AN: Here we are, another piece here. (Also, my apologies to anyone who likes short stories, that's not my forte, and that's absolutely not my plan. My plan is to spend a lot more time with the Musiker Collective. LOL)
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
"Well?" Seven asked, standing at attention.
"I told you that you were going to look adorable," Raffi said. Seven was amused, and that was evident in a slight shifting of her features, but she was already smiling, so that didn't change.
"You said that I would look adorable pregnant," Seven said. "I do not appear pregnant."
"I said that you would look adorable pregnant," Raffi echoed. "And you're pregnant, and you're adorable."
She closed the short distance between them, took Seven's face in her hands and pulled her in for a kiss. Closing her eyes, she savored the taste of this one perfect moment—perfect moments got lost, sometimes, in the so-many not-perfect moments of the day, but they deserved to be savored when they could be.
Seven's smile returned the moment that the kiss broke and Raffi's heart ached over how beautiful that smile was—how much she loved it, and loved seeing it.
"These are a vast improvement over the style when I was pregnant," Raffi said, stepping a half-step back to admire the uniform that Seven was wearing. She wanted to draw this moment out as long as possible. She wanted to prolong Seven's excitement over something as simple as putting on clothes that, for her, confirmed that they were truly expecting their little one. Baby Musiker was tiny, but thriving.
"Maybe you should carry our second one," Seven said. "You could even start now, and the babies would be closer together."
Raffi laughed to herself.
"I think you're doing just fine," Raffi said. "Besides—they can't harvest your eggs while you're pregnant."
"After, then," Seven said.
"You want to know the truth?" Raffi asked.
"I have never wanted anything different," Seven told her.
"I never wanted to carry our children," Raffi said. "From the moment we started talking about it, I knew that I would, if I had to, but I felt like that wasn't how it was supposed to be. Now? I know this is exactly how it's supposed to be. Especially seeing you like this. Seven—you're glowing. They always say that women are glowing when they're pregnant. I never was. But you? You are—amazing."
"I believe your assessment of my appearance may be biased," Seven teased.
"Absolutely not," Raffi said. "I just know perfection when I see it. Now—let me see this panel." She slipped her hand under the jacket of the maternity uniform to find the stretchy fabric of the uniform beneath. She pressed her hand to Seven's abdomen. "Does it feel good?"
"You touching me feels—incredible," Seven said. Raffi felt her face grow warm at the change in Seven's voice and demeanor.
"As soon as we're off duty tonight," Raffi said, "I'll do all the touching I can before you start your regeneration cycle. I meant is the uniform comfortable."
"I am very comfortable," Seven assured her.
They might have gone on talking a few minutes more, but the chirp of Raffi's combadge interrupted their conversation.
"Chakotay to Musiker."
"Musiker here. I'm sorry. I'm on the way."
"Do you have Seven with you?" Chakotay asked.
Raffi made a face at Seven to ask her if she might know what the question was about. In response, she got a shrug and an expression that made it clear that Seven knew no more than she did.
"She's here," Raffi said. "She hasn't gone to Astrometrics yet. We were about to leave."
"Tell her not to go to Astrometrics," Chakotay said. "We need both of you in Conference Room 1. Meet me there as soon as possible."
Raffi acknowledged Chakotay's request and ended the connection.
"What do you suppose is happening?" Seven asked.
"I don't know," Raffi said. "But—order a hypospray before we go. Just in case, you might as well top up on everything. I'm sure that today's been stressful enough that the one you took this morning won't make it much longer."
Seven was amused by that, her general good mood carrying over, and she quickly did what Raffi suggested. She smoothed her uniform down, afterwards, and quickly came to catch Raffi by the hand before she could leave their quarters. This time, it was Seven who held Raffi's face. She held intense eye contact with Raffi.
"I need you to listen to me," Seven said.
"I'm listening," Raffi assured her.
"I am Borg…"
"Is that a revelation to me?" Raffi teased, interrupting her. Seven laughed quietly.
"What I want to say, Raf, is that I am Borg. I don't know many of the people on this ship. Astrometrics has been a perfect place to learn that I make people uncomfortable by simply existing."
