chapter 22

 

 

“B’Elanna! Call for you!” Tom’s voice floated from the back of the house.

B’Elanna looked over at her father-in-law. “Can I leave the rest of these to you?”

“You sure you didn’t plan this?” he asked, looking at the pile of potatoes she’d just begun to peel.

She grinned. “No, but I’m going to take advantage of it. These are engineer’s hands, Owen. They’re not meant to be peeling anything but cable housing.” She took the towel off her shoulder and draped it on his. “There you go. With any luck I’ll be gone a long time.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll save you some.”

“Oh, please, don’t trouble yourself.” She strode out of the kitchen and down the hall to the living room, where Tom stood by the Fedcomm monitor. “Thanks for the save,” she said. “Why your father can’t replicate potatoes like the rest of us, I have no idea. Who is it?”

He stepped aside. “See for yourself.”

A very familiar face looked out at her, and B’Elanna felt her spine stiffening of its own accord. “Captain!”

“Hello, B’Elanna. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not at all. Actually, you saved me from peeling potatoes.”

The captain raised her eyebrows. “Admiral Paris has you peeling potatoes?”

“He says they taste better that way. No amount of explaining the concept of molecular design will sway him.”

“Oh, that sounds familiar. Maybe we should get Admiral Paris and my mom together. They’d have a lot to talk about.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t already discovered it.”

Janeway smiled. “I don’t think the topic of potatoes normally comes up at Starfleet receptions. So how are you doing? Everything okay there? Tom says he thinks you’ve replaced his father with a particularly well-designed android.”

B’Elanna glanced at her husband, who grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Tom hasn’t quite adapted to the concept of seeing his father through adult eyes. He wasn’t one when he left, you know. But yes, everything is great! Owen has been so welcoming, and guess what—my mother is coming!”

“Really? That’s wonderful news! I thought you said she’d never leave the colony?”

“I didn’t think she would! But when she found out that I can’t go there, she decided to come here. I know, I’m amazed too. Never underestimate the power of a grandchild. But she can’t come for two weeks. She has teaching obligations, plus it’s a three-day trip over here. I wish I could see her sooner. Have you heard anything about the travel restrictions on the Maquis?”

“I wish that were why I was calling.” B’Elanna’s heart sank, and Janeway held up her hand. “No, don’t worry, I haven’t heard anything bad about the Maquis situation either. So far as I know, the Federation Council hasn’t moved on that one yet. I’m calling because…well, I need to ask you a favor.”

That got B’Elanna’s attention, and Tom’s too. He moved in closely behind her as she said, “Is everything all right on your end?”

Janeway paused for a moment before saying quietly, “There have been two attempts on Lynne’s life in the last four days.”

“What?” exclaimed B’Elanna and Tom together. “Is she all right?” B’Elanna demanded. Shit, she felt like an ass for not asking after Lynne the moment she’d seen the captain.

“She’s fine. And there are probably three fewer Cardassian assassins to bother the rest of the quadrant. But there may be more out there. I think the danger will be over in another few days, but someone hired these bastards and I want to know who. And I think you can help us.”

“I can be at the San Diego transport station in ten minutes,” said B’Elanna. Tom’s hand squeezed her shoulder, telling her silently that she had his full agreement. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

 

 

-----

 

 

A little over an hour later, B’Elanna stepped off the transporter platform in Denver to find Revi waiting for her. She walked right up and hugged her, pulling back to see a surprised smile on the doctor’s face.

“Not that I mind, but what was that for?” asked Revi.

“That’s for helping to take care of Lynne. And for surviving the attack on Voyager. I’d have been seriously pissed if you’d died.”

“Me too.” Revi grinned at her. “And you know I’ll always do whatever I can to help Lynne and Kathryn. They’re more my family than my family is.”

“I know what you mean.” B’Elanna shifted the gear bag on her shoulder as they began to make their way out of the station. “So was Janeway telling the truth when she said everyone’s okay? Is Lynne really all right?”

Revi shook her head. “She’s had a rough time of it. The attack on Voyager wasn’t even the worst of it; that meeting at the Foundation took a lot out of her. But gods, B’Elanna, you should have seen her when we went skiing. She was a different woman, I swear. We linked up a couple of times, and even the structure of her mind was different. So much more ordered and calm. And then it all went to hell. She’s holding it together, but I think it’s anger driving her more than anything else.”

“Well, she’s got every right to feel it. I’m a little angry myself.”

“Join the club.”

“And you’re sure you can trust Alison Necheyev?”

Shrugging, Revi said, “That’s partially why you’re here. If you find what we think you’ll find, then yes.”

They made their way to the underground hovercraft bay, where Revi gestured toward a nondescript craft with a flourish. “A hot rod your husband would love.”

“Only if he could soup up the engine,” said B’Elanna. “Where’s everyone else?”

Revi unlocked the craft and said, “This isn’t big enough for six, and neither is Alison’s. The others went with her to the Foundation. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Alison?” B’Elanna chucked her bag into the back and took the front passenger seat. “You’re on a first name basis now?”

“Well, after you accuse someone of being an accessory to murder and drink vodka in her kitchen, it’s hard to stay formal.” Revi lifted off smoothly, lined up with the overhead exit, and rose up to the transit corridor, giving B’Elanna her first view of Denver.

“You didn’t drink vodka.” B’Elanna knew better; Borg cortical implants were seriously impaired by alcohol or synthehol. “Neither did Seven or Lynne.”

“No, but Kathryn and Alison got to know each other a little better.”

B’Elanna looked sharply at Revi, whose straight face finally gave way to a smile. “Wish I could have seen that,” she said. “So who was trying to loosen up whom?”

“I think it was working both ways.”

“I’m a little surprised you all let Lynne go with her,” said B’Elanna. “If you don’t fully trust Alison yet, why risk putting those two in a hovercraft together? If Alison’s working for some other interest, you’d have put her trophy right into her hands. She could have gone anywhere.”

“With Seven and Kathryn in the craft with her? In addition to Lynne?” Revi snorted. “Not likely. Besides, she wasn’t flying it. That was the deal. Kathryn took the pilot’s seat, and Seven was ready to take Alison out at a moment’s notice if she tried anything. I think Lynne might have beaten her to it; she’s just waiting for a chance to work out some of her anger.”

They travelled in silence for a few moments while B’Elanna mulled that over. “You know,” she said at last, “if Alison really is innocent, then she’s put up with a lot of crap from all of you.”

“I know. That was the other reason for the vodka.”

They set down in front of an impressive looking building, with a wide staircase leading to its front door. Even before B’Elanna made it to the top step, Lynne came bursting out of the door and wrapped her up in a hug.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, resting her cheek against B’Elanna’s head. “It’s really good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Fossil.” B’Elanna squeezed fiercely before pushing Lynne back to arm’s length and looking into her eyes. “How is it that you can get into so much trouble in eight days?”

Lynne shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“Trouble follows her like a lost puppy,” said Revi as they turned toward the building.

“And the worst thing is that I can’t even say I don’t deserve it,” said Lynne. “I do. I brought all this on my own head with that message to my parents. And everyone else’s head, too.”

B’Elanna caught Revi’s eye and saw the acknowledgement there. Lynne was pretty upset if she was going down this road again; they’d dealt with that way back when the mousetrap was first suspected in the slipstream drive design.

“I thought we’d moved on from that line of thinking,” she said. “Seven months ago. Why are you here again? Nothing has changed.”

Lynne put a hand on the door and stopped. “B’Elanna, look at this building we’re walking into. It’s got my name on it. Everything has changed.” She pushed the door open and walked in, holding it for them. And then they had no more time, because Seven and Alison and the Captain were all waiting on the other side.

After she traded hugs with her friends and a handshake with Alison, who told her to please not call her Dr. Necheyev since they were all skulking into her office together, B’Elanna shouldered her bag again and said, “Okay, let’s take care of this. The sooner we find this thing the sooner we can start dealing in facts instead of guesses.”

“This way,” said Alison, leading them across the plush lobby.

“Did you have any problems getting the equipment?” asked Janeway quietly, as they walked behind her.

“No. It’s always nice to have a captain authorizing a direct beam-in. But it was strange being on Voyager and not seeing anyone I knew. Not only that, but it’s already crawling with Starfleet engineers—and I’m pretty sure I saw some intelligence types, too.”

“I expected that. I’m actually surprised that they gave the crew so much time to get their belongings out before they started examining all the changes molecule by molecule. You know you’re going to get a lot of questions about the Borg phasers and shielding.”

“I’ll tell them everything they want to know just as soon as they give the Maquis amnesty,” said B’Elanna.

Janeway gave her a sharp look. “Blackmailing the Federation government is not a good idea.”

“Neither is treating me like a criminal.”

“B’Elanna, legally you are a criminal. You acted in violation of a Federation treaty with Cardassia. That has to be dealt with.”

“A treaty that stopped having any meaning when Cardassia attacked the Federation!”

“Hey—I’m on your side here, remember?”

B’Elanna realized how loud her voice had gotten. “I know. Sorry, Captain. It just gets to me.”

“I understand. And I’m not your captain right now. Call me Kathryn.” She smiled. “Since we’re all skulking around together.”

Looking at her thoughtfully, B’Elanna said, “You know what? I’m not sure I can.”

Janeway laughed. “Well, give it a try.”

“Hey, B’Elanna?” Lynne put an arm around her waist. “I know a bit about how you must feel. It sucks to come home and not be able to be home.”

B’Elanna looked up at her. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it. I guess you would know how that feels.”

Conversation ceased as they entered the lift and rode up to the top floor. B’Elanna was suitably impressed with the building, but given Lynne’s mood she didn’t think it was wise to say so. Alison led them to a large desk just outside an office door and paused. “It’s right through there,” she said. “Any special instructions?”

“Just let me in and don’t say anything until I okay it.”

Alison nodded, keyed in a code and stood to one side as B’Elanna entered the most sumptuous office she’d ever seen. She barely stopped herself from whistling in awe. Would Lynne get an office like this, too?

Carefully she set down her bag, opened it and took out a device she’d replicated on Voyager, where the specs were stored. It was actually a modification of a Maquis design, and would jam the output of just about any transmitter in existence. Setting it on Alison’s desk and activating it, she went back to the bag for a decidedly less high-tech tool. Placing it next to the jammer, she hit the activation switch and stood back as one of Lynne’s favorite blues artists filled the air with a very high level of sound and chest-throbbing bass. If the transmitter happened to operate on a frequency the jammer couldn’t block, this would be an adequate backup.

She looked back at the doorway to find Lynne leaning against the wall, her hand over her mouth and her eyes dancing. Walking over, she said in normal tones, “Think that’ll give them something to worry about?”

Lynne removed her hand and laughed. “I don’t know. Alison, are you into blues?”

Alison was looking at the music player in ill-disguised horror. “What in God’s name is that?”

“Some excellent music from the twentieth century, saved from oblivion by yours truly. You can thank me later for bringing this to your century.”

“Much later,” said Alison.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” said B’Elanna, handing scanners to each woman. “If there’s a transmitter here, it could be the size of a pinhead, so we’re not going to find it visually. We’ll need to track it by its energy output, which will be pretty small. These are modified to scan at the frequency strengths I think are most likely to give results. We’re going to have to go over this room centimeter by centimeter.”

Janeway took her scanner and activated it. “Then let’s get started. I’ll work over on that wall.”

