by Various
“Why do you know these things about this woman and not about other individuals you assimilated during your time as a drone?” Chakotay asked softly. Seven drew a shuddering breath, not quite a sob.
“She was the last individual I assimilated before Captain Janeway severed my link to the Borg.”
What is it about sickbays that always makes me feel like there’s not quite enough oxygen in the room? Captain Janeway wondered as she strode toward her chief medical officer and Chakotay. The holographic physician was standing beside an exam table where Seven was lying still, the diagnostic console above her just receding back into its niche.
“Report, Doctor,” Janeway ordered.
The Doctor sighed, his usual mix of irritation and arrogance replaced with curiosity and mild concern. He scowled at the monitor before him, on which was displayed the results of Seven’s physical. Janeway smothered a smile as he redirected the scowl at her first officer.
“Well. This little exercise of yours, Commander, appears to have done something interesting to Seven’s neural pathways. When she came to me just two days ago, her brain scans looked like this.”
The holographic doctor pulled up a display of a neural chart. The wavy lines were indecipherable to Janeway; however, even she could see a marked distinction between the first and the second pattern. “I completed a second scan after Seven and Chakotay went on their vision quest. Typically, the neural stimulators used by the akoonah are harmless, but something seems to have triggered a unique synaptic response in Seven.”
“Meaning what, Doctor?” Janeway asked, taking an unconsciously protective stance beside Seven, who now sat up on the exam table.
“I don’t know yet, Captain. I’m not sure how Seven’s Borg implants are influencing the psychotropic effects of Chakotay’s akoonah, or if they are affecting each other at all. This could simply be a coincidence, a physiological event that would have occurred regardless of the vision quest.”
“Is Seven in danger?” asked Chakotay, a stricken expression on his face. He was a gentle man; the thought that he might have been the cause, however unintentional, of harm coming to his friend was unbearable to him. The Doctor shrugged.
“I can’t say for certain, Commander. Neurology is always a gamble when Borg implants are involved in the mix. For now, she is stable and can return to duty.” The Doctor turned to Seven, who was sitting uncharacteristically passively on the exam table. “Seven, I’d like for you to wear this neural monitor.” Without waiting for her reply, he attached a small device behind Seven’s ear. “This will help me find the specific neural pathway that is being triggered. It should help me find a treatment that will allow me to stop your dreams of Eilara.”
Seven blinked as if her mind had been wandering, then her gaze focused on the Doctor. She seemed momentarily confused.
“Yes, that is fine. Thank you, Doctor. Now I must go or I’ll be late.”
“Late?” Janeway asked.
“I must pick up my daughter from school shortly. Today is the fourth day, and on those days we always walk home past the bakery to buy the sweet rolls she likes. We have them for dessert after dinner.”
The three Starfleet officers exchanged startled glances. The Doctor put a restraining hand on Seven’s arm and began a new scan.
“Seven, actually, you will need to stay in sickbay. I cannot return you to duty at this time,” the Doctor stated. Seven blinked again and started slightly.
“Doctor. I am fine. I am willing to wear the neural monitor, if that is your concern. I will not remove it.”
Janeway’s stomach dropped. She had dealt with delirium, illness, injury in her crew before. She knew the pain and confusion it could cause. Yet somehow, seeing it in Seven was as unsettling to her as anything in her past experience. For all of Seven’s vulnerabilities and insecurities, the former Borg seemed always above typical human ailments. To see Seven affected by physical infirmities seemed wrong to Janeway somehow, and served to highlight the precarious situation her entire crew was in by being stranded so far from home and help.
“Seven,” Janeway said, stepping closer to the younger woman, “you just said that you had to go pick up your daughter from school.”
“That is not possible,” Seven stated flatly. “I do not have a daughter. The woman, Eilara, had a daughter. Perhaps you misunderstood.”
The Doctor, who had been surreptitiously scanning Seven since her unusual outburst, frowned even more deeply than before and moved to a secondary diagnostic console. He pulled up a new scan and placed it next to the other two which were still on the display above the exam table. Janeway and Chakotay moved to the Doctor’s side and stared at the newest data. Janeway forced herself to remain patient while he reviewed the information, though it took monumental willpower. At length, he turned back to Seven.
“In the few moments between the second and third scans, there are changes in your neural pathways, just enough to cause a fluctuation in the overall reading of your brain wave patterns. Not enough to pinpoint the specific synaptic connections that are affected. Yet,” he corrected, “though with further monitoring, I will be able to find the precise connection and create a treatment for it.”
“And that will stop the nightmares I am having about this woman?” Seven asked the Doctor, almost plaintively. She looked like a vulnerable child, for once surrounded by people and objects that were frightening and incomprehensible. Perhaps there was an element of the child in her after all, Janeway thought to herself. Seven had been assimilated at such a young age, after all; it was just possible that the child still needed to be reassured every now and then. What better time than when facing nightmares and frightening medical diagnoses?
“Yes,” the Doctor said softly. “It will, Seven.”