"Because they're ignorant, and they don't know you," Raffi said. Seven looked at her tenderly, and she nodded her head.
"I am wearing a maternity uniform," Seven said with a laugh. "And—I am certain that I am going to get plenty of attention until I manage to get to know everyone on this ship—an impossible feat, perhaps, given the size of the ship and the number of people aboard. Raf—what I'm trying to say is that…I'm prepared for the ways that people look at me, and the things that people say to me. You don't have to rescue me, especially not at the risk of being punished."
"Understood," Raffi said after a second. "But I don't like it. And—I have to point that out."
"If you must say something, do so professionally," Seven said.
"Understood," Raffi repeated. She hated to see the smile gone for a moment. She smiled at Seven. "Seven…you still look adorable."
Seven laughed.
"We should go," Seven said, pulling Raffi with her to leave their quarters. "Otherwise—we'll be seeing how adorable I look scrubbing out Jefferies tubes."
They both moved quickly through the corridors, onto the turbolift, and all the way to the large conference room that Chakotay had indicated. As soon as they stepped into the conference room, Raffi came to full attention, and Seven assumed the position that she normally took, which was something akin to her own version of civilian attention. They were immediately told to be at ease.
Because this mission was important to Starfleet as both a diplomatic mission and a research mission, they had pulled out all the stops on the construction of the Soñador. It was what many Starfleet people wouldn't hesitate to call a luxury ship. Designed to entertain large groups of whatever beings they may encounter in the Delta Quadrant, and to make sure they were comfortable and rightfully impressed with the Federation, the ship had a great many amenities and spaces that were made to impress.
In addition, Starfleet had put a decent number of scientists aboard the ship to carry out research in a number of areas related to the Delta Quadrant. The scientific advances that they hoped to make in medicine, technology, and anthropology, based on everything they experienced and learned in the Delta Quadrant, were admirable, to say the least. These scientists and researchers—especially since many were not enlisted in Starfleet and were, instead, simply working alongside Starfleet scientists, expected a certain level of comfort, and the Soñador was definitely ready to deliver.
The conference rooms were some of the rooms that Raffi thought of as very "plush." The large, polished tables were impressive. For conference rooms, the chairs were large and comfortable. This one was no different than any of the other two she'd been in and out of while helping Chakotay with some of the day-to-day work that came with their mission.
This conference room was already pretty full, as well. Several people—though not everyone—stood when Raffi and Seven entered the room, but they were all seated now except for Chakotay. He beckoned them both over toward two empty chairs. Raffi sat, but Seven didn't for the moment. She was immediately engaged in conversation with Chakotay, and the two of them seemed to find it more comfortable to stand for the time being.
"We've been in communication with this planet," Chakotay said to Seven—and, really, it seemed, only to Seven. He brought up a visual for her on the conference room screen. "We have exchanged early communications with the individual who identifies himself as the leader of the planet's government, but the planet and the people don't show up in our databases."
"Meaning that it was never a planet or species with which Voyager had contact," Janeway offered from her seat at the table.
"Isn't that the point of the mission?" Raffi asked. "To—seek out new life and new civilizations? To bring more species and civilizations to join the Federation?"
Chakotay brought up another image.
"It is," he said. "However, we were hoping that you—Seven—might be able to shed a little light on this species so that we have a better idea of what we're going into."
Seven seemed to understand what he was asking. She glanced around the table, and then her face took on a neutral expression.
"That individual is a part of the Eldinian species," Seven said. "Species 312. The planet is called Dorchat IV. The home planet of the Eldinians was overtaken by another species—the Lograns. As you can imagine, the Eldinians have had some warp capability for a long time, though their technological advances slowed considerably once they were more or less isolated. Dorchat IV is an M class planet with a mostly desert composition. It has often been considered undesirable by any species that is not native, and the Eldinians found it mostly unpopulated. Their species survives primarily by scavenging, though they do spend a great deal of their energy on maintaining the water supply, and there have been some necessary advances in the area of food production. As drones, they were good workers and, due to their body composition, which is somewhat akin to an Earth's rodent, they were more suitable for jobs requiring the movement in and out of tight spaces. They have limited strength without Borg enhancement, but remarkable flexibility and dexterity, which they mostly maintained even after assimilation."
