Revitalized and with a new outfit in place, Janeway strolled over to the transport stop, immediately spotting Seven. Her blonde hair and towering height gave her away too easily.
Well, she wasn't that much taller than the locals…the average Feran was simply on average about five feet tall.
As she made her way over, it occurred to her that this picture was probably the story of Seven's human life: sticking out like a sore thumb. Although there was something tragic to be said for that kind of isolation, the thought also brought a smile to her face as she approached. Seven's distinctiveness was one of the things Janeway loved most about her.
"Seven," she called, squeezing between two Ferans that likely hadn't showered in a week or so and looked like they were homeless. They contrasted sharply with the well-groomed, lavishly-dressed Ferans around them, and had been shunned accordingly.
"Admiral," she greeted, obviously relieved at her presence in the midst of so many natives. "The next transport arrives in approximately eight minutes."
The Ferans were notorious for their punctuality; in fact, they often arrived to appointments and social gatherings extremely early. Lateness was considered a trait of the lazy.
As if to accentuate this point, the transport arrived a few seconds later, the conductor ushering them on. They boarded easily, paid their fare, and took seats near the back.
Transparent windows let them stare at the lush environment whizzing by, gradually giving way to stark dryness; nearly three-quarters of Fero's surface was covered by arid deserts. The coasts provided a stunning exception, brimming with greenery—short shrubs, lean and willowy trees, and colorful mosses dominated the landscape.
But none of this was noticeable as the trip continued. The land became bleak, beige, and flat. Wind occasionally rattled the alloyed components of the transport. The Ferans aboard were quiet, used to the barren scene around them, making only small bits of conversation. Seven felt a familiar sense of awkwardness at the thought of making conversation with Janeway amidst the relative silence; she had felt this numerous times on Earth as well, as there was an unspoken social norm that one should not be too loud or talkative in hushed places. It seemed illogical and inefficient to her, but she had learned to tolerate and abide by it. She did the same here, remaining mute in deference to custom.
Of course, Janeway chose that moment to speak.
"Seven, what do you think of Fero?"
Aware of the native Ferans around her, she replied cautiously but honestly.
"I find the desert landscape disconcerting, but unique in its beauty. The openness and desolation resonate with me in a way I cannot define in words."
"You feel a connection to this landscape?" the older woman rephrased, hoping for a clearer understanding.
"Yes." Seven processed the idea of connection to place for a few minutes, then realized she should ask Janeway the same question. "What do you think, Admiral?"
"I haven't decided yet. Still getting used to the starkness," Janeway grinned. "Our stop is coming up."
Turning to gaze out of the window, Seven noticed shiny structures on the horizon; this was the nearest sizable native city, Orin. The previous stops had been to mere villages, where families noisily embarked and workers from the resort zone disembarked. Their transport was nearly full at the moment.
It emptied considerably when they arrived at Orin, their destination. Feran children whooped as they exited the transport and bounded into a nearby water fountain, much to the dismay of several Feran mothers.
The time was nearing 10:00 at this point, and Seven noted the drastic difference in temperature. Near the beach, it had been considerably cooler and breezy; here it was definitely hot and gusts of wind only blew the hot, dry air around.
Through the intense brightness of the sun, Seven spotted a nearby strip of stores and pointed this out to Janeway.
"I propose that we begin here, Admiral," she stated.
Suddenly, one of the Feran children rushed to Seven and threw his soaking arms around her long legs, drenching her pants.
Janeway couldn't help laughing.
Seven was perplexed for several seconds, unsure of how to remove the child clinging to her. She was saved from this dilemma when one of the Feran mothers came charging over with what looked like a wicked rolling pin. The child's eyes widened in terror and he immediately let go, sprinting for his life as his mother yelled after him.
"You were saying…?" Janeway asked, not quite able to keep a straight face.
Seven smoothed her pants, slightly ruffled. "I propose that we give our business to a store immediately in order to avoid further incidents."
"Agreed," came the reply. "Let's go."
They entered a nearby trinket store, deciding to search for interesting souvenirs to bring back for the people that had asked. The air inside was pleasant and the bustle from outside disappeared when the door closed.
Janeway quickly stumbled on some sort of ornate, polymorphous fan device, complete with changing lighted patterns and shapes. She was amused for some minutes as she observed the transitions, eventually determining that she liked it. Picking up a few of the gadgets, the Admiral carried on, hoping she would find other intriguing gifts.
On the opposite side of the store, Seven browsed through small aisles of food and drink, unable to recognize most of the edibles stocked on the shelves. Many looked passably appetizing and vaguely human, but one could never be sure—Neelix's cooking had taught her this lesson over and over again. She refrained from purchasing anything.