B’Elanna coordinated the efforts of the other women, but when she got to Alison she found the CEO frowning over her scanner. “Something wrong?”

“I don’t think I should be doing this.”

“Come again?”

Alison looked over at Lynne, who was still standing beside her. “If I’m the one who finds it, you’ll think I carried it here in my pocket and planted it when nobody was looking. It won’t solve anything. If I stay out of this then you’ll know I couldn’t have changed anything in this office.”

“Well, you haven’t been out of our sight since we got to your house, but…you’ve got a point,” said Lynne.

“Why don’t you just wait outside, then,” B’Elanna suggested.

“Unfortunately she can’t wait alone. And I shouldn’t be the one to guard her.” Lynne walked over to Seven, tapped her on the shoulder and spoke into her ear. Seven nodded and immediately came back to the doorway.

“I will be your guard,” she informed Alison.

“I’m honored,” said Alison. Her voice was smooth but the comment was sarcastic, and when she turned and walked out, B’Elanna gave Seven a meaningful look.

“Remember, Seven, innocent until proven guilty.”

“I’m aware of Federation law.” Seven strode out the door before B’Elanna could respond. Shrugging, she turned around and joined the other three.

As the music blared the women stood, crouched and sometimes laid on the floor, looking intently at their scanners. Lynne had taken Seven’s assignment at Alison’s desk and spent the first fifteen minutes under it with her long legs sticking out, creating a tripping hazard that nearly caught B’Elanna twice as she worked the wall behind. The album ended and a new one began, this time a twentieth-century rock group who were enthusiastic with their use of electric guitars. Lynne, now on the other side of Alison’s desk, looked over and gave B’Elanna a thumbs up.

The second album was halfway through when B’Elanna felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she found Lynne looking at her.

“Found it,” said Lynne.

B’Elanna followed her around to the side of the desk and scanned the area where Lynne was pointing, under the top edge of the right side. Sure enough, there it was. She set the scanner to pinpoint the transmission frequency and recorded the data before removing the device with a pair of forceps. Setting it carefully on the desktop, she used a microfilament to deactivate it, dropped it into a sample vial, and hit the control pad on the music player. The room was abruptly plunged into silence. Janeway and Revi turned around, their faces questioning, and Seven and Alison appeared in the doorway.

Lynne picked up the sample vial and held it to the light. “Such a small thing to cause so much trouble,” she said thoughtfully. She turned and caught Alison’s eye. “And I owe you a big apology.”

“No, you don’t,” said Alison. “I understand.”

Lynne gave the vial to B’Elanna and walked to the door. “Yes, I do. Like you said, you worked your ass off to keep us safe and yet we barely gave you the benefit of the doubt.” She shook her head. “I barely gave you the benefit of the doubt. I think what I hate most about this is that it’s poisoned everything we do and everyone we talk to. I don’t want it to poison my relationship with you. God knows I need all the real friends I can get here. Will you accept my apology?” She held out her hand.

Alison took it immediately. “I still don’t think it’s necessary, but…thank you for offering. I accept.” She smiled at Lynne before looking over at B’Elanna. “May I see it?”

“Sure.” B’Elanna held it out as the women gathered around the desk.

“God, it’s tiny.” Alison held it up to the light as Lynne had, turning it this way and that. “Where was it?”

“Right here.” B’Elanna pointed to the spot. “On the underside. A perfect location to catch everything being said in your office, without being overwhelmed by other sounds like drawers being shut and PADDs being shuffled around.”

“What will you do with it now?”

“Take it back to Voyager and take it apart. The components might help us track down the source.”

“I don’t think this is a matter for us anymore,” said Janeway. “The existence of this transmitter is actually a crime committed against Alison. She needs to report it to the Denver enforcement bureau, and they need to coordinate with Starfleet and the police at Silverton.”

“Starfleet will take it over,” said Alison. “Aunt Alynna will make sure of that. Besides, the original crime took place in Starfleet’s jurisdiction. This is part of the same investigation.” She suddenly went pale and leaned against the desk.

“Are you all right?” asked Janeway.

“Yes. No. I mean—” She looked up at them. “Sorry. I think it’s just hitting me that someone has been listening to everything I’ve said and done for God only knows how long. I don’t even know what I’ve said in here.” She shook her head. “I know I’ve had some personal conversations with friends. And I called an employee in here just today to ask him about his falling productivity, and he sat right there at that table and cried because his daughter is seriously ill, and he hasn’t told anyone…and that is personal. What I do in here is personal. My output may be the intellectual property of the Foundation, but what I do, what I say, is not! God! I feel so…violated.” Her paleness had retreated under a flush of color, and her eyes fairly sparked with anger. “I want whoever planted this.”

Lynne touched her shoulder sympathetically. “Then we have something in common besides the Foundation.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 23

 

 

“I feel like I’m twenty years old again, crashing at a friend’s house because I can’t afford a hotel.”

Kathryn sat next to Lynne on the bed and put an arm around her waist. “Count your blessings. At least you get to feel like you’re just crashing at B’Elanna’s father-in-law’s place. Admiral Paris was my thesis advisor. I feel like I’m sleeping over at my professor’s house.”

Lynne looked sideways at her. “I guess that is worse.”

“A lot worse. I’m afraid to venture out for a bathroom visit. What if Admiral Paris sees me in my pajamas? Do you know what that would do to my professional image? My chances of promotion?”

“Probably improve them quite a bit, I’d guess,” said Lynne with a tiny smile.

Kathryn was glad to see it, small though it was. “You’re biased.”

“Nah. Anyone with eyes would think the same thing.” The smile grew. “You do look cute in pajamas.”

“Thanks. Though ‘cute’ wasn’t really the look I was going for.”

“Better that than your usual night wear.”

“You mean naked?”

“Mm hm. If you walked down the hall like that it would really increase your chances of promotion.”

“Yes, because Admiral Paris would die of a heart attack on the spot and there’d be an instant admiral’s position open for me.”

Lynne smiled again, but it soon faded into the look Kathryn had been trying all evening to erase from her face. Nothing else had worked, so she figured it was time to tackle it head on.

“I almost had a heart attack myself today,” she said quietly. “Seeing you dodging phaser fire is really not good for my health.”

“Yeah? Well, seeing how incredibly reckless you were wasn’t good for my health either. You scared me a lot today. Why the hell didn’t you keep going?”

“Would you have, in my place?”

Lynne met her eyes briefly, then looked away. “No. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to be upset about it.”

“Of all the things that happened today, that’s the one you’re upset about?”

Picking at a loose thread on the coverlet, Lynne shook her head. “That’s just the one I’m focusing on, I guess.” She gave up on the thread and let her body fall back to the mattress with a sigh. “This really wasn’t what I envisioned when I thought about coming back to Earth. We can’t stay on Voyager because that’s where an assassin would look first. We can’t go back to your mom’s for the same reason. We can’t go anywhere else for fear of being tracked by some method we haven’t discovered yet. We’re just in total limbo until the Federation decides I really am Lynne Hamilton and gives me my identification. Did I say limbo? I meant lockdown.”

It did feel a bit like that. After consulting with both Admirals Necheyev and Paris, it had been decided that Lynne would be safest at Admiral Paris’ house in San Diego. Admiral Necheyev’s San Francisco apartment was out due to her connection with Alison, Alison’s house was even more out of the question despite her security system—after all, if the assassins could break into a starship with a full security detail, a private home would not be any safer—and even Starfleet Headquarters wasn’t an entirely safe bet when they still had one or more Human contacts running loose and working for the Cardassians. But it was unlikely that anyone would connect Lynne with Paris. In addition, though neither admiral could authorize Starfleet security on Lynne’s behalf due to her lack of legal recognition, Admiral Paris could certainly order it for himself simply by stating that he had sensitive Starfleet materials in his home and needed extra security for them. Lynne had been darkly amused to hear that she was now ‘sensitive materials’.

Kathryn reached down to push a few strands of hair off Lynne’s forehead. Out of sheer habit her fingers began combing themselves through the thick hair, and in seconds her wife’s face was visibly more relaxed. “It’s only for a few days, sweetheart,” she said. “Maybe less.”

“I know. It doesn’t help.”

Shifting position, Kathryn propped herself on an elbow and leaned over to kiss her. “I don’t care where we are, as long as you’re here with me.”

Lynne met her eyes. “I can’t even imagine not being with you. Except when things like today happen, and then I can imagine it all too well, and it scares the holy living shit out of me. Which is when I turn into a bear.” Kathryn started to shake her head, but Lynne caught her hand and held it, intertwining their fingers. “I was so worried about you. I didn’t even have time to worry about myself; it all happened too fast, and as soon as I was out of their line of sight there you were, putting yourself up as a big target outlined in neon lights. My heart was in my throat.”

“I’m sorry I worried you.” Kathryn squeezed her hand. “But you worried me a hell of a lot more. I don’t know how they missed you when you jumped. It looked to me like you were just hanging in the air. Talk about neon lights.”

“Thank the Borg Queen.”

“What?” Kathryn’s hand went slack in her surprise. “Why?”

“The Borg assimilated a few Cardassians. Some of the training techniques of the Obsidian Order are in the Collective’s memory. They’re trained to take head shots, because no matter what the humanoid species, a head shot is always fatal. Vital organs are in different locations on different species, and some are more vulnerable than others, but every humanoid species has the same weakness. When I did that flip, my feet were where my head had been. And tucking into a ball made me a smaller target. That phaser shot was so close that I heard it sizzle. If I hadn’t flipped, that third shot would have been the one. So thank the Queen for giving me a link with Revi, and access to Cardassian killing techniques. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“And wouldn’t she just hate knowing it.”

“Yeah, she would.”

Kathryn pulled her hand free and resumed her caresses. She really didn’t want to bring this up now, but it had been a lead weight in her chest all day. “There’s something else I need to ask you about.”

“What’s that?”

“What you said in the police station. About getting tired of being my wife.” She watched the furrows appear in Lynne’s forehead.

“I don’t remember saying that.”

Kathryn sighed; she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to repeat it. “You said you were tired of being Captain Janeway’s wife and having people defer to me.”

“Oh. Oh, shit. I did say that, didn’t I?” A flash of guilt crossed her face. “That was…a poor choice of words.” She pushed up onto her elbow, bringing their faces level, and added, “I was strung out and not quite in my right mind. I didn’t mean it like that. You know how I feel about being married to you.” Her gaze was intense, and Kathryn was pretty sure they were remembering the same thing. Nor was it a memory she wanted to revisit.

“I do know, but when you say things like that, it hurts. I just…” She searched for the right words, and finished, “I don’t understand how you can be so careless with statements like that after what we’ve been through.”

“I’m sorry.” Lynne caressed her cheek and left her hand there, the slight pressure doing more for Kathryn’s peace of mind than was quite reasonable. “I know I keep doing that, and I keep telling myself I’ll do better, and then as soon as I’m pissed off or hurt I forget again. I will never get tired of being your wife. I’m just tired of not being me.”

“Because you don’t have an official identity yet?”

Lynne trailed her fingers down the length of Kathryn’s throat before resting her hand on the coverlet. “That too. But that’s just the institutional annoyance. I spent two years earning my name on Voyager. I started out as ‘that four-hundred-year-old woman’ and morphed into ‘Captain Janeway’s lover’ a few months later, and it took a damn long time before I was just Lynne. And now I’m not Lynne anymore. I’m your wife. Everyone talks to you like you’re responsible for me. I may be home, but sometimes I feel more lost now than ever. Does that make any sense?”