“What I’m wondering is why the vision quest has had this effect on her?” Chakotay asked. “My people have used the akoonah for years with no detrimental effects at all. And the vision quest has been a part of my culture for centuries. Nothing like this has ever been recorded.”
“I blame the Borg implants,” the Doctor began.
“No, it is not the Borg technology,” Seven interrupted. “Species 3836 had highly advanced medical and technological knowledge; the nebula was all that prevented them from creating a static warp field that would have allowed them to leave the planet to explore the galaxy. Those medical and warp field advancements are why the Borg wanted to assimilate them. They held off complete assimilation for a time, partly because of the nebula. They employed a program in which each of their citizens, upon birth, was implanted with a DNA-based chip that recorded their entire life. If assimilated, they hypothesized it would create a bioelectric feedback loop in the Borg that could allow warp-capable societies to find a genetic vulnerability to defeat them.”
Before she had finished speaking, the Doctor moved back to the computer and had begun an analysis on her scans. He was thoroughly irritated with himself that he hadn’t considered such a possibility, and determined to make up the lost time now. Janeway looked thoughtfully at Seven.
“Seven, this is a bad time to ask, but can you tell us more about the Lynnrali warp mechanics? You said they were highly advanced. Would we be able to integrate their technology into Voyager’s systems?” Seven shook her head.
“Possibly. But I am unable to recall anything useful about their warp mechanics, or their medical technology, or anything besides Eilara’s memories while I am awake, and only nightmares when I regenerate,” Seven replied with frustration. “Yet I can remember the tune of her child’s favorite song.” Quietly, Seven began humming a lilting melody. Janeway motioned Chakotay aside.
“Commander, did Seven’s vision quest have any unusual effects on you at all?”
“None, Captain. The visions I saw with her were intense, but I experienced nothing that was unexpected in a vision quest. Nor,” he added, �
�did Seven. Her experiences were typical for one’s first vision quest. She had the same confusion and disorientation that everyone has, but she was fine otherwise.”
Janeway placed a comforting hand on her first officer’s arm. “This isn’t your fault, Chakotay. Don’t blame yourself.” He tried to smile in return and failed, too concerned about Seven to heed her words. Janeway’s scientific background reared its head, and with it, her captain’s logic and training. An idea began to form in her mind, along with a cautious hope. “I have a mission for you, Commander. If Seven is able and willing, I think I know how we can find out about those advanced warp mechanics after all.”
I was going to be late if I didn’t hurry. I hated when I wasn’t already waiting outside her classroom, ready to pick her up. It made her worry that I wasn’t going to be there. It was because one time, her father was supposed to pick her up from school. He never came. He died in an accident on his way to get her that day, and she has been traumatized by it ever since, has never forgotten how scared she felt that no one would come for her ever again. I can’t blame her for that. Not when I feel the same way. Maybe that’s selfish or immature of me. It isn’t his fault he died. But I still feel like he abandoned me too.
“Mama!” Eryet runs toward me, a smile lighting her face like the sun. “Can we walk to the bakery?” she asks, though she knows perfectly well what my answer will be.
“Of course we can. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
And so we went on our way, our ritual done, thoughts of loss and fear pushed to the back of my mind for now as I walked with my child into the beautiful day together. As we walked, we sang, our voices lilting together, sometimes uneven as the crowds jostled us, or when I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. One old grandmother stopped to listen to us, a smile on her otherwise sad face. I waved at her as we passed, glad that something had brought her some joy that day, even if it was just a mother singing with her child. I didn’t notice at first when the sky darkened above us.
Seven panted, harsh and fast, panic threatening to overwhelm her. She had scrambled off of the exam table and was backed into a corner of sickbay, lucid one moment and terror stricken the next. Chakotay and the Doctor both stood before her with worried expressions. The three had been working steadily on the captain’s hypothesis to retrieve information about the Lynnrali warp mechanics from Seven’s collective Borg memories for hours by guiding her through her visions. However, her declining neural functions were limiting their success and both Starfleet officers were unwilling to continue the risk for much longer. The Doctor reached for a medical tricorder but was unable to get close enough to Seven to properly scan her. The first officer took a step forward, his hands open in a calming gesture of comfort.
“Seven, it’s me. It’s Chakotay. You’re safe, on Voyager. What are you seeing?”
“It’s okay, Eryet,” Seven said, her voice shaking. She held her arms out as though keeping something behind her. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
Chakotay stepped forward, quick as a snake, and gently but firmly grabbed Seven’s wrists. “Seven! Listen to my voice. You are having a vision but you are safe. I need you to tell me what you’re seeing.”
Seven blinked as though waking from a dream and exhaled slowly. Chakotay could feel her hands trembling in his and he gave them a reassuring squeeze before releasing them. She raised them before her, examining them as though uncertain they belonged to her. She drew another breath and looked about her, suddenly realizing she was crouched in a corner of sickbay. She stood upright and stepped toward the two men, flinching only slightly when the Doctor raised a medical scanner to her face.
