Icheb was beamed down to the planet with Seven and the Doctor, who was already wearing his ceremonial robes (he had adjusted his appearance). They were then asked to go to a guesthouse, and each changed separately. In Icheb's case, he was only instructed how to put on his ceremonial robes, and once he was finished, he was ready to leave. His short hair didn't need styling, so he sat down in the reception area with the Doctor, and they both waited for Seven.
It took about 10 minutes, then the former borg came out. Icheb's eyes widened when he saw her. If she hadn't had the ocular implant, he wouldn't have recognized her at first glance.
She wore a dazzling dress that emphasized her figure, her hair was loose and hung over her shoulders. But the Doctor was even more captivated by her than Icheb. He stood up and said, "Seven, you look simply enchanting!"
Seven took a breath and looked down at himself. "Thank you, Doctor. However, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to move properly in these ostentatious meters of fabric without constantly stepping on it."
The EMH grinned. "Don't worry, we'll get that figured out in a minute."
He stood behind Seven, grabbed both her hands from behind, guided her forward to the dress, and then showed her how to elegantly lift the front fabric a little.
Seven glanced briefly to the side, indignant, and then said, "I fail to see how struggling with fabric is meant to be an enjoyable experience. However, if I trip, at least I have immediate medical attention on standby."
The Doctor just grinned and held out his arm. "Don't worry, Seven, you're in the best hands. Resistance... is futile."
"I'm afraid so," the former Borg said simply, and they both started walking. Icheb followed them.

After they had arrived, the EMH had asked Seven for a dance and now, Icheb stood near the festival's entrance, looking at the glowing cityscape. The Edanians had adorned their streets with floating lanterns that pulsed in slow, rhythmic waves, casting a warm golden hue over the gathering crowd. Music drifted through the air, melodic, unfamiliar, and strangely calming. Icheb liked it, somehow. He still felt uneasy as he didn't know how to proceed but he reminded himself that adaptation was essential.
He scanned the crowd, hoping to find someone he could talk to, when his eyes caught a familiar figure approaching. And for the first time in his life, Icheb felt as though the air had been pulled from his lungs. It was Naomi. He almost didn't recognize her at first.
Her dress was a deep, shimmering shade of violet, flowing effortlessly with her every movement. The intricate embroidery along the edges reflected the lantern light, creating a soft luminescence around her as she walked. But it wasn't just the dress. It was the way she moved. Confident, graceful, almost regal.
And her hair! He had never seen her wear it like that before. It was styled up in an elegant twist, delicate strands framing her face, drawing attention to the sharp yet soft features that had subtly matured over the years.
She looked…
Icheb swallowed.
She looked beautiful.
Something tightened in his chest, something unfamiliar and entirely unwelcome. Naomi had always been Naomi, bright, curious, ambitious. A child when he first met her, and then an eager young cadet-to-be. He had seen her as a friend, as someone to guide, to protect and also asked for advice on how to socialize. But he had never seen her like this.
And now he couldn't unsee it.
She turned toward him then, her blue eyes catching the lantern light just right, and she smiled. Icheb's throat went dry.
"Hey, Icheb!" she greeted, her voice light and excited. "You made it!"
He opened his mouth to respond, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, words failed him. His mind struggled to process the sudden shift in perception, the inexplicable warmth spreading through his chest. He was acting irrationally. He needed to regain control.
"Yes," he finally managed to say, his voice unusually stiff. "I made it."
Naomi tilted her head slightly, giving him a curious look. "Are you okay?"
Icheb forced a nod, willing himself to focus. "Of course."
If she noticed anything strange in his behavior, she didn't comment on it. Instead, she gestured toward the open plaza where the festival's main dance had begun. "Come on! Let's at least try to enjoy this."
And just like that, she was gone, swept into the rhythm of the festival.
Icheb let out a slow breath, his hands clasping behind his back as he observed her disappearing into the crowd. Something had changed, something fundamental.
But he didn't have time to analyze it further before a new variable entered the equation.
A young Edanian man had approached Naomi. He was tall, with dark, sleek hair and the fluid, confident posture of someone accustomed to attention. His clothing, though elegant like the rest of the Edanians, bore an insignia Icheb had noted earlier; one that marked him as a member of the ruling family. Naomi laughed at something he said.
Then, before Icheb could fully register what was happening, the young man extended a hand, and Naomi took it, allowing herself to be led into the dance.
A sharp, unfamiliar sensation stabbed through Icheb's chest. His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists. His entire body went rigid with something he could not immediately categorize. Why did this bother him?
It was logical that others would find Naomi appealing. She was intelligent, charismatic, and, as he had only just realized, physically attractive. There was no reason to feel anything other than neutral observation toward this interaction. Yet every fiber of his being was not neutral.
He watched as the Edanian twirled Naomi effortlessly, making her laugh again. Icheb's stomach twisted. He did not like that sound coming from him.
He tried to ignore the growing heat behind his ribs, the tightness in his throat. He tried to analyze it rationally. Perhaps this was a protective instinct, concern for Naomi's well-being. But that explanation felt incomplete. This sensation was more… volatile. He needed to figure it out.