“It does, but you do understand that you’re not alone in this, don’t you? I’m in limbo too. I’m not even that Captain Janeway you were talking about.”

“Oh, yes you are. Come on, they were practically saluting you in that police station. Just because you’re not captaining Voyager right now doesn’t mean you’ve lost your identity.”

“And just because you’re on Earth instead of Voyager doesn’t mean you’ve lost yours, either. You’re still Lynne—as quite a few people found out today, including several Colorado police officers and Alison Necheyev.”

Lynne groaned. “God. Do you think she’s truly forgiven me? I was really in her face. And in her own house, too.”

“I think the minute you told her that Stolichnaya was your favorite vodka back when you used to drink it, she forgave you everything.”

“It was awfully nice of her to take all of us out. I like her a lot. And it pisses me off that she had to prove herself.” Her expression closed down so abruptly that Kathryn was startled.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It pisses me off that I have to prove myself, too. Again.”

Kathryn looked at her frown and suddenly understood. She might be in limbo like Lynne, but nobody was questioning her motives or her identity. She was still Captain Janeway whether or not she was on Voyager, even to people she’d never met. Her name and rank guaranteed respect, at the very least. But Lynne was proving herself practically every day, and to every new person.

It had to be exhausting. Especially on top of everything else.

“It’ll get better,” she said. “And…I think I get what you were trying to say. You’re right, this is harder on you. And I probably just stepped into the captain role at the police station because that’s how the officers were treating me.” And because it had felt natural and not a little welcome, but she chose not to add that.

“Yeah. They were. But that doesn’t make what I said right. I’m sorry I’m not getting better at this.”

“Actually you are. Or maybe we are. I remember a time not too long ago when a comment like that would have messed us up for days.”

“True.” Lynne’s lips twitched. “That’s an awfully generous ‘we’, though. I think the reason we’re getting better is that you don’t let me get away with this shit anymore.”

The words instantly recalled Kathryn’s conversation with her mother, and she mentally thanked Gretchen for her insight. “No, we’re getting better because neither one of us lets the other get away with things. And because we’ve both learned a hell of a lot about how to talk to each other. You know how to explain things in a way that I can understand, and that really helps to take away the hurt.”

“Does it really? Because I hate being a bear, and I hate seeing what it can do to you.”

“Yes,” said Kathryn firmly. “It does. I’m fine, and you should give yourself a little leeway here. This wasn’t exactly a typical day.”

“It’s getting to be all too typical,” muttered Lynne.

“If there are any assassins left, they’re probably thinking the same thing. Another attempt, another complete failure. Typical.” That got her a brief smile, and she continued, “You know what? I think you’re looking at this identity issue all wrong. You should savor not being you yet.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because once people know who you are, your name is going to be bigger than mine. I’m going to be Lynne Hamilton’s wife. And everyone will be trying to make nice to me in the hopes that I’ll put in a good word with you on their behalf. Not to mention all the people who are going to try to butter you up personally.”

“Did you just say ‘butter me up’?” Lynne chuckled. “I love hearing twentieth century idioms coming out of your mouth.”

Delighted at the chuckle, Kathryn said, “I’m infected with them. It’s to the point now where I don’t even notice I’m using them.”

“Hey! I don’t think ‘infected’ is the word choice you want. Maybe…‘enhanced’.”

Kathryn covered Lynne’s hand with her own. “I’m definitely enhanced. But not by your idioms.”

Lynne leaned in for a slow, heartfelt kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered, resting their foreheads together. “And I agree with you. I don’t really care where we are either, as long as we’re together.”

A sharp rap on the door interrupted them. “Hello!” called B’Elanna. “Are you two decent?”

“Okay, maybe I do care just a little,” said Lynne. Kathryn laughed as they both sat up.

“Come on in,” she called. B’Elanna entered, came straight over to the bed and flopped onto it next to Lynne.

“Kahless, it’s good to have you two here. I’ve been going just a little insane. Do you know what it’s like to be pregnant in a house with two men?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell us,” Lynne said. She moved a little closer to Kathryn, wrapping an arm around her waist, and in that moment Kathryn realized just how much she’d meant those words. It felt a bit like they were living inside a hurricane, but she could always find calm and comfort with Lynne no matter where they were. She snuggled in and listened to B’Elanna’s sarcastic commentary, a smile on her face as the sheer familiarity of it seeped into her psyche. God only knew what the next few days would bring, but right here, right now, they were okay.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 24

 

 

Having exhausted the possibilities inside Admiral Paris’ house, Seven exited the back door and found her quarry sitting on a deck chair, watching the distant ocean. Lynne looked up as she came out, offering a half-smile that didn’t fool Seven one bit. “Good morning, Seven.”

“Good morning.” Seven catalogued the physical symptoms of Lynne’s night as she sat stiffly on the chair next to her. “You have not had adequate sleep.”

“You’ve been talking to Kathryn.”

“Yes. But she mentioned nothing about your sleep functions.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, then. Do I look that bad?”

“You have visible capillaries in your sclera, dilated veins beneath your eyes, and eyelids functioning at less than optimal capacity.”

Lynne let out a small snort that was almost a laugh. “Red eyes, dark circles, and my eyes are half shut. Great. If only I drank coffee.” She raised the mug in her left hand. “I’m hoping some strong tea will do the trick.”

“We need to return to Voyager. You require regeneration.”

“No, I don’t. I just need—” Lynne stopped and shook her head. “You know, if you actually sat back in the chair you might be a lot more comfortable.”

Seven edged back, stifling a sound of surprise as her body slid on the smooth, angled wood faster than she’d expected. She came up against the back of the chair with an audible thump, her legs stretched out in front. This was not like any chair she’d ever used before. “Clearly this was not designed to facilitate egress,” she said.

“Nope. You’re not supposed to want to get out of it. It’s an adirondack chair—designed for sitting out on the deck on hot summer days.” Lynne set her mug on the wide arm of her own chair. “With built-in drink rests. Except I think they’re supposed to be holding mint juleps or something like that.”

“Mint juleps?”

“Yeah, that didn’t make it into the Collective’s memory, did it? I wonder if anyone still drinks them anymore. They were a traditional drink in the American south, made with bourbon, mint, sugar and ice. Yum.”

“That sounds…revolting,” said Seven, who had tried bourbon exactly once at a party on Voyager. It was disgusting enough by itself; she couldn’t imagine mixing it with mint and sugar.

Lynne smiled, but it was just a ghost of her normal bright expression. “It sounds revolting, but it’s really good. Especially on a hot, muggy day. It was the official drink of the Kentucky Derby. They sold them by the thousands there.”

“So people paid for the privilege of drinking a questionable concoction while watching animals run in circles?”

“Oh yes. Actually they paid a hell of a lot for that privilege.” She raised her eyebrow. “You’re almost there. But you have to actually rest your back against the back of the chair to get the full benefit.”

Caught, Seven forced herself to relax and found that the chair was indeed far more comfortable in this position. “Interesting.”

“And perfect for a deck with an ocean view.” Lynne settled deeper into her own chair. “I am using the portable regenerator tonight, by order of your sweet and very demanding partner. But that’s not why I look like shit warmed over.”

“That’s not what I said,” protested Seven, alarmed at the misinterpretation. She would never be so insulting. At least, not to Lynne.

“No, but it’s true. And don’t tell me you’re not here because Kathryn sent you.”

“She did not ‘send’ me. Though she did indicate that you might appreciate my company.”

“I always do. But you might not appreciate mine.” Lynne turned back to the view, and after a moment Seven followed suit. She’d seen Lynne like this before—usually after an argument with Kathryn—and knew precisely how best to handle her in such a mood. Resting her head against the back of the chair, she watched the ocean in silence, waiting for her friend to speak. It had never taken longer than nine minutes before. This morning it took six point eight.

“I watched another one of my parents’ messages last night,” Lynne said at last.

Seven looked over, but Lynne’s gaze was still on the water. “Were they well?” she asked.

“They were fine. But they’ve just entered a bad period of history. The same year I left Earth, there was a surprise attack on the United States. A month later my country was at war. A year and a half later it was in a second war, without finishing the first—that’s the period my parents are in now. And not too long after that was World War Three. I know it, they don’t, but Dad’s a smart man and he knows history and global politics. He’s already making some pretty accurate guesses.”

“Is this why you slept badly?”

“No.” Lynne took a slow sip of her tea and cupped the mug in her hands, her eyes never leaving the ocean. “I didn’t sleep because Dad said he understood why I didn’t tell them about the state of their future.”

Seven frowned. This made no sense no matter how she looked at it. “I don’t understand,” she said finally.

At last Lynne met her eyes. “My parents forgave me for not warning them.”

It pained Seven that her comprehension was so inadequate. She wanted to help but couldn’t identify the problem. “You don’t want their forgiveness?” she guessed.

“What does forgiveness imply?”

Ah, now she understood. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Kathryn says the same thing. But I feel like I did something wrong. I feel like I let them down. I mean, I already broke the Temporal Prime Directive by giving my parents investment instructions, so why did I stop there? Why not just go all the way and tell them how they should prepare for the runup to the third world war, and where they should go, and how to stay safe? I could have saved them, but I didn’t. And I think my dad is already seeing the signs.”

“But you have multiple messages on that PADD. If they only recorded one per year, then clearly they survived.”

“That’s what I thought, too. So I checked. I viewed just the first few seconds of the last recordings. And my dad’s not in them. He doesn’t appear after Denver was hit. I backtracked until I found the message where Mom looked—well, kind of like I do now. And the first thing she said was that she that she’d been debating about whether to tell me the truth, and I knew what it was going to be. I couldn’t watch.”

“So you don’t know if he died in the bombing of Denver or not.”

“No. And I know what you’re going to say, because I’ve already had this discussion with Kathryn. But I’m not ready. I need to see these in order, and I don’t want to rush through them. I’ll watch them when I want to watch them.”

Her words were defiant, but the tone of voice didn’t match. Lynne sounded beaten, and Seven reached out to rest a hand on her arm. “Everything that happened was meant to be. You did the right thing by not interfering.”

“But I did interfere. That’s the point. I just didn’t interfere enough.”

“That’s entirely illogical. You gave your parents foreknowledge of one specific facet of their time, and look what happened. You’re still dealing with the ramifications of that right now. If you’d given them even more foreknowledge, you would very likely have changed the timeline to a far more significant degree. Perhaps a very negative degree.”

Lynne’s eyes narrowed. “You told me after I came back from Earth that there was no way to know if my actions had changed the timeline, or if my parents might have done all that on their own.”

Caught, Seven hastily regrouped. “I told you that there was no way to know for certain if your actions had changed the timeline.”

“Seven of Nine! Are you telling me you argued semantics?”

Seven didn’t know quite how to answer that, but Revi was there in her mind, offering a suggestion. “My best friend was hurting,” she said. “The lack of certainty meant I could find supporting arguments for multiple viewpoints. I chose the viewpoint that would help you.”

After a pause, Lynne said, “You’re shaking my faith in you. I thought you always told the truth no matter how undiplomatic it might be.”

“I never lied; there is no known truth in this situation. There is only probability.”

“So which probability are you choosing now? The one that will help me?”

“The one that has the highest likelihood of being correct,” said Seven promptly. “Which also happens to be the one that can help you.”

