This is an oldie that I wrote one night on a coffee rush, years ago. I eventually deleted it out of embarrassment. But now I'm re-organizing my fanfiction, and it's back (with a quick re-edit).
Borg drones strode passed her in the blaring green light of the cube. It was curious, Seven thought over the deafening mechanical hums, that she had once found this environment so comforting, would have given anything to return to it. Now in the last two or three years, she only saw Borg cubes in her nightmares, and painful memories.
Seven of Nine had been an individual for almost four years. Thinking on that, it was remarkable that she had come so far in that short amount of time. But given all of the strange experiences she'd shared in with the Voyager crew, and the remarkable people she'd had to help her, perhaps that wasn't such a surprise. Seven breathed deeply, assessing her options. Chakotay, Neelix and Jenkins were relying on her—assuming they hadn't already been assimilated.
They had been on an away mission to collect deuterium, led by Commander Chakotay. Seven had not anticipated the trip, with her increased discomfort around the commander. Aside from the fact that she felt unworthy of Chakotay's presence, her attraction to him—as she and the Doctor had recently discovered—could kill her. But that medical information was confidential, and Chakotay was none the wiser. Wisely, Captain Janeway had assigned nightshift pilot Ensign Amelia Jenkins to the mission, lest Chakotay crash another shuttle. Crewman Kenneth McCormack went as an extra hand.
Despite Captain Janeway's precautions, the universe seemed determined that no shuttlecraft containing Commander Chakotay survive its trip; a small Borg scouting vessel had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Jenkins' piloting skills had been exemplary, but she couldn't evade the Borg's tractor beam. They'd put up a fight…Crewman McCormick had been killed by a plasma burst. Seven had been thrown back against one of the consoles when the Borg fired on the shuttle, hitting her head. She'd awoken to find herself standing in an alcove, in a regeneration hall, her injury healed. Even the cuts in her sapphire-blue body suit had been repaired. She'd been standing there for the last twenty or thirty minutes.
Two drones stopped in front of her, staring her in the eye. Their mouths didn't move, but she heard the voice of the Collective—from where, she didn't know.
"Seven of Nine. You will accompany us to the Queen's chamber."
Seven had encountered the Borg Queen twice. She did not anticipate a third reunion. But she thought of Chakotay, Neelix, and Jenkins, and decided she wanted to speak with the Queen.
It was ironic, but the Borg Queen had a flair for the dramatic. Seven entered the chamber as the Queen's organic head, shoulders and spine were being lowered into her cybernetic body. The sight of it disturbed Seven, as always, but she "kept her cool" (as Tom would say).
"Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct—"
"I'm aware of my Borg designation. Where are my shipmates." Seven demanded coldly.
The Queen smiled. Another irony. By now, Seven realized that emotion and individuality were privileges the Borg Queen kept to herself. The queen approached Seven and put her hand to her face, as if they were dear friends, relatives, or lovers. It made Seven sick, and apparently it showed; the queen's eyes narrowed in amusement.
"Your three comrades are aboard this sphere."
Sphere. So they weren't aboard the small scout vessel that had attacked them.
"Take me to them." Seven said.
The queen stared at her, and Seven could tell by the subtle moves in the queen's face that she was giving her drones silent orders. They stood there in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, until Seven heard the hum of a transporter.
Chakotay, Neelix and Jenkins materialized into the chamber, and were immediately surrounded by drones. The team had some cuts and bruises, but none seemed to have serious injuries. And they hadn't been assimilated. Neelix was clinging to Jenkins, looking almost traumatized. Jenkins' eyes were red, and her face was pale, but she maintained Starfleet composure. Anyone who didn't know Chakotay might be impressed by how unfettered he seemed; but Seven could see that he was tense, and his eyes seemed glazed with fear.