Naomi took a deep breath as she stepped onto the festival grounds with Ayala, eyes wide with wonder. The Edanians had truly outdone themselves. Their city shimmered with golden lanterns that floated above the streets like tiny, glowing planets, their light casting playful reflections in the canals that wound through the plaza. The music was vibrant, unfamiliar, yet somehow exhilarating. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. And tonight, for the first time, she felt different.
For years, she had been "young Naomi Wildman", Voyager's resident child prodigy, the captain's assistant, the half-Ktarian kid who still had to prove she belonged among the crew. But now, as she moved through the festival in her shimmering violet dress, she felt… grown-up. She wanted to be seen as a young woman.
The Edani had done a wonderful job, transforming Naomi from a casual teenager into a graceful young lady in just half an hour, whose entire demeanor had been transformed too by the new style. She felt herself floating in the dress - walking was not possible! And she felt incredibly confident. She had also noticed that Tarik kept looking at her, and when she had asked him about it at some point along the way, he had simply said, "Your mother would be incredibly proud of you, Naomi. But since she can't admire you all the time, I'll have to do it for her."
Naomi had blushed a little at that point. Tarik could always manage to almost make her cry with emotion and love.
"Thank you, Tarik," she said simply, resting her head lightly on his shoulder.

And part of her, deep down, hoped that maybe, just maybe, a certain ex-Borg would notice.
Her gaze instinctively swept the festival grounds, seeking out a familiar face.
And then she saw him.
"Tarik, I think I saw Icheb. Have some fun, I just want to say hello."
"All right, but don't forget you reserved a few dances for me," he reminded her, a little jealous.
"The evening hasn't even started yet," she said cheerfully, and left.
Tarik watched her go and didn't take his eyes off her when she reached Icheb.
"So this is what it feels like to be the father of a daughter who's fledging," he mumbled to himself and sighed. Today was probably the day he realized he couldn't keep Naomi with him forever and suddenly, a wave of sadness, fear and pain overcame him.
"Tarik! Over here!" The moment of discomfort vanished and Ayala turned and saw Chakotay and Kathryn beckoning him over. He glanced once more at Icheb and Naomi, but then sighed again and forced himself to turn and walk away.

Icheb stood near the entrance, watching the festivities with his usual composed stance. His hands were clasped behind his back, his eyes scanning the environment with analytical precision. Always calculating, always observing.
For a moment, she hesitated. Then, as if sensing her, his gaze met hers. Naomi felt a sudden flutter in her chest, an electric thrill running through her spine. And then, something unexpected happened. Icheb froze. His expression remained controlled, but his body stiffened slightly, his lips parting just the faintest bit. His gaze flickered, just for a second, over her dress, her hair, before locking onto her eyes once more.
Was that… surprise?
No. It is more than that,she is staring at me!
Naomi's heart he actually think I look… nice?
She pushed down the sudden rush of warmth in her face and smiled at him. "Hey, Icheb! You made it!"
He hesitated for half a second too long before answering. "Yes. I made it."
Something was off. He sounded weird. Stiffer than usual. His voice was always controlled, but now there was an almost mechanical quality to it, as if he were actively forcing himself to sound normal.
Naomi tilted her head. "Are you okay?"
Icheb blinked. "Of course."
Before she could ask anything else, the music changed, shifting into a livelier rhythm, and movement caught her attention. "Come on! Let's at least try to enjoy this." Naomi wanted to have fun. The music attracted her almost magically and she wanted to dance.
She turned, headed toward the dancing area and found herself face-to-face with an Edanian man, not much older than her.
His skin had a slight golden tint, his features sharp and elegant. He wore a high-collared outfit embroidered with delicate patterns, and his dark, sleek hair framed a smile that was both charming and confident.
"You're from Voyager, aren't you?" he asked, his voice smooth and melodic.
Naomi blinked, surprised by his directness. "Uh, yeah. I'm Naomi Wildman."
"Naomi," he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. "I am Sarel. Welcome to our festival."
She smiled. "Thanks! It's amazing."
His grin widened. "Then you must celebrate it properly." Without hesitation, he extended his hand. "Would you dance with me?"
Naomi hesitated for only a fraction of a second before accepting. "Sure!"
Sarel led her into the open plaza, where other dancers were already moving in pairs, weaving gracefully through the crowd. He moved effortlessly, guiding her with a confidence that made it easy to follow along.

