A/n: Thank you to my beta for this chapter NikkiB1973. I apologise for my lack of updates through January, I was moving house, studying, and had other real life distractions, and writers' block ensued! Thanks too to cojack for posting a wonderful C/7 AU of 'Natural Law' titled 'Legacy'. If I wasn't enjoying reading it so much I'd be jealous I hadn't thought of the idea myself. ;)
"If we're really going to do this…" Janeway abandoned the barricade that was her desk and began to pace the Ready Room. Her body had always been an outlet for mental agitation, she could never sit still when her mind was speeding ahead, although her face was a polished mask of determination that tried to belie the quiver in her voice as she weaved between the frozen, apprehensive figures of Seven and the two Chakotays. "…then we're going to have to redouble our efforts to adapt Captain Chakotay's gift of technology to Voyager." She exhaled as she quickened her already erratic stride. "Seven, how much progress have you made on deploying that armour plating?"
Seven stood up hurriedly to face her Captain, but wobbled as a wave of light-headedness slammed into her. Only the elder Chakotay's shaking but strong hands grasping her elbows held her upright. For an unnerving second that aged, gaunt shadow of his handsome face doubled in front of her as her optical array failed to compensate, merely giving the double vision a green tinge. She had to blink rapidly as she refocused on Janeway's concerned but still expectant expression. Seven had been among humans for long enough, and had caught the identical grimace passing briefly over both Chakotays faces, to see that the implication behind the Captain's brusque words, that she'd been slacking off from her work and wilfully embroiled herself in this, was impolitic, but she was too pragmatic, and too exhausted, to care. "We have successfully implemented the armour plating over 57% of Voyager's hull, prioritising essential areas." She informed the Captain, as glad to cling to the facts as she was that she had led and expedited the project before that fateful decision to enter Captain Chakotay's quarters.
"57%?" Janeway echoed. Under the circumstances, her initial wonder at the technology and if it could be implemented at all had of course been forgotten.
Seven hadn't forgotten, "I chose to forego the relevant Starfleet procedures for introducing new technology Captain." Janeway's knowing smirk in reply was grim, but still enough to push her into revealing less promising statistics. "With our available supplies of tritanium, I calculate we should be able to deploy another 8.5%."
"Hardly 65%." The Captain muttered, "We'll just have to make the most of it, and all of the torpedoes we can convert to isometric."
"We will have fifteen such torpedoes at most." Seven told her, her tone sharper than she'd intended. She'd never prescribed to the idea of 'soft-pedalling' the truth and she didn't consider now the time to start. "We cannot replicate enough of the required components to convert all of our conventional torpedoes."
Janeway finally stopped her incessant pacing as one look at Seven's ashen but still frank face made her sigh heavily, but personal concern for her protégé was soon overtaken by professional necessity. "We'll have to do all that we can." She said firmly, though the hand she reached out to gently pat Seven's shoulder lingered there poignantly. Despite herself Seven swallowed, afflicted with a mixture of affection and guilt. The story of her own short-lived future had undoubtedly affected her mentor's decision, and that, though indirectly, laid the fate of the entire crew at her feet.
"We will." Chakotay assured her quietly, his brisk nod more to hide his disturbed frown than to emphasise any sense of agreement. Did Kathryn really think that, if these futuristic enhancements failed against the inevitable Borg onslaught, that their usual abilities, a rundown of which Kathryn herself had provided by default during that doomed alliance, would be enough to save them? He almost preferred that glimpse of doubt he'd just seen, the spectre of acknowledgement that perhaps Seven's warning that acceptance of continuing their journey, redeemed neither by a deserved but miraculous shortcut home nor a heroic death destroying the Borg, was perhaps the wisest path, ending not in glory or happiness but survival for some. He knew Kathryn wouldn't be able to face, let alone swallow, such a truth, and he had to admit he was choking on it. Doing nothing was not an option, his elder self's vision of the future had robbed him of the idea of relative contentment on Voyager. He stiffened as he heard fragments of anxious conversation seep through the closed door from the Bridge, his stomach sinking. He felt they didn't have a choice, and maybe he and Seven really didn't, but what about the rest of the crew? Kathryn would ask anything of them in order to get them home, but she'd always romanticised their commitment, their bounds to each other and to her. He'd spent too many years campaigning behind the scenes for calm and stability after traumatic incidents not to realise that plunging into a Borg transwarp hub would be a hard sell, and rightly so. Voyager isn't a democracy, Kathryn had reminded him of that too often, but it was a community too, a family as Kathryn also, somewhat paradoxically, had declared. "I'll go down and monitor Engineering, get the latest reports…"
Janeway nodded stiffly, "But don't give them any details yet Chakotay…"
He shot her an exasperated look, "You know that only the four of us are ever going to know the details Kathryn…"
Janeway's jaw tightened, hearing an allusion to the Temporal Prime Directive in his words, and more directly, to his fear and doubt that she was struggling not to share. He always did this, even when he asked her to make a firm decision, he would continue to doubt and question. "I suppose I should be grateful that you let me in on all that we're faced with." She retorted icily, her hurt momentarily evident.