Jenkins and Neelix looked at Seven with relief, almost as if they thought she somehow had the power to rescue them. Chakotay seemed like he was trying to work out how he'd get the team out of here, while fighting his own paralyzing fear of the Borg. The fact that they hadn't been assimilated made it clear to Seven that they were bargaining chips—something the Borg Queen only bothered with for a precious few individuals she had invested interest in. Jean Luc Picard. Data. Captain Janeway. Seven of Nine.
"What do you want." Seven asked the queen, her eyes inadvertently fixed on Chakotay.
The queen didn't answer right away, which meant she was thinking. Seven realized how grave of a mistake looking at Chakotay was.
"The toxin." The queen replied. "As discussed in our last meeting. You will assist us in assimilating Earth."
"And I suppose in return you will spare my comrades." Seven forced her gaze away from Chakotay, back to the queen. "If you believed I held the knowledge to do this, you would have assimilated me already."
"I don't expect you to have the knowledge. Simply the skill to help us design it."
"You cannot assimilate this skill?"
"We have learned many times over that some species work best with their individuality intact. We may harvest this ability for as long as we need it."
"After I've completed this toxin for you, you will assimilate us all anyway." Seven recalled something Chakotay had told her, in relation to the incident that caused her to join the ship. "It is your nature."
The queen stared Seven in the eye, then strode to the away team, coming up behind Chakotay. Chakotay's face moved just slightly to look at the queen as she came around him, but the rest of him was frozen. Jenkins and Neelix tightened their grip on each other, but were otherwise too paralyzed to move. The queen sized Chakotay up, and a red scanning light came on from the ceiling, moving through him. Chakotay flinched as the light no doubt blinded him momentarily.
"Potentially an excellent tactical drone," the queen taunted, "But genetically far from perfect. Vulnerable to Sensory Tremens." Seven tensed as the queen touched Chaktoay's black hair, gently pinching up some locks as if examining a handful of grass. "Under excessive pressure, this drone would become un-stabilized, and be dismantled."
Seven saw Chakotay slowly close his eyes, and begin muttering silently to himself. The sight of the first officer praying out of fear was something Neelix and Jenkins should never have to see. Seven realized the queen was baiting her emotions, hoping Seven's logic would be compromised. The queen planed to assimilated Chakotay and the others eventually, and she wouldn't fool Seven into thinking otherwise. Yet it took immense effort to keep from reacting to the moment.
The queen stabbed Chakotay's neck with her assimilation tubes.
Chakotay cried out and sank to the ground, his eyes squinted shut. Jenkins let out a wavering cry, and Neelix jumped. Seven found herself sprinting across the room and kneeling over him, her hand on his shoulder. A spidery Borg wheel erupted on the left side of Chakotay's jaw. He was heaving now, his small black eyes blinking widely.
"I haven't assimilated his thoughts." The queen said. "Merely injected him with nanoprobes that will enhance his circulatory system." She cocked her head slowly. "He should thank me."
Seven looked up at the queen, her hand still on Chakotay's shoulder. Jenkins and Neelix seemed confused to see the Borg queen speaking in human vernacular. Seven knew that the queen used "slang" deliberately, to play with her victims' emotions.
"I will comply." Seven said. "Repair him. And I will begin work on your toxin."
"'Repair him.'" The queen sneered. "You will begin work on the toxin, and in exchange, I'll do nothing more to him. He can keep this gift I've given him. Whether I give him anything more is your choice."
Seven looked back down at Chakotay, who had begun to go slack. He looked at Seven, swallowed, and shook his head. Of course he would want Seven to sacrifice him rather than help the queen destroy Earth. But Seven wasn't giving into the queen, she was simply buying the team time.
That was her justification to herself.
Seven worked at a panel in a Borg laboratory, alongside several drones. She found she didn't have to work too hard to stall for time; inventing a toxin to assimilate Earth would have been difficult enough even if she wanted to do it. There was some relief, in not having to come up with tactics to stall and lie in addition to "working" on the toxin. She was just starting to relax when the queen's voice entered her mind.