Lynne reached for her tea and took several sips, holding the mug close to her face as she gazed out to sea. “What do you think would have happened if I’d told them?” she asked in a quiet voice. “How could that have affected the timeline?”

Seven gave the question serious consideration before answering. More than anything else, she didn’t want to make a misstep. “Your parents were wealthy and probably powerful by then,” she said. “They almost certainly had connections they wouldn’t have had otherwise. And I think we can assume they’d have wanted to prevent the war if they had any ability to do so. Do you agree?”

Lynne nodded.

“Then let’s assume they had enough power and connections by then to have an impact on the political decisions of that time. Consider what would have happened if the war had not taken place, or if it had begun later or ended earlier. The truth is that this planet could not sustain the human population of that time, nor could it sustain the environmental changes that population was making. And based on what you’ve told me, political change would have been ‘too little, too late’. Correct?”

“Correct. So you’re about to argue that World War Three was a good thing because it eliminated six hundred million people immediately, god knows how many more from radiation poisoning and starvation, and set the global industrial output back by a century.”

“No war is a good thing. But the consequences can be beneficial. And the facts of your history show that this one is the reason that Earth’s governments finally united. In both political and environmental terms, it may have saved your planet.”

Lynne looked over. “It’s your planet, too.”

Seven inclined her head but made no verbal answer, waiting for Lynne to address the real point of her statement. She didn’t have to wait long.

“It’s an interesting exercise in conjecture,” said Lynne, setting her mug back on the arm of the chair. “You’re assuming an awful lot of power on my parents’ part. What if they couldn’t have had an impact on that war? What if they were just victims of it like everyone else?”

“You know they weren’t like everyone else,” Seven said promptly. “You’re the one who gave them the best means of staying safe. You already guaranteed their financial survival, which is more security than almost anyone on the planet had at that time. I may be postulating a probability at one end of the scale, but what you’re proposing is at the other end and far less likely.”

“I know you’re right. But what I know up here doesn’t match what I feel here.” Her hand moved from her head to her heart, ending by curling into a fist as she rested her chin on it. “Tell me something,” she said, her gaze locking onto Seven’s. “If you could go back in time and save your parents from assimilation, would you?”

Would she? Hadn’t she fantasized about that, wished for a life that could have been different for all of them?

“If my parents hadn’t been assimilated, I wouldn’t be who I am,” she said. “I can never know who I would have been in an alternative timeline. Perhaps my parents avoided assimilation only to have all of us die in an ion storm. Perhaps we ended up too far from the Alpha Quadrant after following a Borg cube into a transwarp conduit, and had to settle on a planet in the Delta Quadrant. Or perhaps we all came home, and my parents earned the respect of their peers for their research, and their data helped the Federation beat the Borg and avoid defeat at Wolf 359.”

The door opened behind them. “In which case I’d never have been assimilated either,” said Revi as she stepped out. “Steph would still be here, and we’d still be married, and if I’d ever met Seven in that timeline, we couldn’t have been more than friends.” She leaned against the deck railing and smiled at Seven. “And as appealing as part of that timeline sounds, the other part would be a loss I can’t even consider.”

Seven returned her smile. : Thank you for coming out. I’m not certain I’m handling this well. :

: You’re handling it beautifully, darling. Don’t sell yourself short. :

Turning back to Lynne, Seven added, “To answer your question, based purely on what I would want for myself and not necessarily on what would be best for others, no, I wouldn’t save them. There’s no guarantee that saving my parents from one fate wouldn’t have directed them into another equally bad one. But it is certain that I wouldn’t be who I am now. I wouldn’t know you and Kathryn, and I wouldn’t be with Revi. And I agree with Revi; it’s a loss I can’t consider.”

Lynne looked up at Revi. “How about you? What would you do?”

Revi shook her head. “You can’t play this game. You’ll just drive yourself insane. No timeline is wholly beneficial for everyone. Every single event has positive consequences for some and negative consequences for others. Would I rather not have been assimilated? Of course, if I could still have Seven in my life. But it’s not that easy, is it?”

“No, I guess not.” But Lynne didn’t sound convinced.

“Your parents lived out their lives a long time ago. Don’t tear yourself apart worrying about them. You can’t change anything.”

“Not anymore,” said Lynne bitterly.

Seven touched her friend’s arm, bringing her head around. “You did what you could and no more. You must accept that.”

“How can I? It’s all very well for you two to talk about probabilities; you’re dealing in theory. I’m dealing with reality. I did have the chance to make a difference. And I played it safe. I broke the rules right up to a point and didn’t have the guts to go all the way.”

“That’s the most illogical thing I’ve ever heard you say,” said Revi. “Didn’t you and Kathryn have one of your biggest fights over just this? Over you breaking the rules as much as you did? Haven’t you been wishing you hadn’t done even this much, because of the consequences you’re already facing? You’ve been kicking yourself—also illogically, I might add—for the danger that we’re all hiding from right now. And now you’re wishing you’d interfered even more?”

“You don’t understand,” Lynne said, not looking at either of them.

“Then help us understand,” said Seven.

Lynne sighed. “It’s all just theory for you. It was just theory for me, too, until four days ago.” She looked up. “Don’t you see? My parents aren’t dead anymore. Not to me. They’re alive in those messages. I’ve got messages I haven’t even seen yet; tons of them, and as long as I still haven’t seen them then my parents still have things to say. They’re still living out their lives, and I’m watching it. They’re alive.”

Seven felt Revi’s understanding even as she heard her say, “Which makes your decision more relevant than it ever was.”

“Yes! What I did or didn’t do had a direct impact on them. Before I was just guessing about that impact. Now I’m seeing it.”

“But you haven’t seen it yet,” said Seven. “You still don’t know how your father died. You could be tearing yourself apart over nothing.”

“It does seem as if you’re borrowing trouble,” added Revi. “He was very old when Denver was bombed, wasn’t he? He might just as easily have died naturally. I think you should at least see the rest of the messages before you try to take on that kind of guilt.”

Lynne didn’t respond immediately. After a silent sip of her tea, she set the mug down with a thump and pointed a finger at Revi. “You need to go see your parents.” The finger shifted to Seven. “And you need to see your aunt. Stop delaying it. You have family, right here, right now, alive and probably wondering why you still haven’t visited. Get out of here. I can’t go anywhere, and you can’t do anything except wait with me. I love you both and I love your company, but you have things to do.”

Seven and Revi looked at each other. “Well, I was thinking about it,” said Revi rather weakly.

“Stop thinking and go do it. Even if it doesn’t work out, you have to try! Otherwise you’re throwing away something I’d give anything to have. And that would seriously piss me off.”

The door opened again and Admiral Paris stepped out. “Well, aren’t you a bunch of early risers! Didn’t you get the memo? You’re not on duty right now; you get to sleep in.” He looked around with a broad smile. “It’s a beautiful day; if you’d like to go to the beach I think we can arrange a safe way of doing it.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” said Revi. “We appreciate your hospitality. But I think Seven and I have a couple of trips to make today.”

“Oh? Where are you going, if I may ask?”

“San Francisco,” said Seven, smiling at Revi. “And Providence, Rhode Island. We have family to see.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 25

 

 

Though Seven had been in San Francisco twice in the past nine days, this was the first time she’d seen anything of the city other than Starfleet Headquarters. She was intrigued by the close-knit homes on the steep streets; it was a style of building unlike any she’d previously viewed.

: Some of these homes are extremely old, : she observed as they walked along a sidewalk.

: They’re some of the oldest of any North American city. : Revi pointed to the right and they turned the corner together. : San Francisco was one of the only major cities to escape nuclear bombardment in World War Three. San Diego wasn’t so fortunate because it had a naval base. And Los Angeles was hit because it was one of the two biggest commercial shipping centers on the west coast. :

: But three hundred and fifty years later, San Francisco was the only city to be attacked during the Dominion War. :

: Because now it’s where Starfleet is headquartered. So clearly the moral of the story is that you should never live in a city that houses a fleet. :

Seven was curious. : You don’t wish to live here? :

: Not particularly. There aren’t a lot of good memories here. :

: I disagree. You have many good memories of this city. : Seven sent a few images, and Revi smiled.

: Point taken. But I bet you can’t think of too many others that don’t involve Steph and my training at Starfleet. :

She was right. Revi’s memories of growing up in San Francisco were colored by her tempestuous relationship with her father, her yearning for greater love and protection from her mother, and her sense of always being different.

: I wish I’d known you then. :

Revi reached out for her hand. : Maybe, in another timeline, you did. :

They walked another eight blocks down the street before Revi led them around a corner and stopped. : Well, it’s still standing. :

Seven gazed at the small two-story home. It was nearly unchanged from Revi’s memories; she’d have recognized it anywhere. There were the same planters on the front steps, the same curtains in the windows, and the same tree hanging over the sidewalk. The only thing that was different was the color.

: I see they painted it. : Revi echoed Seven’s thoughts.

: I preferred it blue. :

Revi chuckled, but it died quickly. She stood unmoving on the sidewalk, her resolve quickly fading. : You know, this seemed like a much better idea this morning. :

Seven tugged her forward, with Revi taking very reluctant steps. : Come on. It may be better than you expect. :

: There’s a higher probability that it’ll be worse. : But Revi stopped resisting, instead putting her hand in Seven’s as they mounted the steps together. With a deep breath, she raised her Borg arm and tapped the entry pad with one of the fingers of her glove. Seven heard the chime in the house, but nothing else.

“Oh well,” said Revi brightly, “nobody’s home. Guess we’ll have to do it some other time.” She was already half-turned before Seven pulled her back and tapped the pad a second time.

“If I didn’t know that you were one of the most courageous people in the quadrant, I’d think you were a coward,” she said.

Revi’s eyes dropped. “When it comes to my father, I am.”

Seven squeezed her hand. “No, you are not. You’ve seen and done more than he can ever imagine. He has no reason and no right to judge you in any way.” She could feel Revi’s lack of confidence oozing through her mind like a noxious fluid, and sent all of her own belief in response. “But I certainly have a right to judge him,” she added darkly.

Revi met her eyes again with a slight smile, just as they both heard the footsteps inside. A moment later the door opened, revealing a small woman with Revi’s eyes, her dark hair piled on her head in an austere bun. She gasped at the sight of her daughter, her hand going to her mouth; then she reached out with both arms and crushed Revi in a hug.

“You’re home! Oh, thank the gods you’re home!”

“Dhara?” A man’s voice floated down the hall moments before Revi’s father appeared. “Is everything all—oh.”

Revi looked up from her mother’s embrace, the smile on her face instantly dropping. “Hello, Father.”

Taller and darker skinned than either his wife or his daughter, Nishad Sandovhar had the straight bearing and stern face of a career military officer; but Seven knew that the closest he’d ever been to the military was when Revi joined Starfleet. Instead he’d ruled over his family as if they were his subordinates, a parenting strategy that had not been effective with his daughter’s strong personality and agile mind. They had clashed over and over again, and even now Seven could sense the mounting tension between them.

“Nishad, our daughter is home!” Dhara turned, one arm still around Revi, and wiped her eyes. “The gods have answered our prayers!”

“So I see.” He strode forward, but kept his hands at his sides. “The prodigal daughter has returned. Despite never seeing fit to even let her parents know she was alive.”

“Good to see you too.” Revi’s sarcasm, at least, was still operational. “I didn’t have to tell you. I knew Starfleet would notify you the moment they got the word from Voyager.”