Naomi had danced before, nothing too complicated, mostly crew celebrations on Voyager, but this was different. The Edanians' dance style was fast and elegant, full of twirls and fluid movements that made her dress swirl around her.
She laughed as Sarel spun her once, then again, catching her effortlessly.
"You're good at this," he admitted.
She grinned. "It helps that I have an excellent partner."
Naomi felt a small rush of excitement. This was fun. She was dancing at a festival, in a breathtaking city, with a charming local boy.
But then, something made her glance back toward Icheb. He was still standing in the same place, watching. But there was something different in the way he looked at her now.
His usual stoicism had cracked just a little, and beneath it, something sharp, something intense flickered. Something she had never seen before.
And for the first time in all the years she had known him, Naomi felt like she had finally become visible to Icheb.

Icheb had always prided himself on his ability to analyze situations with precision and logic. His mind was structured, disciplined, a necessity after years of Borg conditioning. And yet... since he'd lived on Voyager, and hadn't been fully assimilated as a Borg, a fairly large part of the Brunali boy Icheb had remained. Hidden deep within him, but every now and then he found himself drawing on this source of his originally carefree self, and in certain situations, he didn't think or act entirely analytically, but could even be quite witty. But this was anything but witty. It was grueling and completely incomprehensible. He couldn't remember such feelings, and it confused him.

As he stood rigidly at the edge of the festival, watching Naomi dance with Sarel, he felt something slipping out of his grasp. He didn't like this.
At first, he told himself it was simply a natural reaction to unfamiliarity. Naomi, whom he had always seen as a younger friend, now seemed… different. It wasn't just the dress or the way her hair framed her face. It was the way she moved, the way she carried herself, the way she laughed so freely in the company of someone else.
Someone who wasn't him. His jaw clenched as Sarel spun her again, his grip firm on her waist. The Edanian was smooth, charming, his confidence in stark contrast to Icheb's own awkward, simmering confusion.
It shouldn't bother him! And yet, an uncomfortable heat coiled in his chest, tightening like a vice. He could identify the sensation now. Jealousy. He had read about it before, studied it in human psychology, but he had never felt it. The concept had always seemed illogical to him. Why should one feel threatened by another's presence in someone's life?
Relationships were built on compatibility, not fleeting emotions. But this wasn't logical. This was something deeper, something raw.
What if she likes him?
The thought struck him with the force of a disruptor blast. He had never considered that possibility before, never truly entertained the idea that Naomi might… choose someone else.
But why would she choose him?
Until tonight, he had never even considered Naomi in that way. She had been his friend, his crewmate, his eager conversation partner. She had always been there, orbiting his life like a constant, reliable star.
Had he been blind this entire time?
His fingers curled into fists at his sides as Sarel leaned in, murmuring something into Naomi's ear. She smiled, actually smiled, and Icheb felt his pulse quicken.
He wanted to look away, to rationalize, to push the feeling down, but it was impossible. He couldn't ignore the way Naomi looked at him, the way she laughed so effortlessly, the way she swayed to the rhythm of the music as if she belonged there.
And then it hit him. What if he had already lost her? The realization sent a jolt of panic through his system. Panic was inefficient. He had to focus. He had to do something.
But what?
Approaching her now would be reckless. He was not adept at social maneuvering in situations like this, and he had no idea how to act. Could he simply walk up and demand an explanation for why she was dancing with someone else? No. That was irrational. He had no claim to her.
Yet, the thought of Naomi looking at Sarel the way she had always looked at him made his stomach churn. His breathing became uneven, and for the first time in a long while, he felt out of control. He needed an anchor, something to ground him before this spiral consumed him completely.
Without thinking, he turned on his heel and walked away from the festival lights, retreating into the dimly lit gardens that surrounded the plaza. His hands were still clenched into fists, his mind racing.
He was Borg. He was trained for tactical analysis, for assessing probabilities. And yet, at this moment, he had no strategy, no plan. Only one undeniable truth. He wanted Naomi Wildman. And he had no idea what to do about it.