"They want to meet peaceably to discuss joining the Federation, Seven," Janeway said from her seat. She didn't have to ask the rest of the question. Seven understood what she was being asked.
"They are a peaceful race," Seven said. "They are not interested in conflict. They would benefit greatly from an alliance with the Federation. However, they would have very little to offer the Federation in return."
"The gain of wealth and resources, of course, is not the Federation's primary goal," Picard offered.
"They will have information about their species to offer," Seven said. "Perhaps some advancement in their production practices and their water conservation efforts."
"Thank you, Seven," Chakotay said. "Have a seat, if you'd like. You're excused from any duties in Astrometrics for the day. We thought your services might be more valuable here. Stay and discuss the meeting we'll arrange with them, just in case we have any follow-up questions."
"This is fascinating," a voice said, practically cutting Chakotay off and drawing the attention of everyone there. "Absolutely fascinating."
The man who was speaking was one that Raffi had seen and met before. Of course, she'd seen and met so many people since arriving on the ship that she couldn't keep any of them straight unless they were frequently in her presence—and that either meant that they were very important to the running of the ship or, in many cases, were problematic and often in trouble.
This man was in civilian clothing and something about his appearance—slightly disheveled despite the fact that he was attempting to wear some of the latest styles of dress-casual clothing—gave Raffi the feeling that he was one of Starfleet's chosen researchers. She recognized her views were stereotypical, but she still didn't doubt her assessment. He was a member of a species that Raffi recognized, but didn't know by name. The only thing that actively distinguished the species from humans, at least at first glance, was the presence of somewhat cone-shaped ears and an upward curve to the tip of their noses.
The man was on his feet and making his way around the table with visible enthusiasm. As he approached Seven, he held out his hand in a gesture to shake hands. Seven hesitated a second, but she followed through with the handshake.
"Absolutely fascinating," he marveled again, holding onto Seven's hand a little too familiarly for Raffi's tastes. "You are actually a Borg drone."
"No," Seven said. "I am not. I am Borg, but I am an individual. I was severed from the Collective."
"Seven of Nine. Everyone knows who you are," he said.
"And, yet, I remain wholly unaware of who you are," Seven said. She gave him a smile, but as someone familiar with her smiles, Raffi didn't believe this one for a moment.
Chakotay stood up and cleared his throat. He put a hand on the shoulder of the man as though, perhaps, to ground him while he looked at Seven with a somewhat dreamy look on his face—like someone meeting their childhood hero for the first time.
"Seven—this is Dr. Artemul Spalen," Chakotay said. "He is one of the experts on the Delta Quadrant."
"And yet—you've never been here before," Seven offered.
Raffi stifled a laugh by pretending to cough into her hand. She didn't dare to make eye contact with anyone else, because she knew that if she caught Picard or Janeway also covering over amusement, she would laugh and, by insulting one of the obviously important researchers on the mission, would probably get herself some kind of humiliating punishment. Seven, at least, couldn't be demoted, even though she could be asked—though not actually ordered—to do something to make up for her poor behavior.
"This is an amazing opportunity," Dr. Spalen said. He was entirely unbothered by Seven's comments, and Raffi wondered if it was just that he was so intrigued by her, or was it simply that he wasn't able to understand her true meaning behind things. "I'm an anthropologist, and I've been fascinated with the Delta Quadrant since before Voyager's first reports arrived in the Alpha Quadrant. We had very little knowledge of the quadrant prior to Voyager's time there, but I've consumed everything I can about it. Absolutely everything. I find it fascinating." He reached and took Seven's left hand in his hand. She snatched it back—though she tried to do so as politely as possible, and tucked it behind her back. "I'm sorry," he said, far too cheerfully to really mean it. He was still holding Seven's other hand like a tether, though he'd transferred her right hand over to his left, so that it looked like he either planned to slow dance with her or keep her from running away. He reached his hand up and touched her ocular implant.
"I beg your pardon!" Seven said sharply.
