AN: Here we are, another piece to this one.
I hope you enjoy the chapter! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
Raffi almost wondered if she felt more nervous than Seven did. It had been one week since Dr. Spalen had devoted himself to setting up a night for his colleagues, and anyone else who wanted to join, to grill Seven on her very existence. Of course, he worded his intentions differently, but Raffi's stomach just couldn't seem to hear anything except her understanding of things. During that week, Seven had been more relaxed because Janeway had moved her, for the most part, out of Astrometrics and into a role that she called "Guidance and Assistance." In short, Janeway had made Seven her assistant and, by extension, had put her in a position where she could freely be asked for advice on their future plans in the mission—her expertise in the species of the Delta Quadrant was being given positive credit. Raffi was happy to see Seven move positions, especially for the time being, because it put her spending more time with the Alpha team bridge crew—most of which were her old friends from Voyager—and it put her spending a lot less time in Astrometrics with a primarily learning group of cadets that apparently gawked at her like they expected her to suddenly begin to perform magic tricks.
During the week, Voyager had also moved in range of the Eldinians on Dorchat IV, and they would be meeting with them the following evening in a social gathering, in accordance with the Eldinians' preference. They had also located and considered attempting contact with two other species in the coming weeks—their decisions fueled by Seven's knowledge of the species and her recommendations about how it was best to proceed.
In Raffi's opinion, Seven's knowledge was much more invaluable than that offered by the whole team of researchers that Starfleet had allowed to join the mission, but she kept her mouth shut at least half of the time to keep from being too abrasive. Seven, for her part, was very gracious every time she dealt with the researchers that Raffi found, for the most part, nearly intolerable.
The best thing about this night, really, was probably the amount of support that Seven had seen from those who did care about her. Nearly everyone who knew Seven personally had found some kind of pretense to come by their quarters, wish Seven luck, and otherwise offer their support. Each had promised that they would either be in the gathering or, if they were unable to attend, would listen to it, since it was being offered as something of a ship-wide broadcast for those on duty stations that weren't able to attend it live.
"You're sure you don't want to change?" Raffi asked, pressing Seven's hypospray to her neck while Seven finished arranging her hair.
"Do I look unpresentable?" Seven asked.
"You look beautiful," Raffi said. "But—you can wear a dress, if you want—or even something more comfortable. You're not required to be in uniform. That hypo should be able to get you through this whole fiasco without needing anything else, as long as things don't get too out of control."
Seven smiled at Raffi in the mirror.
"Thank you," Seven said. "I prefer the uniform for tonight, Raf."
Raffi nodded. She thought she understood. The uniform, maybe, carried with it some feeling of power. Seven wasn't officially Starfleet, but she had been given permission to wear a Starfleet uniform. With the uniform came certain feelings and emotions. If she wanted to harness the confidence of that, and the happiness that she still found in her maternity uniform, then Raffi wasn't going to argue. Instead, she straightened Seven's collar and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
"You look incredible," she said. She winked at her. "And Baby M looks good. I think they're showing off a little more today. Did you notice? If you need to escape for a minute, just think that tomorrow we get to have a little scan and see how they're doing."
"I have already informed Admiral Janeway that I will need the time off for our scheduled appointment," Seven said.
"Listen, Seven, I promised that I'll try to stay out of things tonight, but…if you need me…"
Seven pulled Raffi toward her and took the last of her words in a kiss. It was the kind of kiss, honestly, that had Raffi desiring, even more, to call off the conversation. She would rather stay in their quarters and share kisses like this with her wife than sit through what she'd worried about all week—a simple conversation had already sent her to sickbay, once, to get something to keep her stomach settled.
"If I feel uncomfortable, I will look to you," Seven assured Raffi. She smiled at her, and Raffi's stomach felt unsettled again—this time, thankfully with butterflies instead of some pretty severe indigestion. "For—it is in you, that I find my comfort."
"Now we're going to have to tell those assholes that you're a Borg poet," Raffi teased. Seven laughed, and hugged her, resting her head on Raffi's shoulder for a moment. Raffi let her stay there until she decided that it was time to go. After all, Raffi didn't give a damn if they arrived late or, even, not at all.