Curious as to the success Janeway was having, she craned her neck over the aisle and located the redhead without difficulty. The older woman was playing with some sort of toy, Seven assumed, that kept collapsing into her hand. She strode over.
"I can't figure it out," Janeway smiled. "It's supposed to lock into one position, but I can't seem to get it..."
Seven analyzed the device briefly before placing her fingers onto it in a specific configuration. The toy stopped moving.
"How did you do it?" Janeway marveled at the solid shape.
"Magic," Seven responded cheekily, recalling that this was a common quip that human parents used with their children, and sometimes with other adults.
Janeway let it pass, forcing herself to enjoy the mystery. She was very familiar with this type of situation; there had been times aboard Voyager when she simply yielded to the ex-Borg's superior knowledge of a wide variety of subjects without questioning it.
"Are you purchasing any items from this store?" Seven asked, dubiously eying the objects in Janeway's arms.
"I am," Janeway answered, moving to the clerk. "I'm happy to have gotten the majority of my souvenir shopping done already."
Seven was familiar with the custom of buying souvenirs for those people in one's life that could not be present for an enjoyable vacation or leave. It was something she found comforting—even if she did not have many people in her life whom she could give souvenirs to.
Chakotay fleetingly came to mind, bringing with him despondency. She wished momentarily that she could purchase a souvenir for the old Chakotay, the one who had been compassionate, loyal, and tender. At present, she felt absolutely no desire to pay for a gift that would go to him.
Janeway finished with the clerk, toting a small bag that contained her gifts. "Ready?"
Nodding, Seven followed her out of the store. They walked along the boulevard, pausing to consider various other shops, stopping inside, and buying anything that seemed interesting. By 1430, they both were carrying multiple bags filled with goodies.
"Last store?" Janeway suggested as they halted in front of an apparel store, feeling tired from the walking, looking, and the heat outside.
"Yes, we should return to the transport stop within two hours in order to ensure we have enough time for dinner in the resort zone," Seven calculated, then pulled the door open for the Admiral.
As they entered the shop, it was apparent that it catered solely to native Ferans; Janeway saw many of the same styles of clothing that the Ferans on the bus and around the town had been wearing. Local style favored a fit that left little to the imagination, although many Ferans wore loose tunics over these outfits that covered their bodies, protecting their skin from the desert heat and sun.
Janeway looked around out of curiosity, then led Seven to a rack of slim blue shirts in the front of the store. "I think this color would really bring out your eyes, Seven. Try this on."
As she pulled the shirt from its rack, she noticed that a relatively thin, intricate dark pattern appeared, giving the blouse a more sophisticated air. Small fringe sections began to change slightly, augmenting the primary design.
"Are these people obsessed with shapeshifting or what…." Janeway muttered. "First the toys, then the clothing…."
"According to Starfleet data files, it seems that the local Ferans admire some native Feran species' abilities to shapeshift as an adaptation to the hostile desert environment."
Janeway looked shocked for a moment, unprepared for the fact that Seven had actually done the research. "Is that so?" she murmured. The younger woman held back her instinct to respond, knowing Janeway's question was rhetorical.
"Well, try it on," the Admiral barged ahead, moving to the fitting room. "You've hardly bought anything and you'll need something to remember this trip by."
"Very well." Seven reluctantly took the offered shirt into the fitting room while Janeway waited outside. She could hear the shuffle of clothes as the blonde changed.
A minute later, Seven reappeared, and in the process left Janeway's jaw halfway unhinged.
She snapped it shut after a few seconds, stumbling her way to a sentence.
"Seven—that shirt looks…magnificent on you," she managed, swallowing. Memories from the night before, when Seven's eyes had locked with hers, flooded into her head.
"Thank you." Seven seemed pleased by the compliment, looking down to study the material's fit on her body and examining the changing pattern.
Janeway put a hand on her mouth, in acute distress over the places her mind was traveling to and the way her eyes seemed to be impossibly drawn to the blonde's incredible figure. What the hell is…?
"Admiral? You appear to be ill," Seven remarked, moving over to Janeway in concern.
The closer proximity only increased Janeway's problem; the younger woman's clean scent pushed rational thought away and left a pleasant burn in her chest.
"I'm fine," the Admiral reassured her, autopilot taking over as her mind spiraled into a confused abyss. "Did you decide if you were going to get that blouse?"
The blonde mercifully stepped away and gave the garment another look of approval. "Yes. I will change and purchase it."
She changed again.
Janeway sat down weakly on a nearby bench, heart hammering in her chest. She closed her eyes. This was incredibly troubling. She had absolutely no idea why she was experiencing this reaction to Seven, but she needed to find out. As soon as possible.
On the trip home, they were unusually quiet, and when Seven indicated that she was free to have dinner, Janeway politely declined.