"Yes, you should be." Captain Chakotay agreed roughly, growing impatient. They'd been bogged down for long enough, the window of opportunity was closing. Seven, as well as Janeway, flinched at his acrid tone and the former pulled back from him.
Chakotay sighed brokenly, running a weary hand through his hair as he glared at his unhelpful counterpart. "I have to tell them something. The rumour mill could be our worst enemy right now, the last thing we need is mass distraction…" He saw Seven wince and cursed himself silently. As if the 'horrors' of a churning rumour mill could be compared to the Collective.
Janeway though, forgave his momentary tactlessness. "I see your point." She admitted softly, "For now I'll leave what to tell the wider crew to your judgement." Her eyes wandered away from Chakotay's face and fixated on some faraway star out of the window. "I'll review Captain Chakotay's plan as well as all of our department status reports then call a senior staff briefing…" Her voice trailed off for a moment, then thickened painfully. "First I have to speak to Tuvok." She twisted away from them as her shoulders gave a violent shudder, "Why didn't he tell me? If he'd told me the hub was his only chance…"
Seven stared at her, somewhat disbelieving that the Captain could not understand her Tactical Officer's logic. Tuvok would never ask his Captain to sake an undue risk, as he would see this plan, for his sake alone. He'd tried to quietly cope with and privately accept his fate. Why should he carry the responsibility of forcing a choice on his entire crew? She of course, now shared that unwanted burden. "He would have told you when he was ready Captain." She murmured compassionately.
"Yes." Janeway agreed at once, eyes glistening with tears for a split second before she blinked them away and shook herself. "I suppose we're all facing things we're not ready for." She added philosophically, her gaze vague and turned in on herself before she returned to the present. "Seven, take time to regenerate for an hour." She advised kindly, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look even worse than I feel."
"Yes Captain." Seven replied with a heavy sigh while nonetheless leaving it ambiguous whether she was agreeing with the first part of the statement as well as the second, which the Captain instantly picked up on.
"You've already got your teams working on the improvements, take the time, we'll need you at your best. I also know B'Elanna wouldn't be dragged from Engineering under the circumstances, so…" Her gaze rounded on Captain Chakotay as she heard him clearing his throat and her eyes widened as she picked up on the hint. "Is that your way of advising me to change my bet on the baby pool Chakotay?" she demanded wryly. She was surprised to feel a wan smile pulling at her lips as she wondered, not for the first time, if the rules of the universe had an ironic, twisted, sense of humour. Had it really just been yesterday she'd wished she could promise Tom and B'Elanna that their daughter would be born safe in the Alpha Quadrant? "Maybe she'll be an Alpha Quadrant baby after all." She muttered with a wan smile and a slight shrug. "You're dismissed, do what you need to do."
Seven replied with a measured nod, for the Captain's sake, but the calm façade splintered as she turned on her heel, her usual grace abandoning her as the action made her stumble, her smooth retreat degenerating into a messy, fleeing escape. The unaccustomed chaos of her mind was amplified by the storm of anxious questions that was unleashed around her as she stepped back onto the Bridge. The expected decorum and respect for the usual gradual trickle of information down the chain of command had apparently been forgotten today, or perhaps her face revealed too much to their observant eyes. She felt the blood rush out of her head at that thought, shame flooding her as well as dizziness, but mercifully she managed to push through it and find the safety of the turbolift. As she sagged gratefully against the cool surface of the wall, she was uncomfortably aware of her heart throbbing through her ribcage, but with a few deep breaths the irrational adrenaline running through her, perhaps the most counterproductive human hormone in her opinion, was surpassed by the physiological regulation of her implants. She clung on tenaciously to that manufactured calm, and everything except the task at hand began to recede. "Deck Six." She ordered shortly.