Janeway chose to be the one to welcome everyone to the talk. The mess hall had been cleared and turned into a large gathering room for anyone who wanted to come in and out during the conversation. Anyone could ask questions, but it was clear that this primarily for the researchers with the option for others to listen in as they pleased. In one area, it seemed, everyone who wasn't working and could be there to support Seven was gathered. Elnor wasn't in attendance, thanks to a duty assignment, but he had called Seven on her combadge before they arrived to tell her that he was listening, and his simple show of support had brought a tear to Seven's eye.
There was also the group of people who were there specifically for their research, as evidenced by the presence of a great many PADDs for recording information. Dr. Crusher was there, too. As a person chosen to do research on the mission, she was technically doing research, but Raffi noticed that she'd chosen to sit with those who practically seemed designated as Seven's supporters, and she'd spoken quietly to Seven before everything started with what Raffi assumed was reassurance.
After Janeway introduced Seven, and Seven thanked her for giving the background information that she did, which mostly included a declaration of how valuable Seven had always been as a crewmember and friend, Seven poured herself a glass of the water that someone had put out for her in a pitcher, and she let everyone know that she was willing to get started. Raffi pulled her own chair up and away from the crowd, placing herself closer to Seven.
Dr. Spalen and his colleagues were the primary question askers, obviously planning to take turns as they had things to ask, but Dr. Spalen was the one who seemed most likely to voice any thought that came into his mind—no matter how inappropriate.
"You can drink?" He asked, when Seven swallowed some of the water. She looked amused. Raffi caught her eyes as they flicked in her direction. From Seven's expression, she could see it wasn't a "rescue me" expression nearly as much as it was an "apology." She'd been given permission to speak absolutely in this gathering, and maybe she was going to take it. Seven cleared her throat and put down the glass.
"I am human," Seven said. "I have normal bodily functions, Dr. Spalen. I can eat, drink, expel waste—and have sexual relations, in case you wish to ask that, as a human. I am required to intake nutrients in order to survive. I am required to rest. I am Seven Musiker, and I wish to be quoted as Seven Musiker in any of the resulting research that is published from this discussion. I am married to Raffaela Musiker, but I usually call her Raffi or Raf." Raffi smiled at Seven, and Seven quickly winked at her, smiling in response. "I—have an adopted son. Elnor Musiker is a cadet aboard this ship. He has a duty shift at the moment, but he'll be listening, if he isn't able to listen now. I—have friends. They're here, in attendance. Most of them are, at least, though others are on duty shifts. I am Borg, but I am human, too."
"Are you still attached to the Collective at all?" A young woman asked.
"I have been severed from the Collective," Seven said. "I am an individual."
"Do you still have access to the same information that you knew?" The woman asked. "Or—do you lack memories of your time with the Collective?"
Seven visibly relaxed.
"I possess memories," she said. "I have lost none of the information that I had while joined to the Collective. I do not, however, acquire any new information that the Borg may have assimilated."
"Speaking of assimilation," another person said, "have you assimilated others?"
"As a drone, I did what I was ordered to do," Seven said.
"Could you assimilate others? For example, could you build your own Collective? Do you have the capability?"
"I am not a threat," Seven said.
"That doesn't answer the question. Does that mean that you can assimilate others?" The same person asked, clarifying his question.
"I am unable to answer that question with any certainty," Seven said. "It is irrelevant. I am in control of my mind and my conscience. I would not assimilate anyone."
"Would it be possible for a team to collect samples?" Dr. Spalen asked.
"Samples?" Seven asked.
"Hair, tissue, blood…other such things…samples for study," he said.
"I am not comfortable being harvested," Seven said. Color rose in her cheeks, and Raffi tensed, but she stayed in her seat.
"The comparison of those samples to biological samples could help us to understand the role of synthetic substances and biological substances in the physiology of the Borg," one of the researchers offered.
"They could also help determine your capabilities as a disconnected drone," Dr. Spalen said. "It could give us some idea of the possible evolutionary tract of this essentially new species that's being introduced into our society with your presence and the presence of future disconnected drones. Like the unique evolution in the Ktarian species, there is the potential here for entirely different lines of the Borg—the development of multiple species of Borg, as you will. Studying samples would help us to track that evolution as it's happening, and to predict the future of the Borg as a species."
"I am not a synthetic being," Seven said. "Any samples that I may have to offer would be biological samples from a living and sentient being."
"What about—a sample of the materials that construct the Borg implants?" Another asked.