"Seven of Nine, you must produce results for this toxin now."
"I cannot comply." Seven said the words out loud, though she figured that the queen was communicating through one of her brain implants, like she had once before when Seven was regenerating. "I am putting forth ideas; they are all being 'shot down.' Your toxin idea is flawed in many ways. It is an inefficient use of the Collective's time and resources—"
"Seven of Nine, report to assimilation chamber 5267."
Seven's pale blue eyes darted about, in a way a stranger might think looked "thoughtful," but a friend would recognize as shock and fear. Seven looked up from the panel to see three drones waiting to escort her. She followed them to the assimilation chamber. She heard Neelix shouting, and Jenkins talking over him, apparently attempting to calm him. Seven quickened her pace. The drones sped up along with her. She heard Chakotay bark, "Neelix stand down! That's an order!" and broke into a run.
Seven entered the chamber just as Neelix finished slamming his elbows against the green force field that circled him and Jenkins. The blond pilot seized the Talaxian's arm and pulled him back away from the forcefield. Two drones held Chakotay, who was panting, staring hard at Neelix. Seven was so preoccupied with trying to read the look in Chakotay's black eyes that it took a moment for her to notice the assimilation tubes in his neck, pumping more nanoprobes into his body.
"Release him!" Seven rushed forward and moved her hand to force the tubes out of Chakotay.
A Borg claw clamped hard on Seven's right arm, restraining her. Her eyes met Chakotay's, and he stared at her, like an animal blinded by a manmade light. One of the drones holding Chakotay brought its arm over his chest, and forced him backwards, onto an operating table.
"I am working on your toxin!" Seven's voice was cracking. "I am following your orders! If you assimilate him the bargain is off!"
"You will prepare three possible components for our toxin, within the following hour. For every moment afterwards that you fail, I will take another part of the human you desire."
By the looks on Neelix and Jenkins, they couldn't hear the Borg queen. Seven was infinitely grateful for that, at least. She turned back to Chakotay. One of the drones held his wrist in its claw, and was moving it down to his side, into a locking clasp on the table. Chakotay offered no resistance as they locked him into his restraints.
"Seven," Chakotay squinted, swallowing. "I need to talk to you. Come here." He opened his eyes, and saw that the drone with the claw still held its grasp on Seven's arm. "Let her speak to me!" he barked. "I'll make her comply with your orders!"
"No doubt he wants to discuss a way to deceive me." The queen mused.
Seven's jaw clenched, and replied silently. "He is human. He seeks emotional reassurance. Allow me to provide it and it will make him and myself more compliant."
"Irrelevant. You will comply or—"
Jenkins suddenly shouted, "We're only human!"
Seven looked over her shoulder and saw the pilot nervously pushing her feathery blonde hair out of her face.
Neelix gripped Jenkins' shoulder. "Amelia, they're drones, they don't understand—"
"Why shouldn't they?" Jenkins hissed. "The queen's listening, I'll bet!" Jenkins looked away from Neelix. "When, when you capture an animal, if you want to tame it you cater to its needs, right?" Jenkins' blue eyes seemed to search the ceiling, as if she thought she was shouting up at the queen. "We're weak! Our emotions must be handled carefully! Or you'll lose your bargaining chips!"
The "lower decks" crewmembers of Voyager rarely took any initiative to speak with enemies, or venture into danger. In fact, they were usually forbidden from doing so. Chakotay however watched the helmswoman, looking almost impressed. Seven saw him give her a small nod of approval.
After an uncomfortable moment of silence, the queen said, "Fifteen of your 'minutes.' Say and do whatever you wish to pacify yourself, Seven of Nine. Exchange emotional dialogue. Copulate if you wish. But after that time is expired you will follow my orders, or suffer the consequences."