“We were so grateful for that communiqué,” said Dhara. “For nine long years we thought you were dead. You cannot imagine the joy of knowing we were wrong; that you’d survived and were on a Starfleet ship.”

Revi smiled down at her. “I’m sorry I didn’t send a more personal message, Mother. After all that time it was difficult to know what to say.”

“How about ‘Father, Mother, I’m alive and I’m fine. Please don’t spend any more time mourning my loss.’ That would have been courteous,” said Nishad.

Revi managed not to say what was on the tip of her tongue, but Seven heard it. : So you did mourn me. I’m shocked. : Instead, she stepped aside and indicated Seven. “I’d like to present Seven of Nine, also lately of the Borg Collective. And my fiancée.”

Seven found herself the object of scrutiny by two pairs of dark brown eyes as she held out her hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

Dhara took her hand first, squeezing it warmly. “It’s good to meet you as well. You must be a remarkable woman to have landed my daughter.”

Seven felt Revi wince; her parents had never known about her prior marriage to Steph.

“Welcome,” said Nishad gruffly. His grip was considerably stronger than his wife’s. “Well, don’t stand on the porch like a pair of salesmen. Come in.” He turned and led the way to a small living room, furnished with a plump pair of couches, glossy plants, and brightly colored rugs. Seven would have bet a month’s rations that Nishad hadn’t had anything to do with the décor.

: You’d be right about that. Father’s realm was the bar. Mother took care of the house. :

As they settled onto one of the sofas, Nishad took the other while Dhara remained standing. “May I get you a drink? Something to eat?” Her hands fluttered nervously, and Seven guessed she was taking the role of hostess at least partially out of a lack of knowing what else to do.

“No, thank you,” said Revi, who’d seen the same thing. “Mother, please sit down. We’ve got a lot to say to each other, so we might as well start now.”

Dhara sat next to her husband, her back rigid.

“First of all, I’m glad to see that you’re both all right,” Revi said. “The first thing I did when I heard about the Breen attack was check the casualty lists. Did the bar survive?”

“We had minor damage,” said Nishad. “Mostly concussive from the explosions. Fortunately, most of the attack was concentrated on Starfleet Headquarters and the Golden Gate Bridge.”

: Fortunately! : Revi was instantly disgusted at his lack of compassion for those who had died.

: He may not mean that the way it sounded. : Seven knew what it was like to say things that were taken the wrong way.

: Oh, Seven, it’s not the same as what you’ve done. Believe me, he meant it. :

“Business actually increased after that, though,” Nishad continued. “People needed to unwind more than ever. So we came out of it just fine.”

“That’s good to hear. I was worried.”

“You had a funny way of showing it.”

“Nishad,” murmured Dhara.

“No, Mother, it’s all right. I didn’t expect more than one or two minutes of polite talk. Go ahead, Father.” Revi stared at him with a challenge on her face, but Seven could feel the ball of dread inside her. Nor did her father disappoint.

“You’re one to talk about polite. I cannot believe you let Starfleet tell us you were alive. You owed us a basic courtesy and you failed at even that. You could have made up for it by inviting us to the homecoming reception, but again, all we heard was silence. I’m really not sure why you’ve come now.”

Revi took a deep breath. “I admit I was wrong in not telling you personally that I was alive, and I’ve already apologized for it. A lot happened to me in those nine years; too much to ever cover in a one-way message or a two-minute call. And because there was too much to say, I said nothing at all. I know that was a poor choice, but it was the only choice I could make at the time. As for the reception—I really didn’t want our reunion to take place in front of several hundred people. Given the treatment I’ve received so far, perhaps you can understand why.”

“Starfleet told us you were captured by the Borg,” Dhara said softly, her eyes on Revi’s optical implant. “They sent a counselor to talk to us last year, when we learned you were alive. She told us that it might be difficult for you to talk about.”

Revi laughed humorlessly. “Captured? They told you I was captured?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Mother, the term is assimilated. Borg don’t capture. They turn you into one of them. They suppress your will, your memories, your individuality—everything that makes you a person. You become nothing more than a drone, a living machine. You spend your days doing what the Borg Collective assigns you to do, no matter how horrifying it might be. No matter how much you would never have done it as an individual. There is no choice. It’s not capture. It’s not even living. It’s a walking death.”

Dhara’s eyes filled with tears in the awkward silence that followed. At last Nishad asked, “How did you escape?”

“I didn’t. Nobody escapes from the Borg. The cube I was on broke down in an electrokinetic storm, and the neuroelectric field generator failed. Which meant that everyone on the cube suddenly remembered who they were.” The memories of that moment of awareness—and the horror that accompanied it—briefly flared through her mind, and Seven quietly took her hand. With a grateful glance in her direction, Revi continued, “The cube was damaged so badly that it lost its link to the Borg Collective. No other ships ever came for us, so we were free. Those of us who survived the damage formed a colony on a nearby planet, and I was there for five years. That wasn’t much more than surviving, either, but at least I had my own mind back. I left after the colony reestablished the neural link tying all the ex-Borg together.”

“Do you mean…they created another collective?” asked Dhara.

“Yes.”

“Voluntarily?” Nishad was clearly shocked. When Revi nodded, he asked, “Why in the names of all the gods would anyone do that?”

“Because it was either that or death for most of the colonists. Keep in mind that the Borg assimilated all kinds of species, including those who were at war with each other. As long as their individuality was suppressed, they worked as a single community. After they regained their individuality, all of those cultural hatreds came back to the surface. People who had been working side by side started looking at each other with suspicion, and the colony quickly segregated into separate enclaves. Not long after that the skirmishes started, and then it was outright war. There was only one way to prevent the colony from self destructing. So we did it.”

“Well, I can certainly see why you were looking for the first passing ship to take you out of there. Good gods, Revi, I’m sorry you had to go through that. I understand why you didn’t want to talk about it—I can’t even imagine how terrible it must have been to have others invading your mind.” He looked at Seven. “Were you on the colony too? Is that how you met?”

“No, we met aboard Voyager. I had been freed from the Collective two years earlier by Captain Janeway.” Seven noticed that his demeanor toward Revi had eased the moment he’d realized that she had been a victim of forced mental control.

: Because it puts us on the same side of an issue. Watch what happens when he understands that I’m still sharing my mind with you. Then we’ll be on different sides, and everything will change. : Revi glanced at her. : That’s how it works in this house. Agree with him and everything is fine. Disagree and the fireworks start. :

“How fortunate she found you, then,” he was saying. “The odds against that must have been astronomical.”

“Indeed.” Seven refrained from quoting actual probability figures. “And I can say now that it was fortunate, but I wasn’t appreciative at the time.”

: Oh, Seven. You’re not. :

: Of course I am. :

“You weren’t grateful to be rescued?” asked Dhara.

“I was assimilated at the age of six and raised by the Borg. That was the only life I ever knew. My rescue felt like capture to me, and the first months were similar to sensory deprivation torture. I was accustomed to hearing the voices of thousands; even millions in my mind. And then there was nothing but silence. It was terrifying and debilitating.”

“But what you were raised in was unnatural,” said Nishad. “Captain Janeway merely returned you to normalcy. It may have been shocking at first, but surely you’re grateful now.”

“Certainly. Though I never did adapt to the loss of the voices. I’m not comfortable being alone in my mind.”

“We’re not meant to share our minds,” he said. “Mental privacy is a gift from the gods. Those who would invade our private thoughts are an abomination. You didn’t know any better, but it’s good that you’re learning now.”

“I’ve learned a great deal, Mr. Sandovhar, but I don’t count that as part of my knowledge. Mental privacy is simply a state of being. For some it’s desirable, and for others it’s not. I myself do not prefer it.”

: Here we go. Gods, Seven, I can’t believe you’re already wading into this. :

: Do you want me to stop? : Much as she wanted to do battle with this man, she would stop if Revi asked.

: Hell no. I want to get it over with and get out of here. :

Seven squeezed her hand as Nishad responded, his tone slightly more stern. “You were a victim, and it’s clear your thinking is still poisoned by it. You’ve had barely three years to become accustomed to a normal mind after a lifetime of something very unnatural. It may simply take more time.”

“No, I had two years to adapt to a silent mind. Once Revi came aboard Voyager, I was freed from that.”

There was a long, very pregnant pause.

“What exactly do you mean, you were freed?” Nishad asked at last.

“I mean we connected. Revi is an ex-Borg, just like me. We still have many of our Borg implants, and one of them is a neural transceiver. When she came aboard, we established a neural link.”

: Thanks for not telling him that I’m the one who established it. :

Seven smiled at her. : Some things are on a need to know basis. He doesn’t need to know that. :

Revi grinned briefly, but it slid off her face as she looked past Seven. When Seven turned, she found Nishad staring at his daughter as if she’d turned into an Arcadian snake right before his eyes.

“You’re telepathic?”

“No,” said Revi. “I have a neural transceiver embedded in my brain that allows me to communicate mentally with other Borg. I can’t read anyone’s thoughts unless they have a transceiver as well.”

“But you’re reading her thoughts.” He gestured at Seven.

Revi lifted her chin. “Yes, I am. Every minute of every day.”

“I don’t understand. You left that colony to escape forced mental bondage and now you’re back in it with her?” His eyes turned hard as he glared at Seven. “You couldn’t get used to a normal mind, so you co-opted my daughter instead, is that it?”

“Father—”

“And now you’re engaged to this person? I forbid it.”

Seven felt the surge of anger from Revi. Nishad had touched one of the few things guaranteed to inflame her normally calm partner, and she had a feeling that those fireworks Revi had referenced were about to begin.

“You can’t forbid anything. I’m an adult and I’ve been on my own for a long time. And don’t even think about blaming Seven for our neural link; she can’t produce it on her own. Her transceiver doesn’t transmit unless she’s on a cube or in contact with a powered transceiver. It just so happens that mine is powered. I’m the one keeping this link open. And it’s one of the greatest pleasures of my life to be linked with such an extraordinary person.”

His face darkened. “You know it’s wrong!”

“I know no such thing! Just because you think it’s wrong doesn’t mean it is. Some of us think for ourselves, Father.”

He pointed a finger. “I raised you to know right from wrong. I knew it was a mistake to let you go into Starfleet. They’ve brainwashed you with their tolerance of telepathic species. You’ve forgotten your upbringing!”

“Oh, believe me, that’s not something I could ever forget. You did your best to make an indelible imprint. If Mother hadn’t had a dermal regenerator I’d still have the scars. Why do you think I went into medicine? I got a headstart learning how to heal my own wounds after one of your lessons with your belt!”

“Lessons that were clearly not strong enough, if this is the result! My own daughter, throwing away the gift of the gods with both hands!” His eyes narrowed as he glared at Seven. “This must be your influence. Revi knew better.”

“Hey!” Revi snapped her fingers, drawing his attention. “Stop it, right now! Leave Seven alone. She has nothing to do with this argument, because she’s not the first person I’ve had this kind of connection with. We weren’t all disconnected on that Borg colony—some of us formed a mini-collective early on. It enabled us to build things together that we couldn’t build separately. I’ve been in a neural link of one kind or another since the day I was assimilated.”