"I will not be providing anyone with pieces of my body," Seven said, definitively. "Borg or human. Please do not pursue this further."
"You have had many of your Borg implants removed. How many remain?" Dr. Spalen asked.
"I do not wish to answer that," Seven said.
"You say you are both Borg and human," he said, clearly deciding to reword the question. "What percentage of you is actually Borg?"
"I do not wish to answer that," Seven said.
"Is that because it's a majority?" Dr. Spalen asked.
"It is because I do not know the answer," Seven said. "I find that information irrelevant."
"If I may…" Dr. Crusher said, half-standing and getting everyone's attention. She looked to Seven, as she sat again, and Seven nodded at her. "I am one of Seven's physicians, and Seven has given me permission to publish pertinent information about her health and experiences that may help us to understand Borg physiology, especially as we seek to liberate others from the Collective and provide them with proper medical care. Everything I publish will be released only after she has read the articles and given her permission for their publication. If you would like more information about her medical history and her Borg physiology, I invite you to read the articles I publish and attend any conference where I may lecture about that in the future." Crusher turned back from looking at the people gathered there and looked at Seven. "Is that fair to say, Seven?" She asked.
Seven smiled and nodded.
"I believe that is the most acceptable response," Seven said. "My concern in life is, primarily, my life and my experiences. I do not keep constant tabs on the functioning of every system in my body. Like most individuals, I leave that to my care providers."
"Are regular medical providers able to help you with every challenge you may meet?" A young man asked, who sat taking notes on his PADD.
Seven considered a moment.
"No," Seven said. "I require the assistance of medical providers and specialized engineers who are willing to work on my Borg systems."
"So—you require care, like a machine?" Dr. Spalen asked.
"I require care like anyone else," Seven said. "I beg your pardon, Raffi," she said, quickly, before continuing. "My wife went to sickbay this morning because she was not feeling well. She was treated with the same care as anyone else who goes to sickbay. I imagine that you have seen a physician at some point in your life. You required care, and you were provided care. I am no different when I seek care."
"Except I don't require an engineer's expertise to—to realign my dilithium power matrix."
"I'm sorry," B'Elanna said. 'I'm sorry—I just—I have to interrupt." Raffi smiled to herself. She crossed her arms across her chest. She didn't have to add anything to the talk—there were more than enough people there to do that for her. Even balancing Owen on her hip as she stood, B'Elanna gave off the air of someone who should not be annoyed unnecessarily. "Seven doesn't have a dilithium power matrix. And—even if she did? I don't see where that information would be relevant to anyone except engineers who were interested in specializing, like Dr. Crusher and the physicians she wishes to instruct, on the care of future Borg that might be successfully liberated from the Collective. Worry about the other aspects of the Borg experience, and leave the engineering to the engineers."
"You understand, of course, that it is important to understand all aspects of life to understand the Borg experience, as you put it," Dr. Spalen said.
"What I understand is that you don't understand that Seven is not the warp core," B'Elanna said.
Raffi hummed and nodded her agreement, but nobody was paying her any attention. It didn't matter. She'd promised not to make a scene, and she had yet to leave her seat—which was something she couldn't say for several other members of the audience.
"My I redirect?" One of the women asked.
"Please, do," Seven said.
"You mentioned your relationships—friendships, marriage, a son…"
Seven smiled.
"Yes," she said.
"How do relationships work for you?" The woman asked.
"I assume they work the same as they would for everyone else," Seven said. "Admittedly, I often find it difficult to connect with people, but that may be because people are often reluctant to connect with me. They see the Borg in me, and they forget about the human."
The woman smiled and Raffi settled a little more comfortably into her chair.
"We have been led to believe that the Borg have no feelings," the woman said. "Would you like to—expand upon that?"
"I enjoy a wide range of emotions," Seven said. "And—sometimes—I do not enjoy them at all." That brought laughter, and Raffi relaxed a bit more as she saw Seven visibly relaxing and, now, smiling back at the woman who wasn't yet ready to relinquish her attention. She was attentive, and Seven continued of her own free will, adding what she wished. "Borg, when connected to the hive, do not have need for emotions. Their emotions are suppressed. They are still there, but emotions lead to individuality, and individuality leads to less efficient drones. There are nodes and other modifications that are made to drones to suppress their emotions and, eventually, to cease them altogether. Learning to manage those restored emotions, once severed from the Collective, has proven to be a long-term project for me, and I can admit that I have not yet become entirely comfortable with all of them. It remains a journey that I'm taking as an individual. I feel lucky to have my family and friends as supporters on that journey."
