1930 hours came eventually, and Icheb excused himself to meet Naomi and Samantha Wildman. He was tutoring his own student, it seemed. Seven was glad Icheb and Naomi had each other for company. They were Voyager's only children and she knew from personal experience that being different could be isolating. Her pupil had taught her a valuable lesson recently about the trap of self-reliance. Tonight, if all went well, she might take her first steps in exploring mutual dependency. She left Astrometrics for Cargo Bay 2, glad that her 'roommate' was otherwise occupied.
Tonight's attire was the first piece of clothing she owned that had not been designed by her 'date.' She knew the element of surprise was important when dressing for an evening out, and wanted her outfit to represent her own developing tastes. The dress was longer than the one she had worn a few nights ago--mid-calf--and was less restrictive at the waist and bust, with what the computer described as an 'empress' collar that wrapped gently around her neck. It was simple, but lovely. She had designed it in the shades of blue and purple her 'tailor' seemed to like on her so much. Her hair she would wear down, but with strands on either side pulled back and clipped behind her head. She finished dressing and, for the first time in her adult life--except for a few fleeting hours in Unimatrix Zero--she felt more like Annika Hansen than Seven of Nine. It was disquieting and exciting all at once.
Unlike their last date, Seven would meet her escort in the holodeck. He asked to have a few moments alone in the scenario before she arrived. It was now 2004. She left for the quick turbolift ride to Deck 6.
To say that the Doctor was nervous was a bit of an understatement. Everyone knew he could reach an intensity that was almost manic, but he had never experienced such extreme 'butterflies.' He wanted this evening to be perfect, knowing the value his date placed on perfection. A tough standard to hold oneself to in a social context, he feared. Still, he would need his renowned precision tonight.
Right on time, the doors opened to reveal a vision in lavender and sapphire. He had never seen this dress before and the effort he knew had gone into it was deeply touching. It practically took his holographic breath away.
"Hello," he said in a voice unusually subdued for his program. "You look stunning." He hoped Mr. Paris's lessons on extending a compliment to a beautiful woman were as effective on Seven as they had apparently been on B'Elanna.
"Thank you, Doctor," his date replied. "You look...lovely, yourself." Had this been an actual social lesson, he might have corrected Seven's choice of compliments to something along the lines of 'handsome,' or 'dashing.' As it was, he was happy just to think she thought him 'lovely.' He, too, was wearing something new, a subroutine Lieutenant Torres has created for him of a classic navy blue suit with a bright white shirt and thin tie. Something she had seen on a 20th century actor known as 'Cary Grant,' she said. He assumed he had to thank Mr. Paris for that as well.
Seven looked around the holodeck, trying to place the setting. "Where are we?" she inquired.
The Doctor moved to stand next to her, then turned with a sweeping gesture to indicate their location, "Earth. European continent, an ancient city known as Venice. A city of canals, esteemed artists, and romance." He wanted to impress her without scaring her off. So far, it seemed to be working. The piazza he had chosen was deserted except for a table for two, perfectly set, and a sky full of stars. What illumination there was came from a full moon and several discretely placed lanterns. Somewhere, unseen musicians provided romantic underscoring for their evening.
The two stood awkwardly for a moment, as each tried to think of a way to break the tension without destroying the mood. "Are you hungry?" he asked, hoping that was the right choice.
"I am," she said, remembering not to blurt out that she had forgotten her nutritional supplement in her distraction that afternoon.
He showed her to the table, and held her chair as she sat. "Champagne?" he asked. She nodded and he proceeded to fill both their flutes.'Holographic champagne she surmised, not really minding, since synthehol made her very lightheaded. It was, of course, the only kind the Doctor could drink. "The Chateau St. Michele is holographic, but your meal is quite real," he offered, seeming to answer her unasked question. "I wouldn't recommend tasting my entree, however," he said, "empty calories," a touch of his sly humor surfacing. This was the Doctor she knew, and it helped to put her at ease.