The drone released Seven's arm, and she rushed to Chakotay's side. A web of silver implants had begun to spread on the right side of his face, a few metal tendrils creeping over his eyebrow. As he stared back up at her, Seven's heart rate increased uncomfortably.
As she'd told his hologram in her fantasies, his facial structure was intriguing. Seven reached timidly, wondering what Neelix or Jenkins would do when trying to console the commander. She settled for gripping his arm, just above the thick brace that locked it to the table.
"Seven." Chakotay's voice was hoarse. "I have information about the ship, the Alpha Quadrant, that the Borg can't have."
Seven understood what he was telling her.
"Captain Janeway no doubt knows by now that a Borg vessel was involved with our disappearance. She will have altered any command codes you might possess, and prepared for… 'the worst.'"
"Seven this is an order. If they begin to take my mind, you're going to reach underneath me and break my neck. Understood?"
After a moment Seven opened her mouth to respond, about to accept his order, but suddenly thought of a retort. "The phrase 'take my mind' is vague, Commander. If the Borg assimilate your brainstem to better control your body, but have not yet harmed your—"
"Fine!" Chakotay snapped. "When they reach memories. Information. You'll turn that information off. Understood?"
Seven nodded. "Understood."
The trick was to come up with components that would fail the queen's plan, but work just well enough to fool her into thinking that Seven was truly trying to create that toxin. And then, of course, there was the prospect of escaping the sphere—escaping with Jenkins, Neelix, and Chakotay, before the Borg decided that Neelix or Jenkins' emotional outbursts were no longer worth keeping them alive, and before Chakotay's "information" had to be "turned off."
Contacting Voyager would do little good at the moment, since Seven couldn't fathom what the small Federation vessel could do in the first place. Janeway had escaped the Borg far more often than most, but never without assistance from powerful technology or aliens.
And that gave Seven an idea.
It wasn't a very good idea, but it was her only idea.
What they needed was a distraction. Something to devastate this sphere; occupy the queen and her drones, destroy systems and create chaos, long enough for the away team to escape in either their shuttle craft (if there was anything left of it) or a stolen Borg scout vessel. Seven knew exactly who could create such a chaos for her. The question was how to open a rift into Fluidic Space, and how to ensure that the inhabitants attacked the sphere.
Seven had done it before. While she was still a drone, she had taken Voyager into Fluidic Space. She knew how to do it here, as well. She remembered all of the functions on a Borg vessel routinely, as if she'd performed them all just moments ago. First, she'd have to override the Borg's security systems, to prevent them from detecting what she was doing. The "catch 22," as Janeway might say, was that she also needed a way to stop the Borg from detecting her trying to stop them from detecting her. As soon as she accessed their security systems the queen would be "on" to her. It was perhaps possible to create some sort of diversion, but that would be an entirely spate plan to formulate, which she had no time for. Seven figured she'd have to simply act quickly with the security, and hope the queen wouldn't notice in time.
She failed.
The moment Seven accessed the systems, the queen's sickeningly calm voice bellowed in her head, "Assimilation chamber 5267. Report, if you wish to confirm your mate's status."
Whether the queen was being sarcastic with the word "mate," or had mistakenly assumed Seven and Chakotay were "involved," Seven didn't know nor care.
This time, Seven had been working in a chamber farther from where the others were being held. It took her over forty-one minutes to reach the chamber, meaning the Borg had forty-one minutes to work on Chakotay, and emotionally torment Neelix and Amelia. Chakotay's screams echoed through the corridors as Seven neared the chamber. They weren't screams of pain—or at least not solely; they were discombobulated babbling, the types of sounds Chakotay had made almost two years earlier, while suffering delusions in Chaotic Space. Seven remembered that she and Chakotay had been surrounded by Borg drones during their last conversation. The queen, naturally, had taken advantage of what she'd heard.