"May I add something?" Raffi asked, raising her hand. Seven raised her eyebrows at her with a silent sort of applause, and Raffi smiled at her.
"Please," Seven said, waving at Raffi to join her. Raffi hadn't intended to get up, but she did welcome the invitation to come to Seven's side. Without invitation, and without any kind of resistance, Raffi slipped her arm around Seven's waist.
"Seven doesn't have any problems with relationships that the rest of us dysfunctional individuals don't have," Raffi said. "In fact, Seven is—the most available partner that I've ever had, despite the fact that she would have told me otherwise. I couldn't ask for a better wife, and Elnor, our son, adores her, too. Seven may be learning how to manage her emotions, sometimes, but she has the biggest heart of nearly anyone I know. And—Dr. Spalen—that heart is a hundred percent human, whether or not there are any implants there to make it work more efficiently."
Seven squeezed Raffi from the side, and Raffi didn't attempt to leave again or change her position.
"Would you be willing to talk, in-depth and maybe at a later time, about your experiences as an xB attempting to re-enter a society where Borg are seen as primarily threats?" The same woman asked. "I work with primarily social interactions and cultural norms across various kinds of species, and I would find it fascinating to hear some of your experiences and your perceptions of people's reactions. It could really be enlightening for how to help successfully reintegrate newly separated xBs into society."
"I would be happy to assist you with your research," Seven said. "Perhaps we could arrange a time when you've had the opportunity to consider what you might like to know."
"Isn't that supporting one branch of science more than others? Biological and physical anthropology is just as important," Dr. Spalen offered.
"She would like to hear my experiences," Seven said. "You would wish to disassemble me, if such a thing were possible, and study my pieces before you, no doubt, incorrectly put me back together."
"For the record," B'Elanna offered, "that's not possible."
"It is not," Seven agreed, laughing to herself. "My point is that one branch asks for my thoughts and opinions—and values my experiences as an individual. One branch, at least as you represent it, would cause me physical harm in the name of science."
"The samples requested would be the same as you might provide to a medical provider," he said. "The same as your Dr. Crusher has, no doubt, taken. They're only for a different perspective of research beyond what she'll be doing—examining how your unique physiology may contribute to those experiences that you seem so eager to share with my colleague, Dr. Rosenberg."
"I will consider your request," Seven said. "At the moment, I am unwilling to say more than that. If I were to agree—and this is only hypothetical—any samples I would be willing to provide you with would be obtained in sickbay and by my own physician."
"Would you be willing to offer a study of your specifically Borg physiology?" Another asked.
"I will consider your request," Seven said. "If I were to agree to that, I would again demand that it be done with the assistance of people that I have come to trust."
"One of the Federation's goals in the Delta Quadrant is to hopefully bring about the liberation of others from the Collective," Raffi said. "Maybe there will be a great deal of study that can be done on the Borg. For now—I'm not comfortable with, as Seven put it, anyone taking anything out of or off of my wife in the name of science."
"Did she not already consent to Dr. Crusher's study? To medical study?"
"There is a big difference in study that will help improve the medical care offered to Seven and other Borg," Raffi said, "and anthropological study."
"You don't appreciate the branch of science?"
"On the contrary," Raffi said. "I don't appreciate the scientist."
"Raf…" Seven said.
"If you don't mind," Janeway said, standing up and starting up to the front, "I think we've moved a little beyond our original plans for this evening. It may be advisable to call this gathering to a close. Seven—are you ready to wrap things up, or do you wish to continue?"
Janeway moved up to the front as though her presence could keep peace.
"I will address any other questions," Seven said. "However, my answer remains that, at this time, I'm not willing to subject myself to being a specimen for study. Dr. Crusher is a physician who is assisting me in my care. Her study of my physiology, like that of the EMH who serves as my primary care physician, is driven by the desire to help me, not to simply satisfy her curiosity."
"I noticed that you're wearing a maternity uniform," one of the other researchers asked. "Is that just a personal preference or…?
"I am pregnant," Seven said.
"How is that possible?" Came the next question.