They spent the rest of their dinner making pleasant conversation about the things they both enjoyed: music, speculating on the IQ's of various crewmembers, spinning theories on the nature of intelligence. They were long past the 'so, where do you come from,' stage of their relationship, yet they were each novices in the delicate dance of courtship. Still, they relaxed enough to let their equally wicked senses of humor out, and the evening was going well. A brief lull in their conversation provided the Doctor an opening he had been waiting for.
"Would you care to dance?" he asked.
Seven hesitated only a moment before answering. "I'd love to," she said trying not to sound like her stiff self. The Doctor stood and took her hand, but paused before helping her up. "Computer, play musical selection Paris 2341," he instructed. The tune was familiar to Seven as soon as she heard it, and she looked quickly into his eyes.
"This song always reminds me of you," he said softly as he moved her to an open area away from their table. The vocalist began as he twirled her slowly into his arms.
'There's a saying, oh, says that love is blind.
Still we're often told, 'seek and ye shall find.'
I'm gonna seek a certain man I've have in mind.
Searching everywhere. Haven't found him yet.
He's the big affair I cannot forget.
Only man I ever think of with regret...'
To the lovely strains of Ella Fitzgerald, the holographic Doctor and the former drone swayed slowly in each other's arms, each holding the other tight. As the song wound down, the Doctor sang its final refrain softly into Seven's ear, "Won't you tell her please to put on some speed, follow my lead, oh, how I need...." Before he could finish the phrase, the beautiful woman in his arms turned her head slowly to face him, and began what history would record as the first ex-Borg/sentient-hologram passionate kiss.
They danced some more before the evening was over, and--with The Kiss out of the way--each relaxed a bit and enjoyed their time. It was over too soon, and the Doctor repeated his gesture of walking his date to her door. They didn't talk much as they moved through the corridors, but every time they were sure they were alone, he would subtly reach over and take her hand. He was surprised at how easily she let him. Too soon, however, they were at the familiar door to Cargo Bay 2. They stood there for a moment, gazing at each other. Seven broke the quiet.
"I had a wonderful time this evening," she said, remembering her lessons in the social graces.
"So did I," her date offered, equally polite. "I hope we can do it again sometime." He started to take her hand to kiss it, then stopped to check the corridor in either direction. Seeing no one, he gently moved his hand to the nape of Seven's neck and pulled her into another long kiss, which she willingly returned.
Pulling back after several moments, she gestured to the closed door and said softly, "I'm sure Icheb is already regenerating." Right. She didn't 'live alone.'
The doctor smiled ironically, thinking of his own housing situation, then took a small step back from her before saying, "Then I guess this is goodnight." This time he did kiss her hand, and slowly walked away as he heard the large bay doors open and close. 'If this relationship is going to go anywhere,' he pondered. 'One of us is going to need to request living quarters.'
~*~*~*~*~
Rumor was that Tuvok had declined his holodeck rations, preferring instead to save the ship's energy. Neelix had considered joining Naomi for a chapter of 'Flotter,' but he remembered their daunting mission, and elected instead for a visit to his family on Rynax.
It had been painful for him to recall the tragic deaths of his parents and siblin
gs, so he had never recreated his family before now. This was a new program he wrote--with Ensign Kim's assistance--just for the occasion. He was willing to face his guilt and sorrow now, if it meant one more time with those he loved. No matter what, he would never see another Talaxian in all likelihood, nor would he ever set foot on his home planet or its moon. He wasn't all that sorry. His life on Voyager had been better than any he could have dreamed of before his friends had come along. He'd rescued Kes, spent three years with her, gotten to be a godfather twice over, and had done his part, he hoped, in easing the burdens of those he had come to think of as his new family.
He sincerely hoped to see Earth in a few days. 'If that wasn't to be,' he thought, 'I'm ready for whatever comes.' Still, this last glimpse of his home and his family brought him more peace than pain. He was glad he had chosen to visit one last time.