Chakotay was thrashing against his restraints. The shirt of his uniform lay opened up over the table, like an unwrapped parcel. His brown chest and stomach were heaving, moving the tubes the Borg had inserted into his torso. Fresh blood streamed down the side of his abdomen, as a drone inserted one end of a thin metal hose near his navel. Another drone had its assimilation tubes in his neck again, holding his head in place with its free hand.
"GET THEM OUT!" Chakotay hollered hoarsely.
Neelix was shouting from behind the force field, repeating Chakotay's name and telling him to focus on the sound of his voice. Amelia Jenkins sat against the wall, with her blonde head buried in her arms. She wasn't crying, but clenched into a tight fetal position, presumably tying to block out her surroundings.
The drones made no effort to stop Seven from approaching Chakotay and taking his head in her hands. She didn't try to pry him from the drone currently assimilating his brain, but she firmly grasped his chin with one hand, and found the other running through his black hair. His dark eyes were rolling, not seeing her.
"What have you done to him?!" Seven shouted.
"I've altered his genetic code. Then subjected him to Sensory Tremens. So far we've learned nothing new about the disorder. But perhaps you'll be more motivated now to comply with my demands."
Still shouting, Seven tried, "I cannot…function, unless you—"
"I don't care!" Chakotay interrupted, looking murderously at the ceiling. "Kill me! Fuck me! I don't care! You can have me Seska but not the whole crew! Your problem's not with them!"
In the back of all the noise and chaos, Seven (with her acute hearing) heard Jenkins' muffled voice singing softly, an old song she'd practiced with the Doctor on a few occasions. ("Oh, I'm just wild about Harry, and he's just wild about me…he's sweet just like chocolate candy…and like the honey from a bee!") It had a peculiar effect on Seven, and helped to calm her nerves. She actually wondered if Jenkins realized this (it was common knowledge throughout the ship that Seven's senses were stronger than anyone else's), but on the other hand, she doubted Amelia was thinking so logically at the moment.
"Turn off his hallucinations!" Seven shouted, her blue eyes fixed upward. "You've made your point clear to me! I won't try to deceive you again!"
The drone withdrew its tubes from Chakotay's neck for a moment. Then, after changing something inside its own body, the drone reinserted the tubes. Chakotay's breathing slowed, and the thrashing stopped. Seven still had her hands on his chin and hair. Blinking wearily, he finally recognized her.
"Seven,"
"Return to laboratory—"
"Fifteen minutes!" Seven begged.
"…fifteen minutes."
Seven gazed back down into his black eyes, stroking his hair. She surprised herself, with how "second nature" the action had come to her. They stared into each others' eyes for several seconds, and Seven couldn't recall the last time she'd felt so serene. But they were wasting their time.
"I…wish to…comfort you." Seven turned to Jenkins and Neelix, her voice cracking. "But I don't know how."
Jenkins lifted her head from her knees, her blue eyes moving from Seven to Chakotay. Neelix was squinting at Seven sympathetically, trying to think of advice to give.
"You tell him…" the Talaxian fiddled with his tunic. "Tell him it'll be alright…remind him of all we've been through already, all we've survived."
Jenkins spoke up: "Captain Janeway never abandons a crewmember."
The Chaotic Space incident…
"Seven, kill me."
She slowly looked back down at the commander, and saw the agony on his face. Seven's legs tensed, as she fought to keep her balance. She replied simply, "No."
He half-whispered, half-mouthed, "Please."
Seven almost tried to rehearse in her mind what she'd say, but remembered she had less than fifteen minutes. Instead, she decided to pour out all that was on her mind, while she had the chance.
"Commander...Chakotay. I have never seen you express fear in a battle, nor when Voyager was faced with any deadly anomaly. The only times you're vulnerable is when something threatens your control over your mind. This experience no doubt reminds you of the illness you suffered, when in Chaotic Space." Chakotay's eyes were sealed to hers, as he breathed heavily. "You recovered from that incident. As I was recovered from the Collective by Janeway, and yourself. You severed my link from the queen. You called me Annika. If the queen takes you, I will free you, as you did me."