He appeared shaken as much by her vehemence as by her admission. “You’re sick,” he said, his voice trembling. “The Borg made you sick. It’s not your fault, you’re not responsible. But we need to take care of you. We’ll go to Starfleet Medical; they owe it to you, they’ll take out that transceiver. It will be—”

“Over my dead body,” said Revi clearly. “This transceiver is a gift. One of the few the Borg left me with, and I am not giving it up.”

“That’s what they made you think. You haven’t healed yet, that much is obvious. Let us help you.” He bent forward, his expression earnest, and Seven realized that he was truly distressed.

“I don’t need help. I need you to look at me without your blindfold of prejudice. Look at me! I’m happy. I haven’t been since the day of my assimilation, but I am now. I came this close to killing myself just so that I’d never have to think again, or feel, or remember what I did as a Borg. My life was a living hell. Seven changed that; my link with her changed that. She healed me and gave me the strength to go on. What part of that could possibly be sick or unnatural?”

Dhara stared at her daughter in shock, but Nishad appeared not to have noticed Revi’s reference to suicide. “Evil often wears the robes of good, you know that,” he said. “It has to; otherwise people would recognize it and stay away. Perhaps this…this link gave you something you needed at the time, but you don’t anymore. You’re home, you’re safe, you don’t need to hold on to it.” He turned his attention to Seven. “If you helped our daughter, then we’re grateful. But if you truly want to help her now, you won’t encourage this behavior.”

Seven felt as if she were studying a new humanoid species. His belief system was utterly incomprehensible. “Mr. Sandovhar, you have no understanding of what you’re asking Revi to give up. Do you utilize your hands often?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your hands. How often do you use them in a given day? Would it be hard to live without them?”

“If you’re trying to compare the natural design of a Human body to some unnatural mental joining—”

“The link Revi and I share is as deeply embedded in the functions of our bodies as your hands are in yours. If you lost your hands today, you’d survive, but it would be a very difficult adjustment and you would never be precisely the same. Something would always be missing. If we lost our link today, we’d survive as well, but it would be debilitating for both of us. We would never be the same, and we would always miss it. This link is beneficial. It improves our lives, it has enabled us to help others—”

“Actually it’s enabled us to save the lives of others,” interrupted Revi.

“And yet there are no negative consequences at all,” Seven finished. “Not for us. I can see that you perceive them, but we don’t. Neither do any of our friends. Given that the negative consequences are limited to your perception, how could it possibly be beneficial for us to remove something that is literally a part of us?”

“Those consequences are not limited to my perception,” he said. “They are fact. Just because you’re unaware of these facts does not negate their truth.”

“They are your truth. Not ours.” As he sputtered, she continued, “There are naturally telepathic species all over the galaxy. Species that are born telepathic and have entire cultures built around mental sharing. If telepathy is as unnatural as you say, then why does it exist in natural form throughout the galaxy?”

“Telepathy is unnatural for Humans. I don’t care about other species. They’re welcome to expose their minds to each other like mental prostitutes; that’s their business and they’ll bear the consequences. I don’t interfere with them, my only objection is when they try to interfere with me. They should stay on their planets among their own kind. They have no right to force their telepathy down the throats of others.” He pointed at her. “You’re a perfect example of what happens when those species force themselves on us. It spreads like a disease. You weren’t born this way, you were made this way. And now that you can be normal, you’re choosing not to! How can you be so blind?”

“What a coincidence,” said Seven. “I was about to ask you precisely the same question.”

He threw his hands up in the air and turned to his wife. “I knew it. Didn’t I tell you this would happen when she started hanging around with that Betazoid?” Looking back at Revi, he said, “You didn’t end that friendship like I told you to, did you?”

Revi took a deep breath and met his gaze squarely. “No. I married her.”

His mouth dropped open. “You what?”

“You heard me. Steph and I were happily married for three years. That’s when I stopped coming home, because I knew you’d never accept her. And I wasn’t willing to drag her into a reception like the one you’re giving Seven right now.”

: But you were willing to drag me, I notice. : Seven couldn’t resist.

: Darling, check that eidetic memory of yours. You dragged me. Literally. :

“You married her.” Nishad shook his head. “The Borg didn’t make you sick, she did.”

“Oh for the gods’ sake, Father! Nobody made me sick! I had a wonderful marriage with a wonderful woman, and I’ll thank you not to soil her memory with your prejudice.”

“Her memory? So she’s dead, then.”

Revi stood up, her fury flooding Seven’s senses. “Yes, she’s dead. Try not to look so pleased. Seven, we’re through here. I don’t know why I tried.”

Seven rose, taking Revi’s hand. “You tried because they’re your family,” she said, looking from Nishad to Dhara. “And family are supposed to love and support each other even when they have differences. But perhaps your family has never learned how to love.”

Though Nishad’s face was stony, she saw sorrow in Dhara’s eyes. She could hear Revi’s longing for her mother to say something, anything, but Dhara simply pressed her lips together and looked down at her clasped hands.

“It’s hard to love someone who’s a constant disappointment to you,” said Revi bitterly. “Isn’t it, Father?” Without waiting for an answer, she gripped Seven’s hand and walked out of the living room. “Don’t bother showing us out,” she called over her shoulder. “I know the way.”

Revi’s bravado lasted precisely as long as it took to get out the front door and around the corner. As soon as she was out of sight of the house she stopped and bent over with her hands on her thighs, the effort of holding herself together finally becoming too much. “Fucking hell,” she gasped. “That was every bit as bad as I thought it would be.”

Seven rubbed her back. “No, it wasn’t.”

Revi took a deep breath and straightened again. “How do you figure that?”

“Because you didn’t let him hurt you. Not the way he’s hurt you before.”

“Only because I have too many scars. After awhile, scarred skin loses sensation.” Revi’s sarcasm was in full force, and Seven wasn’t sure if she was glad to see it or not.

“It’s not the mental scars, it’s your confidence. You’re an entirely different person now than you were the last time you saw him.” Seven caressed Revi’s cheek, then gently moved her hair off her shoulder and rested her hand there. “You’re far stronger. Stronger than he understands, and stronger than he’ll ever be.”

Revi gave her a small smile. “Thank you, darling. And thanks for defending me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite so satisfying as Borg logic taking apart my father’s beliefs.”

“I would defend you against far more frightening opponents than your father, you know that.” Seven shook her head. “However, Borg logic seemed to have little effect.”

“That’s because logic requires one to actually think. Father doesn’t think, he feels and he reacts. Usually badly.”

“Revi!”

They turned at the sound of Dhara’s voice. “Mother?” Revi was stunned. “What are you doing here?”

Dhara ran up to them, slightly breathless. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. Please, don’t let this be the last time we see you. I have so many questions, so much I need to know. We lost you for over ten years and hardly saw you at all for three years before that; don’t walk away again.”

“I’m not walking back into that.” Revi pointed toward the house. “Don’t ask me to.”

“He’s just worried about you, that’s all. You have to admit that your news was rather unexpected. He’ll be better once he’s had time to get used to it.”

“No, he won’t, and you know it. Come on, Mother. He’s been like this for a lifetime; he’s not going to change. Especially when no one ever calls him on it.” Her glare left no doubt as to whom she was referring, and Seven saw the acknowledgment in Dhara’s expression.

“I know you think I should argue with him, but that’s just not my way.” She looked her daughter in the eye. “It’s yours. You have the freedom to anger him and walk away; I live with that anger.”

“You don’t have to.”

“There is more to your father than the anger. He’s a good man at heart. I wish you could see that.”

“And I wish you’d defend me to him the way you’re defending him right now!”

“What makes you think I don’t?” asked Dhara quietly.

Rocked by the very idea, Revi said, “Maybe because I’ve never heard it. Not once in my life.”

“It’s not right for me to contradict him in front of you. We’re your parents; we’re supposed to present a united front. But don’t assume that means I behave the same way when we’re alone.”

“I’m forty years old, Mother. I think we’re past the time when you and Father are supposed to be presenting a united parenting front. We’re all adults now, but you’d never know it from the way he talks to me. Would you let him talk that way to a friend of yours?”

“You’re not a friend, you’re our child.”

“So that means you can treat me with less courtesy and less affection than you’d give a friend.”

“Less affection! Do you know what we went through when we got the message from Starfleet that you were killed in action? We mourned you. We thought we’d lost our only child. We could not love you more.”

“How can you say that?” Revi’s voice was breaking. “How can you possibly say that? I don’t see any love! And I certainly don’t feel it!”

Tears sprang to Dhara’s eyes. “Is that really what you think? That we don’t love you?”

Revi couldn’t answer; it was taking all her strength to hold back her own tears. Seven wrapped an arm around her waist and sent all the strength she could, her own heart breaking in sympathy. Revi had the courage to stand up to her father, but her mother had penetrated her defenses almost without effort.

With a grateful thought sent in Seven’s direction, Revi found her voice and said hoarsely, “All my life I’ve felt alone in this family. I’ve waited for you to back me up, to take my side, to defend me just once. You never did. You watched him drag me screaming from the room and you knew he was hurting me and you never came! Never! So excuse me if I find this news that you were defending me in private just a little convenient. You had years to prove your love to me; it’s a little late now. When I was a girl I cried for it. I wanted it more than anything in the world. Even as an adult I craved it; I kept trying for it right up until I got involved with Steph. And then I knew it was hopeless. Now—” She threw up a hand in disgust. “Now I just wanted to see you again and introduce the woman I love, and all the patterns are still there. He lectures and gets angry, and you sit there silent as a tree stump. You know what, Mother? I know what love is now. That’s the wonderful thing about a neural link. I don’t have to depend on Seven saying the words. I don’t even have to interpret it from her actions. I know. And compared to what I feel from her, I can’t see anything about my life with you and Father that comes anywhere close. If you love me then it’s not any kind of love I recognize.”

Dhara covered her mouth, the tears streaming down her face. “But I do,” she whispered. “You’re my only child; how could I not?”

“Yeah, that’s what I used to think, too.”

Seven saw the words cut right through Dhara, and even though she harbored her own ill will toward the woman who had never openly defended her daughter, she couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

“How did this happen? I don’t understand! We gave you everything you needed. We supported you, helped you, loved you—”

“Sure, as long as I did what you wanted and played the role you thought I should play. And whenever I deviated from the script, I paid for it.”

“We just wanted you to be happy! Can you accept that we could see farther ahead than you could? Parents are supposed to do what’s best for their children, and that’s not always what the child thinks is best.”

“Oh for the gods’ sake, Mother! I’m not talking about me getting upset because you wouldn’t let me play outside after dark! I’m talking about the friends he drove away, the classes he wouldn’t let me take, the books I couldn’t read. And don’t tell me it was all parental obligation to a child who didn’t know better. It never stopped. You never realized that I grew up. Even when I was living on my own he was still trying to control me, and you were still silent. You were both thrilled with my medical career right up until the moment I decided to join Starfleet, and then the arguments started, just like always. Starfleet wasn’t right for me, I could do so much more elsewhere, I was selling out my dreams—”

“And we were right!” cried Dhara. “Starfleet nearly killed you!”

“No, the Borg nearly killed me. Starfleet saved me.” Revi took a deep breath. “Starfleet is where I found Steph. It’s where I found meaningful work, and challenges that fired me up, and people who accepted me just as I was, instead of withholding their approval unless I twisted myself into their image of what I should be. It’s where I found Seven, and Kathryn and Lynne, and a whole ship full of people who looked past my Borg implants and actually chose me for their doctor. Starfleet has always been my salvation. It saved me from dying—and before that, it saved me from you.”

