm, "We don't have to decide anything right away. Stay here as long as it takes until we can settle on what's best for them. How's that?"
Seven paused for a moment, then nodded. "Acceptable."
"Seven?" Icheb spoke up for the first time. "I have a lesson scheduled with the Doctor for fifteen hundred hours. It is now fourteen-fifty. May I return to the ship?"
"You may," said Seven, explaining to Mela with quiet pride: "Icheb is training to become a Starfleet officer."
"Oh my." Mela's eyes widened. "Well, I mustn't keep you from your lessons, young man. It's been a pleasure."
She formed two circles with her hands in front of her, the same Wysanti greeting in honor of the binary moons that she had shown them when they first arrived. Icheb returned the gesture as best he could.
"Be careful with them, ma'am," he said gravely. "And you two, behave yourselves. Icheb to Voyager, one to beam up."
He shot Azan and Rebi an elder-brotherly look before tapping his commbadge and dematerializing. They rolled their eyes, but not as much as they might otherwise have done.
"And what about you, young lady?" Mela smiled down at Mezoti with surprising warmth, considering Mezoti hadn't said a word to her all afternoon. "Will you be an officer too, someday?"
"I'm nine," she blurted out, startled by the absurdity of her taking the Starfleet entrance exam with Icheb (although with her Borg knowledge, she could probably pass it if she tried).
"I did say someday," Mela corrected good-naturedly. "You're all so dignified, it's not easy to guess your age."
"I'm going to be an entomologist."
"Oh, how lovely! You've come to the right place, then. Watch."
The older woman held out one hand and stood perfectly still, so still that her blinking eyes and slow breaths were the only sign that she was still alive. Sure enough, a flowerfly landed right on the tip of her outstretched finger. Its wings, folding and unfolding around its body, turned the same dusty light blue as her protective suit.
Mezoti had a million questions, but the beauty and fragility of this tiny creature left her speechless.
The flowerfly flew off, and they both watched it go. When Mezoti looked up at Mela, she found that the older woman was smiling.
"What I meant to ask was, do you have lessons scheduled too?" she said. "Because if not, you're welcome to stay for the afternoon."
"It is your choice, Mezoti," Seven added. "What do you want to do?"
Mezoti thought about it for a long moment. On the one hand, Icheb would be lonely, and lessons with the Doctor were always fun … but on the other hand, Azan and Rebi needed watching. Someone had to warn Seven if Mela turned against them after all. Besides, she didn't want to leave this garden for a gray, metallic starship, even Voyager. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
"I want to stay," she said.