Raffi jumped and sat up straight in her chair, and she wasn't the only one. Seven's left hand, once tucked behind her back, quickly caught his wrist and made it clear that he had no more permission to touch her. The look on her face, if he had any doubts, clarified the meaning of her gesture. Raffi could see on his face that he was surprised and, given the strength of Seven's grip, uncomfortable.
"My apologies," he said quickly. He may have been sincere, but panic was all that was really clear in his tone. Raffi felt the urge, inside of her, to offer her assistance, but she was fully aware that Seven didn't need it.
Seven allowed Raffi to take care of her. She didn't require it.
Chakotay put his hand on Dr. Spalen's shoulder, but Raffi noticed that not even Chakotay made a move toward Seven—not with that expression on her face.
"I meant no harm," Dr. Spalen said, cheerful even with the panic in his voice. "I only find your situation fascinating. As an anthropologist, I've studied all the accounts of everyone who has temporarily been linked to the Borg Collective. All of them, as you must know, have been restored to their pre-Borg state. The opportunity to study an unrestored Borg drone is immeasurable in my field."
Seven released him, but she also took two steps back from him, clearly putting physical distance between them.
"I am no longer a drone," she said. "I am Borg, but I am an xB, and there are others."
"I've never had contact with any," Dr. Spalen said with a half-hearted shrug.
"There are—admittedly fewer now," Seven said. She hesitated, and then spoke again. "I may be the only one now."
"Our understanding of the Borg may lead to more drones being set-free from the Collective and restored," Dr. Spalen said hopefully.
Seven visibly relaxed, and everyone else seemed to follow suit, reading her cues carefully. Chakotay relaxed, and so did Dr. Spalen. Dr. Spalen raised his hands in a somewhat universal sign of surrender.
"May I ask what percentage of your physiology is still Borg?" He asked.
Seven glanced around quickly and a little uncomfortably.
"You may not," she said.
"Are all of your implants functional?" He asked. "The information that you were able to tell us about the Eldinians—how do you store and access all that information? Is that separate from your memories as a human? Do you access the information differently? Is it an active or a passive action?"
Raffi noticed that Seven, even though she quickly scanned the others in the room, had relaxed as long as Dr. Spalen wasn't attempting to touch her without her permission.
"You have a lot of questions," Seven said.
"I have so many questions!" He said with enthusiasm.
"I am not comfortable answering them here," Seven said. "Not in this situation. It is not the correct moment."
"Dinner, then? Whatever—social situation you prefer," he offered. "Some of my colleagues would be fascinated with this information as well—the opportunity to understand everything we've only speculated about before."
"Perhaps we can arrange a gathering of sorts," Seven said. "I would be willing to entertain some of your questions at that time—as a collected group."
"A Collective to study the Borg," Dr. Spalen said, clearly amused at his own joke. Raffi thought she saw the slightest rise of amusement out of Seven.
"Label the gathering as you wish," she offered.
"I could arrange it," Dr. Spalen said. "When?"
"A week or even two," Seven said. "Take your time to collect your thoughts."
"That would be wonderful!" Dr. Spalen said. He offered a hand out to shake Seven's, again, and she looked at his hand for a long moment before she offered hers. This time, he didn't take any liberties beyond shaking her hand and patting it affectionately with the other.
"We can absolutely arrange for a location to be made available. In the meantime," Chakotay said, putting his hand on Dr. Spalen's shoulder again, "let's discuss our contact proposal for the Eldinians. We should be in range of Dorchat IV within twenty-four hours."
Chakotay escorted Dr. Spalen halfway back to his seat, and Raffi stood, pulling Seven's chair out for her. Seven thanked her, and Raffi sat beside her. Seven made eye contact with her and held it. Raffi sensed that she was asking her something—perhaps if she agreed with what Seven had chosen to do. Raffi gave her a soft smile to let her know that she simply supported her—no matter what—and she casually moved her hand, under the table, to rest it on Seven's leg for a moment. They both turned their attention to Chakotay and his discussion with Janeway and Picard about their thoughts for entertaining the Eldinians and inviting them to join the Federation.