~*~*~*~*~
B'Elanna had asked Tom to let her program their final time together in the holodeck. After having played 'Captain Proton' with Harry for four and a half hours a few nights before, he didn't really think he could say no. Plus, he was curious to know how she would choose to spend their final 'vacation' before this long ride ended. She was waiting for him now, at 2002, and he would finally know what she had planned.
Just like she had for his game with Harry, B'Elanna carefully selected Tom's wardrobe for their 'date.' He wasn't surprised to see the loud Hawaiian-print shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts lying across their bed next to an oversized beach towel and his favorite pair of 'too-cool' sunglasses. He was changed in a matter of seconds. He picked up the towel, and put the sunglasses over his hair like a headband. He could have guessed there'd be a beach involved. He practically whistled his way down to Holodeck 2. 'If those holoemiters could talk,' he thought as he went.
When the doors opened, however, he had to admit he was surprised. This wasn't the tropical oasis he had come to expect from his heat-seeking missile of a wife. It was a beach, he saw immediately, but it was only moderately warm--definitely not the baking sun of the equatorial region. The sand before him abutted a long row of shops, low-rise motels, and beach homes, all pressed tightly up against a wooden boardwalk. Boys in long shorts and knee socks rode bicycles up and down the walkway. There was the sound of carnival music, and the beach was full of small canvas huts. He could smell roasting peanuts and a sickly-sweet aroma he recognized from his childhood as caramel popcorn.
About twenty feet down the boardwalk, he saw B'Elanna in a rather demure sundress. Oh, she had exposed her arms and legs to the warm rays of the sun, but it was hardly the skimpy bathing suit he had come to expect when sand and water were nearby. She was standing with her back to him, looking out over the ocean, an oversized basket on a bench next to her. He took it all in as he moved to join his wife.
"Hi," he said, a little at a loss for words. "This is amazing." She smiled back at him, pulling his sunglasses down to cover his squinting eyes. "Coney Island?" he asked.
"Atlantic City, New Jersey," she said, "circa-1948. I thought you might enjoy it."
He was confused. "Wasn't Atlantic City a gambling resort?" He was pretty sure of his history.
"Much later in the 20th Century," B'Elanna answered, proud that she had stumped him. "In this era, it was a summer family resort, known for its long boardwalk, clean beaches, and something known as 'amusements.'" She still hadn't quite figured that one out, though she assumed the computer had thrown some in for authenticity.
"So, what's in the basket?" he asked. Is it our 'lunch'?" Sure, it was odd to be eating lunch at 8:15 in the evening, but the program was clearly indicating a mid-afternoon setting.
"No," she said rather cryptically. "This isn't a basket," she laughed, catching him in his second historical error of the trip. "It's called a bassinette." This was a word he hadn't heard before. She saw his blank expression. "A 'baby basket'." He was still confused. They wouldn't need any sort of 'baby basket' for at least another few weeks, as his wife was still obviously very pregnant. B'Elanna pulled very close to him before she explained. "I asked the Doctor to extrapolate and age enhance the prenatal scan he took during my last exam." She removed the sunglasses she had just placed on her husband, and stepped aside to reveal her handiwork. Lying in the basket was a small infant, a girl, with medium brown hair, dozing eyes of a dark bluish-brown, and the softest of cranial ridges. Tom held his breath as he took his first real look at his daughter.
Of course, he and B'Elanna had seen a rudimentary holographic projection of what their child might look like--based on her DNA--when they had first learned of the pregnancy. In fact, it was that projection, clearly showing their daughter's cranial ridges, which had triggered his wife's fears about having a part-Klingon child. That was a different kind of experience, however. Like looking at a crude animation. Now, wriggling under a soft blue blanket, was a three-dimensional, thoroughly life-like photonic version of their little girl. One that could be touched and held. Tom was stunned.