"Computer, belay that order." Captain Chakotay winced as he saw Seven start violently at the sound of his voice. "You heard what Kathryn told you Seven, you need to regenerate." He advised her softly.
Seven stiffened, her hands clenching behind her back as she stepped away from the support of the turbolift wall and fixed her gaze on him unblinkingly. "That order was superseded by the situation." She reminded him tersely, confused exasperation creasing her brow. "You have informed me repeatedly that this…opportunity is a short lived one…" Her voice had heated up, and she stopped herself and said in a clipped, rational tone, "With Lieutenant Torres due to go into labour I cannot neglect my work…"
"If your implants start to fail you'll be in a much worse state than B'Elanna." Chakotay responded shortly, his jaw locking as he thought of the sporadic mental and physical agony he'd witnessed Seven endure over the years as stubbornly as she was now. "You've just had major surgery on your cortical node…" He argued recklessly, his judgement clouded by memory.
All the blood whose rush away had left her weak moments before flooded back into Seven's cheeks, mortification and violated anger surpassing her constant stalkers anxiety and guilt. "You know about that?!" she choked out, throat convulsing as she was chilled by a more horrific possibility. "Does the Captain know of it?"
Chakotay shook his head wordlessly, instantly realising that he'd misjudged the situation. Of course they'd had arguments about her workload and health frequently, he supposed they still lay ahead for Seven, but they'd been brief spats, passing over in moments. She'd understood by then that his intervention was not to belittle her but rooted in his own concern. The fact that he'd always been rather glad that Seven felt comfortable being openly annoyed with him, when she hid such feelings from others, felt ironic now. In the present, her younger version didn't understand much of what was happening, and was emotionally raw. A fearsome combination. "No, she doesn't know." He assured her simply, gently. "You only ever told me." He smiled sadly as her eyes widened in disbelief, it wasn't his place to convince her he didn't care about her experiments on the holodeck as long as the failsafe had been discovered and removed, that role was his younger self's alone. "You've always been so honest Seven, so strong. You underestimate yourself."
Seven remained silent for several seconds before she spoke up, tonelessly. "I am not strong." She shivered and suddenly her eyes flashed at him, "Nor am I exceptional." The painful pressure behind her eyes that she'd finally connected to full tear ducts began to build up again, but she refused to give into the release of crying. All of the guilt and fear she'd been struggling under, the weight of expectation and grief, did escape however, and violently. "Why should my fate be changed at the risk of the lives of the crew?" she demanded hoarsely, "You've…You've made a mistake, you should have gone back and saved your daughter, not me…"
"Seven, I…" Chakotay's voice died in his throat, too stunned to form a coherent answer. Blindly, he seized her arms and held them in a white knuckle grip. Whether he would've shaken or embraced her was left unknown as Commander Chakotay chose that moment to enter the turbolift after being waylaid by questions on the Bridge. He froze, the turbolift doors swishing shut behind him, as he caught the two so tightly embroiled.
"What's going on?" he asked tightly.
Seven jerked to free herself but Captain Chakotay had already dropped her arms, was even shrinking back from her, his face as unreadable as hers. "We're fine." Seven assured him robotically, "I intend to regenerate now."
Green light flicked, penetrating her eyelids, forking across the oblivion of regeneration like a bolt of lightning. The thunder that followed it was vocal, billions of voices building up and rolling over her mind as the most turbulent of storm clouds. She strained, longing to feel the brief electrical current of being roused from her cycle, waking in her cargo bay, but she was drowning in the sea of souls…
Seven's eyes flew open, her back arching as she tried to run, but she couldn't move. Her body was not really here, only her senses had passed the gauntlet. This vessel wasn't real, it was an image projected into her mind's eye by the will of the Collective, too empty, too silent to be otherwise. Only the Central Vinculum, the column that funnelled the thoughts of the Collective mind, lit the massive space. The lightning she'd seen was contained in here, and it represented trillions of thoughts, while also being one contained, perfect light.
"You still see the beauty of us." A familiar voice intoned softly, approaching out of the hazy, irrelevant edges of the scene. A hand, crisscrossed with silver veins that followed an identical pattern to her own stretched out supplely and gave the Vinculum a lingering, sensual caress. "Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, it's been too long." Her voice purred, the sound of the efficient machine she was.
"What do you want?" Seven demanded, her voice was not so effortless but she was relieved that she at least sounded harsh, angry. It was a thin veil for her terror, but she wasn't about to give it up.
