~Pirates of the Federation~
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Written by MTrek
Edited by BookFan87
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Chapter 1: Federation Day
Sorry for the delay on this to all my readers. Hope you enjoy this next installment!
LL&P! ;3
Seven's sleep was interrupted by a sharp pang of excited fear far too great for her dormant mind to entertain. Coming back to reality, she studied the room. No, she wasn't on the bridge… just in her quarters.
"Lights, 30 percent." The computer obeyed her command, illuminating her room in a dull glow. Plain and sparse, only essential items composed the major areas, such as one table, chair, and replicator. Sitting up, Seven reached over to her nightstand, opened a drawer, and pulled out a few things. Underneath some books and mementos, the same, paper-thin chip was still there, the same as it was. The only difference now was that it wasn't flashing – it had not done so since that fateful day ten years ago…
Holding it in between her fingers, she sat on the edge of her bed and leaned on her propped arm. Seven hadn't dreamt that intensely in quite a while—especially of that particular day. Absently, she slid it into her cybernetic hand's former nanocortical fiber sheath. It fit perfectly. She didn't know why she'd kept it so long…
Suddenly, a door alert sounded, breaking her train of thought. Sparsely clad in her sleepwear, Seven grabbed a robe off the chair, causing it to topple loudly. A concerned, deep voice came from behind the door. "Seven, is everything all right? Are you decent?"
Tying the cord, her disheveled blonde hair fell in her face. "Yes—yes. Come in."
The balding Captain Jean-Luc Picard entered the dark room and grinned genially, albeit amusedly at Seven. "Still abed at this hour? On the most important day of the Federation?" Another person holding an elegant box entered with him, while Picard made his way over to the blinds. Tapping a wall panel, the shadowing tint of the window faded until it completely cleared, revealing a bright star reflecting off the hull of Deep Space Nine. "I have a gift for you, my dear."
Going back over to the aide, Picard opened the box carefully as Seven regarded him. He always seemed to dote on her every chance he got, be it for a special occasion or just because he was in the sector. She'd gotten to know the aging captain at Earth's repair dock and he'd become very fond of her, much to her surprise and confusion. But she did enjoy his company and had come to regard him as something of a father she never had.
He pulled out a royal blue, long-sleeved modest dress and held it up to her. She stepped forward with an appreciative smile, gingerly taking it from his hands. "You spoil me, Captain. I have very little need for party outfits."
"Ah," he said dismissively. "But certainly you need something else to wear besides our dreadful uniforms to the ceremony."
Folding the dress over her arm, Seven frowned sidelong at him as she walked back to her closet. "It is just a party aboard your old ship, Sir… Is there something more important I should be aware of?"
"Surely, you haven't forgotten, my dear—your Captain Chakotay's promotion ceremony?"
Peeking around the corner of her closet, she glared at him. That's why he came here, she thought. I knew it.
"Or, rather, Commodore Chakotay. He's made quite a fine captain, wouldn't you say?"
She purposely didn't answer. Picard had been trying to get her and Chakotay back together ever since he'd discovered they were old flames.
"It's obvious he still fancies you, you know. Everyone can see that…"
Picard's aide had followed Seven into the closet, anticipating that she may need her help with the dress. It turned out she had assumed right. Seven slipped into the garment and to her dismay quickly discovered that, having lace-stays in the back it was much tighter than a normal gown. The aide cinched it with a sharp tug, causing Seven to gasp involuntarily.
"Seven? How's it coming?"
The aide worked her way up the Borg's back, pulling it as hard as she possibly could. "Difficult to say…" the lieutenant answered.
"That dress was replicated with an ancient Earth corset. It was the height of fashion in nineteenth century France," he said from the main room.
"Well, women in nineteenth century France must have learned not to breathe." The aide finished her work and left the closet. Seven inhaled with a pained wince. If anyone else had given me this dress…
As she worked on the outer royal blue covering, she heard Picard's com-link chime. "Captain Picard, your first officer is waiting downstairs for you."
On the lower levels of the personal quarter complex, the first officer dawdled around the foyer. Clad in a red uniform, he held his hands behind his back as he waited. Slowly walking over to one of the interesting wall fixtures, he curiously reached up to outline its contours… then he absent-mindedly tested its strength. The swirling decoration immediately gave way under his unnatural hard pressure and came off in his hand. Quickly realizing what he'd done, his gaze darted guiltily around the room; but fortunately for him, there wasn't anybody watching. Stashing the broken piece in a waste receptacle, he came back to attention just in time for the captain to come out of the turbolift.