Chakotay's mouth fell slightly opened, as he took in what she was saying. And then another thought occurred to her.
"Commander, you are a member of the First Nation People. Your people were assimilated. They had their society stripped from them. Their language was taken. They were enslaved. Their children were sent to 'residential' schools. Their numbers dwindled. They were forcibly 'baptized.' Yet they prevailed. And their society recovered. They now flourish in territories entirely their own. You, like your predecessors, may undergo assimilation. And you will recover. And prevail. You fancy yourself a 'warrior.'" Seven hoped this was a complimentary term, and not an offensive one. "Your sacrifices must include not only physical, but mental…"
Chakotay's body was relaxing in Seven's arms. She realized she was still holding his chin, and removed her hand. She kept the other in his hair, unable to tear it away. Chakotay let his head roll back on the table, looking around the ceiling with a newfound clarity.
He mumbled, "I was wrong." Slowly he rolled his head back to face her. "I gave you the wrong order Seven. You were right to disobey." He slowly blinked, in a way that looked relaxed. "Don't kill me. You have to let them assimilate me. Just do what you have to…to get us out…and don't think about what the queen does. The Doc can take out Borg implants, and revive brain-dead bodies." He closed his eyes. "Just please, be quick… as you can."
Three Borg drones were still surrounding the table, during this entire conversation. The drones all eyed Seven, and she knew to interpret this as a warning look from the queen.
Chakotay looked up weakly at the drones, his silver eyebrows furrowed humorously. "There's some room on my left pectoral."
Seven found herself giving a small, tight smile. She felt a thrill roll up through her arms and chest; it reminded her of a snid-bit of a conversation she'd overheard from Tom and B'Elanna, after Tom had battled that Klingon on the holodeck for B'Elanna and their daughter's honor. B'Elanna had expressed excitement, about seeing "her" Tom fighting "for" her and their baby. Seven felt this way, watching Chakotay eagerly await more assimilation.
The drone with the claw reached out to restrain Seven again. Almost instinctively she reached back at it, across the operating table, extending her assimilation tubes from her fist. She jabbed her tubes into the drone, and realized that she had no idea what the hell she was doing. The drone jerked its head, attempting to sever contact with her, the Borg equivalent of being taken aback. Seven pulled her tubes out of the drone and sprinted across the chamber to a wall console, where she began typing furiously. The drones crossed the room in long strides, and were surrounding her the next moment. But by that time she'd already accessed Fluidic Space, and created a portal. The queen sent a surge of electricity through the console, that traveled up Seven's arms, sending white sparks dancing around her blue sleeves and hands. She stood there, stuck, for a second or two, then collapsed to the hard metal floor.
She pushed herself up, to see the drones eying a viewscreen on the wall, which displayed the opened spacial rift, and the warm colors of Fluidic Space. As the drones were already working on closing the rift, Seven scrabbled up and lunged forward, typing at a set of controls as if under the influence of some drug. She was shooting Borg nanoprobes into the rift, as many as she could, hoping to alert and aggravate Species 8472. The species was advanced. Advanced enough to hold their own against the Borg. There was no reason they shouldn't detect and react immediately.
Seven's lips parted, as she watched her work with pride. One organic vessel soared out of the rift, and began firing on the sphere. A second followed. Then another….
Seven suddenly realized she might have made a bad situation far, far worse. Species 8472 might take out this affront on the entire galaxy, as they had last time. (True, Voyager had "made peace" with a group of 8472 one year ago, but that group had made it clear that their superiors might disagree with them about humans. On the other hand, the fact that they'd never returned to attack Voyager might count as evidence that their leaders had listened.)
Seven's thoughts were interrupted by that Borg claw again, the drone's entire arm clamping across her chest, restraining her against its body. Like a feline Seven dipped beneath the drone's arm, slithering out before the drone tightened its hold. She ran to Neelix and Jenkins, who were staring at her wide-eyed, and began typing at the wall panel that controlled the force field holding them. The sphere was starting to shake, smoke erupting from damaged consoles and conduits.