“Oh, that is not fair. You talk about twisted images; you certainly have one of us. How did we become the monsters in your life?”

“Hard work and lots of practice, I suppose.” Before Dhara could react, Revi held up her hand. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. But Mother, look at the evidence right now, right back there in that house. I just brought my fiancée to meet my parents, and within minutes Father is forbidding me to marry her and telling me I’m sick. All because he doesn’t agree with my decisions. That’s not my imagination, and it’s not anything new.”

“You just caught him by surprise…”

“Stop defending him!” Revi shouted. “Just once in your life, defend me! Just once!” The tears overflowed as she struggled to regain control, and when she spoke again her voice was almost a monotone. “Do you know what the worst part of this is? It’s exactly what I expected. He said everything I knew he’d say, and you sat there and said nothing, like I knew you’d do. Nothing has changed. I came here because I hoped I was wrong. But I wasn’t.”

Dhara’s expression had gone from shocked to despairing, and her tears matched Revi’s. “No, nothing has changed,” she said. “We still love you and you still don’t know how to see it. And you’re right about your father and I know he could have done so much better…we could have done so much better, but it’s not for lack of love.”

Revi shook her head, unable to speak.

“Gods, how can I make you understand? I wish…” Dhara stopped, bit her lip, and continued in a trembling voice. “I wish I could have that link of yours. Just for a moment, just so that you could see. There’s too much distance between us; too many years and arguments. And too much bad feeling. You set foot in our house for the first time in ten years and you’re leaving again ten minutes later, and I know you’re not coming back. If a link could cut through all that, then I swear to the gods I’d use it.”

Revi stared at her. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes. I do. I don’t share your father’s beliefs. Maybe I did at one time, but…” She shook her head. “I’ll work on him, Revi. I’ll try, I swear. Just please, don’t walk away again.”

“There’s a way, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“You could link with me if you really wanted to. I could put an external neural transceiver on you. It’s temporary and it has no lasting aftereffects. And it would do exactly what you say you want to do—cut through the years and the distance and show each of us how the other really feels.”

Dhara was quiet, clearly stunned by the offer.

“What do you say?” Revi’s defenses were coming back up at her mother’s continued silence. “It’s a perfect solution. Unless, of course, you didn’t mean it.”

“I…I’m surprised, that’s all. I didn’t realize it was even possible.”

“Of course you didn’t. That’s why you offered.” She waited a few seconds longer before shaking her head. “That’s what I thought. Thanks for the kind words, Mother. I’ll treasure them. Come on, Seven.”

“Wait!”

They stopped, but Revi only turned halfway. “What?”

“Just…let me get used to the idea. Please.”

Revi hesitated, meeting Seven’s eyes.

“You have to admit that’s a big jump. I just need a little time,” Dhara added.

Seven felt Revi’s resolve sharpen even as she watched the expression on her face go hard. Dropping her hand, Revi turned the rest of the way around.

“No, I don’t think so. Sorry, but I’ve waited a lifetime for you to come into my corner, and I just can’t wait any longer. I know that’s not fair, but it’s the way it is. Two minutes ago you said you meant it, and now that you know it’s actually possible, you want more time? No. Either you really meant it, or you didn’t. It shouldn’t take you any time at all to tell me the truth.”

“Gods. You sound just like your father. Whatever you think of him, you’re more like him than you realize.”

Revi folded her arms over her chest and waited, making her mother visibly uncomfortable. At last Dhara said, “Tell me what it’s like. Would you know everything I’m thinking?”

“Everything you’re thinking at the time, yes.”

“So if I didn’t think about something, you wouldn’t…hear it.”

“No. But since you’ve never been in a link, you haven’t developed mental control. So it’s likely that you’d think about things you didn’t mean to.”

Dhara nodded slowly. “And you’d know what I was feeling?”

“Yes.”

“And I’d have the same insight into you.”

“It works both ways. I do have the ability to block my emotions from the link, but I wouldn’t in this case.”

“And you can’t…I don’t know how to say this. You can’t dig after things that I might not want to show you?”

“I could, but that would be an inexcusable invasion of privacy. One thing Father has never bothered to learn is that telepathic species almost always have rigid cultural rules to prevent unwanted sharing. The ex-Borg in my colony lived by the same rules.”

“Those rules may exist, but how are they enforced? How would a normal person know if a telepath is breaking the rules?”

Revi rolled her eyes. “Now you’re quoting Father. You know the same way that I knew Steph would never violate my mental privacy. It’s called trust. I trusted Steph long before I married her, and even more afterward. And I can tell where you’re going with these questions, so I guess the real issue here is whether or not you trust me. That one I can’t answer.”

Dhara didn’t deny it. “Tell me something,” she said. “Would you make this same offer to your father?”

The question caught Revi entirely off guard. “He’d never even consider it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know what you asked.” By now Revi had regrouped. “No, I wouldn’t make him the offer. Because I don’t want him in my mind.”

Dhara nodded, as if Revi had confirmed something for her. “Then I’m honored you made the offer to me. You may think I’m a monster, but you still trust me enough to share yourself.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster, Mother.”

“No? Then prove it. We’ll make that link and you can show me.”

Revi stared. “Is that your decision?”

“Yes. If only to defy this image you seem to have of me. Of us.”

Still shocked, Revi asked, “What will you tell Father?”

“You have no idea how many things I don’t tell him. This will just be one more.”

And now the decision was in Revi’s hands. She hadn’t expected her mother to say yes; hadn’t even examined her own feelings about linking.

: I don’t really have a choice, do I? : she asked Seven.

: Of course you do. :

: No. I don’t. If I don’t do this, I’ll never know. :

: If she reneges and breaks your heart, you’ll never know anyway. :

: But at least I’ll know that I wasn’t a coward. : Aloud, Revi said, “All right, I accept your offer. And if you break it, if you back out of this, then you’ll never see me again. That’s not a threat. It’s just a fact. I simply cannot do this any longer; I need peace in my life. So I hope you’re sincere.”

“I am.”

Revi nodded. “Okay. When?”

“Whenever you want. Where will we go?”

“We can do it anywhere; I just need to get the transceiver off Voyager. And I think you need a little more time to consider it. I’m going to be out of contact for a few days, but after that you can call Starfleet and they’ll forward it. Can you meet me a week from now?”

“I can meet you any time.”

“Then call me in seven days and I’ll tell you where to find me.”

Dhara nodded, her lips pressed together. She held out her arms, and after a moment’s hesitation Revi stepped into them. Clinging to her daughter, Dhara whispered, “Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Revi pulled away. “You’d better get back. He’ll be wondering what’s keeping you.”

“He knows I’m talking to you. I already gave him a piece of my mind for driving you out of the house.” She caressed Revi’s face, carefully avoiding the implant. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“Good.” She squeezed Revi’s shoulder and turned to Seven. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry our first meeting wasn’t more…congenial.”

“I’ve experienced far worse,” said Seven truthfully, and Revi shook her head.

“Seven, could you be less diplomatic?”

“Yes,” said Seven, wondering why Revi still asked rhetorical questions.

Dhara smiled. “I think you’ll give my daughter a run for her money. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“As do I,” said Seven politely.

“I guess I should let you go, then.” Reluctantly, she took a step back. “Revi?”

“What?”

“I forgot one thing. Will this link include memories?”

“If you want it to. It’s up to you. You decide what you want to share.”

“Then you should prepare yourself. You might just find out that your father loves you after all.” When Revi gave no response, she nodded and said, “Until next week, then. Goodbye.” She turned and walked back up the sidewalk, giving a final wave just before vanishing from their sight.

“Holy fucking gods above,” breathed Revi as she stared after her. “I cannot believe she’s actually going to do it.”

“I think you’re almost afraid she will,” said Seven.

“I am.” Revi met her eyes. “I’m afraid of what she might show me. But I have to know.”

“I know.”

They turned down the sidewalk and resumed their path toward the transport center. “So,” said Revi, “shall we go see your aunt now, or should we go to Voyager and take a heavy dose of narcotics first?”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 26

 

 

In contrast to Revi, who had intentionally not given her parents any advance warning of their visit, Seven had contacted Irene Hansen before they’d left San Francisco. Her aunt had been delighted to hear from her and even happier when she learned of Seven’s desire for a visit. Not only were they expected, they were enthusiastically invited—which didn’t help Seven’s discomfort at all. Being the object of such open anticipation made her apprehensive, and that feeling escalated into outright alarm when Irene opened her front door, took one look at Seven, and burst into tears.

“Oh, lord, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face. “I’m sorry. Please—come in.” She stood aside, sniffling, as Seven and Revi walked past her and stood in the small entryway. Irene closed the door behind them, looked up at Seven, and let out another sob.

“Perhaps we should come at another time,” said Seven, who would have been only too glad to bolt back out the door.

“No!” Irene exclaimed. “No no no.” She wiped her cheeks with both hands and took a deep breath. “It’s just that…it’s wonderful to see you again. My stars, look at you.” Her eyes welled up again and she stepped into Seven, who awkwardly put her arms around the shorter woman. The embrace lasted only four point six seconds, to Seven’s profound relief. Hugging someone she didn’t know felt very different from hugging Revi or her friends.

: I think she senses that, Seven. This is awkward for her, too. And don’t even think about bolting. You wouldn’t let me run away, so I’m not letting you. :

Seven shot her a brief glare just before Irene stepped back again. She smiled, rubbing Seven’s side, then turned to hold out a hand. “And you must be Revi. It’s so good to meet you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hansen,” said Revi as they shook hands. “I’m pleased to be here.”

Irene made a dismissive motion. “Your parents raised you right, I see, but I’m not Ms. Hansen and I haven’t been since I retired from teaching. So you call me Irene.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Revi with a big smile. : I like her already! And I can see where you got some of your attitude. :

: I have no idea what attitude you’re referring to. : But Revi’s ease with Irene was already helping to relax Seven, and she looked at her aunt with more curiosity and less resistance.

“I’m not ma’am either!” Irene was saying, her blue eyes already clearing from her earlier tears. “Just Irene, thank you. Come on into the kitchen,” she added, leading them down a short hall. “Normally I receive guests in the living room, but you’re family.”

They stepped into a large, sunny kitchen dotted with house plants, and Irene waved them toward the round wooden table by the immense window looking onto her garden. “Sit, sit. What would you like to drink? I have all sorts of teas—I prefer making it the old fashioned way—and hot chocolate, but if you don’t mind a cold drink when it’s close to freezing outside then I could offer you beer or juice or water…oh, and wine. Would you like wine?”

“I would enjoy a hot chocolate,” said Seven, carefully seating herself at the table. It was quite a bit colder in Rhode Island than it had been in San Francisco. Irene’s garden had patches of snow in the shady spots.

“What sort of teas do you have?” asked Revi.

“Oh, let’s see.” Irene opened a cupboard and looked up at an astonishing array of small stasis containers. “Earl Grey, Bolian, lavender, Andorian mint, rooibos, chamomile, English breakfast, Scottish breakfast, lemon, Vulcan—”

“Rooibos?” interrupted Revi.

“Made from the African red bush. It’s a lovely tea. I usually mix it with vanilla to add a little bit of sweetness.”

“I’ve never had it. It sounds good.”