"Of course, she's only a hologram," B'Elanna said softly, filling in the long pause while her husband looked down in wonder.
"She's so beautiful..." Tom said, reaching down to lift the now sleeping form up to his arms. When he looked up at B'Elanna's face, his eyes were wet. She choked back her own tears as she reached up to wipe his. After all of her agony over her child's mixed heritage, B'Elanna now saw only perfection in the small bundle Tom held close to his chest. "I can't believe...she's so small," he marveled.
"She is now, but I've programmed her to grow at an accelerated rate. We only have three hours, and I thought maybe--"
He interrupted, "Maybe this is our one chance to see her grow up?" The fact that this might never come to pass in reality wasn't lost on either of them.
B'Elanna didn't want to think of it that way, though. "I thought you might enjoy her more at an older age, where you could chase after her. She'll grow at a rate of a little less than one year per hour. She should be walking before we have to go."
In practice for what he hoped he would soon learn out of necessity, he held his sleeping child to one side and leaned over to kiss her mother, sweetly and with all the emotion this moment held for them both. When she pulled away, it was only to get on with their 'day'.
"Now, if you want to lay her back down, I see a hot dog vendor with our lunch."
She saw Tom move toward the bassinette before stopping and looking back to her. "Don't they make things--harness things--so you don't have to put them down?" he asked.
"It wouldn't be historically accurate for the time period," she warned.
"I don't care," he said and meant it.
She reached into the basket and pulled out a sort of knapsack already sized to fit Tom, and strapped him into it, with the opening tight to his chest. "It was called a 'snugglie,' of all things," she whispered to him as she fastened it and sat their 'daughter' inside. "I thought you might refuse to put her down, so I researched my options. I didn't want to have to hand feed you, too."
He now had at least ten more reasons to love his wife forever, he thought, the smallest of which was now sleeping soundly against his heart. As they started to walk, he put his arm around B'Elanna's waist far enough that he could feel their real child press against his hand. This beat Tahiti, he thought. Any day.
The next three hours were filled with cooing and laughter, and tiny fingers holding large ones as she first suckled, then chewed, then held on for support during tentative first steps. They played on a blanket in the sand, later moving inside one of the beach tents for a break from the sun and some privacy. They didn't dare take a nap, a normal beach activity for the couple, for fear of missing out on this time with their 'child.' When the toddler drifted off to sleep during one of her pre-programmed 'growth spurts,' however, Tom took advantage of the opportunity and began another of their favorite beach pastimes.
This wasn't one of their wild Klingon escapades, however. Today, in deference both to B'Elanna's condition and their heightened emotions, their acti
vity amounted to tender touches and deep kisses, with some long, silent moments of just listening to each other breathe.
For the last thirty minutes of their all-too-precious time, Tom suggested they remove the holographic child to spend some time alone with their real one. They each hugged and kissed the toddler before asking the computer to take her and the other holographic characters from the program. They then sat for a long while, together on the beach, Tom supporting B'Elanna from behind and rubbing his hands over her belly, her arms draped softly around his propped-up knees. The time-accelerated sun was setting behind them as they watched the first of the stars appear on the horizon. Finally, out of time, they stood and walked arm-in-arm to the door.
Thin air parted to reveal the exit to the corridor and B'Elanna began to step through. "Aren't you going to turn off the program?" Tom asked as they were leaving.
"No, I've been asked to leave it running," she said softly as they began the trip back to their quarters.
~*~*~*~*~
Chakotay deliberately waited five extra minutes before making his way to the holodeck. B'Elanna told him of her plans, and he knew the couple would probably want their privacy after such an emotional evening. Besides, he didn't want to have to pretend to be anything other than preoccupied with his own future for the next few hours. He was relieved, when he reached the doors, to find the program still running, but the room empty. He stepped inside and took a look around.
Be Careful What You Wish For Page 9