“I . . . the sky is dark. Eryet and I were walking home, singing. We passed an old woman, and I waved to her. The sky became dark.” She spoke in a flat monotone that did nothing to hide the dread she felt. Chakotay wondered who was feeling the dread the most–Eilara or Seven. “It was the Borg; they had arrived in low geosynchronous orbit directly above the city. Multiple cubes, preparing for a massive assimilation operation.”
Seven sat heavily on the edge of the exam table, seemingly drained of energy. That in itself told Chakotay how rattled she really was. Usually, Seven seemed like a spring tightly wound, on the verge of erupting from an excess of energy. Even her clothes, normally with crisp and clean lines clinging to her slim body, somehow seemed slightly wilted.
“A planetary assault?”
Seven nodded. “The Lynnrali had the ability to regenerate organs in a way that the Borg considered superior.” The young woman shuddered, her eyes haunted and unfocused. “It would make assimilation more efficient.”
Seven blinked and gasped suddenly, jerking back from him.
“What?”
“I said the progress on the new program is going efficiently, love,” Andrest told me with almost childlike excitement. “So efficiently that it’s being presented before the Planetary Science Council next month.”
“Next month? But surely that won’t be enough time to prepare everything?” I cried in surprise. I knew my husband and his colleagues were brilliant, but that seemed like an impossible deadline. He laughed his delightful, wild laugh and kissed me. “Where do you think I’ve been all these long days? We’ve been holed up in the lab, getting ready for even the chance of this! Now we have it, and the hard work is past us. Small refinements to the presentation are all that remain. After that, I truly think that the Council will approve this for the general population.”
“Andrest, that’s amazing! I am so proud of you,” I said. I genuinely meant it. He was one of a handful of scientists in the world with the skill and knowledge to create and carry out the audacious plan the government and Science Council had dreamt up together. A plan that could, with luck and bravery, allow us to hold out against the Borg.
“Seven, I’m not Andrest. I need you to try to focus,” came Chakotay’s voice. “I know we’ve been working at this for hours and it’s difficult to block out Eilara’s voice. But try to think beyond her memories. Remember? The captain needs you to tell me about the Lynnrali’s warp mechanics so we can upgrade Voyager’s warp drive.” He seemed very far away to her. The Doctor moved swiftly to Seven’s side, an alarmed look on his face as he waved his med scanner over her. She blinked in disorientation.
“Her neural functions are deteriorating rapidly, Commander.” The hologram waved his hand toward the display above Seven, which held a view of her continuing brain scans. “I’m working as fast as I can to isolate the specific pathways that are being triggered, but if I can’t find them quickly, her systems are going to start shutting down.” Seven gasped again and shook her head as through trying to clear it.
“They approved it!” Andrest told me. “The Council looked at the data we presented, along with the evidence from you and the other control group participants. We will begin work with the Center of Citizens and the Council of Medical Practitioners to manufacture the implants. The Center of Citizens will handle existing citizens; the Medical Practitioners will fit newborn citizens with their implants. We will liaise with both and provide the technical expertise they need.”
This was the biggest day of his career. He could do anything from here on out, make his way in any council or government agency he wanted. He could become the First Elected Official, if he thought to run for the office. But he only wanted to continue his research, to help people, especially children. I was flooded with warmth and turned to him. He must have seen something in my expression because he stopped his excited pacing and focused on my face.
I said, “I am glad you’ll be working so closely with the Medical Practitioners. You should have the process perfected by the time we add our child to the citizen registry. I trust that seven months will give you ample time to get it right?”
He had to have suspected, but still his mouth dropped open. Then he threw his head back and shouted a laugh to the
sky, grabbing me and spinning us around in a giddy dance.
“Eilara! A child, truly?” He held me at arm’s length, looking at me as though he was seeing me for the first time, then pulled me close to him. “A child. Thank you, beloved.”
“You are crying,” I said, reaching up to his face.
Chakotay took Seven’s hand gently from his face. “She’s obviously rapidly getting worse.”
“Excellent diagnosis,” the Doctor muttered sarcastically from his work station. Chakotay ignored him.
“Can we connect the computer directly to Seven’s cortical node and see what she is seeing? Maybe it will help us find the data the captain is looking for on their warp mechanics.”
The Doctor paused, considering. “Yes, I believe so, Commander.”
“It’s worth a shot. B’Elanna and Harry can help sort it out if Seven isn’t able to. Is she stable enough to try it?”
“I am, Commander,” came Seven’s response, somewhat weakly, from behind him. Chakotay turned quickly at the sound of her voice, surprised to find her lucid once more. She was pale and shaken but, for the moment at least, was clear-minded. “Though you should hurry. I can feel her memories pushing into my thoughts. I do not know how to fight it.”
“This is an injection of lexorin. It will help suppress the memories of the Lynnrali woman,” the Doctor said, pressing a hypospray against Seven’s neck. The device hissed as it painlessly delivered the medicine into her bloodstream. Seven nodded.