Seven spoke to Neelix and Jenkins as she typed. "Once I've taken down the force field, seize a weapon, any object that could—"
A hand seized her arm and yanked her away from the consol. A human hand. Seven was spun around and found herself looking into Chakotay's eyes. But Chakotay wasn't the one glaring at her behind them; it was the queen.
Seven mentally beat down her frantic emotions. Chakotay was nothing more than ill, as he'd been in Chaotic Space, and would have to be contained until they returned to Voyager and the Doctor could treat him.
The queen gripped seven by the shoulders with Chakotay's hands, and Seven couldn't fight against the new Borg strength the queen had given them. So she stopped trying, and instead took hold of one of the black tubes in his torso. She yanked at the tube, making Chakotay's body jolt for a moment, then yanked once more, pulling one end out of his ribcage with a sickening squelch. Glistening red blood was soon flowing down his body, soaking the leg of his black pants. The loose end of the black tube dripped with blood, and perhaps some other liquid Seven didn't wish to identify. Improvising, she jabbed the other end of the tube into the console she'd been working on. Chakotay's body was instantly shot to the ground, and sparks flew up from the consol. Seeing the systems had been weakened, Seven finished her work, deactivating the force field. Neelix and Jenkins leaped out of their prison, and each seized one of Chakotay's arms. He was unconscious.
"Now what?!" Jenkins screamed over the noise.
Seven looked around the shaking, smoking chamber, realizing that this was a very good question. The drones were occupied with trying to fight Species 8472. Seven looked across the room at the operating section, and observed a pile of mechanical tools, salvaged from dismantled drones, which the queen had doubtless planned to recycle on Chakotay, and eventually Neelix and Amelia. Seven ran over and collected the first two possible weapons she saw—a skeletal-looking eye implant, similar to the one she'd worn over her eye as a drone, which she knew could be implemented to disrupt sensors and other systems; and a Borg claw-equipped arm, equip with a series of useful tools.
Running to the doorway of the chamber with the prizes, Seven called to Neelix and Amelia, "Follow me!"
"He's heavy!" Jenkins gasped.
Chakotay was sagging in their arms, his eyes shut.
The shuffling of more drones entering the room made Seven turn. As she did, she brought the eye implant up like a phaser, cradling the Borg claw in the crook of her other arm. Just as the drones were "in her face," Seven began activating systems in the "eye," hoping they'd do something useful. Working with the tiny buttons and wirings with the fingers of only one had was difficult even for Seven of Nine, but she kept balance in her hand, the way she did when playing a piano piece one-handed. A thin red beam of light emitted from the tool, and made the drones freeze in place. She'd done something akin to wiping their memory drives, at least momentarily. The drones stood frozen, like statues.
Seven shifted her weight to the arm holding the claw. Using the Borg "arm" she nudged the closest drone, turning it around so she could work at the back of its neck.
"Neelix!" She snapped. "Hold this!"
She handed the baffled Talaxian the "eye," and with her now free hand, began tampering with the back of the drone's neck. She reprogrammed it to think, at least for a short time, that it should take orders verbally rather than mentally.
"Take us to the shuttle!" Seven demanded.
The drone stared at her, and for a moment she thought it hadn't worked. Then it turned to the wall and began working at a consol. For a moment everything turned bright green, as they were all beamed out of the chamber.
The team found themselves inside the shuttle craft. Panels on the wall had already been stripped away, as the Borg had begun to dismantle the vessel to recycle its parts. But for the most part, the shuttle was intact. Seven dropped the Borg weapon to the floor and began activating the shuttles force fields, to act as a makeshift wall to keep the life-support (and the crew) inside. As she did, Amelia leaped to the helm and began raising the shuttle off the ground. Neelix was dragging Chakotay out of the way, towards the back of the shuttle. Crewman McCormick's body still lay over the console he had died working at, his face mercifully out of view. The drone Seven had tampered with was nowhere in sight; apparently it had not interfered her use of the word "us" as including itself. Odd, for a drone.