The Queen appeared in full view now, directly in front of her former drone, who was trapped her in an alcove as her regeneration cycle continued aboard Voyager. The soaring column of the Vinculum loomed behind her like a throne. Its light made the implants attaching the humanoid head to the most perfected cybernetic body in the Collective gleam like ropes of pearls. "Do I need a reason to visit a friend?" She replied smoothly, unperturbed by Seven's tone. Her use of the first person was contemptuous, would've been ironic if she wasn't indeed a single dominant voice among billions.
That contempt strengthened Seven, "We are not friends." She countered icily, bloodless lips barely parting.
"No." The Queen agreed thoughtfully, head cocking ever so slightly. The naked skin of her skull had the colour and sheen of marble. Her stride was elegance in efficiency, she carried herself as if she was clothed in all the royal regalia imaginable, the confidence of the Collective was her velvet and gold brocade, the assurance of their shared perfection her crowing jewel. "We are more than that." She'd reached Seven now and touched her arm, underlying the fact that under the disguising sleeve of her biosuit, Seven's arm had more Borg technology than flesh and blood. "We are family." Her eyes, the irises themselves silver with the most advanced optical implants known, glittered with triumph as she felt Seven shudder. Her drone's body trying to reject what she was saying even as the truth of it penetrated her mind. "Now, while we are on the subject of old friends, I see that Voyager has a visitor. From the future." Her grip tightened mercilessly around Seven's arm, "Tell me why."
Seven forced herself to meet those sinister eyes, the very fact that the Queen had to threaten her like this, intimidate her with a private audience, confirmed what her rational mind already knew. "You may be able to communicate with me while I am regenerating, but I am no longer a drone. I do not answer to you."
The Queen blinked, her brow furrowing slightly as she accessed the Hive mind and came to a decision to change tact. Something akin to amusement, a contorted shadow of a mother's expression when a child is being precocious, passed over her taut face as her fingers brushed Seven's chin, ready to either be tender or claw at the human skin. "You've always been my favourite…Seven."
Seven gave a violent start, not only from hearing that affectionate diminutive from the Queen's lips, but the shocking thought it elicited. If I am your favourite, why did the Collective abandon me? The question was all the more powerful for the self-hatred it induced in her, almost bringing her to tears when the Queen's theatrics had not. How could she still be so weak as to allow one shred of herself to miss the Hive mind? And it was more than one shred. During their last encounter, the Queen had told her that her time with the Voyager crew, the Collective's abandonment, had been an intentional part of an over arcing grand plan. She'd never wanted to believe it, couldn't reduce her existence to being one tool the Borg would use to assimilate humanity, but it an aspect of it had been guiltily comforting too. One thing she was certain of, the Queen's ability to use any opportunity to its full effect knew no bounds.
The Queen had been studying her face, and chose this moment to continue. "In spite of their obvious imperfections, I know how much you care for the Voyager crew." She murmured, "So I have left them alone, until now."
The reality of that particular threat crystallised Seven's fear and despite herself she began to openly struggle, panic edging into her voice. "Voyager is no threat to the Collective! We only wish to return to the Alpha Quadrant!"
The Queen's gaze narrowed almost unperceptively, seemingly dissatisfied with that answer and reactions. Drones did not panic, drones did not plead. "I have no objection to that." She assured Seven darkly, "But you will not use my nebula to achieve that goal, what your visitor from the future may have told you to the contrary is irrelevant…" She broke off for an instant, her expression vague, then she gave a satisfied sigh, the first sign that she breathed at all. "We have identified the temporal transgressor…the Maquis First Officer Chakotay." She returned her hand to Seven's face, stroking. "He is the one who violated your mind, who ultimately severed your link with us." Her tone verged on resentful. "We would not have predicted his action. You did not give us a good report for him, it seems his judgement remains flawed." She regarded Seven intently, whose fear surged. The belief that the Queen was omnipotent had been programmed into her. The fear that her thoughts could still be probed was real. Had she let something slip? The Queen might know everything. About Chakotay. About Freya.
"Chakotay's judgement is astute. If anyone's judgement was flawed at that time it was my own." Seven responded thickly.
"Your judgement is flawed now if you wish to follow Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant." The Queen told her coolly, "You are Borg. You will always be Borg. The Federation will never assimilate you, they will fear your uniqueness." She leaned right into Seven's face, "We created you. You are part of us, part of what they hate. The Alpha Quadrant may be Voyager's home, but the Collective is yours."