“It is good,” said Irene, pulling down stasis containers. “I’d share it with you, but I’m feeling the need for something more robust today. So Scottish breakfast for me, and my best and most special cocoa powder for my long lost niece.” She paused with her back to them, then lifted her head again and began bustling about the counter and replicator. “Computer, one liter of tea water and three hundred and fifty milliliters of steamed milk.” As the containers appeared in the replicator, she pulled down two small teapots and one large mug, measuring complicated mixtures of powders and leaves. Seven watched in fascination, wondering if she was seeing an older, female version of her father. How similar had Magnus Hansen been to his elder sister? Did he have the same energy, the same straight spine and quick movements? If he’d lived out his life normally, would his hair have had as much silver as hers did? Would he have acquired the same lines around the corners of his eyes?

“Here you go,” said Irene, interrupting her train of thought. She brought over a steaming mug and a small plate, setting both in front of Seven. “Careful, it’s quite hot.”

Seven held back her initial response—of course it was hot, her optical implant told her the precise temperature—out of a sudden realization that perhaps referring to her Borg implants wasn’t the best way to begin their conversation. Revi confirmed it, silently applauding her restraint as Irene made another trip to the counter and returned with two more small plates and one larger one, stacked with small round pastries.

“What are these?” asked Seven curiously.

“English scones. You don’t remember having scones?”

“No.”

“I’ve never had them,” added Revi.

“Oh, my lord. I can understand why you wouldn’t remember, Annika, but Revi, weren’t you raised here on Earth?” Irene headed back to the counter.

“Yes, but my parents tended to stick with foods from the subcontinent. Can we help you carry something?” Revi asked as they watched Irene pulling more items out of the replicator.

“No, you sit right there. I’ll be done in a minute.” She brought over a tray with three small pots nestled inside, each with a utensil handle poking out the top, and set it next to the plate of scones. “Now, these are for the scones. This is butter, clotted cream, and strawberry jam,” she said, indicating each pot in turn. “You cut the scone in half and slather on whatever you want.” As she handed them knives and napkins, she added, “Personally I love to put on cream and then jam, but that’s because I’m a slave to rich foods. You should try them all.” She headed back toward the counter as Seven and Revi eyed each other in amazement.

: I wonder what would happen if we put Gretchen Janeway and your aunt in the same kitchen together. :

Seven smiled at the thought, then sampled her hot chocolate and closed her eyes in sheer pleasure. “This is unlike any hot chocolate I had on Voyager.”

“Better, I assume?” Irene returned with two teacups in saucers, setting one in front of Revi and the other at her own place, across from Seven.

“Far better,” Seven assured her. “Excellent.”

“Good. If I can’t beat replicator hot chocolate than I don’t deserve to hold up my head in public. Okay, last trip. I just need to bring the pots over. Don’t wait for me, go on, take some scones!” Off she went again.

Shaking her head, Revi reached over and selected the topmost scone on the pile. Seven followed suit, carefully raising it for a sniff. “I know this scent,” she said slowly, trying to place it. It wasn’t in her Collective memory…had she encountered this on Voyager?

“Of course you do,” said Irene, setting the two pots on the table and finally taking her own seat. “It’s lavender. Your mother’s favorite scent.”

Seven stared at her, realizing for the first time that Irene had known both of her parents.

: But you already knew that. :

: I did. But knowing and understanding are not the same thing. :

: Now that is for damned sure. : Revi poured tea into her cup, making a small sound of satisfaction over the fragrant steam that rose up, then picked up her knife and sliced her scone in half. “They look delicious. So, clotted cream and then jam?” She reached for the small blunt knife in the cream pot.

“Well, that’s my favorite. But Magnus preferred butter and Erin liked just the jam. You inherited your love of strawberries from her,” Irene said, nodding toward Seven. “I could always motivate you with a promise of strawberries in one form or another.”

“Did you and I…spend much time together?” asked Seven. It had been some time since she’d felt this socially awkward.

“Not as much as I wanted. Your parents were on the Tendara colony, so I only saw you when they came to visit or when they had business with the Federation that couldn’t be resolved anywhere but on Earth. I did babysit you a few times, though. They left you with me for an entire weekend once.” Irene smiled as she slathered cream on her own scone. “You were so angry at being left behind that you locked yourself in my guest room and refused to come out.”

Revi laughed. “Nice to know you were stubborn and strong-willed even as a child. Not that I had any doubt.”

“I’m sorry,” said Seven automatically. “That must have been…inconvenient for you.”

“Annika, you were a child. You were inconvenient by definition. Don’t worry, I coaxed you out. With a strawberry tart.” Irene bit into her scone and rolled her eyes. “Oh, this is good. I don’t let myself have these too often. But today is special.”

Seven and Revi tried theirs as well, and quickly understood the attraction. Seven immediately ascertained that hers required additional jam, and saw Irene smile knowingly as she dipped the little spoon back in the pot.

“Some things haven’t changed, I see. That does my heart some good.”

“I have no way of knowing what has and what hasn’t changed,” said Seven. “It occurs to me that you’re the only person who does.”

Irene stopped chewing, then swallowed and took a hasty sip of her tea. “I suppose that’s true. And I’ve been trying very hard not to be angry about that fact.”

“That makes you part of a big club,” said Revi. “There are quite a few of us who have reason to hate the Borg.”

“I don’t hate the Borg. They only did what they do—what both Magnus and Erin knew they’d do. No, I’m angry with my brother and Erin. They may have had the right to risk their own lives, but they didn’t have the right to risk yours.” She leveled a steady gaze on Seven. “And frankly I don’t even agree that they had the right to risk their own lives. Before they had you, yes, but not after. They had a responsibility to you. They were parents, and that’s supposed to come before anything else. But they put their research first. Magnus was stubborn as hell and Erin wasn’t a whole lot better. Those two were made for each other. Unfortunately, that didn’t end up being a positive thing for any of us.”

Seven looked into eyes the same color as her own and recognized the expression in them. “I admit to harboring some anger myself,” she said. Unexpectedly, she began to feel as if Irene were an ally. Not a friend, and certainly not family yet, but more than a stranger.

“I bet you do. And you have every right to it.” Irene sipped her tea again. “But it doesn’t do us much good, does it? We can’t change what happened. You lost your parents and your childhood, and I lost my brother, my sister-in-law and my niece. Except I didn’t lose you after all. And that’s what I’m focusing on. It feels like a miracle that you’re here in my kitchen now, and that you still love strawberries. And I can see so much of both your parents in you, so in a way I didn’t lose them either.”

“I did,” said Seven. “I wish that I could see my father in you. But I don’t remember very much at all.”

“If I may ask—what do you remember?”

Seven recounted the scattered memories of her short childhood, feeling more at ease as Irene nodded and commented through the telling. “And then the Borg came,” she concluded. “I never saw my mother again. I did see my father once more, but—” She hesitated, out of consideration for Irene. “He was a drone,” she said simply.

“Were you, when you saw him?”

“No.”

“That must have been very difficult,” Irene said sympathetically. “So you knew him, but he didn’t know you.”

“No, he didn’t. How did you know that? Is Borg anthropology a common topic on Earth now?”

“Not based on what we saw with my parents,” said Revi. “All they knew was what the Starfleet counselor told them.”

“I’m a teacher. I like to know things. Magnus wasn’t the only one in the family with a sense of curiosity.” Irene picked up another scone and began cutting it. “And my only niece was raised by the Borg, so of course I did all the research I could on them. I wanted to understand what you’d been through.”

Revi looked at Seven, then back at Irene. “Could you be my aunt too?” she asked plaintively.

Irene smiled at her. “As long as you’re good to my niece.”

“It’s a deal.”

Seven looked between them, surprised by the ease Revi felt with Irene. Her partner was usually far more reserved with people she didn’t know.

: Yes, but Irene’s the kind of person who makes you forget you don’t really know her. Damn, I’m envious, Seven. Your family is better than mine. :

: That’s not a difficult goal to surpass. :

Revi chuckled, and Irene looked at her curiously. Seven quickly distracted her by asking about her parents, and spent the next hour learning things about them and her own childhood that she’d never suspected. Revi thoroughly enjoyed Irene’s commentary, especially the parts that pertained to parental characteristics that she said were obviously present in Seven as well. She had a fine time teasing Seven through their link, and between Revi’s high spirits and Irene’s straightforward, matter-of-fact personality, Seven felt more relaxed than she would have dreamed possible.

All of that came to a screeching halt, however, when Irene looked her in the eye and said, “Are you leaving me out of part of this conversation?”

“I don’t understand,” said Seven in confusion. Had she done something wrong?

Irene gestured at the two of them. “Are you still in mental contact?”

Seven looked helplessly at Revi. After their morning encounter with Nishad, she was reluctant to risk this nascent family connection on a potentially divisive topic.

“We’re not in contact with the Collective,” answered Revi for her.

“Well, no, I didn’t think you were. That wasn’t what I was asking. Are you in contact with each other?” She looked between them, waiting for an answer. Her expression did not look promising, and Seven mentally shrugged in resignation. If she were to lose family for the same reason as Revi, then she might as well know now as later.

“Yes, we are,” she said. “Is that a problem for you?”

“When you leave me out of it, yes. Essentially that’s like whispering in front of me, or speaking in a foreign language so that I can’t understand. You’re not obvious about it, but I can see you looking at each other and reacting to things that don’t match what we’re saying. It makes me feel left out.”

Revi gaped at her. “Wait. Your objection to our connection is that we’re excluding you?”

Irene nodded. “I’ve waited a long time to see my niece again. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be involved in the whole conversation.”

To her obvious surprise, Revi threw her head back and laughed. Confused, Irene looked at Seven, who explained, “She’s not laughing at you.”

“No,” Revi said with a last little snort. “Gods, not at you. I’m laughing because I really want you to be my aunt now! I’d have given my right arm to have my parents actually scold me for leaving them out of a telepathic conversation, instead of telling me I’m sick in the head for having one.”

“Your parents told you you were sick in the head?” Irene’s astonishment was clear on her face. “When?”

“This morning.” Revi wasn’t laughing anymore. “They were our first stop. The family reunion lasted all of ten minutes.”

“Oh, Revi, I’m sorry.” Irene reached across the table and patted her hand. “I don’t know you well, but from what I’ve seen you’re a lovely person. And you’re obviously strong and courageous like Annika, or you wouldn’t have survived. If your parents can’t see that, they’re either willfully blind or—forgive me—desperately ignorant.”

“Forgive you for speaking the truth?” Revi shook her head. “I think both characterizations might be accurate. Though to be fair, my mother doesn’t seem to share my father’s beliefs. At least, that’s what she said today. I’m not sure I believe it yet.”

“Well, for your sake, I hope she’s telling you the truth.”

“Yeah,” said Revi with a sigh. “Me too.”

They sat in a silence which was interrupted when Irene rose, teapot in hand. “I’m ready for a refill. Anyone else?”

Revi stood as well. “Yes, but this time you don’t get to carry everything. It makes me feel left out.”

Now it was Irene’s turn to laugh. “Touché! I think maybe I will adopt you.”

Revi looked back at Seven, an enormous smile on her face. “I’m so glad we came.”

Picking up her mug, Seven followed them to the replicator. “Me too,” she said, realizing the truth of it even as she spoke. She had family—true family, as defined by genetic heritage—and it hadn’t turned out anything like what she’d feared.

Revi clasped her hand for a moment. : Lucky you. :

: No. : Seven looked straight at Irene as she sent the thought to Revi. : Lucky us. :

 

 

 

 

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