"I wish Lt. Paris were here," Jenkins laughed, in a trembling voice.
"Do what Lt. Paris would do," Seven replied, "And we will survive."
Jenkins smiled, and took the shuttle into the air. "Okay…we need to find…a part of the garage that's got a hole in it…" Jenkins found a section of the docking bay that was smoking and flaming. "…and make the hole bigger!" The ensign fired a torpedo at the wall, illustrating her point.
As the shuttle soared out of the cube, and maneuvered between the blasts from Species 8472 and the sphere, Seven heard the queen one last time.
"I will return for you Seven." The queen's voice was icy, enraged. Out of control. "And for the entire Voyager crew—"
Seven decided that now was the perfect time to implement a vernacular phrase she'd learned from B'Elanna. She said it forcefully, and through clenched teeth, as B'Elanna would.
"Shut up!"
Neelix and Jenkins looked up at Seven. Even if they hadn't heard the queen's voice, it was clear to them now who Seven was been taking to.
Jenkins' eyebrows were raised, and a smile grew on her face. "Did you just tell the Borg queen to shut up?"
Neelix, who was treating Chakotay's injury with a medical tricorder, slowly began that odd Talaxian chuckle of his.
"It seems his link to the Collective was severed the moment Seven used him to short-circuit that force field." The Doctor said, as he treated Chakotay.
Captain Janeway looked on skeptically. "That's all it took to sever his link?"
"More likely," Seven proposed, "The queen simply realized that I was willing to harm my comrades once she'd fully assimilated them, and back-tracked on her plans."
Seven, Neelix, Jenkins and Chakotay had told Janeway everything about their experience, except for the details about how the queen taunted Seven with Chakotay specifically, and how Seven had interacted with him.
"Seven, Jenkins and Neelix are free to go," The Doctor looked back down at the first officer, who lay on a biobed, undressed but covered to the chest with a sheet. It seemed that most of the Borg implants were gone, but a few veins of silver were still visible under the skin in parts of his face. "Chakotay will have to remain here until I've flushed the remaining nanoprobes out of his body."
"I can assist," Seven said without thinking.
The Doctor eyed her under a furrowed brow. He had seen her holodeck fantasies, and knew about her feelings for Chakotay. Janeway looked from Seven to the Doctor, then to Chakotay. She sensed some kind of discomfort, but whether she suspected the feelings between her pupil and her closest friend, Seven couldn't tell. In any case, the captain decided that Seven and Chakotay could use a few moments alone.
"Doctor, why don't you give me the full prognosis in your office."
The Doctor nodded. "Of course Captain."
As soon as they were out of earshot, Chakotay looked up at Seven and said quietly, "Thank you."
Seven stood with her arms clasped behind her back. "You severed my link from the Collective four years ago. It's…the least I could do."
She didn't word the cliché properly, she could tell. Chakotay just smiled, amused. He closed his eyes, resting them for a time. "When the Doctor releases me, I'd like to take you for a walk. Through the forest of my homeworld. I don't know about you, but I'd like to get as far away from Borg spheres and…."
"I'd like that." Seven said quietly.
Chakotay sighed. He seemed…dazed. "After that," he opened his eyes. "I'd like to take you out to dinner." His dark eyes moved thoughtfully. "Well, maybe 'out' isn't the right term. In my quarters. If you're comfortable with that."
"Yes," Seven said more quickly than she meant to.
Her heart was racing again, and she breathed deeply through her mouth to steady herself.
Chakotay watched her carefully, then said softly, "Then it's a date."
The word sent a finality to Seven, that crashed over her. "It's a date."