"Data! You actually made it," said Picard boisterously.
The android smiled in greeting to his old captain. "Happy Federation Day, Captain. I trust you are functioning within normal parameters?" he teased.
"Oh yes I'm perfectly fine, old friend. I feel younger in light of the day's upcoming events. How was the Gamma Quadrant assignment?"
"Quite uneventful. Captain Madden has great knowledge of—" Data broke off in mid-sentence when the turbolift doors opened again behind Picard, revealing the sapphire-clad Seven. His breath was taken away, in a manner of speaking.
Picard turned around, following Data's gaze. "Seven! You look absolutely stunning!"
Seven noticed Data's familiar pale face – maybe a shade paler than usual – immediately. "Data! It's so good to see you again." She walked across the foyer toward the two men, unconsciously placing a hand on her constricted chest.
"It is also gratifying to see you as well, Lieutenant Nine," answered Data with a faint smile. He was uncharacteristically nervous, but determined not to show it.
"Data, how many times do I need to ask you to call me 'Seven'?"
The officer nearly rattled off exactly how many times she had, but open-mouthed, he covered for his faux pas. "—At least once more, Lieutenant."
Seven looked disappointed, and possibly even a little hurt at his response. He inwardly cringed. When it came to matters of human romantic interactions, he was seriously lacking in experience.
"Go easy on the commander, Seven," said the captain with a laugh. "He has always been formal, even to his comrades." Straightening his dress uniform, he put a hand on her upper arm. "Now, we must be going. See you on the Dauntless, Number One."
Seven gathered up part of her dress in one hand and strode past Data. "Good day, Commander." She and Picard walked to the end of the foyer.
Data took a couple steps in their direction. "Good day…" The officers disappeared around the corner. "…Seven," he added under his breath.
Outside the station, the turret attachments sat at rest. They had made short work of all hostile vessels during the Dominion War, and all ever since. A more than subtle warning to anyone.
On the outskirts of these ruins, an arrow-shaped shuttle cruised toward the station. Its pilot looked at the destroyed ships as he passed. Usually a disheartening and gruesome sight to his particular kind, the ecru eyed, death-faced machine just gave a casual salute in respect. It was commonplace in Lore's life. Nothing he hadn't seen before.
A weak, garbled beeping alerted him that the engines were failing. Setting the shuttle in line with Deep Space Nine's recently added cargo bay, he gunned the nacelles in one last burst before they cut out. The station became larger through his view screen. As he calculated how much longer he had before reaching the bay, he glanced at the other large ships high above. Every docking spire was occupied, but there were two in particular that caught Lore's eye. The large, elongated U.S.S Enterprise and Dauntless demanded most of an onlooker's attention.
Inside the bay, the Aglerian traffic-controller stood in the middle of the crowded deck, taking inventory. An alert flashed up on his padd, interrupting his train of thought.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Unidentified ship incoming.
Threat status = Negligible.
Power = Failed.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
He glanced up just as Lore's ship coasted through the air-shield on its leftover inertia. The tractor beams inside the bay slowed it down, but not in time to stop it from jamming it's bow into the back wall.
Alarmed, the Aglerian sprinted over to the embedded ship just as Lore forced the back hatch open. Fifteen feet off the floor, he jumped down without a second thought and blithely walked to one of the docking doors.
The traffic-controller passed him halfway, stared incredulously at the less-than-visible ship, then came after the cavalier android. "Hey, hold up there!"
Lore stopped compliantly and turned slowly on his heel. Clad in a style one would immediately recognize as vagrant, he had numerous trinkets and half-concealed weapons dangling from his belt. The jumpsuit itself was worn and dark faded tan.
"It's ten bars of gold latinum to dock your ship in the bay!" said the controller, still miffed.
Glancing sidelong at the useless shuttle, Lore raised one eyebrow to him.
"And I'll need to know your name," continued the controller, lifting up the datapadd expectantly.
Lore looked down at his belt and unclipped a large latinum case. "What do you say to 30…" he tossed it to the controller, "…and we forget the name?"
Awkwardly holding the heavy case full of currency, the Aglerian clacked his mandibles once in quick consideration. Smiling as best as he could, he replied, "Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Mr. Jones."
Lore nodded once then easily continued on his way. But as he went through the bay doors, he activated a holoprojector on his wrist. The resulting disguise made his visage change completely. The shape, color, and overall image of his face was unrecognizable. Perfect for him to blend inconspicuously into the crowds of the station…
That's all I have for now. Until I get cracking on Chapitre 2, please review! ^^
~MTrek~