"I am sure that Dr. Crusher could explain the details of conception to you in a much more accurate manner than I can," Seven said. "My wife and I are part of the Vulcan study on surgical attachment for the improvement of successful gestation for those who may have difficulty conceiving or may have other need for the procedure. Their research is where I would direct you for more information on that."
"Are you able to contribute DNA for biological offspring?" Dr. Spalen asked.
"I am human," Seven said, "as well as Borg. As I have told you previously."
"What about your offspring?" Dr. Spalen asked.
"What about my offspring?" Seven asked.
"What will it be?" Dr. Spalen asked.
"Human," Seven said.
"Have there been any studies done on your DNA? Have there been any studies on the development of the fetus in-utero? Is it possible, perhaps, to see some kind of biological evolution as a result of your Borg physiology?"
Raffi felt Seven tense.
"I am done with this conversation," she said. "Dr. Crusher may address anything else that needs to be discussed. I do not wish to discuss this any further."
"Thank you all for coming," Janeway said. "I think we'll end things there tonight—and we all hope this has been enlightening for the research that everyone is doing on the Delta Quadrant and the species and customs of the quadrant."
"You could be creating a sort of post-modern human hybrid," Dr. Spalen suggested, ignoring the attempts to end the conversation. "A sort of hominis machinas."
Raffi heard Janeway start to speak to the man, but she didn't hear the woman's actual words over the proverbial alarms going off in her mind.
"OK—let's go. That's it…have a great night, everyone. Thank you so much for…everything. We'll treasure the trauma always," Raffi said, wrapping her arm around Seven and pulling her toward the door, whether she wanted to go or not.
"It is a simple observation," Dr. Spalen called out.
"And you're about to have a simple broken nose," Raffi barked behind her.
"The simple question there is just going to be who the lucky person is that gives it to you," B'Elanna added loudly. Raffi noticed that she was behind them, clearly inviting herself along for the walk back to their quarters, and, perhaps, silently offering up her services as something of a bodyguard to keep anyone from following them that they didn't want to follow them. There was something of an uproar in the room as they left, and Raffi heard several voices raised in argument, but she couldn't make out any of the words. She didn't try.
They were in their quarters, with B'Elanna in tow, before Raffi let herself stop moving to ask Seven how she was.
"I'm fine," Seven assured her, though her voice was a bit shaky. Raffi didn't know if it was shaking with upset or with anger.
"She should sit down," B'Elanna said. "You should sit, Seven."
Seven seemed more than willing to listen, and she let Raffi support her movement to a chair. B'Elanna brought a glass of water from the replicator and a hypospray—just in case, she said—allowing it to sort out any imbalances that might be taking place. Owen, a fan of Seven's and entirely unaware that he should be anymore bothered by the Borg implants than he was by his mother's ridges—all of which he affectionately traced with chubby fingers when given the chance—reached for Seven. Seven gladly took him from B'Elanna's arms and held him on her lap affectionately.
"Seven—do you need anything?" Raffi asked. "You know that guy is…just don't listen to him, OK?"
"About anything," B'Elanna added.
"We'll talk to Janeway tomorrow," Raffi said. "We have to be on the same ship, but we don't have to have contact."
"It's fine," Seven insisted. "I am fine. I promise. I am not damaged in any way. He's just an asshole, isn't that what you called him?"
Raffi laughed.
"He is an asshole," Raffi agreed.
"First-rate," B'Elanna offered. "The worst part is, he's got clearance to interview members of the species we come into contact with. Can you imagine if he's one of your first experiences with the Federation?"
"I'll talk to Chakotay about that," Raffi said. "I'll go to JL, if I have to. Janeway. He might be an incredible researcher and lecturer—or whatever he may be—but he's a little too wrapped-up in what he does. He's lost all empathy."
Seven laughed quietly.
"He's very concerned about the Borg. Perhaps someone should study him," she said, "to see how he functions without the ability to feel." She directed her words to B'Elanna. "You could engineer a chip to aid him."
B'Elanna laughed.
"He's such a jerk that his body would probably reject it."
"I think we're not being fair or understanding," Raffi said. She bit back her amusement when she had the slightly disgruntled attention of both Seven and B'Elanna. She relaxed, letting her fingers knead the muscles of Seven's shoulders. "It would probably be the chip trying to run away to find a less hostile environment."