Seven gulped, shocked to feel a tear sliding down her cheek even as she recoiled from the Queen. "Be that as it may…" She choked out, "I will do everything I can to get Voyager home, my fate is irrelevant."
Whatever patience the Queen had with this futile method of frustration ran out. "If you enter my nebula, I will destroy you all!" Her fist grasped the air, but for Seven it felt as if she seized her spine and yanked. The last thing she was aware of before everything went black was a shower of fiery sparks exploding through the alcove.
"What happened?" Chakotay demanded as he burst into Sickbay, with his older self alongside him. Seven was lying supine on the closest biobed, her face had a deathly pallor and her optical implant was stained red from a shallow but steadily bleeding cut on her temple.
The Doctor concentrated on running a dermal regenerator over the cut before lifting his gaze up from his patient to meet the wide eyes of both Chakotays. He'd already had this fraught conversation with the Captain, who still hovered anxiously. "There was a feedback loop in her alcove. She'll wake up feeling as if she's boxed with a Tarrellian, but she'll be fine…"
"God damn it!" Captain Chakotay burst out, "That fucking bitch…"
"Excuse me?!" Janeway spat out indignantly.
"The Borg Queen." He explained sharply, "She's contacted Seven, and put her through hell no doubt…"
The younger Chakotay turned on him, "You knew this might happen and you let her regenerate?!"
Captain Chakotay didn't respond with his usual worn out temper, he was on the verge of guilty tears as he stared at Seven but blinked them back. "I thought I'd got here under their radar…" He swallowed thickly, "I just didn't think…"
Janeway's demeanour had changed completely, "None of us anticipated this Chakotay…" She was interrupted by Seven's gasp back into consciousness. "Seven?" She grasped the younger woman's hand, "Are you alright?"
Seven stared at her dumbly for a moment, griping the Captain's hand like a life ring as she struggled to grasp what had happened. "Captain…" She rasped, "The Queen…she knows we intend to use the nebula. If we go ahead with our plan, Voyager will be assimilated…or destroyed."
Janeway knew better than to ask her if she was sure. She was surprised by the grief and disappointment that flooded her. Her emotional, if not practical, commitment to getting home was total. "Well, that changes things…"
"Wait, wait…" Captain Chakotay broke in suddenly, "Maybe it changes things for the better." He avoided Seven's wet, uncomprehending eyes as she sat up, focusing instead on Kathryn's warily hopeful ones. "I could have a backup, a way to have our cake and eat it too. I didn't consider it before, when the Borg were unaware, but now we have to eliminate them…"
"Eliminate them?" Janeway asked, grasping his elbow. "Alright, I'll bite. Tell me this new plan…" She glanced back at Seven in concern, "…but not here."
Chakotay felt numb as he watched the two of them leave. Once again, as he looked at Seven, who was staring vacantly at the door, jaw locked, he felt completely detached from his elder self and his mad frenzy. His tunnel vision. And Kathryn, she'd hardly paid attention to Seven beyond her intel. In her the oversight was frustrating, in himself it was unforgivable. Unsure whether he was shaking from shock, anger or both, he cautiously approached Seven, taking hold of her clammy hands as she shifted to sit on the edge of the biobed. "Seven…" He halted, anything he could've said was inadequate, but he knew he had to get her to talk. "What else did the Queen say to you?"
"I reported what was relevant to the Captain." Seven mumbled, eyes averted.
"Anything that upsets you is relevant Seven." Chakotay told her emphatically, a frustrated sound rising unbidden out of his throat as she paled even further, but remained stubbornly silent. "Unless you'd rather speak to Captain Chakotay…"
Seven tensed, staring at him blankly, hearing him without understanding. The last thing she wanted right now was the stranger who was Captain Chakotay. The one to whom she owed a debt she was too afraid to pay, who presented so much confusion… "No." She managed to croak out, feeling shame mixed with relief as she admitted it. Her mental numbness started to recede she saw those two conflicting emotions mirrored on his face, with regret and guilt in the eyes that wouldn't meet hers. Was he jealous? She realised dully. The idea was ludicrous, and yet not, given their circumstances. "I am scared Chakotay." She whispered, the last syllable of his name contorted by a choked sob. "And not just of the Collective…"
"I know." Chakotay found himself saying, not able to recall when either of them had been so open about admitting such a thing in the goal-orientated environment of Voyager. For senior officers, fear was a taboo emotion, never fully acknowledging it for sanity's sake. "Honey, I'm scared out of my mind."
A/n: Please review.